Kelley Armstrong - Haunted

I laughed. "We'll get her for you, don't you worry. Then we'll finally find out whether all this supposition has been for naught. My luck, I'll finally decide I want to be an angel, and find out the offer isn't even on the table, that it never was."

A look passed through his eyes.

"You already know, don't you?" I said.

He stood, crossed the room, grabbed an apple off the counter. "We should work on our next move."

"No, you should work on your diversionary tactics. That one's as obvious as trying to send me to check on Lizzie before Aratron arrived." I got to my feet. "You've talked to the Fates, haven't you? You sneaky… When did you-what did they say?"

He lobbed the apple from one palm to the other. "It's not my place to discuss this, Eve."

I grabbed the apple from him. "Well, obviously, if you're still worried about proving you could mentor me, the answer was yes. They want me to be an angel."

I took a bite and chewed slowly, turning the thought over in my mind. Like a magnet, it both repelled and attracted, depending on which way I turned it. But, still, no matter how much it might change my life, it would take care of my problem with Savannah…

I took another chomp of the apple and walked back to the divan.

"Why me?" I said.

When Trsiel didn't respond, I sighed and glanced over my shoulder at him. "Okay, hypothetically, if the Fates have a space to fill, why pick me? There must be dozens of supernaturals more worthy of the honor."

"Becoming an angel isn't a reward for goodness," he said, taking the chair next to the divan again. "It's a job, and like any job, it has requirements."

"Such as?"

"Each realm has its own team of ascendeds, pulled from that realm, who tend to matters involving the ghosts in that realm and the living who will eventually come to that realm. The Fates, having guardianship of the smaller supernatural realms, are permitted fewer ascendeds, and have a smaller pool to choose from. So they must choose more carefully and have developed a rather unique, and creative, system for picking angels."

"They're inventive, like Aratron said."

Trsiel nodded. "Every ascended on the Fates' team has been chosen for what new skills or personality traits he or she can add to it. Janah, for example, was the first, and she was a priestess, a very devout woman eager to serve on the side of righteousness. Katsuo-who investigated Glamis-was a samurai, making him a powerful warrior who will obey without question. Marius is a warrior of another kind, a gladiator who led an uprising against the Romans. Unlike Katsuo, Marius has never met an authority figure he didn't challenge, but give him a case of injustice to solve, and no one fights harder."

"Different angels, different strengths. Different weapons for different battles."

"But when it came to the Nix, the Fates realized something was missing from their weapon case."

"Someone who could understand a creature like the Nix."

"I can't speak for the Fates, but I suspect it's that, plus a combination of other factors, that made them-or would make them-see you as a good candidate." He snuck a look my way. "You do want it, don't you? At first, I wasn't sure, but then you seemed to warm to the idea."

"I did," I said, turning the half-eaten apple over in my hands. "But now… I'm not sure. There's a lot to think about."

He was quiet for a moment, then looked at me. "It's Kristof, isn't it?"

"He…" I leaned back against the divan cushions and fixed my gaze on the bookshelf. "A few days ago he said I need a purpose in my life, and he's right. This hunt-this quest-it's made me feel…" A small smile. "I'd say 'alive,' if that didn't sound so silly."

"It doesn't."

"In a way, 'alive' really does make sense. Since I died, I've been… well, 'dead,' hovering in limbo, obsessing about my daughter, surfacing now and then to see Kristof, but he's been the only thing that brings me out of it. I need more than that, and he knows it. I need a job." I laughed. "Isn't that rich? Spent my life proud of the fact that I never held a proper job, never paid a dime in income taxes, and now that I'm dead, that's exactly what I want."

Trsiel smiled. "Well, I hate to break it to you, but angels don't pay taxes. Don't collect a salary, either."

"You know what I mean."

"You want a purpose, and you think this might be it. Your calling."

I made a gagging noise.

He grinned. "Okay, career , not calling. But there's still the problem with Kristof. Obviously he means a lot to you…"

"And in taking his advice and taking this 'job,' I might screw things up completely. Become an angel, and I'll finally realize my dream of being able to protect Savannah. Instead of finding a new purpose in my life, I might be opening the door to furthering that obsession. So what could be the best thing for me might end up being the worst. If that happens, Kris is gone. Guy's got the tenacity of a bulldog, but even a bulldog eventually realizes it's latched onto something it'll never pull free."

Trsiel said nothing. When I glanced over, he was just staring at me.

"You don't know, do you?" he said softly.

"Don't know what?"

"When you ascend… Eve, you can't…" He rubbed his hand over his mouth. "I thought you knew."

"Knew what?"

"When you ascend, you have to break all ties with the ghost world."

The room seemed to darken and tilt.

"You mean, I couldn't live there, right?" I said slowly. "I'd have to move up here or something, but I could still visit the ghost world-"

"I mean you'd have to leave. Forever."

I don't know what I said next. I felt my lips moving, heard something like words coming from them, vaguely saw Trsiel nod and say something in return, then felt myself recite a transportation code. The room darkened, then disappeared.

I STOOD IN KRISTOF'S HOUSEBOAT, IN FRONT OF THE tiny writing desk beside the bunk. Over the desk was a shelf crammed with photos. Memory shots, we called them in the ghost world. We didn't have cameras or access to old pictures, but we didn't need them. If we could pluck an image from memory, we could make a photograph of it, as I'd done with Amanda Sullivan's picture.

On Kristof's shelf, he had photos of what was important to him. His parents, brothers, nephews, and, of course, his sons. Plus two shots of Savannah, one as she'd been when he met her, and one as she was now. All pictures of family. Then there was a scattering of shots near the middle, of the two of us, memory shots of things we'd done together fifteen years ago, then after our deaths. Off to the side were two more pictures of me, one goofy face-pulling pose, and one of me laughing, curled up in a chair at my house. Then there was the picture he'd had to ask me for: something he'd never had the chance to see, Savannah and me together.

Two days ago, I'd accused him of making me choose between him and our daughter. Now I stared at those pictures, and I realized I'd almost made that choice, however unwillingly. I'd like to say that I would never have become an angel without knowing all the facts, but that would be like saying I'd never have taken Savannah from Kristof without first asking whether he cared. Or like saying I'd never have tried to escape that compound without first making sure my plan was foolproof. Act now, ask questions later, and pay the price forever-that was my path through life. Had Trsiel not told me the cost of angel-hood, I might very well have found myself in an afterlife where I'd chosen Savannah over Kristof-chosen the illusion of a relationship with Savannah over the reality of one with Kristof.

I tore myself away from the photos and headed onto the dock, brain still spinning. When I looked up, I saw Kristof striding down the hill, gaze down, thoughts clearly elsewhere. Then he looked up. As he saw me, his frown evaporated in a wide smile, pace picking up to a jog, a shout of greeting cutting through the soft thump of the waves against the hull.