And I do. Of course, there are things I omit, like Mona and Giselle’s romp with their demon friend and the whole creepy sponge bath thing. And my Communion fiasco. I doubt that he would look favorably on my spitting up the body of Christ on the carpet.
But other than that, I blurt it all out. All the way up to Clark rushing me out of the booth and depositing me at the airport. By this time our stews have cooled and my coffee has long run out.
“You’ve had quite an adventure,” he says, “And given me quite a lot to think about. How do you feel?”
“I’m good,” I tell him, “I mean, other than not knowing why Drake was acting so strange. But I don’t regret any of it, Father. I know I probably should, and you’re probably disappointed in me. But I don’t. Those men and the things they did, the power they abused,” I sigh and stir my stew, “I’m not sorry.”
Father Jonas gets up and replaces both of our mugs, “I must admit that right now, I don’t blame you for that,” he says, “I’m having trouble getting a grip on my own hubris at the moment. I feel quite made the fool of.”
“Oh no, Father,” I chuckle at him and squeeze his hand across the table briefly, “I understand that you had no idea what happened behind the scenes, but I didn’t either until I met Baron and Bishop. They’ve had eons to figure it all out. You shouldn’t be upset that you didn’t know. I didn’t know any of it either.”
“And I’m sorry for that,” he looks so sad, “If you had had proper training,” he sighs.
“That’s not your fault either,” I tell him, “Or even Dad’s. We learned what he knew. He probably didn’t have proper training either. As far as I know, there is no established training academy for redeemers like there is for bi’s. We all do the best we can with what we have, Father.”
He gives me a winsome smile before spooning up the last bit of his stew, “I never knew your parents were alive, either,” he tells me after swallowing, “Everything you girls have been through,”
“Stop,” I urge, “Yes, I’m pretty upset about it too, but that’s not going to help. I have to think that they couldn’t tell us what was going on – like there are certain things that Clark can’t tell me. Maybe someday, Jojo and I will find them again and ask them. But that doesn’t change what happened and we both turned out alright.”
“Yes, of course you did,” he softens, “Both of you such lovely, strong, capable women.”
“So,” I switch subjects because my stomach is going to start rumbling and I want to eat and listen, “How is Rebecca working out?”
He grimaces and crosses himself, “I pray for the patience of Job every night,” he tells me.
“That well?” I chuckle, “Then perhaps you made the right call keeping me away from her. I do know how to banish them now,” I tease him.
“I have been sorely tempted to sprinkle her with Holy Water on more than one occasion,” he blushes.
“You know that doesn’t work, right?” I tease him further, “Not unless you know her real name.”
“I know,” he nods and winks, “But it would still irk her.”
He walks me back out to the van. Night has fallen and it’s getting chilly from the ocean-breeze.
“So why aren’t you with James this evening instead of an old man like me?” he teases me.
“He texted me that he was leaving for a rock-climbing trip,” I shrug, “Jill’s at work and Jojo has a date.”
“Really?” he frowns, “He didn’t mention a trip at lunch today.”
“It probably slipped his mind,” I say automatically, but my Danger-Will-Robinson worry kicks in, “And why are you having lunch with my boyfriend anyway?”
“He and his partner brought Jojo’s cats by to be blessed before they took them to the shelter to be euthanized,” he explains, “They invited me to join them at Manny’s afterward.”
“How’s Jojo?” I ask him.
“Haven’t heard from her,” he tells me, “But you being in town will help. You’ll keep in touch, Clara-belle?” he asks me with soft eyes.
When I was little and he called me that, I thought it was a special name just for me. Then, around the age of ten, I realized that it was the name of some goofy clown on some ridiculous fifties puppet show, and that pissed me off. I wouldn’t let him call me that for years. But now, in the glow of the parking lot lights, he looks so sad and worried that I can’t deny him.
“Of course,” I kiss his cheek and rub his shoulders, “Have Jose tell Eddie that his justice has been served.”
