Time's Keeper
A TBAA/Early Edition Crossover by Stephanie Souders
Chapter One
Jo Anne Goldstein brushed sweat-slicked bangs from her eyes and put her hands on her hips, surveying her handiwork. She had just spent the last hour hauling some newly arrived books from the basement of Goldstein's Used Book Store and organizing them according to subject. All of the books were now neatly arranged in piles in the back room, ready to be stocked on the shelves. Jo glanced briefly at her watch and realized that would have to wait until tomorrow- there was only ten minutes left until closing.
A crash of thunder roared overhead as Jo walked through a small doorway and into the main store. The rain that night had kept most of the customers away, and she took the opportunity to finish some jobs that had been put off in favor of more pressing business. Moving through rows of shelves, her footfalls softened by a worn carpet, Jo came upon a book that must've been knocked off its shelf by her cat, Boots. She looked up, and sure enough, a nearly all black feline with white paws stared down at her from its perch inches from the ceiling with glittering green eyes. Sighing, she reached down and retrieved the book, reading the cover absently: Lost Chicago. Climbing up a wooden ladder, she hissed at Boots to shoo- Boots took a flying leap and landed gracefully on the floor, her tail winding around a corner and disappearing from view. Another thunder rolled through the heavens as Jo replaced the book. Halfway down the ladder, she was startled by the sound of the bell at the front counter.
"Just a minute," she called. "I'll be right there." Finishing her descent, she moved towards the front- and froze when she saw who was standing there.
The man, dressed in a long, black raincoat, his head shaved, smiled at her menacingly. "Good evening, Jo," he drawled, his voice oily. "I happened to be in the neighborhood, and I thought I would stop by and pay you a little visit."
Jo held one hand out, her wiry frame wound as tightly as a corkscrew. "I don't know who you are, or who sent you, but I want you out of my store before I call the police."
The man laughed a cold, horrifying laugh and grabbed her, pulling her close to him with one arm wrapped around her waist and the other hand clutching her chin. "Hmm," he purred. "I imagined you taller- but I can see now that your verbal bravery is not matched by physical strength." He pushed his face into Jo's and she recoiled slightly from the stench of his breath. "What are you going to do now, nigger lover?"
Jo's eyes narrowed in passionate defiance, and, jerking her head quickly to the side, she clamped down with her teeth on her assailant's hand. The man let out a curse and let go, giving Jo the opportunity to run towards the back room- and the telephone. Her attacker recovered quickly, however, and before she stepped through the doorway, he had her again. This time the grasp was tighter, almost squeezing the breath out of her. She saw a glint out of the corner of her eye and realized with barely controlled panic that he was holding a knife to her throat. "Not smart," he growled. "I might have let you live before, but now I'm afraid that's not possible."
Jo steeled herself for the stab of the blade she knew was coming when suddenly she heard a shout from the front of the store. "Hey! Let her go!"
The attacker turned towards the sound, dragging Jo with him. Standing by the door was a young man who was soaked to the skin, his dark hair plastered to his forehead and his chest heaving as if he had just run a marathon. "I-I said let her go!" he repeated with a slight stammer.
Jo took advantage of the distraction and wrenched herself from the man's strangle hold, once again charging towards the back room. She heard her assailant's footsteps behind her, followed by a loud crash. Grabbing her wireless phone, she dialed 911 with trembling fingers and turned around to find that the sopping interloper had thrown himself on top of her attacker and was now struggling to wrestle the knife from his grasp. When the dispatcher answered the phone, she took one deep breath and tried as hard as she could to recount the events of the past few minutes in a coherent manner, shaking even as she did so.
With another crash, Jo saw her rescuer being slammed into a bookcase, a cascade of books toppling from the shelves and raining down onto his shoulders. The attacker then grabbed the other man by his shirt. The young man's eyes widened in terror as the assailant glared coolly at him. "I don't know who you think you are," he spat, "but I don't much care for other folks interfering in my business." Jo saw the flash of metal and gasped as the other man cried out in pain, clutching his slashed arm momentarily before reaching out and grabbing the attacker's wrist. The assailant slashed again, this time opening a red welt over the young man's eye. Gritting his teeth, the man brought his knee up into the attacker's groin- the attacker let loose a string of curses, dropping the knife and collapsing to his knees. Jo then heard the sirens and almost collapsed herself with relief.
