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
remind him to pay attention to the road. “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?”