Repossessed (15 page)

“JUST A MINUTE,” Lane said. Then she turned back to me. “Well, thanks for coming over, Shaun. I had a nice time.”

“So did I.”

She dropped her gaze. Her eyelashes were long and lush.

“Lane,” I told her. “You
are
beautiful. Believe it.”

At that she looked up again, unwavering, her lovely eyes wide and clear, and for the first time she didn't argue. She just smiled again and then, with a long backward glance, turned to head back into her house.

I watched her walk. Her hips swayed with each step, thighs rubbing against each other.

And she didn't think she was beautiful!

W
hen I let myself into Shaun's house, his old guitar in its zippered case was standing by the door.

Jason sat on the couch, arms folded. “Where have you been?” he demanded.

“I walked home,” I told him.

“Missed the bus?”

“Yeah.” The television was off. Jason had clearly been waiting for me.

Ah, Jason. I'd begun something with him that I'd had no intention of finishing. Jason's armor had cracked just the tiniest bit, but when I left this body, that armor would seal right back up, as if I'd never been here.

“Do you want to go to Bailey's again? I asked.

Jason shrugged. “I guess.”

“Do you want to bring the guitar?”

Jason glanced back at the case standing there. “Oh,” he said, as if the guitar had walked out of Shaun's room, leaped into the case, and placed itself by the door all on its own. “Sure.”

Jason's armor, I thought, wouldn't seal itself slowly, but would slam shut in the space of a few words:
Your brother died today.

“I have a proposition for you,” I said without much hope as he rose from the couch. “If you make me a promise, then you can keep the guitar.”

“What do you mean,
keep
it? Like, forever?”

“Yes,” I told him. “Forever.”

His eyes narrowed. “What do you want me to do?”

“Promise that you'll go talk to Carson sometime.”

“Who?”

“The kid from your social studies class who lives in the house with the big chimney.”

“The one with the red hair?”

“Yes. Maybe you could even invite him over. He likes Tectonic Warriors, you know.”

“You mean, go talk to him right now?”

“No. Just someday.”

“Someday when?”

“Whenever you choose. You can have the guitar right now, and whenever you talk to Carson will be up to you.”

“What about the amp?”

“You can have that, too. Just…promise.”

“Okay,” said Jason promptly. “I promise to do it
someday
.”

“Then the guitar is now officially yours.”

I had the feeling Jason didn't think highly of my bargaining skills. He wore the same expression he'd had that first night when he'd caught me with Shaun's shirt. This time, though, he managed to restrain himself from commenting on my mental state. After all, he was getting a good deal.

I knew he had no intention of keeping his word. Still, the seed was planted. And humans
are
known for changing their minds.

“You ready?” he asked.

I shook my head. “You go ahead. I've got one more—something to do here. Then I'll come.”

“You want me to wait?”

“No. I'll just be a moment.”

I watched him walk out the door. He was the only brother I'd ever had.

The knob clicked behind him. From outside there was a sound much like a guitar case thwacking against a porch railing. It was followed almost immediately by a faint “Oops!”

It's the glitches and twists
, I thought,
that make this
universe unique and compelling. Without flaws, there would be no depth, no substance.

I'd never realized it before. Blasphemy, perhaps—but still, I felt it was true.

Perhaps, I thought as Jason trudged down the sidewalk, the reason I never wanted to worship perfection is that perfection is
dull
.

I turned to look fondly around the living room for the last time. And then I wanted to attend to one last thing.

Peanut.

I found him sitting on the windowsill in the dining room, looking out at the front yard. As I came closer, he turned to stare at me, eyes wide and blank. As usual, I had no idea what he was thinking. If anything.

I approached Shaun's cat and bent over, looking him in the eye.

No sign of recognition. Or hatred. Or disgust.

I extended my index finger, as I had in the morning.

Again Peanut stretched his neck and sniffed my fingertip.

Then he rubbed the side of his face against it.

His fur was soft, like I'd imagined—soft, over the hardness of his little cheekbone. Something about it, about the trusting, pleased way his eyes half closed at my touch, drew a thread of emotion out of me that was pleasing to
me
as well.

Almost of its own accord, my hand rested for a moment on his back, and then began to run along his spine in the direction the fur grew.

His eyes shut completely, and he arched his neck.

And I began to pet him. Immediately a vibration began under my hand. And as I continued stroking and feeling the purr against my fingers and palm, I began to have a melting sensation inside. It was different from Lust, different from what I'd felt with Lane or any of the humans. Softer, milder, more delicate. Quite subtle, actually.

Very
pleasing.

As I straightened, Peanut turned to look out at the front yard again, ears forward, suddenly alert.

I followed his gaze. Across the street, a moving van was parked along the curb, dark green like the walls of Shaun's bedroom, doors open and a ramp leading up into the depths of the truck.

Someone was standing on the curb next to it, studying me fixedly.

It was one of the Unfallen.

P
erhaps I should have cowered in fear. I was too relieved.

