Kim Harrison - Early to Death, Early to Rise

Barnabas looked to the spot of pavement where Ron had last stood. “Probably search the local time lines until he finds out where we’ve been, then try to identify the people we’ve come in contact with. But he won’t be able to actually act until he flashes forward and sees the future. That’s when he would send a reaper out. Sometimes the dark timekeeper flashes first, sometimes the light. It’s the person who flashes last who has the clearer picture of the mark, so it evens things out, I suppose.”

I nodded, thinking it made sense. The closer in time the flash was from the turning point happening, the clearer the timekeeper’s perceptions would be. Grimacing, I glanced at my watch. It was getting late, and it was going to take a while to get home, even by wing. “I have to get back to school,” I said, worried. “Check in with my dad. Get my assignments from Josh.”

“I’ll stay here,” Barnabas said immediately, and Nakita predictably bristled.

“Why you?” she asked belligerently, standing with her feet spread wide.

I met Barnabas’s eyes, telling him without saying a word that I’d handle this. She was mad enough at him already. “Because Barnabas won’t kill Shoe if Ron sends someone to watch us.” Nakita started to protest, and I got angry. “Look,” I said, letting some of my frustration show. “There are no black wings in sight. I haven’t flashed forward yet, and neither has Ron. Barnabas, can you reach my thoughts over that great a distance?”

“Not when you’re shielded,” he said glumly.

“Not a problem,” I said, running a hand over the back of my head to smooth my hair. “I don’t need to be shielded when I’m at home. Ron knows where I live, and if he sees me there, then he might give up on watching me at all. Nakita can fly me home and back again when my dad goes to sleep. You can let us know if something shifts in the meantime.”

It was a good plan, as far as I could tell, but Barnabas looked as excited about it as Nakita did. “I’ll call you if something changes,” he agreed, gaze downcast, and I realized it bothered him that his resonance had officially shifted down the spectrum. He could no longer be counted among the light reapers, no matter what he believed. His contact with me had stained him as much as it had damaged Nakita.

“Okay,” I said meekly, not liking to see him depressed. He had been a light reaper for a long time. He wasn’t ever going to fit in with the dark reapers, even if his amulet shifted as black as mine. He was going to be alone and apart for the rest of his life.

I edged toward Nakita, never having flown with her before but figuring that if Barnabas could do it, she could, too. For a moment it looked as if she were going to protest, but upon seeing how unhappy Barnabas was, she simply arched her wings to make the tips touch high above her head. I stared up at them, thinking they were beautiful, even if they didn’t go with her brightly colored clothes and sandals. I eyed Barnabas, feeling funny leaving him when he was like this.

“Are you able to fly with another person?” I asked her, and Nakita flicked her gaze to Barnabas and back to me.

“I’ll let you know in a moment,” she said, making me glad I was already dead.

Seeing us getting ready to leave, Barnabas mustered a smile. “Go,” he said. “I’ll get myself in a distant place where I can watch Shoe without giving away who I’m watching. I’d think we have at least until midnight for Ron to pick out Shoe’s resonance from the fabric of time.”

By his uneasy stance, I didn’t know if I should believe him. Sighing, I dropped back to stand with Nakita. Her arm hesitantly wrapped around my waist, and I stumbled as her wings opened, making us lift an inch and then drop. My heart pounded, and she shifted her weight.

“I’m sorry you’re different now,” she said to Barnabas. Her words were soft, but I knew he heard her as his shaggy mop of hair shifted. “She changes people,” she said, as if I weren’t standing right there. “Maybe that’s her purpose.”

“Maybe,” Barnabas said; then he ducked as Nakita pushed down with her wings.

I gasped as the corn around us flattened and we were suddenly airborne. The sudden air-pressure shift made me wince—not to mention Nakita’s wobbly ascent—and I looked down as Barnabas gazed up. He was standing in the middle of the deserted road, the impressions of Nakita’s wings making what looked almost like part of a crop circle around him. My stomach lurched, and I gripped Nakita’s arm holding me to her. She wasn’t as good as Barnabas in carrying my weight, but she could do it, and I relaxed, hearing her sigh in relief.

As she winged us back to Three Rivers, my mind kept swirling over the fact that Nakita had felt sorrow for Barnabas when she had once felt only disdain. I had changed her, too.

Devoting your life to the person who had accidentally put black wings inside of you to eat your memories and teach you the meaning of death could not be an easy thing to do.

The spaghetti sauce smelled spicy, just the way I liked it. Or had liked it. I sent my fork twirling, winding up a wad I was going to pass to Josh as soon as my dad looked away. Being dead sucked dishwater. I’d never realized how much I had enjoyed food until I couldn’t. Sitting across from me in my dad’s kitchen, Nakita pushed her food around as well. Josh wasn’t helping her eat her spaghetti, and my dad was starting to look worried at her full plate.

“Too much oregano?” he asked, pushing his glasses to the bridge of his nose.

“It’s great, Mr. A,” Josh said cheerfully around his full mouth.

My dad’s eyes were on me, though, and I smiled, forcing myself to put a forkful in my mouth and chew. It just wasn’t the same. The solid illusion of my body took what it needed from my amulet. I didn’t need outside energy to exist, and the desire to eat just wasn’t there. I could do it, but it was like chewing on rice cakes.

“Top-notch, Dad,” I said, but it was clear by his suspicious mmmm that he didn’t believe me. “I had a snack when I got home from school,” I said, mentally adding, Last year, when I was a junior , to sort of try to keep it from being a lie.

“Well, don’t tomorrow, okay?” he said, wiping his fingers on a napkin before taking a sip of his water. “I’m tired of making food that sits on your plate.”

My dad stood and went to open the window over the sink. Early cricket song and the hush of a passing car on our quiet residential street slipped in with the golden haze of a low sun. I quickly exchanged forks with Josh, and Nakita frowned. She was going to have to get rid of her food another way. Josh was eager enough, but he wasn’t that big a guy.

Nakita and I had gotten back about three thirty to find Josh on my front steps, looking good as he sat with a stack of new textbooks. I owed him big. Bigger than dinner at my house. I had checked in with my dad from the house phone and then we’d sat around in the backyard, watching Josh eat chips as I’d told him the story. Josh had listened to it all, clearly disappointed that he hadn’t been there.

It was about seven, and I was getting anxious about Shoe. Ron must have found something out by now, but Barnabas hadn’t said a word, meaning the status quo hadn’t changed. Sighing, I wound up another wad of spaghetti and passed it over to Josh, who cheerfully took it, head bobbing and mouth still chewing the last forkful. My dad’s shoes scraped on the faded linoleum when he turned back around, and I breathed in the scent of oil and ink that clung to him from work as he came back to the table. His thoughts were clearly not on dinner. They were probably on me.