The attacker heard the sirens as well, panic lighting his pained eyes. He slowly rose and lurched towards the door, vanishing into the rainy night seconds before the police cars pulled up to the curb. Strobe lights flashing across her face, Jo turned and looked down at the man who had just saved her life. He had slid down along the bookshelf after delivering that final blow and now sat curled up against it, cradling his injured arm and breathing raggedly. Blood poured down his face from the gash over his eye.
Two uniformed officers burst through the front door, guns ready. "Is that him?" they demanded, gesturing to the crumpled form.
"No!" Jo replied a little too forcefully. Taking another deep breath, she started over, softer this time. "No, he was the one who saved my life. The one you're looking for has already gotten away." Quickly, she described the attacker, and one of the officers radioed an APB. "Please," she added, referring to the young man, "you have to help him. He's hurt."
"Don't worry, ma'am, the ambulance is on its way." Jo nodded, biting her lip anxiously. She looked down again at her rescuer and saw that he had begun to shiver violently. She went into the back room and found her favorite afghan. Then, crouching down to look into his face, she wrapped the blanket around his shoulders.
The young man opened his eyes, and Jo saw deep sincerity behind the pain. In fact, now that she finally had a chance to get a good look at him, Jo concluded that his features suggested nothing but kindness. Reaching into the back pocket of her jeans, she pulled out a handkerchief and, brushing wet hair out of the way, tried to mop some of the blood off his face. The man winced slightly, causing Jo to pull back. "I'm sorry," she murmured.
"'S okay. Thanks."
"Well if anyone should be thanking anyone here, it should be me thanking you. You saved my life." The man's eyes looked down slightly, an expression that looked to Jo like embarrassment. "What's your name?"
"Gary..." he puffed between stabs of pain. "Gary Hobson..."
"Well, it's nice to meet you, Gary. My name is Jo."
*****
"Hello, Gary."
Gary and Jo turned toward the warm voice that was issued from the foot of the hospital bed. A rather imposing black woman dressed in a white lab coat and carrying a chart smiled down at her patient and his visitor. "My name is Tess. I'm going to take a look at your lacerations to make sure they're clean, okay? Let me know if I hurt you at all."
Gary was grateful that Tess was his doctor- she looked powerful enough to knock you over if she wanted too, but she carried out her examinations with utmost gentleness. "Well, everything looks good. Now I'm going to see about stitching you up. I'll be right back."
As she turned to leave, she almost ran into a smaller woman who was standing at the edge of the curtain. "Are you here for Gary Hobson?"
"Yes," the other woman replied, her face lit with concern. "Is he alright?"
"He's right through here and he's going to be fine," Tess assured her, touching her gently on the arm. The woman breathed a sigh of relief and allowed herself to be led to another chair next to the bed.
"Marissa?"
"Gary?" Marissa reached out and brushed against Gary's hand, taking hold of it in her palm. "Are you alright?"
"Yeah, I'm fine.
Jo spoke up from the other side of the bed. "The doctor says he's going to need some stitches and he'll be sore for a few days, but he'll recover."
"Who's that, Gary?"
"Oh, um, that's Jo. I...um..."
"What he's trying to say," Jo broke in, "is that he saved my life. If it wasn't for him, I would've been slashed by some goon."
Tess left the three of them to talk while she went into the supply closet for some surgical thread. As she rummaged through the shelves, she felt, rather than saw, the presence beside her. "Hello, Monica."
"Hullo, Tess," the brown haired angel responded in her Irish lilt. "I'm a little confused- which one is my assignment?"
"Jo is your assignment," Tess answered, facing Monica. "You're here to help her stand up for what she believes in, no matter what happens. Andrew should be here too in just a minute."
