Into This River I Drown (15 page)

He nods tightly. “That I know of.”

“How did you—”

“No more questions, Benji.” He boils over, showing anger for the first time. It’s a deep thing, a dark thing. I shiver again. “I’m doing what I have to do. So many damn questions, all the damn time. That’s all you do. That’s enough for today.” He glares at me, flexing his crossed arms, as if daring me to ask another question.

“We’ve got to see about getting you some clothes,” is all I say.

We’re
seated at the table, his mood suddenly shifted toward happiness again (which might or might not have to do with the Lucky Charms in front of him). My stomach growled as I got dressed and I realized I hadn’t eaten anything since the previous day, and it was now almost noon. Trying to keep it light and from sounding like a question, I asked him if he ate food. He was still glowering at me after I made him put a shirt on while he told me that he consumed a “sort of energy” around him when he was On High (I started singing “Angels We Have Heard On High” in my head for the hundredth time). I told him I was flat out of “sort-of energy” and told him I had cereal. He scowled at me as I placed a bowl of Lucky Charms in front of him, poking at it with a finger until I told him to stop it and use a damn spoon. I thought he was going to chuck the silverware at my head or shoot me with some kind of angel laser death beam. He did neither, instead gripping the spoon tightly, scooping up a green clover, and touching it with his tongue tentatively. He licked it a few times before he finally put it in his mouth. The look on his face and the sounds that followed suggested he had either never tasted anything so wonderful, or he was literally having an orgasm in my kitchen. This unfortunately led to a billion more questions in my head, wondering if angels could
have
orgasms, and if it would be like some kind of celestial goo. Then I realized what I was thinking about and immediately put a stop to it.

“God,” he moans now, milk dribbling down his lips to his beard. “This sure is good. I think I would like some more, please. Can you just give me the green ones this time? I think I’d like a bowl of just those. The other ones are getting in the way of the green ones on my tongue.”

“I don’t think they make Lucky Charms that way,” I say, somewhat disgusted by the way he’s eating, but still unable to turn away. It’s a sugar disaster in the making.

“They should,” he says seriously, grabbing the box from my hand and then peering inside. He reaches in and snags a handful and proceeds to pick out the green clovers. One sticks to his lip as he chews and the look he gives me is one of such pleasure that I can’t help but chuckle at him. He flicks his tongue out to snag it and I stop chuckling.

No
.
No fucking way that’s going to happen. I’m not even going to—

He stills, then jerks his head to the left. His jaw twitches. His eyes are wide as he stares out the kitchen window to the front of Little House. “Pattern,” he whispers. “Shapes. Design.”

I’m alarmed. “Cal, what is it?” I look out the window but can’t see anything, not that I should be expecting to. Even with my doubt, for a moment I think maybe I’ll see threads falling from the sky, woven intricately with a shining material that causes the heart to ache. But there’s nothing. “What’s going on?”

“He’s coming here,” Cal growls. “He’s coming here and he should stay away.”

“Who? Who’s coming here?”

He glances over at me, eyes hard. “You let me handle this,” he says suddenly.

I snort nervously. “Like hell. I don’t think you’re quite ready for visitors just yet.”

“I’m your guar—”

“I was just fine before you got here,” I remind him, even though we both know it’s a lie. “I don’t need you speaking for me. Not when I can speak for myself. Who’s coming?”

He doesn’t need to answer—I can hear a car now coming up the drive. It passes by Big House. It stops next to the Ford near the porch, the sun reflecting red and blue off the lights on the top. Sheriff Griggs opens the car door. Cal stands quickly, tipping over his chair.

“Shit,” I groan. “What the hell is this, now?”

“George Griggs,” Calliel spits out through gritted teeth. “Fifty years of age. Bastard. Born May 4, 1961 under an emerald moon at 7:45 at night. I must not be blasphemous. Parents are Brian and Jennifer Griggs. I must not decide the definition of sin. Grandparents are Gerald and Molly Jackson. I am a guardian. I am a servant. I am not the judge. I am not the jury. I am not the executioner. I do not decide fate.” He’s snarling by the end.

And little blue flashes are starting to appear around him, growing in brightness, here on a spring afternoon in Little House.

Sheriff Griggs pulls himself out of the car, looking back toward the main house.