“I will tell him that his guardian angel was a little slow to get her wings,” he brushes a tear from his eye, “But she’s making up for lost time now. God-speed,” he gives me a rough hug and steps back to the rectory quickly.
I sit for a while in the van – long after he’s shut his door and turned his porch light off. I feel like he’s let go of me. Well, not completely. I know he will always love me. More like when a father drops his daughter off at college and gives in that she’s no longer “Daddy’s little girl.” My own father and I had no such John Hughes’ moment. He unloaded my stuff at the curb, shoved five hundred dollars in my hands and told me, “I have a job. Don’t spend it all at once.”
Not that I blame him. I didn’t then and I don’t now. Then, I didn’t know any better. Now, I know he did the best job he could with what he knew and the grief of Mom having to leave him for an assignment must have taken a heavier toll than he ever let on to us.
When I finally start the van, I want to see what Rebecca has done to my condo. I know I should have said no, but I can’t deny that old man anything. However, I am still responsible for the damage and I’d like to see what havoc she has reeked (pun intended) so far.
I pull up on my street, van idling, and park across from my unit. It’s almost eleven, but my home looks like a frat-house. There are cars parked in my driveway and on my lawn. Lights on in every room and I can hear hip-hop bass coming from inside all the way here. I shut the van off.
“Damn it,” I grumble, “I’m going to get a notice from the condo-association soon.”
As I finish that thought, a bi opens the French doors to my bedroom and drags a man onto the balcony.
“I get off on getting caught,” she whispers loudly to him.
“Tell me about it,” he laughs and pushes her onto the railing, spreading her legs.
“Oh, hell no,” I curse and pull out my phone.
I send a text to Darius to put a choker-collar on his dog (in far more colorful language) and warn him that and fees, fines or damages will come out of his pay.
Three minutes later, the bi who is now being undressed by the human gets a text.
“Oopsie,” she giggles, “Big brother is watching us. Let’s go down to the laundry room and see how that spin- cycle works.”
“I’m going to need Maria to clean this place,” I grumble as they shut the door. The bass is still thumping, but no one else comes out.
I hear another giggle from further away. Jojo and Jill step out on the porch.
“He’s hot and he really seems to like you,” Jill tells her after shutting the door, “Don’t screw it up. Don’t be needy and clingy. Be like Claire – aloof and blasé.”
“I want this to work, Jill,” JJ responds, “I’m scared.”
“So am I,” Jill tells her, “Call me in the morning and we’ll catch up,” she gives JJ a hug and opens the door. Brent steps out, “Ready, baby?” he asks and pulls JJ close, nuzzling her neck.
“Yeah,” she giggles, “What next?”
“Thought I’d take you home and we’d talk some more,” he says, but his movements tell her and me both that he has no intention of talking.
“Ok,” she gives him a quick peck on the lips and steps to the passenger-side of his car. He unlocks it from his side, “Get in, baby. Let’s go,” he says before he opens his door and slides in.
“Asshole,” I mutter, “Another freaking asshole. Why does she always fall for them?”
JJ gets in and Brent barks the tires down the drive before putting it in drive and peeling away. I shake my head as I watch the retreating headlights, wondering what the next kitten’s name will be.
I sigh and my gaze shifts back to my own condo, but aside from laughter coming from the back – and who knows what they’re doing to my Jacuzzi – there’s no more indications. Even the music has been turned down, although it’s still louder than the by-laws allow.
I’m about to turn the van back on and drive away when I sweep across Jill’s once again. It had been hidden by Brent’s Beemer, but now I see Jamie’s truck is parked next to Jill’s Audi.
I glance up to her condo and see the lights go off one by one. Kitchen. Living room. Stairs. Finally, the only light on is her bedroom.
We have the exact same layout. I know where her bedroom is. And besides, we’ve been friends for years. I’ve been there plenty of times.
“No,” I bite my lips and clutch Jamie’s medal between my finger and thumb, “Please no.”
Her blinds are shut and all I see is shadows moving back and forth, but not enough detail to know what’s going on. And honestly, I don’t know if I really want to know. I’m shaking, but the tears won’t come. All I feel is hollow.