As soon as Tess uttered his name, Andrew materialized in the closet, his expression also slightly bewildered. "Tess, I thought I wasn't going to be a part of this assignment."
"I thought so too, Angelboy, but the Father had different plans." Her expression turned serious. "God's just put a whole new wrinkle in this equation, baby, and his name is Gary Hobson."
Chapter Two
Andrew nodded once in recognition. "I remember him from a case I had a few months ago. How did he get involved in this assignment?"
"How does that child normally get into trouble, Angelboy?"
"Oh."
Andrew may have understood the message behind his supervisor's question, but Monica did not. Looking back and forth between her two friends, she asked, "Wait a minute- how DOES he usually get into trouble?"
"Monica, the Father's miracles come in many different forms," Tess replied. "Some are subtle, like a newborn baby, or a beautiful sunset. And then there are the miracles that are a little more concrete." The angel reached into the pocket of her lab coat and produced a soggy newspaper. "This was found among Gary's personal belongings."
Monica took the paper from Tess' hands. "The Chicago Sun-Times?"
"Yes, but it's a little more than that, Miss Wings. Look at the front page a little more closely and you'll see why."
Monica scanned the front page for a few moments. Much of the ink had blurred from the rain, but one thing was readable. She suddenly looked up, wonder in her eyes. "Tess, the date on this paper is July 14th. Isn't today the 13th?"
Tess nodded. "For almost four years, Gary has been getting the newspaper a day in advance, and with it he has been saving people's lives. He still has trouble understanding this sometimes, but he was selected for this purpose long before that paper first hit his doorstep, and he serves it in a way that honors not only his own soul, but the souls of others and the Almighty Himself. And while he doesn't know it yet, tonight God gave him another task to perform."
"And that's where I come in?" Andrew asked.
Tess took the paper from Monica's hands and deposited it in a nearby garbage can. "Angelboy, not only are you here to help Gary understand what God asks of him, but you are also here to protect him. The Father has temporarily appointed you as Gary's Guardian."
The Angel of Death stared at Tess, his hazel eyes somber and his mouth turned down in a frown of concern. "A Guardian? Is he in danger?"
Tess' face was stricken. "When Gary first came into the ER, I felt this cold chill descend down my spine. I can't explain it exactly, but it's something I've felt before..." Her eyes suddenly hardened. "Babies, there are a lot of things about this situation that I don't like. I don't like them at all.
"Gary has an extraordinary gift- he can see inside the hearts of every person he makes contact with. That's part of what makes him so good at what he does. But I'm afraid that gift may have gotten him into very serious trouble- he saw a dangerous truth today and now it's locked up inside of him, leaving him vulnerable to something no human should have to face. Andrew," she continued urgently, grabbing the blond angel by the arms, "you have to reach him soon. There's no time to waste."
Andrew looked down at the older angel, bewildered and suddenly frightened. "Tess, what's going on here?" He had only seen her behave this way on a few other occasions, and that was always when...the angel's heart froze at what his mind suggested. He stole a glance at Monica, and saw that she too had also made the connection- one hand was covering her mouth, her eyes shining. Without even thinking about what he was doing, Andrew pulled both of his friends into a hug. "It's okay," he whispered, sudden tears belying his own fear. "We've confronted this before, and we can do it again. God is with us."
"I want both of you babies to be careful, do you hear me?" Tess admonished her charges fiercely as she held them both.
"We will, " Andrew replied. "I promise, we will."
*****
He ran for sometime before he was certain he had lost the police. Collapsing at last in a dark alley, he nursed his wounds, cursing the weak, human form he was inhabiting, and then cursing the man who had interfered with his assignment.
"What are you doing, Gregory?" a sharp voice suddenly demanded beside him. Startled, he turned and snarled at the cool, impassive face of Kathleen. "You still have an assignment to finish."
"I'm working on it."
"If you continue failing like this, the boss may just decide to take you off case work.
