Angelbound

Chapter 9-2

Once I close my eyes, my dreams return me to the Gray Sea. I stand on a familiar stretch of dark sand beside a tall stonewall. Crouching low, I set my hands onto the desert floor. A circle of white fire erupts from the ground. From its center rises the form of my mother made from sand. She sits at a desk.

The earth continues to rise, the granules building into the shape of an office.

The circle of fire flares higher, then disappears. The moving sand transforms into flesh and blood. The scene before me comes to life.

Mom looks up from her desk. “Hello, Tim.” She runs her fingertips along the neckline of her blue suit.

Tim’s gaze follows the movement of her fingers across her chest. “You should call me TIM-29.” His voice comes out a little husky.

I’m no lust expert, but it’s possible that Tim has a thing for my Mom. My stomach lurches. Could this guy be my father?

“I’ve been calling you Tim for six months now, that isn’t going to change.” She smiles. Her face looks animated, alive, and dazzling.

I scratch my neck, my head wagging from side to side. I still can’t believe this is the same person who conducts my Maternal Inquisition each morning.

Tim bows again. “As you wish, Senator.”

“For the hundredth time, call me Camilla.”

Tim shakes his head. “No, that wouldn’t be right, Senator.” He gingerly sets a cup of coffee onto her desktop.

“Thank you.”

Tim leans over Mom’s head and inhales deeply. He whispers one word: “Lavender.”

Hair-smelling? That confirms it. Tim definitely has a thing for Mom.

“What did you say?” She scribbles away on a pad.

“Nothing, Senator.” He takes a few quick steps backwards. “Xavier Cross is in the waiting room, again. He insists on seeing you.”

Mom sighs. “He has an appointment in a month.”

I’ve heard that sigh, many times. Whoever this guy is, he’s getting on Mom’s last nerve.

Tim grips his hands at his waist. “He wants to see you today.”

A rotary phone on the desk begins to ring. Mom sets her hand on the receiver and looks to Tim. “Please tell him to wait one month.” Tim nods and leaves the room.

Mom picks up her phone. “Senator Lewis speaking.” She swivels her chair so she faces the wall. “Yes, Ambassador. I understand the complaint.”

On the opposite side of the room, the door swings open. A man slides through. He’s tall and fit with short brown hair, piercing blue eyes and skin the color of milky cocoa. He adjusts the lapels of his gray suit.

Still facing the wall, Mom continues her phone call. “I understand the demand, but we cannot guarantee that a particular soul will go to Hell. I’ll certainly pass the request to Senator Myung.”

Damn, she’s not taking shizz from that caller. My brows arch. This is the same woman who now spends an hour to choose a frozen dinner from the freezer. I never imagined she could be so decisive.

The stranger walks around the room, studying the pictures lining the walls, his long arms clasped behind him. He moves with a calculated grace that I find oddly soothing.

Mom kicks at the base of the wall, her features cringing into her ‘exasperated face.’ She takes a deep breath. “Senator Myung holds the Afterlife Management seat, I head Other-Realm Diplomacy. As I’ve told you before, I have no formal say in this matter but I promise to make your request known.” She pauses, listening. “Excellent, goodbye.” She slams the receiver onto the phone. “Hells bells! That’s the fourth time this week.” She twists about in her chair, seeing the stranger in her office for the first time.

Mom’s chocolate eyes narrow into slits. “And you are?”

The man reaches out his hand. “Xavier Cross.”

Mom doesn’t flinch. “You have an appointment in one month, Mister Cross. Tim should have stopped you.”

Xavier seats himself in a chair across from Mom’s desk. “It won’t take five minutes, I promise.” He smiles. His face is handsome with a square jaw and high cheekbones.

Mom stares at him, her lips pursed. “Five minutes.” She glances at her watch. “Go.”

I click my tongue. Nice move, Mom!

Xavier taps his knee with his pointer finger. “You’re new to the Senate, aren’t you?”

“My family’s held the Senate Diplomacy Seat for eight hundred years, but yes, I’ve served in this particular role for six months.”

“I saw your pictures on the walls. Annual Lewis family picnics.”

“Yes, we’re a close group. Four minutes.”

“And you have a ghoul assistant.” The look in his eyes says ‘and that’s the stupidest idea ever.’ My eyes flash with anger. Leave my Mom alone.

Mom drums her fingers on the table, her face the picture of cool. “I drive connections across all the five realms: Heaven, Hell, Antrum, the Dark Lands, and Purgatory. Most of my staff are members of the Lewis family, but I’m extending my team to other realms as well. Three minutes.”

“Do you trust that ghoul?”

A muscle twitches along Mom’s jaw. “Mister Cross, what exactly is this about?”

There’s something in her tone that’s protective of Tim, maybe even loving. My possible ghoul dad. Barf.

“I’ll tell you.” He leans back in his chair. “I am the lead angel Ambassador and you don’t seem to know who I am or why we need to meet. I wonder if you’re more suited to duties outside the Senate. Perhaps your interest lies closer to the ghouls?”

