Rob Thurman - Trick of the Light

“And once those out there find out I don’t have it, they’ll kill me,” Wilbur said bitterly. Then he straightened to tell me earnestly, “But first they could find out.” He touched his head. “The Light, I might not have it, but it leaves its voice, like an echo, you know? A trail of bread crumbs to follow, just like the fairy tale. To find where Jeb hid it. He told me he passed the voice on and whoever has it will pass it on. I thought he was talking crazy until the Light talked to me too.”

“You’re a bread crumb?” I asked skeptically.

He tried for another grin and failed. “Yeah. Not the worst thing I’ve been in my life.”

“So you know where Jeb hid it?”

“No.” He shook his head. “Wouldn’t be much point to leaving a trail of bread crumbs if I did. And I guess you’re who I’ve been waiting for. The Light let you in. That makes you good people. Good enough anyway, because I’m out of time. Hope you paid attention to that Hansel and Gretel story when you were little. Here’s your way to the second crumb.” Before I could say anything, he slammed the palm of one hand against my forehead . . . and I felt it.

Felt the Light.

Felt the Life.

The inextricable twist and glitter of them both.

It didn’t speak to me; there wasn’t enough left of it there for that—not in Wilbur’s mind and not in the faint castoff outside surrounding the trailer. There were just sensations. Warmth. Strength. A beckoning finger. And, lastly, the distinct feeling that I was the lesser of a few evils in the mix. Ah well, it wasn’t the first time I’d been accused of that.

I rested on my sore back and rubbed my equally sore forehead from where the sheer energy of the Light had actually knocked me flat. As I rubbed, I looked up. The ceiling was interesting. Another Buddha poster with lotuses and a river, bright colors long faded and the serenity of a place far better than here.

“Now they’ll hurt me like Jeb was hurt. You and your friend can try to stop them, but I think one way or another I won’t be one of the winners.” Still on the couch, he looked down and scrubbed at his face.

No. He wouldn’t be. Leo and I could get away in my car with the weapons we’d brought, depending on how many angelic and demonic reinforcements they brought in, but protect Wilbur too? Probably not.

“Demons and angels. Watched out for ’em my whole life,” he muttered. “One to toss me into the pit and one to catch me. Now what? They torture and kill me like Jeb, leastwise the demons will. And then they have my soul to torture all over again.” He bowed his head and rested it against the largest Buddha in the place, the brass one on the coffee table in front of him. “Don’t want the angels either, if they could even get hold of me. I’ve been a bad guy from time to time. There’s a whole lot of no-good in me. I know that. And I want to make up, I do, but my way, not theirs.”

It seemed Dream Angel out there hadn’t made much of an impression on Wilbur. He hadn’t made much of one on me either. I sat up, stood still until I stopped swaying, and then reached up and ripped the poster from the ceiling. Laying it on the table, I pointed to the blue river and said gently, “Then join the river, John. You’re a Buddhist.” I took his hand and placed it flat on water that almost seemed real. “Rebirth. You flow on. They’ll never find you. There are many ways in this world. There’s no reason you can’t do it your way.”

“My way.”

As he contemplated the water with the sweep of his thumb, I kissed his bristly cheek. “You and I, John. We are of a kind. Until the day we die and beyond, we’ll do it our way.”

Five minutes later I was being chased out of a trailer, buckshot singing over my head. Wilbur was yelling and swearing, firing again, and slamming the door shut. It was wild and crazy and I needed Solomon and the angel to buy it for just a second. I passed the first as he was pounding with both fists at air that sparked gold under the impact but didn’t give way.

Then the swearing stopped, the buckshot ceased, and there was a long moment of quiet before the sound of one single shot ripped through the night. It sounded like small caliber. Didn’t matter really. It just meant it would bounce around the inside of his skull, turning to pudding everything in its path. Wilbur was a mountain man. If he wanted something shot dead, it was shot dead. The glowing circle around the trailer instantly faded, the flakes of crystal crumbling to gray ash.

“Gone,” the angel said flatly.

“ Gone, ” Solomon said with a little more dark emotion.

Both were right. Wilbur was gone by now. Riding the river along to his next life. No Heaven, no Hell . . . only the constant stream. His choice. I only hoped he did better next time. That he wasn’t so bad. Didn’t need so much to atone for. Was a little taller maybe, if that made him happy.

Poor bastard.

I kept running—toward the car. Leo was right behind me. The angel looked up, eyes no longer violet dusk but as bright as tropical water under a high sun . . . waiting. Like a good little GI Joe, Boy Scout, soldier of God . . . or so he thought. Lower management all the way. A GI can’t take a piss without the paperwork, and an angel of this caliber wouldn’t take a single step without orders from the higher-ups. That meant middle management, angels with free will and what they thought was a license to use it, would be here any second. Lucifer was apparently a little more lax in that entire employee protocol/rules and regulations area because Solomon was already heading in our direction, showing the boss that he had some serious initiative. Running. Not flying. He had never shown me his demon side and I thought he probably never would unless he had to kill me. So no swooping—he ran. That’s not to say he couldn’t run fast. Damn fast.

I dived behind the wheel and had the car moving before Leo was quite in it. “Damn it.” He wanted to say I could’ve waited half a second, but he didn’t because he was male, and a guy wouldn’t say that if you were taking off in the shuttle while he ran alongside.

“I had faith,” I said to his unvoiced bitching.

“Yeah, and it warms my heart,” he grunted as he got the shotgun up and nailed Solomon—barely. The demon probably would’ve disappeared, but Leo had reached out and grabbed his arm before discharging the shotgun. That was the thing about demons and probably angels. They could disappear, back to Heaven or Hell I guess, as long as they weren’t anchored to this world. The best thing for anchoring them here was a tight hand and a cranky attitude. Iron or steel seemed to work too, but it was one slow-ass demon that would let even me wriggle him into some cuffs . . . at least without whipping out the leather, teddy, braided whip, and holding back the bile. As for an angel . . . I wanted one of those in chains even less than a demon, although for different reasons. Demons occasionally came alone. Angels almost always had backup.

As Solomon writhed around the end of the shotgun, black blood flew around his neck as the car slid in a circle. Leo let go of him, ready to take a shot at his head, but I grabbed his arm to give Solomon that split second he needed to disappear. I ignored Leo’s frown. Solomon would be back—to join his brothers. Sure, demons occasionally came alone, but not this time. What I thought was bumpy terrain beneath was shown to be dozens of brown demons springing from the earth.

And as that happened, the night sky turned to van Gogh’s Starry Night . There were swirls of scarlet and green and blue and amethyst, but most of all . . . silver and gold. The nearly invisible curves became wings of glass. Red and gold. Green and silver and all variations. The angels floated in the air in their true form . . . their oddly alien faces were narrow with eyes large, almond shaped, and as full of light as the outer edges of their wings. You could see the stars through the glass of those wings, although they rippled because every “feather” was a sharply transparent dagger edged in gemstone color. Their skin was filled with light as well, only slightly cooler than the eyes. It was definitely a different look than surfer angel had been sporting not too long ago. Nothing like their human costumes at all.