Chapter 13
CHAPTER 13
“ I s he sleeping?” Charles Grimes, wearing an old-fashioned suit, sat on the loveseat in Keaton’s parlor, finishing off an almond peach muffin.
He was a tall, thin man with strange green eyes and white hair, although he didn’t look old. Kneeling at his side and watching with intelligent red eyes was a nude demon—wings, horns, and all. He was muscular and, although not conventionally handsome, possessed an air of quiet power and a surprising degree of calmness. He could have sat on the loveseat too but seemed content with his place on the floor.
Keaton, who was several steps beyond exhausted, acknowledged the question and nodded before collapsing into an armchair. “He’s going to need to clean up a lot more, but that can wait until later.” Keaton had done what he could for Owen: a few quick swipes with a damp towel, an application of disinfectant and butterfly bandages from a first aid kit, and a tucking into Keaton’s spacious bed, not the smaller one in the guesthouse.
Grimes’s stare was intense but not hostile. “You did him—and the Bureau—an enormous service.”
“You never should have sent him alone.”
“I misjudged.”
It was frustrating, because Keaton couldn’t get a good reading on this man. Who wasn’t really a man at all, or at least wasn’t entirely human. His emotions came through only faintly, and his face remained impassive. He loved Tenrael; Keaton could tell that much. And although most of Tenrael’s feelings were too alien to comprehend, Keaton thought that Tenrael loved Grimes.
They all sat there, looking at one another. Tenrael unfurled his wings and gently fanned them a few times before folding them up again.
It had turned out that Grimes and Tenrael had flown—in a plane—from LA to Salt Lake City, then hopped into an SUV and driven at top speed to Copper Springs. At which point Tenrael had flown inside the tipple—using his wings this time—while Grimes made a more traditional approach on foot. Tenrael had lifted Owen as easily as if he were a small child and carried him outside, and the four of them had driven to Keaton’s house. Along the way, Owen had given them a very terse summary of what had happened, promising a full debriefing after he rested.
And now here they were, the weirdest houseguests ever. Grimes seemed to like the muffin, though.
“Are you certain that Miller is not an immediate threat?” asked Grimes.
“He’s gone.”
“He can’t come back through the portal?”
“No,” said Keaton with some satisfaction. “It’s gone too.”
Grimes leaned forward and peered at him. “How do you know?”
“There was— I sensed someone else there. Not there there. But maybe on the other side of a different portal. It wasn’t a good connection to begin with, but after we fell back into the tipple, I didn’t feel anything at all. Connection broken.”
“Who was this person? One of Miller’s allies?”
Keaton shook his head. He’d thought about this a little but didn’t have much to go on. “Another prisoner, I think. Definitely not on Miller’s side. I think they’re in trouble, so if you can track them down and save them, that would be dandy. That entity gave me the idea of how to attack Miller. To kill him with kindness, sort of.” In fact, Miller might very well still be alive, but if not, Keaton wouldn’t lose any sleep over ending the bastard.
“You can’t give me any additional information about this mysterious savior?”
“No. Except I don’t think they’re human. I mean, it was hard to tell because they were distressed and we weren’t even in the same location. But they felt… different.” He considered for a moment, decided today was his day for reckless honesty, and added, “They kind of felt like you do, actually.”
Grimes stiffened and Tenrael went very still. “What do you mean?” Grimes hissed.
“Hey, I didn’t mean to offend or to imply that there’s anything inferior about not being, um, Homo sapiens , but?—”
“Explain what you mean when you say that they felt like me.”
Oh. Keaton realized with some relief that Grimes wasn’t angry, just really, really intrigued. Tenrael was also listening intently.
“There’s a sort of… signature? Wavelength? I don’t have the right term for it. Sorry. But human emotions broadcast at a particular frequency or with a particular shape. Miller’s were somewhat different.” He shuddered at the memory. “I think he used to be human but isn’t any more. Tenrael, yours are also different—a lot different—from both humans and Miller.”
“This is logical,” said Tenrael.
“Chief Grimes, you feel similar to humans but not the same. You’re harder to read, for one thing, but also just… different. Like, oh, new wave and punk music. There are lots of similarities but they’re not?—”
Grimes stopped him with an impatient hand gesture. “But this other being?”
“Not at all like a human, but sort of like you. Like you’re a combination of them and a human.”
Although Grimes was already very white, he seemed to go even paler. He looked at Tenrael. “Do you know what this means?”
“No, Master. We should have the Bureau staff research it. Perhaps Agent Afolabi can find more information.”
It looked very much as if Grimes wanted to jump off the couch and pursue this line of action, but with visible effort he managed to control himself. “We’ll need a full debriefing from both of you after Agent Clark wakes up. You should get some rest too.”
As if by magic, Keaton remembered how completely exhausted he was. He’d been up for almost twenty-four action-packed hours. And he wasn’t a kid anymore. He stood and stretched. “The only motel in town is a dump, plus I think those wings might raise some questions. If you guys need some sleep, how about you use my guesthouse?” Owen didn’t currently need it.
Tenrael stood and gave a shallow bow. “Thank you. Please fetch us when Agent Clark is ready.” He gently urged Grimes to his feet and ushered him out the front door.
Which left Keaton alone, filthy, dog-tired, and still somewhat confused. But he was alive, and so was Owen. And for the first time in forever, a little optimism fluttered in Keaton’s chest. Maybe the future held promise.
It was a relief to feel hope. Even better, he had the sense that the more hope he felt, the more benefit he was giving to the world. It was that balance thing that Owen had told him about. Keaton was doing his part to help tip the balance toward good.