Abithica (24 page)

“Sydney, you’re the one who came to me and asked for help. I will not turn my back on you… even if you don’t want my help anymore.
You
made me promise not to give up on you, no matter what, and I always keep my promises. You apparently have Lane as your boyfriend now, so I’m naturally concerned that neither he nor his sister gets hurt because of your past… involvements.”

I braced myself for the worst. If Sydney’s recent past had put her in great danger, nothing could have changed much since I’d displaced her. Max’s threats must have been part of that danger, and his cronies must have instilled tremendous fear, else why would a punk kid run to a priest, of all people?

There was that voice again, calling. It was faint, as though coming from somewhere outside the building.

“Even if you run away again, you can’t hide from God,” Father Gabe said, snapping me back to attention. “The moment you accepted Him into your heart, He became more committed than even I.” He studied me briefly, then spoke as if he were making notes to himself. “Miracles… God’s way of letting us know he’s at work…. Sydney, I have a few questions about our time together before you disappeared.” He leaned forward. “You belonged to a really rough gang. There were drugs involved… sex… then you witnessed something… something so awful you turned to a god you had never believed in before. What was it? What did you see that made you believe, and why, out of all the denominations there were to choose from, did you pick a Catholic church?”

There was that voice again. Was it her? Was she trying to reach me? Good! I’d talk to them both at the same time. “Honestly, I can’t remember. What I
can
tell you is that an angry old boyfriend of mine showed up and threatened the people I love. Do you remember me telling you about him, or describing him to you? When we met before, did you draw any conclusions about the type of trouble Sydney… I mean
I
… was in… you know… from the things she might have said that will help me protect them… from me… I mean her?”

He stared.

“Well, did she? I mean… did I?”

He sighed and slid into the chair behind his desk, spreading the fingers on both hands and tapping them together.

“Sydney, your friends hurt people, and you were okay with that because… how did you phrase it… they were dumb enough to be at the wrong place at the wrong time. You saw yourself as a sort of teacher of life’s lessons, but then those lessons turned into something more. Those same ‘friends’ wanted you to cross a moral line that troubled you enough to bring you here. Why can’t you remember any of this? I suspected if you refused, they were going to come after you and anybody that tried to help you. You weren’t just afraid, Sydney… you were terrified.”

“Who are these friends?” Lane asked, startling me. He was leaning quietly against the door frame holding a white Styrofoam cup that he handed to me. “Tell me about this boyfriend of yours,” he said. “Everything you know.”

Okay, he’d obviously heard plenty, so I described the man Faith had named Kojak and his colorful threats. Maybe I should have left out the part where I’d been felt up, but Lane wanted to hear everything and for once I could comply. He seemed to know who Kojak was just by my description of the bull’s eye tattoo and bald head… and the super-loud Harley, as if he’d seen Max at some time.

And he was angry. In fact, enraged!

Father Gabe examined the brand mark on my hand, clearly distressed, otherwise he would have noticed that big annoying fly buzzing around his head. There! Finally, he gave it a distracted swat as he reached for a worn book on his desk. The title, upside down, was
The Angels and Their Mission.
The pesky fly followed his hand like a faithful puppy, landing on all the many notes that had been tucked inside to mark specific pages. He and the fly settled on a blank spot where he proceeded to copy the image from the back of my hand, but the fly continued to investigate, first landing right where he was drawing, then flitting to his nose, then ears, then lips. Yuck! I couldn’t stand it one more second. I leaned forward and extended a finger. When the pest decided that needed investigation as well, I walked it over to the room’s single window where I popped off the screen, one handed. My passenger waited patiently for me to finish, even though my finger shook a little while I was lifting the screen out of its frame.

“There, little fly.
You
belong outside.”

I watched it circle a few times before it took my advice. At the same time, I
thought
I’d just seen Kojak’s bald head right below me, with a distinctly reddish cast on one side. Oh, no! What would he be doing here? Whatever it was, it could only mean trouble. I leaned farther out over the windowsill to get a better look, but whoever it was had already entered the building. Too late! I turned to warn Lane and Father Gabe, but was stopped by their dumbfounded expressions.

“What?” I asked. “What’s the matter?”

The matter was the fly, of course. Father Gabe was looking at me like he’d accidentally caught me playing with myself—
after
discovering I was an alien from outer space. Lane’s reaction was simpler, and yet he’d seen me with that cardinal and those other birds. Now a fly?
Put on a stunned look, for the love of God. Make it look like you’re just now realizing what you did.

But nothing I could do or say would salvage the moment. Lane was shaking his head, and Father Gabe’s gaze flicked from my face to the book on his desk, and then back to my face. If his eyes had narrowed any farther, they’d be shut.

Lane leaned over and sniffed me. “I wonder… no, forget it. If it was something like lotion or perfume or pheromones the thing would have been buzzing all around
you
right from the start, not around Father Gabe, and then there were those birds, Sydney. That cardinal hopped onto your finger the same way the fly did just now. Father Gabe and I are all ears, so why not tell us the
whole
story, including the fly?”

It was time to change the subject. “Okay, I know it seemed really weird, but right now I’m more concerned about what I
think
I saw in the parking lot.” I paused, giving my words time to sink in. “It was probably my imagination… you know because we were talking about him and all… but I thought I saw Kojak outside a minute ago. I mean Max.”

The instant I said the names, both men bolted from the office, Father Gabe in one direction and Lane in the opposite. Lane’s concern included Shae, of course, and he’d already heard enough about Max to label him a menace, but it was Father Gabe who surprised me. I mean, priests are not known for their speed afoot, yet he’d literally exploded from the study, knocking several papers off his desk in the process.