"I'm not going to fail," Gregory hissed, sending small specks of spittle into the fallen angel's imperious eyes. "In fact, I think the key to my success has just fallen into my lap."
Kathleen was skeptical. "Oh?"
"It's clear that Jo isn't moved by threats to her own life. But if we threatened someone else's life..."
"Who do you have in mind?"
"If you will let me finish," Gregory growled, "I will tell you. Tonight a man named Gary Hobson stopped me before I could finish Jo off- and now she owes this man a debt."
Kathleen's smile was abrupt. "Ah, Gregory, there may be hope for you yet."
Chapter Three
Tess had just finished putting a bandage on Gary's arm when a small, red- headed nurse poked her head inside the curtain. "Doctor? A detective is waiting outside registration."
"You can send him in, Lisa. I'm finished here." Then to Gary, she said, "Okay, baby, you can get dressed now, and I'll go fill out your discharge papers." With that, she swept out of the cubicle behind the nurse, her white coat billowing slightly behind her.
Never a big fan of hospitals, Gary breathed a small sigh of relief and carefully swung his legs over the edge of the bed. When his bare feet hit the cool tile, he then propelled himself to a standing position, a movement that sent a stab of pain through his injured arm. "Ow."
"Gary, do you need help?" Marissa asked.
"Naw, I'm just a little sore, that's all," he replied, easing himself into a chair and reaching for his jeans. Pulling them on took a little longer than usual, as he was trying to avoid moving his arm as much as possible. When this effort was completed, he paused briefly to catch his breath, somewhat embarrassed to find that beads of sweat had broken out on his forehead.
Standing behind Gary, Jo offered, "I can untie the ties back here if you want."
Gary was about to decline, but the thought of reaching back there himself was making his arm throb even before the movement. Blushing slightly, he nodded.
Jo undid the knots and helped Gary pull his arms out of the hospital gown. With Gary undressed from the waist up, Jo could now see several angry bruises that were beginning to appear across Gary's back and shoulder blades. She drew in a sharp breath, suddenly feeling guilty.
Then she heard a low whistle behind her. Gary and Jo both turned in the direction of the sound to find a black man standing just inside the curtain with a serious expression gracing his features. "You know, Hobson, every time I see you, I keep hoping that's the last time, but it never turns out that way, does it?"
"How are you, Detective Armstrong?" Marissa responded in greeting.
"I'm doing alright. Gary's crawling now, and getting into everything. Just like his namesake," he added, shooting Gary a small look. Gary swallowed a grin.
"Wait a minute," Jo interrupted, "you guys already know each other?"
"Um...yeah, sort of," Gary replied.
Jo was about to ask how, but decided against it, instead addressing the detective. "I'm guessing you're here to get our statements?"
Armstrong nodded. While Gary slowly put his shirt and socks on, Jo told Armstrong her side of the story, ending with the phone call to the police and Gary's heroic intervention. She recounted all she could remember about the attacker: "His head was shaved, and he was wearing a long black rain coat. Average build."
Gary was just beginning to tie his left shoe, when suddenly he paused and looked up. "He had a scar. It-it was a white scar, down his cheek." Gary traced his finger down his own cheek in demonstration. "And...um..." Inexplicably, his voice trailed off, an almost imperceptible shiver going through his frame.
Marissa picked up on the silence instantly. "Gary, what is it?"
"Hobson, is there something else?" Armstrong was frowning.
Gary avoided Armstrong's gaze, becoming very focused on tying his right shoelace. "No...n-no, that's it. He had a scar, on-on his cheek."
"Hobson..." Armstrong began sternly, but the stricken look in Gary's eyes made him stop. He started over, taking a softer stance. "Alright, Hobson, I won't pretend I don't know you're holding back on me, but for some crazy reason, I trust you. If you remember anything else, I want you to call me, okay?"
"Okay." Gary's expression was still troubled, but a little more relaxed.
Armstrong turned back to Jo. "Do you have any idea why anyone would try to kill you, Ms. Goldstein?"
"I have a pretty good idea."
