“You don’t have anything to be sorry about, Baby. Not a thing. But for now, I want you to stop trying to heal Bruiser, okay? And stop using your magic when you don’t absolutely have to.”
Angie tilted her in perplexity, her eyebrows drawing together. “But people need me, Aunt Jane. I’m supposed to help. It’s why I’m here. Beast’s angel tolded me so.”
Beast’s angel? Hayyel? That interaction between the angel and the people gathered in the room in Evangelina’s house, not long before I killed the witch, had lasted all of five heartbeats. A single moment of bright light and darkest chaos, the sound of swords clashing, and the scream of darkest evil fighting a blinding, killing light. But in that single moment, the angel had done a lot of things, and I was nowhere near figuring out what all he had done or how to undo any of it.
I wanted to say, Angie, do you know what the word inscrutable means? ’Cause God is inscrutable. He gave us life with no promises. And that life sometimes just slaps us silly for no reason, out of the blue, and leaves us to deal with the problems. Sink or swim. But Angie wasn’t ready to hear all that. And how did you tell a kid that the angel who talked to her might have his own agenda and that what the angel wanted might not be the best thing for the nonangelic?
I was getting in too deep with this. I was floundering. “Ummm, the angel didn’t mean you had to do it all now,” I said softly. Yeah. That sounded good. “Aaaaand . . . um . . . the angel wants you to grow up a lot more first.”
Angie straightened her head and grinned at me. “You’re funny, Aunt Jane.” But she let go of Bruiser’s hand and the black motes of dazzling magic vanished. Relief shuddered through me like a jackhammer. Angie went on. “Mommy’s hurt. She was okay, but she’s not okay now. You gotta go help her.”
My heart crawled up my throat on pounding feet. “Can you tell me what’s wrong with her?” I asked.
“She’s got dead stuff all around her. And she’s scared. She’s talking to God and you gotta help her.”
Molly was talking to God? Molly hadn’t really believed in God for a long time. “Okay. I’m trying really hard.” And then I grinned. “Your other birthday present? Is this.” I reached over and picked up the kitten, depositing her in Angie’s arms. “Her name is KitKit.”
Angie’s eyes went wide as saucers. “I been holding her! I love her!” She hugged the kitten close. “I always wanted a kitten for my own! Hi, KitKit! I love you already!” Angie Baby threw her arms around my neck, squishing KitKit between us. “Thank you, Aunt Jane! Thank you, thank you, thank you!”
I glanced up from the floor to the Kid, sitting at his table, working, and shamelessly listening in. He shook his head at me slowly, perplexed, baffled. Or maybe amazed. It was pretty brilliant of me.
I opened my cell and checked my e-mail to find one waiting from Del. In it were three addresses, all of them out of the city, west of the river. I dipped the cell at Alex, indicating I was sending him info. He nodded, and I hit SEND. “Directions, sat maps, anything you can get,” I said to him. “We have a couple of hours before sundown and we need to be done before nightfall.” Or Molly might not make it.
He nodded once and bent over his tablets. I caught another glimpse of black and gold graphics, dark and bold, which seemed familiar, but I couldn’t place where I’d seen it before, and I shrugged, pushing my way off the floor. I lifted Angie up in my arms and headed up the stairs, the kitten hot on my feet, managing the steps with clumsy determination. “So. I’m guessing that you’re supposed to be in your bed for a nap,” I said to her, “and that EJ is in his bed asleep, and your daddy’s exhausted from healing Bruiser and he’s in his bed. Would I be right?”
“Yes, ma’am.” She crooked a tiny hand around my ear and whispered, “Don’t tell Daddy.” I felt a tingle of magics from her words, a compulsion that she was not supposed to know how to use.
“Stop that,” I whispered.
Angie jerked back, her eyes wide. She covered her mouth with the fingers of one hand. “You felted that?” she whispered.
“Yes,” I whispered as I reached the second-floor landing. “I felted it. Don’t do it again.”
“Okay. I promise.”
I squinted at her, seeing her magics recede into her fingers. “Hey, can you use that on your parents?” If Angie’s eyes had gotten wider, her eyeballs would have popped out and rolled around on the floor. “If I ever see you using that on your parents, I’ll turn you over my knee and spank the living daylights outta you.”
Angie’s mouth went as wide as her eyes. “You would hit me?”
I paused on the landing, my feet coming to a complete stop, considering my godchild and wondering just how mischievous—and how dangerous—she was and might become as she got older. In a normal voice I said, “If EJ was about to touch a hot stove, would your mama and daddy grab him and spank his bottom to keep him safe?”
“EJ wears trainer-diapers,” she said, her face going mutinous. “He wouldn’t feel it if they spanked him.”