“Okay, sheesh!”
“Don’t sheesh me.”
“Shee—”
“Anthony, I’m warning you.”
“Fine. Let’s go already. Please.”
“Give me a minute. And by give me a minute, I don’t mean standing in my doorway and looking at me that way.”
“What way?”
“Anthony...”
“Fine.”
He turned and left, but only stepped a few feet into the hallway. I could still see his shoulder. “Better?” he said.
I sighed and was just about to pause the video when I saw something interesting.
A light had turned on, from deep within the coffee shop. And, if I had to guess, it had turned on down the hallway, where the bathrooms were.
And then it turned off again.
And all was quiet.
“Mom! Jacky’s waiting!”
I rolled my eyes, and shut down my computer, making a mental note to return to this spot in the video.
Chapter Twenty-six
I got a quick workout in, too.
I was fairly certain I didn’t need to work out. I was fairly certain that my heightened skills just sort of “kick in” when necessary. Of course, working out made me feel normal. And feeling normal, I knew, was half the battle to fighting the demon within. Feeling human meant keeping the demon at bay for another day.
Now I worked on a punching bag at about half speed. Not too long ago, I watched Captain America in The Avengers send a punching bag sailing clear across the gym. Once, I’d knocked the punching bag clear off the chain, sending it tumbling a few feet. But flying across the room? Not so much. I’d leave that for the movies. I threw a final punch, sending the bag swinging, and then grabbed my towel.
I often wondered what Jacky thought of me. He, better than most, knew there was something odd about me. If being freakishly strong was odd.
And it was.
To date, I hadn’t gotten very far into his thoughts, nor had I tried. I knew Jacky’s own brain was muddled from years of taking hits. Punch drunk, they called it. He had brain damage, of that I knew for sure, and I thought his damage was sufficient enough for me to not gain much access.
It was just as well. Some people could keep their secrets.
Now, as I sat on the floor with my back against the wall, my towel around me, and the punching bag still swinging next to me, I watched the old Irishman work with my son, one on one, in the ring.
It was late, and so the gym was mostly empty. I checked the time on my cell. Almost closing time, in fact. Jacky had said that was okay. He was going to work with my son after hours, if it was all right with me. I told him I specialized in after hours. He gave me an odd look and shook his head. I got that a lot.
Now, as I sat and watched my son go over the footwork and handwork, I marveled again at my boy’s skill. He was only ten, but he already moved with the ease and precision of a seasoned fighter. His punches were accurate, fierce, rapid-fire. I saw Jacky wincing here and there as he held up the practice mitts.
As I watched my son, as the minutes slipped past and I was almost lulled into a meditative state by the staccato sound of his punches, all punctuated by Jacky’s Irish twang, a twang I never got tired of hearing, I saw something out of my peripheral vision, something that existed not quite in this world. It was standing near the gym’s now-closed front door.
No, not a ghost. It was something else.
An angel.
It was Ishmael.
Chapter Twenty-seven
As I approached the angel, it all started making sense to me, or some of it. Okay, maybe none of it, but I knew the angel, Ishmael, would have some answers. He’d better.
He saw me coming and glanced over at me. Then again, I suspected he knew I would come, since he had partially revealed himself to me now. He was also one of the few supernatural beings who had access to my thoughts. No surprise there, since he had once been my guardian angel.
At the door, I said to him, under my breath, “Let’s talk outside.”
I turned the handle and two things happened simultaneously: something snapped loudly, and Jacky was calling to me.
“The door’s locked, Sam—ah, bloody hell.”
“Oopsie,” I said, holding up the broken handle. Yeah, I’d snapped the thing clean off. Old locks and a pissed-off vampire mama didn’t go well together. “Sorry.”
“You broke it,” he said, staring at me from the corner of the ring. A single spotlight shone down on him and my son. Behind them, at the back of the gym, a young kid was mopping the floor. Another was wiping down the equipment. Other than that, the place was empty. That is, if you didn’t count the seven-foot angel glowing next to me. And I didn’t, since the others didn’t seem to be able to see him, including my son. “You broke it,” said the retired boxer again, this time with more awe in his voice. “Right off the goddamn door.”
“I said ‘oopsie.’”
“You’re a freak, Sam.”
“I know.”
“And so is your son,” he said, but as he said it, he turned and mussed Anthony’s hair, and, for the moment, the Irishman forgot about his broken door handle. Anthony grinned from ear to ear, something he did far too little of.
Once outside, I tossed the broken handle aside, and told the seven-foot giant to follow me.
Chapter Twenty-eight
I led him to an alley next to the gym.
“Start talking,” I said, turning around, facing him. That I was ordering around my one-time guardian angel was further evidence of my descent into madness. Or further evidence that the world really is bigger and more fantastic than I’d ever dreamed possible.
“You’re not mad, Sam.”
“Says the seven-foot glowing angel.”
“I’m here, Sam, and so are you.”
“Fine, whatever. Now tell me what the devil you’re doing here. And, yes, I said devil to an angel. Except, of course, we both know what kind of angel you are.”
He was, of course, of the fallen variety. Recently fallen, for that matter. That he had fallen because of me—or, rather, because of his misguided love for me—was a different story.
“Yes, Sam. I know what you think of me. I know you blame me for everything, but I would like to remind you that your son is in there boxing with Jacky because of what I did.”
“Or didn’t do,” I said.
He didn’t respond. My “guardian angel” had permitted me to be attacked on that fateful night eight years ago. He had looked the other way while a very old vampire had sought me out for reasons still unknown to me. Sought me out, hunted me down, take your pick. I knew now that the act wasn’t random. And my guardian angel, I suspected, had played a role in it.