Several eyebrows went up. "You do?" Gary asked, nonplussed.
"A few months ago, a group in Alabama called the First Aryan Order burned down a black church and desecrated its graveyard. I've been helping them to rebuild in any way I can. Apparently, somebody in the Order found out." Jo reached into her purse and pulled out a few envelopes. "These are death threats. I've been getting phone calls too."
"Why didn't you call the police?" Marissa inquired, anger evident in her tone.
"Because words don't scare me, Marissa. I didn't think it would escalate to physical attacks."
"Under the circumstances," Armstrong broke in, "I don't think putting your home under twenty-four hour guard is an over-reaction. And Hobson, I would suggest watching your back as well. Who ever it was who attacked Ms. Goldstein may decide to seek revenge for your interference- try to stay out of trouble, okay?" Gary nodded.
At that moment, Tess came through the curtain. "Okay, Gary, you're free to go. Try to take it easy for awhile, okay, baby?"
Gary bit his lip and smiled. "I'll try." There wasn't much chance he would succeed, however. Not with his...responsibilities. Which reminded him: "Um, Tess, you didn't happen to find a newspaper in one of my pockets, did ya?"
Tess' expression was unreadable. "Oh, yes, I remember- but it was completely soaked, so we threw it away."
Gary opened his mouth, but Marissa beat him to the punch. "Gary," she said in a low voice, "let it go."
Gary moved to protest, but the shooting pain in his arm forced him to relent. "Never mind, I'll get another one tomorrow." 6:30. Like clockwork.
"Well," Jo said, smiling, "if Gary's done here, I would like to ask Marissa and him over to my place. After what he's done for me, I think some chocolate chip ice cream is in order."
Chapter Four
Unseen, Monica watched as Jo left the cubicle, followed by Marissa and Gary. Armstrong lingered for a moment, writing something down on his notepad, closing it and putting it in his pocket before he too disappeared. The angel turned to her supervisor: "Why didn't you give Gary his paper back, Tess?"
"How else was I going to get that boy to relax? Besides," she added darkly, "what he needs right now can't be found in that paper."
"Do you really believe the Enemy is involved in this somehow?"
"Yes, baby, I do. And if Gary is going to confront Him, what he needs is the courage to ask God to stand behind him."
*****
Armstrong being true to his word, there was already a squad car parked outside the bookstore when Jo finally arrived with Gary and Marissa. Jo found its presence immensely comforting after the events of the past few hours. She greeted both officers politely before unlocking the door and flipping the light switch.
"You live here?" Gary asked.
"I have an apartment upstairs." The sudden wash of illumination revealed quite a scene- books were scattered everywhere, and there was still blood on the bookcase and floor where Gary sat after the fight. Jo swallowed another pang of fear and guilt. "I guess I'll have to clean that up before I open tomorrow morning." Still somewhat disturbed, she turned to her guests. "Come on, I'll show you upstairs."
The staircase was behind the back room. It was very narrow, allowing only one person at a time to pass, and lit by a small tungsten bulb. The apartment itself, however, was spacious and rather eclectically decorated. Gary liked it- it was friendly and unpretentious. "Marissa," Jo said before disappearing into her small kitchen, "there's an armchair right in front of you. Gary, you can sit on the couch if you want."
Gary eased himself onto the couch, suddenly feeling very stiff. Across from him, Marissa had found her way to the over-stuffed armchair by feel and was now folding up her cane. Jo reappeared carrying three small bowls, two of which she handed to her visitors. "This is the last of the ice cream," she said, seating herself next to Gary on the couch. "I guess I'm going to have to do some grocery shopping tomorrow."
"So," Marissa began after a short silence, "how exactly did you get involved with a black church in Alabama?"
"My old college roommate is married to the associate pastor there." Jo smiled at the memories. "Amy, Eli, and I were inseparable- all of us were Religion majors, so we crammed for all of our exams together. I also remember some really wild discussions we had in the middle in the night about God and faith- we would scream at each other sometimes, but in the end, we'd agree to disagree and go out for a drink. When it came to our friendship, it just didn't seem important that I was Jewish, or that Eli was black."
