“Is that the same?”
Tucker thought about that. “Not always.” He looked at Rae. “It says ‘touch, blood, and song.’”
“Oh!” Rae brightened like she’d heard this before. “Like the folks on the fairy hill.”
“You know about the fairy hill?” His whole life he’d thought his interest and involvement in the arcane had been singular and isolated. Apparently, not in this tiny town.
“It’s right down the road. You can’t miss it.”
Tucker looked at Angel. “See?”
“I admitted it,” Angel defended. “I get it now. You can’t pretend it’s not there.”
“You know,” Coral said, “every time he talks, he gets a little more real. Is the necklace going to help that?”
“Yeah,” Tucker said. “I think it will.”
“Why?” Tilda hovered over her mother’s shoulder and traced the letters with a finger rough from playing sports and doing chores. Still young, Tucker thought. Young enough not to worry about her nails or care about the dirt in the calluses or worry that her hair was too long and in her face. Young enough to hang her arm around her mother’s shoulders.
“Because touch, blood, and song make things real,” Tucker said. “It’s like I’m asking him to stay.”
“I’ll stay,” Angel told him, and this time Tucker could feel the grasp of his hand. “If I have to break—”
“All the rules of heaven,” Tucker finished. Because that was what this was about, wasn’t it? Changing the rules of heaven?
Tucker yawned and stood. “I’m sorry. I just disrupted your day and dumped a bunch of work on you. I should leave and let you get to your regularly scheduled lives.”
Rae held up a hand to forestall him. “Tilda, is Andover’s room cleared out, or is the bed still made?”
“Bed’s made,” Tilda said promptly. “Everything else is gone.” She smiled up at Tucker, and although she didn’t have the same level of witchiness that Coral had, the expression in her brown eyes was still very much her mother’s. “Go take a nap, Mr. Henderson. Don’t worry. With all the runes and shi—stuff mom has here, no ghost in the world’s going to try and stop you.”
“Thanks,” Tucker said, “but—”
“But what? Tucker, that ghost has been dead for a hundred years. What’s a few hours of sleep and some dinner going to hurt?”
Tucker smiled and tried one more time not to impose. “I was going to strip the wallpaper and borrow Josh’s sander to do the floors.”
“I’ll bring it over tonight, after dinner,” Josh said promptly. “C’mon, Tucker. I thought the goal was to get Angel to be human, not for you to fade away like Angel. You’re pale as a—heh, heh, heh—ghost.” And Josh, being Josh, lapsed into giggles.
His wife rolled her eyes. “Please stay, Tucker. I’d love to have some intelligent conversation over dinner tonight.”
All three of the kids protested. “Hey!” “That’s not fair!” “Murphy’s the stupid one!” “Now that Andy’s gone, we’re plenty smart!”
Tucker laughed, and his resistance tattered away. “Down the hall?” he asked, a little wobbly on his feet.
“Second door on the left,” Rae said. “Don’t look under the mattress—we’re afraid of what’s there.”
“Pot? Porn? Alien sex toys? Only Andy knows for sure.” Tilda smirked, and Tucker had to laugh.
Rae didn’t. “How old are you?” she asked Tilda darkly.
“Seventeen,” Tilda returned with a pert smile. “Old enough to know of which I speak.”
Rae sighed. “Dammit.” Then she glared at Tucker. “Now go lie down, and I’ll see if I can get a couple of these things ready for your room. They won’t be pretty, but hopefully they’ll keep you safe.”
“Thanks, Rae.” Tucker’s gratitude came from the depths of his soul. And so did his yawn. “That nap sounds really, really good.”
TUCKER SLEPT for three hours, Angel pressed up against his back in various stages of density the whole time.
He woke up with Angel’s hand draped along his chest, and he clasped it, bringing it to his lips.
Angel’s frustrated grunt ruffled his hair. “It would be inappropriate to make love in this room,” he said, and Tucker laughed a little as Angel pressed his swollen groin against Tucker’s back.
“Feeling frisky?” Tucker teased, in that weird fugue state between sleeping and waking.
“Andover Greenaway masturbated a lot when he was in this room,” Angel told him, wonder in his voice.
Tucker’s eyes flew open, and he felt the mutters of his gift, which he’d been too exhausted to receive earlier.
He scrambled off the bed and stood up as though he’d been shot.
“Oh my God. No. Just. Okay. Nap over. Do you think…?”
“Tucker?” Rae peeked inside the door. “Good, you’re awake.