The Sinner

“Damn. I was hoping that guy from your work…what’s his name?”

“Guy.”

“Right. I had hoped that Guy had finally pulled his head out of his ass and asked you to dinner. Dinner turned into drinks. Drinks turned into a roll in the hay…”

“I wish.” I sat on the couch and smoothed the rumpled dress I’d fallen asleep in. “But Guy does not have his head in his ass. He has plenty of female attention and I’ve given him no reason to notice me.”

“Uh huh. You’re amazing, Luce. It’s not that hard to notice.”

“You have to say that; you’re my best friend. How’s school?”

I’d met Cole at NYU and my talented friend had gone on to earn himself a coveted spot at the Royal College of Art in London. Even a year later, I was still bubbling with pride for him.

“It’s keeping me busy but not too busy for my side-project.” Cole left the screen and came back with his sketch pad. “Number fifteen in my series, My Friend Lucy, A Study.”

He held up a sketch, unmistakably me, done in pencil and so realistic, it was as if he’d worked off a photograph instead of memory. A portrait artist, Cole’s job was to capture the inner spirit of his subjects and reflect them back. The sketch captured all of me—my heart-shaped face, smattering of freckles, and shoulder-length brown hair. Every feature plain and strikingly average.

“This is from our last phone convo,” Cole said. “Please note the heaviness in your gaze and the beautiful yet sad smile.”

“I’d be offended if you weren’t so talented.”

“I worry, Luce.”

“I know you do, and I keep telling you not to.”

“Can’t help it. The sketches are all starting to look the same.” He smiled gently. “I should rename this series Still Life with Lucy.”

I plucked at a stray thread on my dress. “Things have been hard since Dad.”

“I know that, but I also know how you are.”

“How am I?”

“You don’t go out. You don’t have people over. You’re too nice for your own good.”

“There’s no such thing as being too nice.”

“You asked if I was okay at your own father’s funeral.” Cole’s smile softened. “I’m not greedy; I’m willing to share your awesomeness with at least one other person.”

My thoughts went to Casziel.

There’s nothing on This Side I need. Except you.

“Woah,” Cole cried. “What was that? Your whole face lit up.”

“What? No. Your imagination…”

My words failed as a large black raven flew into the room through the open window. The one Casziel insisted on leaving open. The bird hovered in midair, then expanded and somehow unfolded itself. In the next instant, Casziel was standing in my living area dressed all in black. Black jeans, black boots, and a black jacket over a faded Metallica T-shirt.

Cole was rummaging excitedly for his pencil and didn’t hear my little cry of shock. I blinked hard, as if that would keep my brain from feeling like it had short-circuited.

Did that just happen?

“Cole, I have to go. Someone’s uh…at the door.”

“Is that so?” Cole was now grinning ear to ear, his eyes darting between me and his sketch pad, his hand working fast. “Do tell.”

“Who are you talking to?” Casziel demanded. Loudly.