The light goes off and there’s a soft glow of candlelight behind the blinds. “Please, no,” I whisper again, but I know it’s futile. Jamie’s medal feels cold and mocking against my chest now and the first sob wracks me. I see vague shadows cross the dim light every once in a while, but nothing else. My imagination runs in overdrive and another sob brings the first sting of tears.
My best friend. My sister knew. Approved. Condoned.
I feel so very betrayed. So very shamed. So very, very hurt by all of them. I don’t even know how I could show up at Jojo’s now.
And I know I should drive away now. I’ve seen enough. But I can’t. I just can’t. I’m not yet really crying – I’m too much in shock. Too raw to even be angry – although that’s an emotion that comes easily to me. I could yank off his medal and hurl it through his truck’s back window. Through Jill’s car’s. Through the bedroom window, for Christ’s sakes.
Instead, I wait the forty-seven minutes until there are no bodies throwing shadows against the candle and the flame is finally blown out. Her condo sits in darkness Jamie doesn’t come out. I wait another half-hour just to make sure.
And then I pull away, back onto the highway and toward the airport. I’ll get a motel room for the night and change my flight to an earlier one once I hear from the L’s. I’m shaking from tears held back, but I refuse to give in. I did this to myself. I knew it wouldn’t last, but I fell for him anyway. It’s my fault.
But Jill? My best friend? And Jojo knew about it and didn’t warn me?
The thoughts go round and round in my head until I pull off at a Staybridge and check in. I take only the essentials up with me – a change of clothes, my toiletries, laptop and IPad.
I’m still shaking when I plug my electronics in turn the TV on. BBC America is playing and I hit the last of a Top Gear rerun before a Doctor Who episode that I haven’t seen. It’s a new season and I’ve been a little busy recently. And I’m still on the fence about this new Doctor.
I’m nearly hyperventilating when I log into my VPN’s and check my emails, sure that I’m going to see a “Dear Claire” letter there.
But instead I see this supposed email from Drake – three days overdue. Typical Drake. He does what he wants when he wants and doesn’t give a crap about anyone else.
Hey,” it reads, “I’m sorry about the other day. Call me when you get this – either phone, either way.”
I can’t call. I’m barely holding it together as it is. There’s no notice in Father Jonas’ VPN that the L’s have filed their order yet. I wish they’d hurry up. I don’t think I can stand to be here another day.
My local phone rings. I check the screen and see that it’s Drake. I could send him to voicemail, but he’d just hang up and dial again.
“Hello?” I answer.
“Are you still in the States?” he asks.
“Yes,” my voice wavers a bit, “I was in Vegas but I’m back in Miami for at least the night.”
“Why aren’t you out with Jill and your sister?” he asks.
“It’s – complicated,” I tell him and feel the sobs trying to come up again.
“Are you crying?” he asks me, “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” I sniff and push the few tears that escaped away, “It doesn’t matter. Where are you?”
“Hong Kong. Is this about Morton? Did he dump you?” he demands, sounding angry.
“I said it doesn’t matter,” I tell him, my own voice getting harder now too, “It’s my own damn fault. Why did you call?”
He sighs, “I’m sorry, Claire,” he backs down, “You know you can talk to me, right?”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” I whisper, “Please – let’s talk about something else.”
“I wanted to apologize for how I acted on the plane,” he sounds genuinely embarrassed, “I know you picked up on how low my energy was, but I want you to know I would never feed from you – even if you offer. It would be – well, it would be just wrong,” he pauses.
“You’re not going to hurt me, Drake,” I tell him.
“Claire, I was so close to zero that I could have easily killed you,” he sighs again, “When bi’s get that close, it’s either our lives or our victim’s. The urge is so strong that it overrides everything else.”
“Why did you leave so low?” I ask him, “I thought you said you were fine.”
“Because you needed me,” he says softly, “You were in trouble and you needed me.”
“Is that where you went when you left the plane?” I ask him, “To feed?”