Why would Kojak be sniffing around
any
church, I wondered, and why this particular one? Did it mean he’d been here other times, and that was why Father Gabe had reacted so quickly? Did Lane already
know
about Kojak… Max? Was everything about this whole thing part of what I’d come to call my assignment? The wall that kept overwhelming emotions at bay was crumbling at my feet, but something said to stay put. I was actually starting to find out things about myself, that is, about Sydney, and there could be more. Father Gabe had definitely formed some conclusion about me, and I was more than a little curious. If anybody on this planet could help me, wouldn’t it be someone like a Native American priest?

Lane returned, reporting no signs of Kojak. He kissed my forehead. “You look like you could use some time in bed, babe.”

I know he didn’t mean for it to sound suggestive, but my whole body—even my nipples—snapped to attention. He’d drawn back a little, waiting for my response, so of course he had to see my eyes move much lower down his body. Sure enough, the bulge in his pants grew until it was straining against his jeans. I wanted to reach down and cup my hand around it. I wanted to feel it pulse against my skin.

Father Gabe rescued the moment even before rounding the corner. “Nobody of that description here,” he announced. “He’s not in the cafeteria or the teacher’s lounge. If he came inside at all, he must have left immediately. Nobody saw him.”

I heard, but didn’t hear. My imagined wall wasn’t just crumbling, it was already gone! Lane grinned wickedly, winking at me before clearing his throat. “It wouldn’t hurt to get her out of here anyway, Father. She looks… beat. I’ll take her to my house, fix her a sandwich and tuck her into Shae’s bed for a little nap. Could you tell Shae we’ll be back to pick her up from school? I gave my aunt the afternoon off.”

“Well, actually I was going to ask if I could borrow Shae for a time after school. I think she has some questions I might be able to answer. I hope.”

His quick glance at the angel book told a story of its own. I pretended I hadn’t noticed. If it
was
about that, hopefully he could set Shae’s head straight.

* * *

Lane’s “project house” was actually his home, but that little fib was mild compared to the whopper that followed. First, it was so close to the school Shae could have walked the distance. Second, the long, tree-lined driveway led to a real-life, miniature castle. Four deeply pitched roof lines shingled with picturesque copper tiles sported a striking green patina that came only with decades of weathering, which he explained with pride. The outsides were stone, and there were stone gates with graceful extensions on each side. No moat or drawbridge, though.

“Lane, this is simply amazing! It looks like someone peeled it off the pages of a fairytale. Did you design it?”

He smiled. “Nope. I did a job for a general contractor who went bankrupt before I got paid. This was part of the lien package. I think his father designed and built it as a wedding present a few decades ago.”

“Why did he go bankrupt?”

“He bid on a highway project he didn’t scope out carefully enough, and ran into bedrock that tore up his best equipment. Bad weather finished him off. I got the castle in place of what he owed me. Others got less. I’ll sell it someday and have a regular house, once my ship comes in.”

Some wedding present! Stepping inside was like stepping back in time—antique furniture, rich red, pink, and green hues, tapestries hanging on several of the walls. There was even a full suit of armor, complete with a helmet and shield. When he closed the front door, outside sounds disappeared as if we’d flipped a switch.

“How’s that for shutting out the real world?” he grinned.

I was still taking in the tapestries when I heard the junior version of a buffalo stampede in the making. Lane stepped in front of me. “Are you afraid of dogs?”

Dogs? The apparition that came flying around the corner was a whole dogsled team all by himself. More like a cow with jowls. He slid past me on the polished concrete floor, his rear end slamming into a moss-colored couch. The combination of dog and couch slid another two feet before coming to an abrupt stop against a wall.

Amused, Lane watched the dog untangle himself. “Shae insists he’s our very own dragon. Dragons evolved over the centuries, and at some point humans began to refer to them as dogs.” He nodded soberly. “Yes, that’s the absolute truth, according to my darling sister. They eventually forgot how to fly, lost their ability to breathe fire, and became English Mastiffs. We call this one Teddy Bear.”

As the dog regained his feet and started toward us, Lane stepped in front of me a second time. “Bear, sit!” The dog “snowplowed” to a stop, but it took him awhile to maneuver his bulk into a proper sitting position, which placed his basketball-sized head just below Lane’s chest. He then showed off one of his better-developed abilities—drooling.

His slobber had almost reached the floor when Lane produced a strategically placed towel and wiped it away. Sure enough, there were other towels tucked here and there around the room, all the same color.

“Shae wanted to call him Fang,” Lane went on, “but with a name like that he’d scare the neighbors even more. Bear, roll over!” He rolled his hands in the air and Bear dropped onto his belly, rolling over for his anticipated scratching, but just then the telephone rang. There’d be a short intermission. Bear looked puzzled. Where was his belly scratcher?

I knew something was wrong as soon as I saw Lane’s expression. He listened, flicking his gaze at me, then gripped the cordless phone tighter. Suddenly he pulled it away from his ear. “Was Kojak’s Harley blue with white racing stripes? Father Gabe wants to know. The same guy was back there a few minutes ago, roaring up and down the church parking lot. Someone described the bike.”

I nodded, suddenly numb. So I’d seen him after all, but why hadn’t any of us heard the Harley then?

Lane put the phone back to his ear. “Yup, that’s him.” A long pause, and then he beckoned to me. At one of the front-facing windows, he pulled the curtains aside, and there was the same Harley, parked just outside the gate. Kojak was crouched behind the low wall, writing something in a small notebook. Lane’s license plate, maybe? The pickup was right where he could see it.

“He’s here, Father Gabe. You were right. I’ll call you back.” Punching the OFF button hard enough to break it, he tossed the phone onto the couch and stomped to the front door, fists clinched.

“Lane, you can’t go out there!” I shouted. “He’s dangerous!”