“Look. I’m going to be more careful. I did learn something from this experience.”
“What?”
“Don’t force others to stay engaged if they want to hang up on you?”
He laughed. “Well put.”
“So. Maybe I could use my powers for good.”
“Or maybe you’d get swallowed up by the seductive lure of your ego determining reality for everybody. You’re smart enough to see the problem there. I know you are. It’s a pitfall that may be too deep for anyone to navigate. Even you.”
“Do my parents know about this?”
He shook his head. “Not a clue.”
“So I think what you’re saying is that everybody who does know would like to see some guidelines in place.”
“I’m not sure…”
“Let’s work out some compromises.”
She closed her eyes and wished she was wearing her favorite gray cashmere sweater dress and her Ferragamo boots. She didn’t have to look to see that something had happened. The feel of fabric against her skin changed. Her feet that had been surrounded by sneakers suddenly felt more substance, more structure, less give. As she opened her eyes, she ran her hands over the soft skirt that covered her lap and smiled at Kellareal.
“Changing clothes. Check. I think everybody would agree that changing clothes is okay. Apparently, demons do it all the time and,” she looked Kellareal up and down, “I’m assuming it’s the same for angels?”
With a sharp nod, he sat up, looking both interested and cautiously encouraged. “I see where you’re going with this. Like a treaty between you and the rest of creation.”
“I’m not saying that I’ve bought into the whole prophesy thing, but my human grandmother likes to say better safe than sorry.”
Kellareal was looking more like himself. “For simplicity’s sake, we could say that, anything elementals can do, you can do. Does that sound fair?”
“That sounds fair. I don’t want to be caught off guard by my hunters. When they come waltzing in there to show me what they’ve been taught to do by some rogue demon, I want to know about it ahead of time. Knowledge is power.”
“Knowledge is not power. It’s one of those idiot expressions that idiots use because they think it makes them sound smart.”
“I concede the point if you take back calling me an idiot.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“Still.”
“I take it back. What’s this about a rogue demon?”
“I’m just being funny. He’s not really rogue. At least I don’t have background on that. He is annoying though. Dating one of my newly-minted demons.”
“Newly-minted,” he repeated. “They’re always going to require a qualifier when you talk about them. You know why? Because they’re not real elementals and they never will be.”
“Lally!” She adopted a scolding tone. “Are you a racist?”
“I don’t think so. I’m just saying you can put a Ferrari engine under the hood of a Camry and it will definitely soup up performance. But the Camry will never be a Ferrari.”
Rosie stared. “So even angels, or whatever you are, are car guys? You use auto hypotheticals to illustrate an argument?”
“You knew I was into rides when you found out I rode bikes through the passes to deliver to the Exiled.”
“I did know that. I also think you’re getting more and more human.”
“I’ve suffered enough for today without you adding insult to injury.”
“Micheal isn’t going to injure you, is he?”
“No. He’ll just make me wish I’d never become friends with your mother.”
That caused a stutter in the natural progression of Rosie’s thought patterns and awakened her curiosity about yet another subject. “Why did you become friends with my mother?”
The grin on his face would have been called shit-eating if he was human. “Partly because it drove Deliverance nuts. The idea of me being friends with his little girl?” He chuckled then grew serious. “The other part is that we thought your mother was the potential horror show.” He shook his head. “Compared to you that seems almost laughable now. We had no idea the ultimate bringer of doom was on the horizon.” He looked at Rosie pointedly. “That would be you.”
“You’re too old to spend so much time with comic books.”
“I should have said bringer of doom or salvation. Story’s not written yet, is it?
“Guess not. So. You’ve been hanging around all my life not because you like me, but because I’m a job.” She had that far away look suggesting she was processing that in the worst way.
“Stop that! I couldn’t like you more if you were my own daughter. And you have to know that. Please don’t make me get sappy.”