Chapter Five Playing House
?
Thirty minutes later, Brie’s phone beeped to indicate they’d arrived at their destination, and they rolled to a stop in front of her new house. It was a modest little one-bedroom, one-bath cottage just off Lakeside Drive… and it was postcard-picture perfect. Tangles of wisteria dripping with fragrant purple blossoms wound their way around the entrance. The weathered white brick arches implied reliable craftsmanship and a well-aged charm. There was a swinging bench on the porch.
It’s lovely.
When Sherry had used words like “quaint” and “vintage” to describe the place, Brie had worried it was a cover-up. She was ecstatic to discover that she completely agreed.
Cameron leaped from the car and circled around to open her door. He even offered his hand as she stepped out, which she regarded with suspicion before deciding to ignore him. She grabbed her backpack and wandered to the front door by herself.
It swung open with a loud creak, and she let out a happy sigh. It was everything she could have imagined. Old, without being ancient. Comfortable and unpretentious, and best of all, the entire place was filled with light.
And yet, it’s cozy. It’s the perfect place to start fresh.
She stepped over the threshold, breathing in the fragrant air.
No baggage. No complications—
“Where would you like these?”
She turned around, then yelped as she saw Cameron carrying an impossibly high stack of moving boxes, heavy enough that even the proudest of men would have used a dolly.
He peeked around the edge. “Are you alright?”
“Are you alright?” she countered quickly, rushing forward to help. “You don’t have to carry all those, much less at the same time. You’re going to break your—”
“Brianna,” he interrupted gently. “Where would you like these?”
She stared a second, then gestured vaguely behind her. He walked into the living room and set the boxes down as she watched him in secret, pulling out her phone and dialing.
There was a single ring, followed by a squeal of delight. “Are you here? Do you love it? I told you, you’d love it. Why are you so late?”
Brie grinned in spite of herself, aching to see her best friend. “I’m here. I love it. You have the very best taste in all things,” she replied, watching as Cameron circled the room. “And I’m late because some cop almost gave me a speeding ticket.”
So, I helped brainwash him with my new angel friend.
A baffled silence rang out in reply.
“ You almost got a speeding ticket?” Sherry exclaimed. “You’ve never even been to the principal’s office. Also, what a jerk. It’s a small town. We’ll find out who it is and egg his house.”
Brie grinned and bit her lip. “Because we’re seven?”
“That’s right.” Sherry’s tone shifted. “But seriously, Brie. What are you doing speeding, showing up late, not checking in? What’s been going on with you?”
Brie looked across the room at Cameron, who pulled a toaster from a box with a look of childlike perplexity. “Can I tell you at drinks tomorrow? Right after work, right?”
“Nope, that’s been changed to a fancy dinner at this restaurant I’ve wanted to try. And you’re not getting off that easy. Coffee. Tomorrow. Before work. Something’s up. I can feel it.”
That bodes well.
Brie fiddled nervously with the phone but couldn’t restrain a grin. “It’s a date. Alright, I need to go unpack my entire life.”
“Do you want me to come over?”
“ No !” Brie exclaimed, before backtracking quickly. “I mean, I’ve got this. I’m sure you’re still busy anyway, transforming your own place into the envy of the entire neighborhood.”
“Careful, flattery will get you everywhere with me.”
“I know this well.”
“Alright, see you tomorrow. Love you, bye!”
“Bye.”
Brie hung up, turned around, and froze. Cameron had put the toaster in pride of place in the middle of the kitchen island and seemed to be building it a shrine out of coffee mugs.
“You really don’t know how any of this works, do you?” she asked.
He glanced up with a guilty flush. “Is this not how it’s supposed to look?”
She pursed her lips, trying her best not to laugh. It didn’t help that his hair was littered with purple petals. It also didn’t help that the teddy bear from the diner claw machine was peeking out of his coat pocket.
“It’s alright. I’m sure you have other skills.”
? ? ?
The unlikely pair unpacked boxes for the next hour or so and explored the house. There was a leak under the kitchen sink, and Brie was fairly certain she heard a squirrel in the attic, but overall, the charm won out over the damage. The place had even come semi-furnished, so she didn’t need to worry about buying a bed, couch, or shelves. Instead, she could focus on other things — like the man kneeling beside her with a book in each hand.
“So, why are you just starting this job now?” he asked curiously, placing the books on a nearby shelf. “I thought that you and Sherry were in the same class. Have I gotten that wrong?”