Gary nodded- he knew what it meant to depend so completely on someone for their friendship that certain differences didn't seem to matter. And he found himself wondering suddenly how Chuck and Jade were doing. He hadn't heard from them in awhile.
Jo continued: "I was the first to notice that Amy and Eli were falling for each other- they were totally clueless until I pointed it out to them. And, you know, while they were going out with each other, and while they were engaged, I never felt like a third wheel. I loved them both so much. Seeing them happy together made me happy. I was excited to be Amy's maid of honor. And when they moved to Alabama, I made them both promise to keep in touch." At this point, she clenched her fists, her dark eyes fierce. "When I got their letter about the fire, I was so angry and determined to do everything I could. So I got some people together and started raising some money. I even went down there to see if I could help clean up the graveyard, and I guess that's when the Order found out about me."
"Well, I think what you're doing takes a lot of courage," Marissa replied. "And Gary and I are willing to help in any way we can."
"I certainly didn't expect Gary to appear tonight, but I count myself fortunate that he did." Jo turned to face the man seated next to her. "Gary, I know I've already thanked you for what you did, but it still doesn't seem adequate. The last thing I wanted was for anyone else to be hurt in all this, and..." she trailed off, her voice breaking. After a brief pause, Jo started over, her words choked with tears. "I'm not the only one in this room with courage. What you did for me was very brave and very selfless, and I...thank you." Being careful not to squeeze Gary's bruised shoulders too hard, Jo embraced him. "I've only known you for a few hours, but I can see it in your eyes, Gary Hobson. You're a good man."
*****
Kathleen watched all of this with barely controlled excitement. Gregory's idea was looking better and better the more the situation unfolded.
Gary would make a perfect target. He was tenderhearted, idealistic, and very noble- in other words, completely vulnerable.
And Kathleen knew Jo would try to protect Gary.
Even if it meant giving up her soul.
*****
A bolt of lightning made it's way across the sky, followed by a crackle of thunder that seemed to resonate with the ground Gary was standing on. He had forgotten his umbrella again, his jeans soaking through as he ran. His last errand had held him up. A power outage was going to cause an old woman to fall and break her hip- Gary caught her before she toppled down the stairs, and for ten minutes after that, she started telling him about her children, one of whom Gary apparently resembled. Now he was going to be late for the stabbing at a used bookstore.
Gary stopped for a moment to glance at the paper again. "Women Stabbed To Death In Bookstore. Jo Anne Goldstein, 33, was fatally stabbed at around nine last night as she was closing her used bookstore. Authorities are still unsure of the motive for the attack." He looked at his watch: 8:50. "Oh, jeez," he whispered to himself, taking off down the road once again.
A few blocks later, he found himself in front of the store. Looking in the window, Gary saw the attacker. Bursting through the front door, he yelled at him to stop. Jo Anne Goldstein wrenched herself out of the assailant's grasp and broke into a dead run towards the back of the store. The attacker started to follow her, but Gary, making a split second decision, threw all of his body weight onto the other man, struggling violently to grab hold of the knife in his hand.
Then the attacker took hold of his shirt and stared directly into his eyes. Gary felt a finger of icy terror descend down his spine. The attacker's eyes looked almost red as he hissed, "I don't much care for other people interfering in my business." Then the assailant shoved Gary to the ground and advanced on Jo.
No, wait, Gary's mind protested. That's not how it happened!
With one thrust, the attacker stabbed the knife through the center of Jo's chest. "No!" he shouted, lunging towards Jo and catching her as she collapsed to the ground. "No, it didn't happen this way," he whispered, watching as Jo took one last breath and fell still. Slowly, he pulled his hands out from under her body- they were covered in blood.
"Gary." He turned towards the voice. Marissa was standing over him, a look of accusation on her face. "Why didn't you save her, Gary?"
"Y-You don't understand," he pleaded. "It didn't happen this way. I-I-I saved her."
