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“Didn’t mean to be a pig,” Aaron said as Mrs. Provost took the dirty dishes to the sink. “It was really good. Thanks again.”
She turned on the water and started washing the dishes. Aaron thought about asking if he could do that for her, but something told him she would probably just say something nasty, so he kept his offer to himself. When she wanted him to do something, he was certain she wouldn’t be shy in asking.
“I was cooking for myself, anyway,” Mrs. Provost said, wiping one of the di
Aaron wondered if the old woman was lonely since the death of her husband. He hadn’t seen any evidence of children or grandchildren.
“Then again, cooking for somebody else can be a real pain in the ass after a while … makes you remember why you was eatin’ by yourself in the first place.”
Well, maybe she was just fine after all…
She left the dishes in the strainer and hung the damp towel over the metal rack attached to the front of the cabinet below the sink. Then she returned to the table to finish her coffee. Aaron wasn’t sure if he should thank her and go to his room, or stay and chat. The kitchen was quiet except for the hum of the refrigerator in the corner and Gabriel’s rhythmic breathing as he drifted off to sleep.
“Where you from, Aaron?” Mrs. Provost abruptly asked as she brought her coffee mug to her mouth.
“I’m from Ly
“Didn’t think it was Ly
His expression must have changed dramatically, because he saw a look of uncertainty in her eyes. He didn’t want her to feel bad, so he responded the best way he knew how. “I did,” he said as he looked at his hands lying flat on the table. “They died in a fire a few weeks back.”
“I’m sorry,” Mrs. Provost said, gripping her coffee cup in both hands.
Aaron smiled at her. “It’s all right,” he said. “Really. It’s why I’m in Maine right now. You know, change of scenery to try to clear my head.”
She nodded. “Thought about leaving here once myself—about the time I met my husband,” she said, a faraway look in her eye. “Never did, though. Ended up getting married instead.”
Mrs. Provost abruptly stood and brought her coffee mug to the sink. Gabriel awoke with a start and lifted his head from the floor, wanting to be sure he wasn’t missing anything. Aaron reached down and stroked the top of his head. “So you never left Blithe?” he asked her as she rinsed the cup.
“Nope.” She put the cup in the drainer with the other dishes. “But I often think about what might’ve happened if I had—if my life would’a been different.”
It was becoming uncomfortable in the kitchen, and Aaron found himself blurting out a question before he could think about it. “Do you have any children?”
Mrs. Provost wiped her hands on the dishtowel and began to straighten up her countertop. “I have a son—Jack. He lives with his wife and daughter in San Diego.” She had retrieved the apple sponge from the sink and was wiping down the tops of her canister set. “We were never that close, my son and I,” she said. “After Luke died—that was my husband—we just grew further and further apart.”
“Have you ever gone to visit them?” Aaron asked, suspecting he already knew the answer.
“Nope,” she said, wiping the countertop for a second time. “They bought me one of those computers last year for Christmas so we could keep in touch with e-mail and all, but I think that Internet is up to something. That and the Home Shopping Network.”
“You have a computer?” Aaron was suddenly excited. It had been days since he’d last had an opportunity to check his e-mail and communicate with Vilma.
“It’s what I said, isn’t it?” Mrs. Provost pointed toward the parlor. “It’s in the office off the parlor,” she said. “My son insists on paying for it even though I never touch the thing. You can use it if you want.”
“Thanks,” he said.
“But don’t go looking up no porno,” she warned, placing the apple sponge back where it belonged beside the sink. “I don’t tolerate no porno in this house—that and the Home Shopping Network.”
Camael knew that he wasn’t in Aerie, but a voice in his mind tried to convince him it was so.
“Calm yourself, angel,” said the hissing presence nestled within his fervid thoughts. “This is what you have sought.”
He wanted so much to believe it, to succumb to the wishes of the comforting tongue and finally let down his defenses.
“Welcome to Aerie, Camael,” it cooed. “We’ve been waiting so long for you to arrive.”
An image of Aaron—the Nephilim—flickered in his mind. If this is indeed Aerie, he’ll need to be brought here, Camael thought as he attempted to move within the thick, viscous fluid surrounding him. Muscular tendrils tightened around his body, holding him firm.
“There is no need for concern,” the voice spoke soothingly. “The boy will come in time. This is your moment, warrior. Let yourself go, and allow Aerie to be everything you have desired.”
The membranous sack around him began to thrum, a rhythmic pulsing meant to lull him deeper into complacency. The heartbeat of asylum.
“Let your guard down, angel,” the voice ordered. “You ca
Deep down, Camael knew this was wrong. He wanted to fight it, to summon a sword of fire and burn away the insensate cloud that seemed to envelop his mind—but he just didn’t have the strength.
“Your doubts are an obstacle, warrior. Lay them aside—know the serenity you have striven to achieve.”
No longer able to fight, Camael did as he was told—and the great beast that pretended to be the voice of sanctuary—
It began to feed.
After a few more hours of small talk, Aaron was finally able to get to the computer when Mrs. Provost a
“What did you say?” asked Gabriel, who rested on the floor of the cramped office.
“Nothing, really.” Aaron shrugged. He began to shut the computer down. “I told her I was thinking about her and that I hope she’s doing okay. Small talk—that’s all.”
“You like this female, don’t you, Aaron?”
“I don’t like to think about that stuff, Gabriel,” he said, turning off the computer and leaning back in the office chair. He ran his fingers through his dark hair. “Verchiel and his goons would like nothing more than to get even with me by going after Vilma. For her own good, e-mail’s the closest I’m getting for a real long time.” He paused, wishing he could change things. Then he shook his head. “It’s the best way.”
“At least you can talk on the computer,” Gabriel said, trying to be positive.
Aaron stood and switched off the light. “Yeah, I guess that’s something,” he said, and the two quietly left the office, making their way up to their room.
Once inside, Aaron undressed and prepared for bed. “Are you going to sleep with me or are you staying on the floor?” he asked the dog.
Gabriel padded toward the comforter on the floor and gave it a sniff. “I think I’ll sleep here tonight,” he said as he walked in a circle before plopping himself down in the comforter’s center.
Aaron pulled back the covers on the bed and crawled beneath them. “Well, if you want to come up, wake me and I’ll help you.”
“I’ll be fine down here. This way I can stretch out and I don’t have to worry about kicking you and hurting my leg.”