Page 14 of Whiskers on Kittens

“Because their home is fated for something you cannot prevent, and if they are here rather than there, only things are lost.”

Damn it. House fires happened every year around the holidays. “Electrical? Candle? Stray lightning bolts?”

The archangels were silent for a long moment, but then Michael rose from his seat, came to me, and patted my shoulder. “It will be the fault of a neighbor, and the fire will jump from house to house. It is a necessary, unavoidable event—a consequence years in the making. The loss of their home will be accidental, but He cannot prevent the fire or the consequences of that fire. The fire needs to happen for more reasons than there are stars in the sky. The compassion in your heart wishes it to be otherwise, but you can prevent the justice from becoming a tragedy.”

Ah. While I held no faith in organized religions, I borrowed from them from time to time, and I stole from the Catholics to draw a cross over my heart. “Let me guess. An abuser goes to the Devil’s gates that night.”

“You would be correct. The abuser is the reason for the fire, and his victims will be set free by his own hand. Our brother has a special place for that one.”

“And Mr. Goody-Goody’s family lives next door?”

“Mr. Goody-Goody’s family is why the abuser will be home alone that night rather than tormenting his victims.”

“Do you mean I’m hosting the victims? If I’m hosting the victims, I need to know how many bodies I’ll have, of the living variety, in my guest house. A duration would also be helpful. I can’t prep the guest house and rescue kittens and host Christmas dinner, Michael!”

Michael’s laughter chimed, and he patted my shoulder again. “No, no. Mr. Goody-Goody’s family gave the victims an early present of a cruise over Christmas. They won it in a contest, but they could not afford to go. So, they gave it to their neighbors, who could afford to go. The abuser had been invited, but unbeknownst to Mr. Goody-Goody’s family, his record bars him from boarding the ship—or taking a flight. As such, the victims were given the greatest present they could have hoped for: freedom from their living nightmare. They will return home to a charred husk of a home and a body, but freedom will be theirs. Had the abuser walked the straight and narrow, he would have been able to take the flight and board the ship. He claimed he needed to work but gave blessing for his family to go. To hide the truth.”

“If that fire doesn’t happen, I will intervene myself,” I warned.

Somehow, I got the feeling the archangel smiled.

Hamaliel got up, helped assemble the box, placed the Maker’s Mark inside, and waved his hand. Holy fire washed over the box, and when it faded away, each bottle was safely nestled within. “That is why we will help your cause. But you need to know that truth. The family next door wishes to move elsewhere, by the way. A good offer on their home would let you accomplish a great deal. You can add to your collection of greystones and give your cop’s family a place to live—a place that is not directly on your property. You could play at being the seller and offer it to them for below its market value. Or you could rent it to them—or you could just invite them in and find yourself with neighbors who try to pay rent but are forced to attempt to climb an unclimbable mountain. We could handle the sale while you rescue the kittens, and these bottles could be their housewarming gift.”

Gabriel let out a low chuckle. “We could bring our brother into it, have him send a minion over to the home, and photograph their belongings—and rob the property in the hours before it is to burn.”

“Hey, I could rob the property just as well as some minion,” I complained.

“You will be busy, especially as you will be needed when they receive the call that their property has burned.”

As he made a good point, I wrinkled my nose, picked up the box of bourbon, and placed it off to the corner in the cellar to worry about later. I retrieved my drink and toasted the archangels with it. “I appreciate that tipoff, though.” I knocked back my drink and went about cleaning the glass. “If the home can be robbed of their truly valuable things, that would be ideal. Nothing materialistic unless it can’t be replaced—but photographs of everything before the fire would be excellent. We can’t show that to their home insurance company.”

“They do not have insurance. They cannot afford it,” Hamaliel informed me. “Their home is paid off, but the insurance premiums had become rather excessive in past years, and they are retired.”

“The abuser’s family is going to need a home, too.”

“That garden is being tended. You need to only concern yourself with your cop’s family,” Gabriel assured me.

“All right. Find out how much the Polish family needs to handle where they want to move, give me a sale number, and I’ll move the money into an appropriate account.”

Hamaliel held out his hands and a briefcase appeared, which he set on the bar in front of him. “The home they wish to purchase is five hundred thousand, and they have financed and refinanced their home numerous times, resulting in them owing a million and a half to the bank. They would get a little over their mortgage value for the home, leaving them unable to make the purchase they need.”

Two million would be insufficient to cover closing fees and the other associated expenses, including the move. “Offer four million for the property, and I will cross my fingers that the renovation work I did has withstood the test of time.”

“They have treated the home with great care, so do not fear. Your improvements are intact and very little has been worn. Four million is, perhaps, a little too much for their needs?”

“They’ve been good neighbors, and let’s face it, I’m not going to miss the money. They need the money to move, buy that house they want, and do better than just getting by. The mortgage rate got to be too much for them to handle?”

I had a bank account that covered my basic expenses for a period of twenty years, even if I never earned another penny.

“That is correct,” Michael confirmed. “Offering such a number would prevent them from enduring further hardship.”

“Losing a home that has been in their family for over a hundred years is punishment enough, Michael. Where are they going?”

“They return to their homeland. They have family there, and they wish to see what their ancestors had once left behind. With your offer, they will do well for themselves and the next generation.” The archangel made a soft, huffing sound. “I suppose you are correct. Losing something that has been part of their heritage for so long is punishment enough. They do hold regrets that they must leave the house behind, although the house ultimately became the source of their woes.”

Hamaliel pulled out a stack of papers, and I recognized an offer form for a real estate acquisition. “I foresaw this moment, and I took the liberty of filling in everything except the offer amount.”

As I worked with real estate often enough, I yoinked a pen from the archangel’s briefcase, clicked it, and began checking over all the relevant information. As everything appeared to be correct, I filled in the amount of the offer, giggled at the lack of commission the archangel would take for handling the sale, and signed in the appropriate places. “All right. You can go make a Christmas miracle happen for my neighbors. Vet their moving company and peek enough to make sure they get their things intact. Some of their furniture is as old as that house, and that is more their heritage than even the building itself.”