A powerful force pulled Gary to his feet and spun him around. The face of the attacker sneered at him, obsidian eyes again shining. "You didn't save her, my friend. You only delayed the inevitable." And the fingers that held Gary's arm began to burn through his skin...
"No...please..."
Gary was jolted awake by the impact of his body hitting the floor beside his bed, stars of pain bursting into his blurred vision. He pulled his feet out of the tangled bed sheets he had taken down with him and folded his knees up to his chest. He stayed in this position for a long moment, clutching his arm and choking on his breath, until the throbbing eased to a more manageable level. He then leaned his head back against the bed, catching a glimpse of his alarm clock before he squeezed his eyes shut- 3:02. Not even close to morning.
Gary willed his pulse to slow. It was a nightmare, that's all. Go back to bed. He reached up and passed a trembling hand over his face. Sweat glistened on his palm in the dim light. Why was he sweating? He didn't feel hot- he felt cold.
Very cold.
Chapter Five
Marissa knew Gary had entered the office before he spoke- she heard his familiar footsteps and smelled his shampoo. "Good morning, Gary."
The brief moment of silence made Marissa smile. Truth was, she enjoyed surprising Gary with what she could perceive- like the day of the blizzard a few months ago, when she reminded him to put on his hat and scarf. That was an educated guess based on her own memory of her friend's absent- mindedness when he was in a hurry, but she wasn't about to explain that to Gary.
"Morning, Marissa," came the eventual reply, in a voice that was a little more muffled than usual. She heard a chair move across the floor nearby, the rustle of a newspaper, and a sharp intake of breath as Gary sat down.
"Are you alright, Gary? You sound tired."
"Yeah, I'm fine. I just...didn't sleep very well last night."
The subtle twang that Marissa usually found endearing was fully evident, another signal that something was up. She was once again reminded of Gary's strange reticence the night before. "Do you want to talk about it?"
"It was just my arm hurting, that's all."
"Maybe we should fill out the prescription for the pain medication. If the pain is keeping you awake-"
"Naw, that's alright," Gary interrupted. "It was bad last night, but it's better now."
Gary was withdrawing- and after all these years, Marissa knew that was a bad sign. Whenever her friend became suddenly quiet and pensive, it usually meant he was upset and trying to deal with it on his own. Marissa opened her mouth to press the issue, but then a wiser portion of her brain took over and she changed the subject. "Did the paper give you a day off at least?"
Gary sighed. "No knife wielding psychos today, but my schedule is tied up until six tonight. I guess I'm not going to be there to interview the new bartender. I'm sorry."
"It's alright, I can handle it."
Marissa heard the chair move again along with more crinkling of the paper. "Listen, um, I gotta go. There's a kid that's going to be separated from his mom on the El..."
"Good luck. And be careful, Gary. I don't want any more phone calls from the hospital."
*****
When Monica arrived at Goldstein's Used Book Store that morning, she found Jo serving coffee to the officers out front. Dressed in a baseball cap, faded rugby shirt, and jeans, Jo smiled and chatted easily with the two gentlemen and didn't notice the angel's presence until Monica cleared her throat. "Hullo. Are you Jo Anne Goldstein?"
"Yes, I am. And you are..."
"Monica."
They shook hands- Jo's grip was firm. "It's nice to meet you, Monica. Are you here about the temporary position?"
"Yes."
"That's wonderful. Why don't I take you inside and we'll talk over coffee."
Jo led Monica upstairs to her apartment and offered the angel a seat on the couch while she poured two more mugs. She handed one to Monica before she flopped down onto the armchair. "You know, I'm really glad you showed up. I wasn't sure that last minute call to the temp agency was going to work."
"What happened?" Monica asked, curious.
"Well, most of the time I can handle this store on my own, but during peak hours, I have a local student who comes in here to help out. Unfortunately, yesterday she got a call from her parents in Florida- they think her grandmother is very close to death, and they wanted her to be there just in case."
"I'm so sorry to hear that."