I stumble over to Cal, nearly tripping on his overturned chair. I stand in front of him, pulling the curtains shut over the kitchen window while the sheriff’s back is turned. I reach up and cup Cal’s face in my hands, like Nina had done. His red stubble is rough against my palms. His lips are still moving, saying something that I can’t quite understand. I can’t even be sure it’s in English. I pull on his face until he looks at me, and I almost reel away. There is fire in his eyes, but it is so much more. It’s as if he is burning from the inside out, his body ready to explode. The blue flashing lights get brighter and begin to take their shape behind him, a shape now becoming familiar. If I don’t stop this now, it’ll only get worse from here. The sheriff will be able to see the heavenly explosion occurring in my kitchen and I won’t have words to persuade him otherwise.

“Do you see me?” I ask Calliel, not knowing how much time we have.

He growls at me, the outline of wings taking shape.

“Do you see me!”

“I see you,” he snarls into my face.

“Then you need to calm down. You need to stop this.” I drop my voice lower as I continue, hearing the sheriff’s boots crunching in the gravel as he walks toward Little House. “If he sees you like this, we won’t be able to explain it away. Do you understand me? He’ll try to take you away. You’ve got to calm down.”

“He can try,” Cal snaps. “I can make it so he goes away. I could do it if I really wanted to. Send him to the black. Send him in deep.”

“You are
not
judgment,” I whisper harshly, throwing his words back at him. “You are
not
jury. And you are
not
the executioner. You are the
protector.
” I breathe a sigh of relief as the blue lights begin to fade, as the fire begins to die in his eyes.

“I am the protector,” he says to me. He reaches up with one big hand and places it over mine still holding his face. “Benji, I am the protector.”

“You are. But you need to let me handle this, okay? I need you to trust me. Can you do that? For me?”

He nods as the blue lights disappear. There’s a knock at the door.

“Stay here,” I tell him as he looks at me like that is the stupidest idea he’s ever heard. I’m not surprised to hear him follow me as I walk to the front door. He pauses in the entryway to the kitchen and I almost snort with laughter as he puffs himself up, trying to look as big as possible. He scowls at me.

I open the door, blocking Cal from view, leaving the screen door between us. “Sheriff,” I say, keeping my voice light. “Two times in two days. Beginning to think you’re stalking me.”

“Benji,” he drawls. “Stopped by the store to speak with you. Was surprised when Christie told me you had the day off. Good for you. Late night last night?”

“No later than usual,” I say evenly.

“How about you open the screen so we can talk?”

“Aren’t we talking fine the way it is?”

“Benji,” Sheriff Griggs says, shaking his head as if he’s disappointed. “There’s no need to have an attitude. You know I’m an old friend of the family. I’ve known you since you were born. Hell, I knew Big Eddie since we were both four years old. Thick as thieves, we were.”

“Funny, that,” I say, my voice hardening. “Especially since my father’s not here to say otherwise. I guess I’ll just have to take your word on it, huh?”

He changes tact suddenly. “What were you doing out near seventy-seven last night, Benji?”

He’s trying to catch me off guard. “I never said I was out there.”

He narrows his eyes. “Mayor Walken swears he saw your truck hightailing back toward town on the old highway.”

Dammit. I should have known it wouldn’t be that easy to have gotten back unseen. “Does he? And what was our illustrious mayor doing out there so late?”

“Surely you’ve heard by now,” he scoffs. “Lord knows this town is full of busybodies who have nothing better to do than talk.”

“Slept in this morning, Sheriff. First day off in long time, remember? I just got up. No one has told me anything.”

He’s watching me, looking for deception. I stare right back, unwavering. I might not know what the hell I’m doing and I might believe this man to be the ultimate liar, but he’s still only Griggs and he doesn’t intimidate me in the slightest. “A light,” he finally says. “Fell out of the sky.”

Calliel finally breaks, emitting a low growl that causes me to shiver.
Oh crap,
I have time to think before the door is ripped open the rest of the way. He maneuvers himself so that he’s put himself slightly ahead of me. I should be annoyed at this (and maybe I am, a little) but it’s almost worth it to see the look of surprise on Griggs’s face as he takes a step back at the sight of the big guy before him. Cal is scowling at the sheriff and still growling, the rumbling in his throat getting louder.