She threw him a quick glance. “I’m surprised you thought anything at all. How do you know we were in the same class?”
His eyes flashed up before returning quickly to the boxes. “You must have mentioned it.”
Must have.
“I kind of took the long way around to finish nursing school so that I could stay close to my dad,” Brie explained, slowly filling her bookshelves with the contents of her boxes. “Sherry finished a year before me and landed a position in this great hospital up here. I think she pulled a few strings to get me in. They let you finish your clinical rotations and everything, then keep you on afterward. It’s very competitive. I was so happy when I got in, but I just…” She trailed off, absently flipping through a novel.
“You’re worried about your father,” he finished gently.
She set the novel down with a bit too much force. “I’m always worried about him.”
He was quiet for a moment, passing her medical textbooks and the odd volume of poetry or music theory before he cleared his throat and spoke up again. “Sometimes, the most inspiring thing a person can see is someone they love taking charge of their life.” The two locked eyes. “Following your dream isn’t selfish, Brianna, especially when your dream is to help others on their darkest days. By lifting yourself up, you lift all whom you love.”
She stared in silence, unable to formulate a response, as he pushed to his feet and started stacking the shelf with her, alphabetizing as he went, correcting each book she placed out of order.
“Do you play the piano?” he asked suddenly.
“Excuse me?”
He held up a biography of Robert and Clara Schumann. “Rather niche reading for someone who doesn’t play.”
“I used to. My mom brought me to this great teacher when I was little, twice a week for years. I was actually getting pretty good.” She caught herself swiftly. “I haven’t played much lately.”
She took the book from his hands and placed it on the shelf. He threw her a quick glance, then took it out again and slipped it into the correct order.
“I would love to hear you play,” he said softly.
Her eyes flashed up, resting a moment on his face. Then her heart started thrumming, and she whipped out her phone again to fill the awkward silence. “Well, in the meantime, Siri, play some Schumann.”
He looked at her, puzzled.
“Playing, ‘Tr?umerei, Opus Fifteen Number Seven,’ by Robert Schumann.”
In a literal flash of light, the angel became rigid as a statue, eyes flickering to the windows and doors as if they might be under attack.
“Is there someone else in the house?” he asked accusingly as if she’d been hiding them all along. “Answer me softly, Brianna. We don’t know where they might have gone.”
She stared at the back of his head, baffled. “What?”
The lovely notes of the piano filled the air between them.
“Siri, could you turn that down?”
“Certainly, Sexy Beast.”
He jumped and whirled around with an almost cartoonishly threatening expression. His hair spiraled messily around him, littering the ground with petals, as his eyes lifted slowly to the ceiling.
There was a moment of silence, followed by some ancient oath. He whispered, “Keep still,” before directing a warning towards the ceiling at his unseen foe. “You cannot hide forever.”
She blinked, then looked at the device in her hand. “Wait, do you mean—”
“Who was that?” he demanded. “What’s happening?”
“It’s my smartphone… It follows basic commands.”
She waved it innocently between them as he stared warily back.
“You have enslaved it?” he asked stiffly. “It does your bidding?”
She let out a burst of laughter and lifted her hands. “Hang on there, Methuselah. I didn’t enslave anything. It’s a phone.”
His eyes narrowed with suspicion. “I think you should keep it outside.”
There was a beat.
“Outside,” she repeated flatly. “You want me to keep my phone—”
“It seems overly fond of you. I would feel more comfortable if it wasn’t in the house.”
There was another pause. Much longer this time.
Then she turned on her heel and headed up the stairs. “I’m going to take a shower.”
“I’m serious, Brianna—”
“You want to be useful? Resuscitate my plant.”
? ? ?
Five minutes later, Brie was still waiting for the hot water.
Perfect house. There had to be something.
The pipes were humming, but no matter how she flipped the dials, the water remained ice cold. After a few more seconds spent shivering impatiently on the tile, she gave up with a sigh and redressed before slumping back into the living room. Cameron was standing not far from where she’d left him, running his fingers over her endless stacks of books.
“Done already?” he asked.
“No hot water.” She threw him a teasing grin. “I don’t suppose your celestial powers could help with that?”
Only half-joking.
He shook his head. “These powers aren’t even mine. I am merely a vessel. They are to be used only to do God’s will.”
She tilted her head. “So, God willed you to fix my car?”
