db1bd484fe8700408f51338793ca8c56

“It’s not like I didn’t apologize,” she muttered, shoving the last of the toast in her mouth and grabbing her coat and boots from the front hall. “And, hey, not my bad the tabloids got involved; if you don’t want people to know you have skeletons in your closet, don’t keep skeletons in your closet.” It had been sheer bad luck for that British Keeper that the force of the explosion had blown the tibia out the window and onto the street.

Back in her bedroom with the door securely closed and warded behind her, Diana threw her coat on the bed, pulled off a piece of tape about twenty centimeters long, picked up the angel hair with it, and wrapped it around her wrist. While she hadn’t exactly lied to her mother—shewas going into the closet—she’d neglected to mention that she planned on going out the other side, a maneuver generally considered too dangerous to attempt.

The only reason Keepers exited at the same place they entered was plain old lack of imagination as far as Diana was concerned. So what if there were no other geographical references to the real world—she had that covered.

And all she had to do was make a phone call.

[Ęŕđňčíęŕ: img_5]

“Isn’titabeautifulmorning!Lookatthewaythesnowsparkles!”

Doug sucked muffin out of his teeth.“First cup of coffee, kid?”

“Ican’tbelieveI’vebeenherefortwodaysandIonlyjustdiscoveredthis.” Grinning broadly, Samuel raced down the front steps of St. Mike’s and back up again.

“You have to remember to breathe, kid.”

“I do?” Well, now he did. Sucking in a huge lungful of cold air, he started to cough.

“Cough into your cupped hands,” Doug told him. “Then you breathe in the warmed air.”

It took Samuel a minute to catch on, then another minutes for his lungs to get the idea. Finally, eyes watering, nose running, he looked up and gasped,“Ow.”

Doug nodded agreeably.“Life’s a bitch.”

“A female dog?” Samuel asked, wiping various bodily fluids off his face before they froze.

“Oh, yeah.”

And things were just starting to make sense.…Trying to work out this new worldview, Samuel turned, stiffened, and raced down to the sidewalk. “Are you crazy?” he demanded, yanking the cigarette out from between cracked lips and throwing it on the ground. “You’re destroying your body! You only getone, you know.”

Craig Russel, who’d been smoking since he was twelve and in better economic times had maintained a two-pack-a-day habit, peered out at Samuel from between the tattered ear flaps of his deerstalker, then down at his cigarette lying propped almost on end by a bit of dirty snow. Not entirely certain what had just happened, he squatted and extended fingers stained yellow-brown with nicotine.

“Didn’t you hear me?” Samuel ground the cigarette into pieces and the pieces into the snow. “Those things are bad for you!”

Grizzled brows drew in.“You smashed my smoke.”

“Well, yeah. It’s poison.”

“You smashed my smoke.” Craig stood, slowly, and leaned forward to stare into Samuel’s face. “My last smoke.”

Eyes beginning to water again, Samuel leaned back.“Do you have any idea how bad those things made your breath sm…” His mouth opened and closed a few more times, but no sound emerged. Up on his toes, back arched, he pushed at the air with stiff fingers.

“Let him go, Craig.”

“He smashed my smoke. My last smoke.”

“Yeah, I know, but you keep hold of his balls any longer and people’ll start to talk.”

Craig stared down at his right hand as though he recognized neither it nor the crushed fabric and flesh it held.“He smashed my…”

“No shit. But I bet he’s really, really sorry.” Scratching at a scab buried deep in the stubble on his chin, Doug turned a bloodshot gaze on the younger man. “Ain’t you, kid?”

Samuel nodded. Vigorously. The pigeon about to land on his head banked left and settled on his shoulder. A second pigeon, following close behind, touched down on the other side.

“Oh, man.” Eyes wide, Craig opened his hand and backed away. “He’s got pigeons!”

Three.

Four.

Craig turned and ran.

Bent nearly double, both hands cupping his crotch, Samuel whimpered. Five pigeons landed on his back, jostling for space.

“You shouldn’t of smashed Craig’s smoke, kid.”

“But they’re…bad for…him.”

Finally freeing the scab, Doug flicked it away.“Worse for you.”

That was hard to argue with.“He’s stronger than…he looks.”

“Yep.”

Finally beginning to get his breath back, Samuel cautiously straightened, dumping the five pigeons into the feathered crowd gathered around his feet.“Is there an up side to these things?” he demanded, cautiously pulling fabric away from his body. “They’ve been nothing but trouble since I got them.”

“Them? Oh. Them. Well, there’s girls.”

“What do they have to do with girls?”

Doug frowned thoughtfully.“I forget.”

Half a block away, a pay phone began to ring. The diaspora of street people fanning out from St. Mike’s paused as one, then began moving again. Phones had nothing to do with them.

“Half a mo, kid. That’s probably my bookie.” A little more than half a minute later, he was back. “Not mine, kid. Yours.”

“But I don’t have a bookie.”