I let out a low whistle. Now he’s asked for it.

Mom’s eyes flare red. “I take great exception to that, Mr. Cross.” She whips open a drawer, pulling out a heavy file. With a thwack, she sets it on her desktop. “I’ve been researching you.” She whips open the manila folder. “Xavier Cross, Lead Ambassador for the angels.” She points to a line on the sheet before her. “For some reason, no one seems to remember seeing your wings. Your race is listed as ‘unknown.’”

He shrugs. “I wonder often myself.”

“Whatever you are, you’ve been angel Ambassador to my government for three hundred years.” She eyes him with a wary look, and I have to agree, this guy seems a little sketchy. A protective urge coils up my spine.

Xavier gestures around the room. “I helped design this Senate building, in fact.” His eyes flash bright blue. “I know things about the quasi government you couldn’t guess at.”

Correction: he seems a LOT sketchy.

“Obviously, you’ve more than your share of secrets.” Mom lifts a red sheet of paper from the file. “Here’s a summary of the grievances against you over the years.” She gives the paper a shake. “Using angelic influence seems to be your favorite way to get work done. That tactic is illegal in and will no longer be tolerated in this office.”

Xavier hitches his ankle onto his knee and smiles. “There’s never been a formal complaint. What’s the nature of the problem, exactly?”

Mom slams the paper into her folder. “Angelic influence. You know, mind control? When angels find the good in a mortal soul and use it to change their behavior.”

My brows pop up. Angelic influence? Who knew they could control minds?

Xavier makes a tsk-tsk noise. “Perhaps you’re thinking of dreamscaping. A handful of angels and demons have this gift. They can send visions to others’ dreams, sometimes even communicate with them in their sleep. You must be confused.”

Uh-oh. I’ve tried that ‘you’re confused’ line on Mom before. It only makes her angrier.

Mom raises her hand. “Please. We both know that angelic influence is nothing like dreamscaping. You connect to non-angels and inspire them into your so-called good deeds.” She slaps her hands onto the desktop. “I’m not a fool. Most of my angelic requests have one goal only: to prevent fully evil souls from entering Heaven through trial by combat. And why’s that? Angelic influence doesn’t work on the truly evil, so you could never control them.”

Mom’s spot-on with this one. In my Arena matches, I fight their worst souls for that very reason: pure evil would be uncontrollable in Heaven.

Xavier frowns. “Nonsense.”

I roll my eyes. He’s so full of it.

“I knew that would be your position. That’s why I’ve been spending the past months gathering evidence to the contrary. In our first meeting, I’d like to lay out the facts, clear and simple. After that, we’ll have an honest discussion about how our offices will interact going forward.” She rises to her feet and steps in front of Xavier’s chair. “Are you ready for an honest discussion today, Mister Cross?” Her eyes flash red.

I grin. That was the verbal equivalent of a gut punch. I never pictured wrath as having a place anywhere outside the Arena, but Mom brings it to a whole new level. Go, Mom, go!

Xavier rises to his feet. “Senator Lewis, if it means we can actually get to work, then I’ll promise anything.”

Mom grips her elbows. “Anything?”

His eyes flare blue. “That’s what I said.”

“Then repeat after me. I will not use angelic influence.”

A muscle twitches along his jaw. “I will not use angelic influence.”

“Promise noted, Ambassador Cross.” She steps back to her desk and retakes her seat. “I’ll see you in a month.”

Xavier eyes her closely. “No, you’ll see me Monday.” Turning on his heel, he stomps out the door, slamming it behind him.

Spinning her chair around, Mom kicks the wall. “Exasperating!”

I sigh. I feel your pain, Mom. Nothing’s worse than a handsome guy with a snarky mouth and superiority complex.

Tim slowly opens the door and steps into the room.

“Is everything alright Senator? I heard noises.”

“Where’ve you been the past few minutes, Tim?”

“At my desk.” His forehead creases. “Filing, I think.”

“You didn’t see anyone walk past you?”

“No.”

Mom speaks in a low voice. “He used angelic influence. Hopefully for the last time.”

I rub my chin. It makes sense that angelic influence would work on anyone with a smidgeon of goodness in them, so long as the angel was powerful enough.

Tim frowns. “What did you say, Senator?”

“Nothing. I’m fine, Tim. Thank you for checking.” Mom watches her assistant step back toward the door. “Oh, Tim?”

“Yes, Senator?”

“There’s a cocktail event in the ballroom downstairs after work. Would you like to go and have a drink with me?”

Tim smiles. “Yes, Senator Lewis. I would.”

Ugh. That might answer the whole ‘which ghoul is my Dad’ question.

They continue to speak, but their bodies become sand again and slip back into the earth. For the rest of the night, I dream that I keep trying to cook the perfect worm soufflé. It’s freaking nasty.