Somebody upstairs had finally noticed.

I left Shaun's house for the last time and locked the door behind me. I walked down the sidewalk and across the street, right up to the Unfallen, as if I stopped to chat with seraphim every day of the week.

Hey, did you bring handcuffs?
I started to ask, but thought better of it. Unfallen aren't the jokey types.

“Where did you get that body?” I asked instead, looking him up and down.

“It is of my own making,” the Unfallen answered, his voice deep and musical, lovely and terrible.

It was obvious that he'd made the body. He certainly wouldn't steal one, and
this
body—well, these guys did not
know how to pass as a human.

Bodies have imperfections. This one stuck out like a sore thumb. It was too beautiful. The hair shone, not only from reflected sun, but with an inner light. The skin had a subtle rainbow of undertones that shifted slightly with his breathing and the pumping of his blood. The eyes actually sparkled—yes,
sparkled
—with a fire somehow lit from inside.

The face was completely serene.

This Unfallen's physical form was the most gorgeous thing I'd seen through physical eyes. It certainly had all the working parts.

To me, it didn't hold a candle to Lane's. Or Bailey's. Or Jason's. Or even Peanut's.

“No offense,” I said, “but…which one are you?” It had been easy to recognize Anius despite his earthly trappings, because of his annoying qualities. Goodness, however, is rather uniform.

“Hanael.”

“Oh, yes. Sorry.”

He just stood there, studying me with those fiery, brilliant eyes. “Can you read my thoughts?” I asked him.

“No.”

“Then why are you standing there, staring?”

“I'm taking pleasure in physical sight.”

Well, I knew how that was.

All along I had been unsure about what to expect from this encounter, but it clearly wasn't going to be of the terrifyingly punitive kind. When these guys are in full-blown, wrath-filled I-am-the-messenger-of-the-Lord mode, it knocks you to your knees just to behold them.

I was standing, and quite comfortably. That was a relief.

And now I wasn't in any particular hurry to be whisked away. “Want to sit on the curb for a bit and talk?” I don't get to meet up with Unfallen much. I wanted to feel him out a little, if I could; find out who sent him. Unlike Anius, he wouldn't have come on his own.

“You know that your time here is done. You know that you must return to your proper sphere.”

“I know. But…let's just sit and partake for a moment, shall we?”

Hanael turned his head, looking all around. “It is a glorious creation, isn't it?”

“Beautiful. It's very…layered. I've enjoyed my stay. For the most part.” I stepped off the grass and sat on the curb.

Hanael looked down at me. He seemed to be considering.

And then he joined me.

We sat for a few moments in companionable silence. “What is that lovely feeling upon this skin?” he asked
after a bit, lifting his face to the sun. “Is it wind?”

“Oh, that. Yes, it's wind—or more like a breeze, really. Hey, Hanael,” I said, unable to keep from asking any longer. “Is the Creator angry with me?” Hope springs eternal in a Fallen's breast.

“I am not an intermediary between you and the Creator.”

“I'm just asking a question.”

“My function does not involve answering that question.”

“That's my punishment, isn't it? I am Fallen, and so I'll never get the one thing I crave most—answers. But you, Hanael, you have all the answers, even though you never asked for them or even wanted them. It just doesn't seem right.”

“All is right with the Creator.”

“Yeah, well, you
would
think so. You're the Creator's Pet, and I'm the guy in the corner with the dunce cap.”

“Kiriel. I'm here because you took part of a life that wasn't yours.”

“I only took Shaun's body when he didn't need it anymore.”

“You took it before he was to leave it behind.”

“Just a few seconds before.”

“Those few seconds weren't yours to take.”

“They would have been filled with pain anyway.”

“Nevertheless, they were his. They were not yours. You have interfered with what was to be.”

“Yeah, but what can you do? We can't really turn back time now, can we?”

“Shaun will regain possession of his body. He will get those lost moments back. And more. You have interrupted the trajectory of his existence. He requires more time now, to rebuild an arc that is uniquely his.”

“You mean he gets to pick back up where he left off?”

“You must leave Shaun's body in the same manner in which you took it.”

“Are you saying I've got to step in front of a
truck
?”

“Just so.” Hanael nodded. Then he smiled—a lovely sunbeam of a grin. “It's been challenging,” he admitted—but not unhappily, it seemed to me. “The man who was supposed to hit Shaun didn't, so his trajectory has to be remade as well. And the woman who will hit him today—yes, you've created some interesting and…
unexpected
bits of work.”

“But Shaun can't—”

“Shaun will sleep for a while, and when he awakes, his mind's memories of you will be gone.”

“You mean, you're going to put the guy into a coma?” I thought about it for a moment. Really, it was probably better than being
awake
for what I was going to do to him.

I thought of exactly what it might mean, coming back to a body that's just been flattened by a truck. “I hope you're going to let him get the full use of his body back,” I told Hanael. “It's bad enough that I…borrowed it. I've been careful not to harm it—or
tried
not to, anyway—you know, the punch in the face was just a minor bump, not that you'd understand—and now you're going to go and totally bust it up.”

