AllFreeNovel
Share Us
His eyes light up. He nods. “Started again this morning. I can see them. Feel them.”
“What does it look like?”
“It’s blue,” he says immediately. “It’s blue and strong. Far stronger than you could ever know. It’s so bright. So bright and strong.”
“Oh,” I’m unsure what to do with that.
It’s blue. Everything I have is blue. I don’t know where the thought comes from.
The river, my father’s voice whispers in my head. It all comes back to the river.
“One last question,” I say, considering.
Calliel sighs, but waits.
“You said I called you and you came, right?”
He nods, his eyes starting to cloud over.
“Have others done that before? You know, other angels?”
At first there’s nothing, and I think I’m not going to get an answer, but then he shakes his head, just once.
“You’re the first?” My skin feels cold.
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?”