“Yes,” he mumbles, “Please don’t ask any details. I didn’t kill anyone and I didn’t turn anyone. But I did some things you would be disappointed in me for.”
“Then why the hot and cold after you came back?” I ask him, “Did you not get enough?”
“I thought so, but no,” he sighs again, “Not enough to be that close to you still. It’s hard to explain. Your soul is so tempting anytime. But when I’m not fully topped-off?” he swallows, “Promise me, Claire. Promise me you will never offer again. I mean it. No matter how low I am – promise me.”
“But,” I start to protest.
“Please, Claire,” there’s a catch in his voice that I don’t recognize. He sounds like he’s in pain, “I could never forgive myself if I hurt you.”
“Yes – all right,” I take a breath, “If it’s that important to you. But really I don’t think you can hurt me. Not anymore. I have a pretty good grip on myself now. What are you doing in Hong Kong?”
“On assignment,” he evades, “Playing kept man.”
“Oh. Okay then,” I probably don’t want to know the details.
“Are we good?” he asks, voice soft again.
“Yes, Drake,” I tell him, “We’re good.”
He holds the phone away for a moment and talks to someone, “I’ve got to go. But Claire?”
“Yes?”
“I’m glad you called me for help. I’ll always be there for you. You know that?”
“Yes, Drake,” my tears are starting again, thinking that there are three people I can cross off that trust-list now, “I know.”
I stare out the open window at the hotel pool shimmering with its underwater lights and see my own vision shimmering as well. Slowly, I unhook my chain from around my neck and slide the medal off of it.
“Well, Saint Jude,” I tell it through tear-fuzzed vision, “Thanks for trying.”
I wake up to someone knocking at my door. My pillow is damp. My face and hair are too. I’m still dressed and lying on top of the covers. It’s cold in the room and there are used tissues wadded up all over the bed and nightstand.
My head swims a bit as I right myself. Through bleary eyes, I focus on the clock next to the bed. 9:15.
“Crap,” I mutter and realize, when I stand up and look at the little desk in my room, that I got my drunk on last night. There’s an empty fifth of Bacardi and a nearly empty two-liter of Diet Pepsi on it.
And my computer is open.
“Oh, God,” I think, “Please don’t tell me I went into drunk-flamer-mode last night.”
The knock comes again and I yell, “Coming!” at the door while peeling a damp tissue from my chest.
When I open it, Bishop is standing outside, “You look even worse than I expected you to,” he chuckles and walks in.
“What?” I mutter, closing the door. He’s carrying a thin, wide box by the built-in handle and juggling a carry-out bag and a drink-holder with the other.
“I’m not surprised you don’t remember,” he tells me, setting his stuff down in the tiny kitchen, “You were pretty tanked last night when you called me. How do you feel?”
“Thirsty,” I tell him, still trying to take it all in, “A little headache, but all in all, not bad. What happened?”
“You called me last night drunk out of your mind,” he chuckles at me, “I made you dump your last drink over your computer before you emailed anyone about how you really felt,” he glances at my laptop. Once he does, I can see the screen flickering badly, “I brought you a replacement. Go take a shower. I’ll pick up in here.”
“Did you come all the way from Paris?” I ask him, amazed again at how he always seems to find a way into my hotel rooms.
“No,” he laughs, “I was already back in New York. Go get cleaned up – you need it,” his nostrils flare as he says it, and I’m even more embarrassed by my behavior last night.
When I come out of the shower, clean, dressed and feeling better, Bishop has cleared away all of the mess and is working on my new computer.
“Eat,” he tells me, without looking up, and pointing to the bag and cups on the counter.
“I hope I didn’t inconvenience you too much,” I mumble. I have no idea what happened last night between Drake’s call and when I woke up. I’m very worried.
“It’s not a problem,” he tells me, “Finish eating while I take care of transferring your preferences. Then – we’ll talk.”
I walk over to the melted ice bucket from last night on the coffee table in front of the sofa and down it all. It’s still cold and I want all the water I can get right now.
