“I’m not going to crash,” he says, his brow furrowing. “Have a little faith, huh?”
Faith. That’s funny, coming from a man who claims he is an…. Jesus Christ. This is not a real thing. He is not a real thing. He’s just a man. He’s just a normal—
“I carried you across,” he says. “You’re light and I’m big, so it wasn’t that hard.”
“How come I’m not wet?”
He snorts. “I carried you above the water.”
My eyes bulge out of my head. “You can walk on water?” I whisper.
“What?” He laughs. “Of course not. I waded across and carried you over my head so you wouldn’t get wet.” He laughs again. “Walk on water. You’re funny.”
I didn’t think it was funny. At all. “Why didn’t you just fly over? Angels have wings right? If you were really an angel, you would have just flown over.” Logic wins every time.
He shakes his head. “Can’t seem to pull them out here. I tried. I stood there on the riverbank for a minute or two, but nothing happened. I don’t know if it has to do with me becoming corporeal or what.”
“Cor-what?”
He shrugs. “Physical. Real. Here.”
“Did anyone see you crossing the river?”
“No. I got you back in the truck in time. There were people coming, though. I could hear them. I came down from On High with a crash, so I’m not surprised. I didn’t think it was going to be that loud, you know? Or that bright. We passed a couple of cars before you woke up, but no one tried to stop us. I couldn’t tell who they were like I normally could. I couldn’t feel them. I didn’t want to take any chances. I kept you safe, just like I said I would.” He says this last in a growl, like he expects me to contradict him. I’m too overwhelmed to even really consider his words.
“Oh.” Then, sudden panic, clawing at my throat. “Where is it?” I gasped, rubbing my hands over the seat frantically, my dad’s coat falling off me. “Where did you put it? Did you leave it behind? Don’t tell me you fucking left it!”
He glances at me, a worried expression on his face. “Where’s what?”
“The feather, dammit! Where did you put the feather!”
“Benji,” he says quietly, pointing at the seat next to him. “It’s here. It’s right here.”
It is. In the dark, in my panic, I couldn’t see it. I snatch it up, sure he’s going to try and take it from me. It warms instantly in my hands. I watch him with wary eyes, wondering how I could have possibly gotten to this point.
“You know where that came from, right?” the man named Calliel asks me.
I dreamed it real. “Just found it outside,” I mutter, looking away.
“Sure, Benji. Okay.” He doesn’t push it, but he’s not fooled.
Silence, for a time. Then, “You’re just fucking with me, right? This is a joke?”
He laughs, a deep thing that sounds like it comes from the pit of his stomach. “No. No joke. I’m not that big of a joke-teller. I hope that’s okay. But I sure like driving this truck. This is cherry, right, Benji? This ride is so cherry. Isn’t that what Big Eddie used to say?”
I can’t speak.
We drive on in the dark, a hand of ice wrapped around my heart.
The fact that Calliel knows where he is going should surprise me, but with all that
has already happened, it seems to be the least of my worries. We pass Poplar Street in silence, where I’d sat at the intersection only ninety minutes before, trying to decide if I was going to go to the seventy-seven or go home. Ninety minutes is all it has taken for my reality to change. We don’t speak. I still sit with my back to the door, watching him. The occasional car driving by illuminates his face. Sometimes he’s looking ahead, focused on his driving. Other times, he’s glancing over at me, his mouth opening like he’s going to speak, but then closing like he’s thought better of it.
He’s been waiting, yes, but you helped bring him here, down to this place. You’ve got to help him.
I’ve got to do no such thing. The fact that he’s now pulling into my driveway means nothing. The fact that the small smile on his face is growing as Big House comes into view means nothing. Do I call the police? Do I wake up my mother and the Trio? What do I tell them? Where