His eyes flashed up uncertainly before clearing with a cool expression. “God was feeling a bit generous today.”
Fair enough.
The two worked in silence for a while, shifting things around and casting each other secret looks, as the sun dipped lower and lower in the sky. It wasn’t until the windows began to darken that she looked at him with a sudden start.
“Cameron,” she paused. “Are you planning to stay here?”
He glanced up with a hint of surprise. “Of course I am. Why?”
She looked around the little cottage, trying to find the words. In all honesty, she didn’t know what was more surreal: the fact that she was playing house or the fact that she was doing it with a divine protector.
True to form, she decided to deflect. “You know, in some cultures, it’s considered highly inappropriate to move in with a woman, uninvited, without telling her your full name.”
He tilted his head, considering this for a moment. “My real name is unpronounceable by the human tongue.”
“So, you picked Cameron?”
“A dear friend of mine was named Cameron. So, yes. I picked it because I liked it.”
“Oh,” she exclaimed with a touch of surprise, warming in spite of herself. “I didn’t imagine you had human friends. So, what happened with the original Cameron? Was he willing to share?”
“He was martyred in the third century under Emperor Diocletian.”
She stared as he pulled a blender from a box . Right. I have friends like that, too.
That was the last of the talking.
They continued unloading the car for the next few minutes and quietly placed items around the house. Bags were relocated to the upstairs hallway. The desiccated Ficus was given a thoroughly unnecessary drink of water, then left to molder by the fridge.
While they worked, they watched each other. Rather, she watched him.
A friend martyred in the third century… he doesn’t know how to use a toaster. The power to annihilate demons… which he uses on the radio, when he’s not ferrying the souls of the dead.
She studied him a moment longer, then was left with a surprising conclusion. I wonder if he’s lonely.
“Is it very different?” she asked tentatively. “The place where you come from?”
His hands paused above a throw pillow, but he kept all emotion safely from his face. “It’s a heavenly gateway powered by the life force of human souls. It’s a little different.”
She nodded but took a step closer. “I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just… are there others there? People like you?”
Considering they’d driven across state lines, it was probably strange she hadn’t asked him sooner. But in the short time since their paths had collided again, her life had been strung together in a series of traumas and miracles. Some of the little things had slipped through the cracks.
“People like me?” he repeated, stalling for time.
She stared at him curiously, picking up one end of a large rug.
“Yeah, you know. Angels of mercy. Or whatever you call yourselves. There have to be others, right? The world’s a big place. You’ve been away for some time but haven’t mentioned anyone, so I was just wondering… is there anyone else like you?”
For a fraction of a second, his face stilled. So far, she had the impression that he’d been completely honest with her, even when disclosing difficult truths. But now, he seemed to be teetering dangerously close to the edge of a lie.
He ended up somewhere in the middle. “There used to be.”
He flashed her a tight, wistful look, then picked up the other side of the rug. They gave it a hard shake together and let out a series of choking gasps as an explosion of dust escaped.
“Oh, sorry!” She batted uselessly at the air between them, then pointed to a stack of appliances in the corner. “Would you mind vacuuming that before we move the coffee table over? I’m going to grab some more stuff from the car.”
His eyes drifted to the same corner, hoping the items were clearly labeled. “Of course.”
She slipped out the door a second later, leaning against it with a silent breath.
Sometimes, she didn’t know what threw her more: the flashes of superhuman powers or the tiny cracks that lay unattended beneath. Her mighty angel, slayer of demons and speeding tickets alike, seemed more real to her in these quiet moments between supernatural feats. When he thought no one was looking. When his eyes would sadden and drift to the sky.
After taking another moment for balance, she rummaged around in the car for good measure, then headed back inside, only to be met with a most peculiar sight.
It was a standoff. That much was clear. The angel versus the vacuum cleaner.
“Infernal creature,” he muttered under his breath, holding the power cord like he was considering fashioning it into a noose. “You will not defeat me.”
She snapped a photo with her phone and struck a casual pose. “Cameron?”
He jumped where he stood, whirling around to face her. The man had been alive for centuries, but suddenly looked like a little boy.
“Yes?” he asked just as casually. Either by intention or subconscious prompting, he angled his leg to block her view of the machine.
“How’s it coming in here?”
“Good, great, very well,” he said quickly. “We’re nearly there.”