“Thanks,” I tell Bishop, wiping my mouth.
“Been there,” he tells me over his shoulder, “Go on.”
I eat two small breakfast burritos that are so hot my nose is running by the end of them. But the spice, the water and the carbohydrates in the burritos banishes the last remnants of my headache. By the time I’m done, Bishop is finished with my new laptop and he has me log in.
“What do I owe you?” I ask him.
“Nothing,” he shrugs, “I’ll just put it on my next expense report.”
“Don’t do that,” I protest, reaching for my purse, “I’ll pay you back.”
“Claire,” he chuckles, “Even if you write that check I won’t cash it. We keep telling you that money means very little to us. Besides, your old one was a dinosaur. You were still running XP. Consider it a mercy-killing.”
I frown and lower my eyes, “I’m sorry I begged you to come out here,” I tell him, “I hope I didn’t pull you away from anything important.”
“Hey,” he lifts my chin, a little smile on his lips, “I came out here on my own. You kept insisting that you’d be fine. But I could tell you’re not. Come on,” he takes my hand and steers me to the sofa, “I honestly didn’t catch a lot of what you were saying last night. Why don’t you explain it to me again?”
I nod and sit down, unsure if I can get through it again without breaking down again. Crying in front of Bishop when I’m drunk is one thing. Sober is another.
“Well, I got back to Miami a little unexpectedly yesterday evening and when I texted my sister, my best friend and Jamie they all said they had plans or had to work,” I tell him.
“You have a sister?” he asks, “You never told me that. Is she a redeemer too?”
“Yes,” I reply, “I didn’t tell you because I didn’t know if I could trust anyone then.”
He smirks, “Probably a smart move on your part. Go on.”
“My priest convinced me to sublet my condo to the demoness that’s working with my sister and him now,” I start up and have to laugh when he wrinkles his nose, “I know – I didn’t want to either. But my priest can be very persuasive at times,” I give another small giggle, “So I wanted to drive by and see what state it had fallen into by now. When I did, she had a wild party going on and I had to call our Arch-Demon to have it reigned in before the condo association started filing complaints.”
“And who is this area’s Arch-Demon?” he asks.
“Darius,” I tell him, “Do you know him?”
“Only by reputation,” he shrugs, “But his reputation is that he’s a bad-ass. Go on.”
“Well, I waited around to see if it worked and it did – somewhat,” I roll my eyes, “I was just about to leave when Jojo – that’s my sister – and Jill – my best friend – come out of her condo next door whispering and giggling. Jojo leaves with Jamie’s partner and it’s only then that I see that Jamie’s truck is in Jill’s driveway.”
I swallow and my eyes get misty again, but I blink them dry, refusing to give in, “All of the lights go out in her condo except her bedroom light. Then it goes out too except for a candle in the room. I could see shadows of bodies, but the blinds were drawn and that was all. Some forty-five minutes later, the candle goes out. Jamie, as far as I know, didn’t leave. I waited for half an hour but he didn’t come out.”
I sniff and rub my eyes, determined not to start crying again. It takes me a few minutes to get it all under control.
“I’m sorry, Claire,” Bishop rubs my shoulder softly, “I know exactly how you feel. It happened to me too. A long time ago now, but I still remember.”
“You do? What happened?” I ask.
“Well, it was my brother who betrayed me and my best friend who covered it up, but I know what you’re going through,” he tells me and pulls me under his arm so I can rest my head against his chest.
“Is that why you two don’t get along?” I ask him.
“Yeah,” he rubs my other shoulder now, “It was three hundred years before I could even be in the same room with him. And that’s why I left England. It was too painful to stay.”
“Are they?” I start to ask and think better of it.
“Still together?” he finishes with a snort, “No. It lasted a year or two and then they moved on. But it still hurt.”
“And your best friend?” I ask.
“Is the Arch-Demon for Britain,” he sighs, “Another reason I don’t want to go there unless I absolutely have to.”
“I’m sorry,” I tell him.