Griggs recovers from his surprise and stands upright again, imposing but still shorter than Cal by an inch or two. Cal is obviously not impressed with the man before him. I elbow him sharply, keeping my eyes on the sheriff. Cal ceases his rumbling and throws a glare my way before looking back at Griggs.

“And you are?” Griggs asks curiously. I don’t miss the way he raises his hand subtly to his side, flicking off the leather strap to the holster that houses his service pistol. I try to push my way back up in front of Cal, but he raises a big hand and presses me back, trying to force me behind him completely.

“I am Calliel,” he says flatly. “Benji is my friend. Your tone is not appreciated, Griggs.”

The Sheriff looks bemused. “Christie mentioned Benji had a new…
friend
,” he says snidely. “Cal Blue, was it? From California?”

Goddammit, Christie. Keep your fucking mouth shut for once!

“Whereabouts in California you from, Cal? Or is it Calliel?”

“Not your concern,” Cal says, starting to growl again.

“He’s just visiting,” I say, pushing past him again. “He’s a friend from out of town. Not that it’s really any of your business, Sheriff.”

“So he was the one driving the Ford last night, I take it?” Griggs asks, already knowing the answer. “I had wondered why the mayor sounded confused. To tell you the truth, it scared him out of his mind a bit.” The sheriff chuckles, his mouth twisting into a sneer. “Says he thought it was Big Eddie driving the Ford again, coming out of the dark like a bat out of hell. Isn’t that something?”

Cal tenses next to me, and I bend my arm behind my back, grab his hand, and squeeze. The growling subsides and he squeezes back. We say nothing.

“Where you boys coming from last night?”

“Just a drive,” I say.

“That so,” he says, rubbing his jaw. “And you didn’t see any lights?”

“Oh sure,” I say. “I saw plenty. It’s called lightning. Quite the storm last night, right, Cal?

“Quite the storm,” Cal repeats.

“Well,” the sheriff says, “whatever hit the ground caused quite a show! I saw it from all the way in town, so I’m a bit surprised you boys didn’t see it. You know, just driving around in the dark.” He spits off the side of the porch. “Made quite the racket when it landed too. Blew the hell out of the ground, knocked down a bunch of trees.” He looks me in the eye and says, “Right about where your daddy died, Benji. Just
yards
away.”

I’m about to launch myself through the door, but Cal tightens his grip on my hand to the point where I’m sure my bones are going to snap, the pain clearing the fog of fury that has settled around my mind like a gray haze. It’s what the sheriff wants, I know. He wants to get under my skin, to cause me to lose control, to lash out and give him just cause to arrest me. He wants something from me, but I don’t know what.

But Cal holds me back, the tightness of his grip telling me if I won’t let
him
lose it, then the same goes for me. The sheriff sees his hand on me, the glare on Cal’s face. Griggs’s gaze darts back and forth between the two of us. A small smile forms on his face as he takes a step back. “Cal Blue,” he says slowly. “Cal Blue from California. I’ll have to keep that in mind. Well, since you boys
obviously
didn’t see anything last night, I best be on my way.” He raises his hand and tips his hat toward me. “Benji, as always, it’s been a real pleasure. I’m sure we’ll see each other again soon. Maybe I’ll stop by the store.” It comes out like the threat he means it as, and a chill floats down my spine. He turns and walks down the steps.

“Agent Corwin,” I suddenly say.

He stops, but doesn’t turn. “How’s that now?” he says, his voice soft.

“An Agent Corwin stopped by the store yesterday,” I say. “Said he was with the FBI. Asked about my dad. Wanted to know how long he’d been dead.” I pause for effect. “Asked about you too. Seemed surprised you were still the sheriff. Told me to call him if I thought of anything interesting. Town gossip, you know. Spreads like wildfire.”

The sheriff leans over to spit again and I can see the sweat on his brow. He takes another step toward his car, running his fingers over the Ford. “Man, Benji,” he says, his voice light. “I sure do hope you know what you’re doing. I’d certainly hate to see something happen to you. Or to your ma. Or the Trio. Nina’s so trusting, isn’t she? She most certainly is. Why, I bet she’d get in a police car if she was asked. Such a sweet,
sweet
lady.” He taps the hood of the Ford, the ring on his thumb scratching against the paint.