She nodded and headed into the kitchen, then doubled back immediately to spy around the corner. He knelt once more in front of the machine, Heaven’s fire blazing in his eyes. For a split second, it looked as though he might smite the thing down. Although she needed a vacuum, she hoped with all her heart that he would do it. She was thrilled that words like “smite” were now a valid part of her vocabulary. But after a brief stalemate, he abandoned the idea.
After casting a glance toward the distant sky, he laid his hand on the ground, closed his eyes, and muttered something under his breath.
There was the faintest of shimmers. The carpet was abruptly clean.
She stared in amazement as he threw a smug glance at the vacuum cleaner and pushed to his feet. She had yet to collect herself when he almost walked right past her, pacing out of the room.
She lifted an eyebrow, eyes twinkling in delight. “God’s divine will, huh?”
He opened his mouth to deny it, then let out a quiet sigh. “I’ll go fix the hot water, shall I?”
? ? ?
Within a few hours, the little cottage was utterly transformed.
Carpets were unrolled, and throw pillows were tossed onto the sofa. A few gauzy curtains were hung alongside the windows, and a collection of sparse artwork was hung upon the walls.
Brie had nothing in her refrigerator, but she’d brought a few cups of ramen, which she heated with an electric kettle and gleefully consumed, as Cameron regarded her in equal parts fascination and disgust. Once the water heater was working, she abandoned him downstairs and took a lengthy shower to wash off the carpet dust and dirt from the move.
That’s more like it , she thought, lathering up the soap, then rinsing herself smooth. A little bit of water, a little bit of oil, and I’m a whole new woman. Like the last few days didn’t happen. Like there isn’t a guardian angel sitting at the base of the—
“Brianna?”
She let out a quiet yelp, cowering behind the misted shower curtain as a head of dark hair poked itself into the room. He waited for an answer, only to get cursed in two different languages.
“I’m sorry to intrude, but—”
“Then don’t intrude, Cameron!” she cried, wishing there was something more between them than clear plastic and steam. “I am naked! Do you understand what that means? Or maybe you don’t,” she snapped, answering her own question. “Maybe where you come from, everyone walks around naked, like in the good old days, before all that forbidden fruit.”
He wisely chose not to engage.
“There are two men on bicycles at the door,” he began haltingly. “They want to share some ‘good news’ and tell you the best way to get into Heaven.”
A deafening silence fell over the bathroom.
“Brianna, I can’t begin to tell you how uncomfortable this makes me.”
“Tell them I’m not interested,” she snapped, turning off the water. “Tell them, having met a personal representative, I’m choosing to abstain from that particular trip. You can reference the indigenous population’s lack of boundaries,” she added sharply as he ducked outside with an obedient nod. “And their complete disregard for personal space .”
By the time she toweled dry and headed back to the living room, she’d come up with an impressive list of scathing indictments to rain down on him. But the words caught on her tongue, and she stopped short the second she stepped inside.
My picture.
It was the one of her as a baby with her parents, the one of her reaching up to touch her mother’s face. The one that had undoubtedly been smashed to oblivion in the car accident but had been restored to perfect condition and placed with tender care in the center of her bookshelf.
Cameron was sitting on the couch beside it with a look of chagrin — a strange, perfect being in an otherwise ordinary world. He glanced up when she entered, trying to interpret her expression.
“Did you put that up?” she asked softly.
He followed her gaze with a touch of confusion, worried it might somehow be wrong. “Yes, is that… is that not where you want it?”
She held his gaze for a moment, then let out a quiet sigh.
She couldn’t be angry with him. She didn’t know how all the pieces of this puzzle fit together, but she trusted that nothing happening to her was his fault. He might well be going above and beyond to keep her safe. Maybe even happy.
Another pang of tenderness shot through her heart, making it ache. “Cam?”
He looked up nervously and was about to apologize again, when she crossed over quickly and gave him a sudden hug. He froze in surprise as if, despite his endless centuries, he was somehow unfamiliar with the gesture. Then, he wrapped his arms around her back with the utmost care.
“Thank you,” she murmured into his shirt. “Thank you for being here.”
He tensed involuntarily, and then his face warmed with an unseen expression of tenderness.
“It’s my honor, Brianna Weldon.”
She pulled back and stood awkwardly for a moment. “I need to go to sleep. I start work tomorrow. Do you need anything?”
She had no idea what his needs might entail. She hadn’t seen him eat, drink, or sleep since his magical reappearance in her life. Perhaps he simply needed to… charge?