“And I’m sorry about what happened to you,” he places a kiss on the top of my head, “And now all that blaming yourself that you were spouting last night makes sense. I went through it too. In fact,” he laughs, “I think, under the circumstances, you’ve shown remarkable self-restraint. I stayed drunk for six months.”
“Ugh,” I pull up from him with a grin, “I don’t think so. Show me my new computer so I can see if there’s any word on my next assignment. I don’t want to think about this anymore.”
He grins and lets me settle into the desk, pointing out the changes in the OS. I’m pretty tech-savvy, so it doesn’t take me long until I’m flying solo. I log into my work VPN first. It’s a Saturday and the office is closed, so it doesn’t take me long to clear my backlog. I log out and into Father Jonas’ system.
As soon as I’m online, a message appears from Jojo and is cc’ed to Jill:
“You never showed up at my place,” it says, “Where are you? Have you left already?”
I growl when I read it and hit reply all.
“You don’t want to do that,” Bishop says softly in my ear, “I know how much you want to lash out, Claire. Believe me. But think about all you’ve learned about the power of guilt over the last couple of weeks. A little diplomacy and keeping your cards close to your chest is called for here. Close it out and check the rest of your messages first.”
I roll my eyes at him. “Trust me,” he says gently, moving the mouse for me.
The next message has me summoned back to Vegas on the two-thirty flight. An attachment shows and I open it. Bishop reads over my shoulder.
“Hmmm,” he chuckles, “Looks like they’ve compromised. Ten days with him and ten days with her. Half a day of travel each,” he chuckles again, “They don’t compromise often. They must want you very much.”
“I’m getting a little tired of everyone wanting me except the people I want to,” I tell him and the tears roar back in.
“Stop,” he tells me, rubbing my shoulders from behind, “You are a beautiful, smart, funny and perceptive woman. All in your own right – without any of your very impressive powers. People make mistakes, Claire – humans and immortals alike. It’s hard and it sucks – I know – but it doesn’t mean that they’ve stopped loving you. It just means that they gave in to their temptation. Like Eve and the apple. None of us – not any one of us – are perfect, Claire. Neither are you. We all fall down. It’s how we get up that counts.”
“That just completely contradicted everything I’ve learned about being a redeemer,” I tilt my head up to see his eyes, “I thought it was all about sin and judgment and salvation and damnation.”
“Would you damn Jamie for being unfaithful to you?” he asks.
“No,” I sigh, “Nor Jill or Jojo. Well, technically, Jill is already damned and Jojo is immune, but even so,”
“Even so,” he agrees with me, “Do you regret damning those two cardinals?”
“No,” it comes out in a hiss, “Never.”
“Listen to your instincts and your heart, Claire,” he tells me, “You did things in that room that none of us have ever seen – much less tried. Nearly ten thousand years of experience between all of us and you blew us out of the water. None of us – even combined – could have done what you did. And you did it brilliantly. What you did to that nun was the most merciful act I’ve ever seen. Keep that mercy in mind, but trust your gut.”
“My flight leaves at two-thirty,” I nod, embarrassed by his compliments, “So what do I tell Jojo and Jill. I’m so mad at them – and even madder that they didn’t even have the decency to call me or even text.”
“Ah,” he squeezes my shoulders, “Leave that up to me.”
“My” reply ala Bishop is a masterpiece of “what did she see and what does she know?” “Let them stew in their guilt,” he tells me when I read it:
“Yeah – sorry – last minute changes put me at a motel for the night. I’m about ready to pack up and head to the airport again.
“I drove out to see what Rebecca had done to my condo last night. Got there around eleven and had to text Darius to have her tone it down. Stayed until almost midnight to make sure she did.
“Hope your date with Brent went well. I’ll give you another update after I know what I’m up against in Vegas.”
“You are brilliant,” I peck his cheek, “Just enough but not too much.”
“You’ll figure it out,” he tells me, “Get yourself packed up and we’ll go to lunch. You have a flight to catch.”