Hanael looked amused.

“Okay, I get it. No answers, no hints. As usual. Hey. Stop looking at me like that.”

“But I
like
to look at you, Kiriel. You're very interesting—quite an intriguing creation; full of surprising depths, of unexpected twists and turns.”

“That's the second time you've used that word about me.
Unexpected
. And you say it like it's a good thing.”

Hanael smiled again. “It's a good word.”

“
I
like it, but it surprises me that you do.”

He didn't argue the point. Of course not: he's perfect. Instead, he said, “Shaun has never appreciated his existence the way you have. Having to work for some of the simple things he has always taken for granted might enable him to be more appreciative, do you not agree?”

“I suppose it might. Just…you know. Don't be too hard on the kid. That's all I'm asking. Don't be too hard on Shaun, okay?”

“Are you praying, Kiriel?”

“No, I'm
asking
.”

“I'm not the one you should be asking.”

I sighed. “I never know if He hears me or not.”

“You know He does.”

“Well, He never answers me.”

“And if you had all the answers you desire, Kiriel—after you received them—what would be left for you to do?”

“Don't be a smart aleck, Hanael.
Capisce?
”

Hanael made no comment—of course not—but merely smiled.

“You smile too much. And quit looking at me like that.”

“As you wish. Shall we prepare to go now?”

“I guess.” I stood up, brushing off the seat of Shaun's khakis. I looked up and down the street. No traffic yet. “I really loved this place,” I admitted. “I wish—I wish—oh, blast. It's going to be like I was never even here.”

“You think so, Kiriel?”

“Well,
yeah
. Shaun won't know, like you said. I don't mind that. But there were people—I just wanted to matter a little bit. Leave some kind of mark, the way humans get to. That's all.”

“Perhaps you did.”

I waited for Hanael to explain, but of course he didn't. It's like pulling teeth to get anything out of these
guys. “Like how?”

“Perhaps you should consider the matter more closely.”

“Do you mean Jason?”

But Hanael didn't answer.

“Or Shaun?” I realized something. “Because of what I did, Shaun's going to get a second chance. And the people who care about him—really, he's pretty lucky, isn't he? Although I'm sure he's not going to think so, getting hit by a truck and all. He won't know that he was supposed to die. He's probably just going to think his life sucks.”

Speaking of which, my last moments here were going to suck, too. “Man, this is going to hurt,” I remarked, peering down the street for an oncoming vehicle.

“Yes.”

“It's going to hurt bad.”

“Yes.”

“Guess I can't complain, though. It's part of this existence, pain is.”

“Yes.”

Two blocks away, a pickup turned the corner and came into sight. You could tell by the way it fishtailed that it was going far too fast.

“Hey,” I said, still watching the truck. “Hanael. I've got to ask you something. Did the Big Guy send you?”

“It was part of my function to come.”

“But did He send you personally? Did He give you
the go-ahead Himself? Did He tell you to come deal with
me
?”

Hanael didn't look puzzled. That's because nothing ever puzzles the Unfallen. They know all the answers. “It is part of my function to be here,” he said, as if that explained it all, “and so here I am.”

“Yeah, yeah. I know.” These guys are like clocks—you know exactly what time they're going to be chiming before the hands even hit the numbers.

Not me.

A new idea had begun to bubble up. I thought I'd try it out when I got back.

What if I gave some of the souls in my care a teensy nudge or two? Whispered in their ears—so to speak—that perhaps
they
could take mini-vacations of their own? A soul who'd left corporeal existence fairly recently would surely like to pay a comforting visit to a loved one. Souls who'd left the earthly plane long ago might enjoy a quick tour of the places their feet had once trod, to see how things had changed. A particularly weary soul might prefer to merely float in peaceful nothingness, leaving its torments behind for a bit.

Technically speaking, they'd all be breaking a few rules, but what's the worst that could happen to them? Get sent to Hell, ha ha?

Souls are pretty stubborn. But to give us both even an
infinitesimal break from our shared misery—now,
that
would be having an effect!

Even the Creator would surely notice
that
.

I cast a sideways glance at Hanael's shining, obedient countenance, and I knew beyond a doubt that you couldn't
pay
me to be one of the Unfallen.

My place in this universe may not be what others would consider desirable.

But it is
mine
.

The truck rumbled down the hill toward us. It must have been late for an appointment; it was moving too fast. Way past the speed limit.

“They really need to put a stop sign up there,” I remarked to no one in particular.

Fear
. Horrifying, but when it's the last physical sensation you're going to have, it's delicious. It's a shakiness that starts deep inside, works its way up to your arms, your hands, your jaw. It knots your stomach.

Actually
shaking
! I'm
shaking
with
fear
!

“Catch you on the other side, dude,” I told Hanael, and I couldn't help but give him a grin as I stepped off the curb.