Chapter Seven

Home Again

Headlights come out of the woods, washing over the greenhouse.

After the momentary blindness wears off, I spot Rick’s giant SUV. I think it’s a Ford Excursion. It’s ridiculously big. Normally, I’d make a joke about a guy compensating, but he had good reason. Three teenagers. They needed something that big.

Dusk decides to pick Mom up and carry her to the living room. He sets her on the sofa and makes her comfortable with some blankets. Mom doesn’t appear to mind the change of scenery… or even really notice that she’d been moved.

Ugh.

Anthony opens the front door.

In walks Rick, Mary Lou, and all three of their kids. Though, they’re not kids now. Ruby Grace is the youngest. She’s sixteen, two months younger than Anthony. Billy Joe is seventeen and Ellie Mae is nineteen. I assume they are arriving later than us due to having to wait for Ellie Mae to arrive. She’s going to college out of state, so had to grab a last-minute flight back to Cali. The other two are still living at home .

Ruby Grace has her face buried in a tablet computer, reading something. That kid is always reading stuff. Rick likes to joke that Mary Lou must’ve cheated on him to get a kid that smart.

“Hey, you,” I say and walk over to hug my sister.

“Oh yeah, it’s been so long since we’ve seen each other.” Mary Lou gives me a back pat and laughs.

“Right.” I rake my hands through my hair. It’s so tempting to just surrender to old ways and let her take care of all the bad things. But I can’t do that now. I’m not a kid anymore.

Dusk glances back and forth between us. He says nothing, but it’s obvious on his face that he’s noticed Mary Lou appears old enough to be my mother when standing right next to me. She’s fifty-one and looks it. I’m forty-five and look twenty-seven. As the kids these days say, ‘the math is not mathing.’ Yes, Mary Lou has an aura. That might be confusing Dusk, since it means under normal circumstances, the ‘women in the family’ aren’t shedding our auras as we age.

“Whoa,” whispers Ruby Grace after looking up from her tablet and gazing around. “People actually live here?”

Billy Joe’s got this ‘let’s get this over with and go home fast’ demeanor while Ellie Mae hasn’t stopped gawking since she walked in. She’s clearly horrified at the condition of the place. Yeah, kiddo. I get it. It’s not that much worse than when I lived here. Didn’t bother me as much then because I’d known nothing else. Adult me would totally call CPS if kids were living here. I really doubt this place would pass inspection for a certificate of occupancy.

We end up sitting and talking in the living room. It’s so damn good that Tammy’s magic was able to purge the stench of cigarettes from the house. Not infallibly, though. Traces still remain whenever someone disturbs the cushioned furniture or ruffles the rug. Still, it’s bearable… and it’s not so saturated that it’s seeping into our clothes and ha ir.

Dad must’ve had nothing better to do in his elder years than sit in that chair smoking and watching television.

Dusk tells Mary Lou and the others that Dad ended up collapsing in town at the grocery store and they rushed him to the hospital, where he still is. We all agree on plans to go there tomorrow morning and visit him. Obviously time is of the essence. Even though the doctors gave him ‘no more than a month’ to survive, that could also mean he won’t survive the night. I’d like to believe my psychic abilities would give me a poke if that were the case. The idea of waiting until visiting hours tomorrow doesn’t set off any bizarre feelings of urgency.

Conversation goes on mostly between Dusk and Mary Lou, who is very upset at the state of the property.

“I’ve been here a couple days,” says Dusk. “But I’m planning to stick around, clean the place up, and get it back to rights. Might even end up staying here for good to take care of Mom.”

“You’re the reason there’s not an ocean of trash outside in front of the place?” I ask.

He gives me a ‘yeah, it was pretty bad’ look.

“Do you have a place somewhere?” asks Mary Lou.

“Nah. Went full hobo in Europe.” He chuckles. “Sometimes, I’d rent a room for three or four months, but nothing permanent. Got no ties anywhere, so I might as well do what I can to make up for being away so long.”

Their conversation continues into more morbid topics, like the obvious need to make funeral arrangements for Dad soon and what to do with his car if we can find it. Where to bury him, that sort of thing. Yeah, I’m an adult now but... ugh. I’ll let Mary Lou deal with that. Sorry, sis. Happy to help financially if needed, but she can do the planning.

In a moment of odd quiet where everyone stops talking at the same time, a scream happens outside. It’s faint. I barely hear it, which means no one else in the room with the possible exception of Anthony had any chance to notice it. I don’t think he’s got supernatural senses in the same way I do. Sometimes, he just knows bad things are happening. Unfortunately, there are some bizarre rules in place. Angels, apparently, aren’t allowed to intervene in most cases no matter what’s going on.

Anthony isn’t a full-fledged angel yet. He’s not entirely limited by those rules. However, he’s not showing any sign he noticed the scream. If what he said about my mother is true—and I have no reason to think he made it up—it might be a better idea that he stays near her. Hopefully, he can figure out what happened.

The scream happens again. The very terrified scream. Sounds like a man. The voice is twisted with the sort of existential terror like he’s got a machete-wielding maniac stalking him…

Someone not too far from this house is in fear for his life.

I can’t just sit here ignoring that.

Not to disturb anyone else, I do my best to radiate a ‘don’t mind me’ as I get up and slip away from everyone.

I head down the hall acting like I’m going to the bathroom… but go right past it to the kitchen—and out to the woods. Curious and more than a little worried about what’s making a guy scream like that, I pop my wings and leap into the air, flying off in the direction the screams came from.