Page 6 of A Chip on Her Shoulder

“You pulled a gun on someone?”

“After him and his buddies broke into my house and held a gun to my head, you better fucking believe I pulled a gun on someone. He was on my property, and his cockwomble, asshole friends just turned my brother into a fucking chipmunk. What was I supposed to do? Gasp, put my hand to my mouth, and bless their fucking hearts? Men like that don’t come to a house like mine without bringing more trouble. I’ve had enough trouble for one day.”

“She speaks the truth,” a masculine voice announced from behind me.

“Jesus fucking Christ on a goddamned cracker!” I screeched, jumping to my feet and whirling around. The angel’s lack of a head bothered me far less than his nudity, lack of clothes, and rather noticeable lack of genitalia of any sort. His wings, white banded with blue, added a splash of color to his otherwise pale countenance. “At least put some nipples on if you’re just going to leave your chest out like that!”

Why did the angel have no nipples? What had happened to his head? What had happened to his poor dick?

Over the years, I’d learned to recognize stunned silence when I heard it, and I realized I’d rendered an angel speechless right along with the cop.

Oh, right. The rules.

I reviewed each one in my head, determined I’d broken all three of them in one fell swoop, and shrugged. “Well, I guess that blows any chance of you helping my brother, doesn’t it?”

Maybe I could carve nipples onto the angel, since I’d already gone straight over the line of decency into pure blasphemy.

“Please do not carve nipples onto my chest, Miss Esmaranda. As for your other thoughts, it is not a matter of chance. It is not something we are permitted to do. Your brother is as he is, for he is paying a consequence for his actions. While there is power in prayer, this would be an unanswered prayer. I cannot help you with that request.”

Well, shit. “Can you at least tell the cops I’m not lying about those assholes showing up at my house, putting a gun to my head, and forcing me to watch my brother get turned into a rodent?”

“You speak the truth. The chipmunk in your possession is your brother, and you witnessed his transformation.”

“Can you tell me what was used?”

“You humans classify it as a top grade transformative. Unlike the lower grades, it will not reverse with time. It would take divine intervention to restore him to even a humanoid form.”

“Can’t I just give him another dose of transformative? Won’t that change him back?”

“I am afraid not, Miss Esmaranda. That is not how these substances work in humans. It would have no effect on him. That is as much of a blessing as it is a curse. You would need the assistance of a divine. He will not help you, and as such, His angelic host cannot help you. It is not that we do not feel for your plight, but that it is a rule which we must obey.”

Well, shit. Since angelic help would be a bust, maybe I could recruit assistance from some other divine. “How about one of those Greek divines? Would one of them help?”

“I fear not. They have no interest in mortal affairs, and many of them still slumber. The ones awake would have no desire to aide you, nor would you be able to pay the price they would ask of you, should they be willing to help.”

Fuck. “Egyptians?”

“They are busy with more important matters, although you might be able to do a favor for one for information. I am willing to broker such an agreement with you, to serve as a relay. The Egyptians are keeping their activities modest on the mortal coil for the moment.”

“I’m listening.”

“Sir, if you might excuse us for a few minutes? This is a matter that should be discussed in private. There will be no point in recording what I speak with her about. Your machines will not cooperate with your wishes.”

The cop sighed. “How long do you need?”

“No longer than an hour.”

After the officer left the interrogation room, the angel sat on the edge of the metal table. “The work you would do is small now but significant later. You will be meddling on behalf of the Egyptian pantheon to ensure a future outcome, one with potentially dire consequences later. I was made aware of this situation before coming here.”

“Who made you aware of this situation?”

“He did.”

The God Almighty, the head honcho of the Christian faith, involved himself with me? No, with my brother, who made a pretty good candidate for a long-term stay in hell? My mouth dropped open. “Seriously?”

“He works in mysterious ways. He asked me to take on this task. It is both simple and difficult.”

“Okay. I’m listening. What do I need to do for the Egyptian pantheon? Who, I presume, has His permission, as you’re here negotiating with me to be the plaything of divines.”