When I’m done checking out, Bishop puts my bags in the back of the van for me. “Why don’t you leave the van here for now?” he asks, “I’ll take you to lunch and we can pick it back up in plenty of time for your flight. It’s only eleven-thirty.”
“Ok,” I lock the van up and walk to his Mercedes. He opens the door for me and helps me in.
“So,” he starts the coupe with a growl, “What did you do with Jamie’s medal?” he asks.
“I found it on the floor when I was packing,” I sigh, “I thought about just leaving it there, but I didn’t. I put it in the corner of my suitcase for now.”
“You should keep it,” he tells me, easing out into traffic.
“Why?” I snort, “To remind myself what a fool I was?”
“You may feel that way now,” he chuckles at me, “But believe it or not there will be a day when you can think about him again and only remember the good times. It may take you a century or two, but you’ll get there.”
“Is that why Jojo and I are the first known procreated redeemers,” I ask him, “Because we all live so long that hooking up with humans doesn’t last?”
“Maybe,” he nods, eyes ahead, “Did you ever see Highlander?”
“Years ago,” I reply.
“Remember the scene when his wife dies and he still looks the same?” he asks.
“Oh,” I say, “Yeah, I forgot about that. I guess we all would go through that too, huh?”
“Some of us do,” he tells me, “There are bi’s who have normal relationships with humans and shift to look like they’re aging. But most of the time it’s too painful and we prefer to keep our relationships short or non-existent.”
“What about with each other?” I ask him.
“It’s not unheard of,” he stops at a light, “I knew a couple of nephilim who were together for hundreds of years before I lost track of them. They could still be, for all I know. And of course, there are your parents. But – until recently – fraternizing with the other side was highly discouraged. Hell is not interested in promoting satisfying personal lives for their employees. They think it will interfere with their primary objective.”
The light changes and we roll through it smoothly. There’s a strip-mall up ahead and Bishop pulls into the lot.
“Sounds awfully lonely,” I muse.
“Perhaps,” he maneuvers into a space, “That doesn’t mean that we’re all hermits by any means.”
“Of course not,” I agree, “I guess when you live forever you have lots of chances to make friends and – uh – what-not.”
Bishop quirks a brow at me, a sly grin on his face, “What-not?” he asks.
“You know,” I blush, “Hook up. Friends with benefits. Whatever you want to call it.”
He chuckles, “We are not discussing my sex life,” he tells me, “Are you propositioning me?”
“What?” I stare at him, “Um, don’t take this the wrong way, Bishop. I mean, you’re a very attractive man and all – but I don’t think of you like that. You’re more like my big brother.”
A relieved grin spreads across his face, “I’m glad we’re on the same page on that,” he chuckles and turns off the car, “I’d hate to be the second person to have broken your heart. I would have let you down gently, of course, but you really are far too young for me.”
I roll my eyes at him, “Sometimes you are just as obnoxious as your brother. Come on – I’m hungry.”
Bishop helps me with my luggage and the van return and then gives me a kiss goodbye at the security gate, “Thanks for coming down,” I give him a hug, “It really helped.”
“Anytime,” he smiles and kisses my forehead, “Drop me a line when you have a chance.”
With one last wave I’m weaving through the security lines for yet another flight. Miami International is always a busy airport and today is no exception. Vacationers leaving for home, conventioneers leaving for home, grandparents leaving to visit their grandchildren. Eventually I get through and find my gate. There’s about twenty minutes until we start boarding so I turn my phone and IPad to airplane mode and sit down to read a bit.
I get through about half of the Sibylline Oracles before they begin boarding us. I realize I’m probably on my own as far as research now. Since I’m not talking to my sister, asking her for help is pretty-much out of the question. But maybe Mona would be willing to help me. She does know a lot. And I still have Father Jorge’s private addresses, although I really hesitate to bother him.
I’m trying very hard not to drive myself crazy with speculation. I don’t want to think about it. But I can’t really help it. Staring out the window, watching us taxi down the runway, I think back to how much I didn’t want to go the first time I left Miami.
Now, I don’t think I want to come back.