The Second Summoning

A quick swipe of her tongue across her lips. Did she still have any lipstick on?

She knew she should have put more on at the last rest stop.

“You can’t let other people do the driving in your car, sir.” That was clever. He wasn’t only the cutest thing she’d seen since she arrived, he was smart, too.

“Now 113km in an 80 should be a three-hundred-dollar fine and six points off your license, but . . .”

Why didn’t he look at her?

“. . . I’m going to let you off with a warning. This time. If I pull you over again . . .” His voice trailed off.

And he was merciful.

Handing back Harry’s paperwork, he finally glanced into the back seat, but his gaze slid over her like she was completely unworthy of being noticed.

Arms folded, brows in, she slid back into her slouch, achieving new lows.

What the hell did she care about merciful anyway?

“Thank you, Officer.”

“Drive safely, sir. Have a good day, ma’am. Miss.” Her eyes narrowed. “Whatever.”

He glanced into the back again, then he smiled at Harry. “Teenagers, eh?”

“Teenagers, eh?” Byleth mocked as the officer returned to his cruiser. “What a jerk.”

“Good-looking man, though. Wasn’t he, dear?”

“I never noticed. And what are you smiling about?” she demanded as the Porters exchanged an amused glance.

“Nothing.”

“Good.” Glaring straight ahead, she refused to acknowledge the police car as it passed, repeating, “Jerk. Jerk. Jerk. Jerk,” vehemently under her breath.

“Careful, Austin.” Scooping him back up onto the seat, Claire wore a worried expression. “Are you all right? You were sound asleep, and then . . .”

“And then I wasn’t. Yeah, I know.” He got his legs untangled and climbed over to her right thigh, where he could stand and look out the window. “Something we passed woke me up.”

“Do you want me to pull over?” Dean asked.

“No.” He put a paw on the glass and watched the traffic across the median speeding south. “It’s gone now.”

Chapter TEN

“You are so not like what I imagined an angel to be. Your hair, your clothes . .

.”

“My genitalia,” Samuel added a little mournfully.

Diana made a disgusted face and shoved mittened hands deeper into her pockets. “I wouldn’t know, and I’d really rather you quit mentioning it.”

“Them.”

“Whatever.”

“Why?” For no good reason, he jumped up and smacked the No Parking sign, checking out of the corner of one eye to see if the Keeper was impressed. She didn’t seem to be.

“They’re just not something people talk about in public.”

“Should we go someplace private?”

“You wish.”

“For what?”

“Pardon?”

“What do I wish for?”

“Well, if you don’t know, I’m not going to tell you.”

“But if I knew, you wouldn’t have to tell me,” he pointed out reasonably as they turned the corner Onto Yonge Street. Across the road, a double line of people stood stamping their feet and blowing on their hands. “Those people are cold. Why are they standing there?”

“Best guess, they’re waiting to get into the electronics store for the Boxing Day sale.”

“Why?”

“What do you mean, why? Because it’s a sale.” She rolled her eyes. “I thought you had Higher Knowledge.”

“I do. The 26th of December is called Boxing Day because in Victorian England that’s when the rich boxed up their Christmas leftover for the poor.”

“Really?”

“It’s one theory. But it still doesn’t explain that.” He waved a hand at the crowd across the street. “Most of those people are anxious, over half are actually unhappy, and although they’ll be saving money, they’d all be better off if they just didn’t spend it. A new stereo won’t give meaning to their empty, shallow lives.” Diana grabbed the back of his jacket as he stepped off the curb. “Where are you going?”

“To tell them that.”

“I’m just guessing here, but I think they know.” He half-turned in her grip. “Really?”

“Uh-huh. It’s a human thing; a new stereo will help them forget their empty shallow lives.”

“Human memory is that bad?”

“Well, duh. Why do you think platform shoes and mini skirts have come back? Because people have forgotten how truly dorky they looked the first time.” Diana shuddered. “Me, I’ve seen my mother’s yearbook pictures.” She hauled him back up onto the sidewalk. “You hungry?”

“Starving.”

“You’re not supposed to be.” His situation had deteriorated farther than she’d feared. “Come on, I’ll buy you . . .” She checked her watch. “. . . lunch and we’ll talk.”

“. . . and that’s why you’re here.” Diana peered over the pile of fast food wrappers in front of the angel. “Are you blushing?”

“You said your sister . . . you know,” he mumbled.

“I really think you’ve got more to worry about than my sister’s sex life.” Elbows up on the table, she ticked the points off on her fingers. “One, angels are, by definition, messengers of the Lord, but because of the way you came into being, you have no message, thus leaving you with a distinct identity crisis.”

“Thus?”

“Don’t interrupt. Two, you can’t return to the light, so you’re stuck here even though you have no reason to be here and no visible means of support. Three, from what I’ve seen so far, the boy bits seem to be doing all the defining.”

“The what?”