“No, thank you,” he answered. “I am quite alright. I wish you pleasant dreams.”
She hesitated. “You’re staying out here?”
He looked down at the couch. “In some cultures, it might be considered rude to move into a beautiful young woman’s bedroom without even telling her my full name.”
She grinned and bit her lip. “Well, we can’t have that, can we?”
He shook his head. “Politeness is the flower of humanity.”
She hesitated a moment, wanting to prolong their conversation, but was at a loss for words. In the end, she settled on a classic. “Goodnight, Cameron.”
“Goodnight, Brianna.”
Three minutes later, she was fast asleep.
? ? ?
A young man sat on a stone windowsill, one leg dangling outside, the other drawn up with his arm resting on it. His head leaned back against the wall, his face turned away, so all that could be seen was shaggy blonde hair. He was holding an apple, black as coal.
He seemed… bored.
Behind him, the sky was a necrotic blue-black, cracked in places, with an immense sea of magma roiling behind, leaking through. Dark, sharp-looking mountains jutted into the sky like spearheads. At their base, the hills had been burned bare.
Something came through a door and scuttled past. It had too many legs. Brie tried to scream, but she couldn’t move or talk. The blonde-haired man perked up. “What is it?”
To her horror, the creature spoke. “It’s the pendant. They found it.”
The man turned his head slightly, but he was half-cloaked by a shadow, and she couldn’t make him out. “Is that right?” His lips curved up for a moment, and he took a bite of the apple.
It started bleeding.
Suddenly a high scream filled the air as if the world itself was tearing apart at the seams.
Again and again, it sounded, twisting and compounding, growing and echoing through Brie’s mind, before she finally woke up and realized what was happening.
The screams were coming from her.
? ? ?
“Brianna? Brianna!”
Cameron was shaking her, his face struck with panic.
Her screaming stopped, and she found herself panting for breath, her hair wild around her.
“Are you alright?”
Her eyes flew around in disorientation, coming to settle on the bed.
“I’m sorry. I just…” She kept her eyes fixed on the comforter, trying to convince that reeling part of her brain that it wasn’t real. “I had a nightmare.”
Or a night terror? Has a dream ever felt so real?
His face went rigid, but he kept his voice calm. “Can you tell me what it was about?”
Her heart pounded in her chest as she stared at him in surprise. Did people usually discuss such things? The last time she could remember sharing the weight of a nightmare had been with her mother, and she’d been about six years old. But maybe things were different where he came from, and this certainly felt different. Had she ever in her life awoken with a scream?
“There was a man. And some weird spider, but it was huge, and it could talk.” A host of shivers ran down her arms, and she was vaguely aware that she probably wasn’t making any sense. “He had this apple, but it was bleeding. And the sky… the sky was dead.”
Cameron visibly stiffened as she looked at him with huge, wild eyes.
Oh my God. This is real.
“Did they say anything?” he asked. “Brianna, what did they say?”
“I don’t know. I can’t remember,” she cried, trying to fight back the rising panic. “Who was that? Is this a part of that… those things that attacked me? That killed my mother?”
His hands tightened around hers, but she wrenched herself away.
“Why is everyone after me?” she demanded. “Why is this happening? I haven’t done anything, alright? I’m just a girl who moved to Virginia. I’m just trying to start fresh—”
“I know,” he interrupted hastily. “I know that, and I promise it’s going to be alright. There’s a chance it was just a nightmare. These last few days would be enough to give anyone bad dreams.”
She drew in a deep breath, making a conscious effort to unclench her fists. “And if it’s not just a nightmare?”
He took a single look at her face, then decided not to answer the question.
“Let’s talk about it in the morning,” he murmured soothingly. “Over breakfast. For now, you need to get some real sleep. You have a big day tomorrow.”
She was too shaken to press, so she simply nodded. It wasn’t until he got up to leave and made it to the door that she abruptly panicked. “Cameron?”
He turned immediately. “Yes?”
There was a pause. “Could you stay?”
He hesitated a moment, then returned to her side. “Always.”
The two lay down beside each other, and she thought again that he must have some soporific power. Because despite her pounding heartbeat, despite the fact that her nails had torn frightened little holes into the duvet, it only took a few minutes before she was fast asleep. A deep, dreamless sleep. One where nightmares could never reach her, whatever they might mean.
She never saw the way the angel’s eyes rested with worry on her pendant.
She never noticed its faint, eerie glow.