road before us. I’m covered in my dad’s old coat, my skin still slightly chilled.
I look over at the man who fell from the sky, his big hands wrapped tightly on the steering wheel at ten and two, just like I was taught at sixteen. His eyes are wide, his forehead scrunched up in concentration, his lips pulled back in a grim smile. I gasp and reach for the passenger door, trying to put as much distance between us as I can.
“Uh,” I say articulately.
He glances over at me, dark eyes flashing, his smile growing wider. “I’m driving!” he says with an excited rumble. “I didn’t think I could get the hang of it, but I’m driving.” His gaze never leaves my face.
“Watch the road,” I whisper.
He ignores me, his eyes still on mine. “Sure as shit, I didn’t think I’d get it that fast. I mean, I’ve seen you people drive before, and I thought, how hard could it be? I mean, you obviously weren’t going to do it, because you decided it was a good time to pass out.”
“Slow down,” I say.
“I mean, I’ve seen you drive this old truck before, but you never go this fast.
You drive like Abe does in that little car of his—”
“Slow the fuck down!” I scream at him.
My sudden outburst startles him, and he jerks the wheel to the left and the Ford
follows with a groan of metal and rubber, the rear beginning to fishtail and swing to the right. There’s a moment when all the weight of the truck seems to be on the passenger side and I think we’re going to flip, but then that passes and we’re spinning out. The truck comes to a halt in the middle of the two-lane highway, having spun in an almost complete circle before stalling in the road. The only sounds are the ticking of the cooling engine and our panting breaths.
Then, “You’ve got a loud yell for such a little guy,” he says, arching his right eyebrow in appreciation. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you yell that loud before, Benji. Not even when you were really angry.”
My brain can’t compute this, this intimacy, him speaking as if he knows me. My brain doesn’t seem to be computing a whole hell of a lot, now that I think about it. It’s probably because I’ve completely lost it, I tell myself. I’ve gone completely and utterly batshit insane. It’s the only thing that would make any sense.
“Who. The fuck. Are you?” I ask, ignoring the waver of my voice
He rubs a hand over the rusty stubble on his face. He appears to be trying to choose his words carefully before he speaks, but seems to be having difficulty doing so. This, of course, only makes it worse. People who choose their words can choose to lie. “Calliel,” he says finally, averting his eyes from mine. “My name is Calliel and I’m the guardian angel for Roseland and its people. And I’m here because of you. You called me, Benji. You called me and I came. Oh, and I’ve always wanted to tell you, because it hurt me to see you so. I’ve always wanted to tell you how sorry I am about your dad. Big Eddie was a great man. He was a great man and I’m sorry.”
I wish he’d lied.
corporeal
So,eitherhe’s certifiable, or I am, or we both are.
That’s the only thing I can think as I stare at him as he starts up the truck again, the grin back on his face at the purr of the Ford’s rebuilt eight-cylinder engine. He straightens out the steering wheel, pulling us back into the right lane. I am astonished when I feel mildly amused on top of everything else kicking around in my head when he keeps the speed below thirty miles an hour, grumbling under his breath that he’s doing Abe proud. He keeps glancing at me out of the corner of his eyes, but he’s trying to be sneaky about it. It does no good for him to try and hide it as I am still plastered against the far door and facing him, refusing to take my eyes off of him.
Him. Calliel.
I’m the guardian angel of Roseland and its people.
And I’m here because of you….
“How did we get back across the river?” I ask finally, unsure what else to say. He stops muttering to himself about speed and starts watching me again until I