"So am I. Mary was very close to her grandmother. I just hope she dies peacefully." Jo took a sip of her coffee and continued. "Anyway, now I'm a little short staffed. You think you can handle stocking book shelves and manning the cash register?"
Monica smiled. "I think I can manage."
"That's great." Jo's face suddenly became serious. "There is one thing you should know before you start, Monica. You know the policemen you saw out front?"
Monica nodded.
"They are here to protect me. I got mixed up with some racists down south recently, and last night I was attacked. I would've been stabbed to death if it wasn't for the man who intervened."
"Are you alright?"
"Yes, I am, thank God, although I don't think I would feel so confident if those guys weren't out there. So, do you still want to work here?"
"Yes, I do. If I let evil prevent me from doing what I came here to do, evil would win." The angel looked up at her assignment. "We can't let evil win, Jo. We have to trust that God is in control."
Jo stared at the coffee in her mug. "I know that. I mean, I know it was God's grace that sent Gary to me when I was in trouble. But part of me wishes God hadn't gotten Gary involved. He doesn't deserve to be hurt in all this."
"And neither do you, Jo. None of you deserve to be hurt in all this. But the Enemy doesn't care who He hurts. He only cares about creating as much misery as possible."
*****
Gregory lurked outside of McGinty's, his hand stuffed into his black coat and his eyes scanning the crowd of people that walked by on the sidewalk. He had seen Gary leave sometime earlier, his arm bandaged and dark circles forming under his eyes, but he decided the time was not yet right to go after him. There was still more Gregory could do to weaken his resolve- and Jo's as well.
He only wished he wasn't limited by the body he possessed. What was his name again? Ah yes, Richard Stokes. Stokes had been an out of work, angry young man who already harbored some resentment towards the "nigger scum" he believed had stolen his job out from under him. It was almost too easy for Gregory to gain entrance into his soul and take control. And this time, the demon was certain neither God nor His angels could save Stokes from the Eternal Separation.
Gregory then saw something that made him pause. A very familiar young man was walking down the sidewalk towards the bar, his blond hair glinting in the sunlight. Andrew. The demon retreated into the shadows before it occurred to him that Andrew probably didn't recognize him in his new form. He wondered what the Angel of Death was doing here, and, for a moment, Gregory worried that he would wreck the whole plan. Then, his more confident side took over. "Ah, Andrew," he growled to himself. "So nice to see you again..."
*****
Thunder rattled the windows the moment Gary set foot inside the bar at 9:00 pm. He stomped on the welcome mat to loosen some of the mud that streaked his clothing, and berated himself for the fiftieth time for not reading the weather report.
"Gary? Is that you?" Marissa asked from the bar. It was clear she had been waiting for him for awhile.
"Yeah, it's me," he murmured, sitting down on the stool next to her with a small groan.
"I was starting to get worried. You said you'd be home by six." Marissa's hand brushed up against his arm and she jumped back slightly. "Oh my God, you're completely soaked. Didn't you bring your umbrella?"
"I forgot to read the weather report," Gary replied, color creeping into his cheeks.
"I'll go get you some coffee."
"Naw, it's alright, I-" But Marissa had already disappeared into the kitchen. Gary groaned again, his face falling onto the crook of his good arm. The paper had kept him constantly busy all day- he was bone tired, and his stab wound was throbbing again. He closed his eyes for a moment, and that's when he heard the voice.
"You've only delayed the inevitable."
Gary's head shot up as a sliver of fire went through his arm. His good hand curled around the bandage and he gritted his teeth, waiting for the pain to pass.
"Are you alright?" a voice suddenly asked nearby. Gary turned and saw blond man standing behind the bar, staring at him with concern. The man looked very familiar, but Gary couldn't quite place him.
"I'm fine," he gasped, his fist opening and closing. But despite his deep breathing, the agony seemed to increase. He stumbled off the stool, his vision swimming, then suddenly going black.
*****
When Gary came to, he was lying flat on his back on his bed, his arm aching dully. His wet clothes had been removed, and he was now clad in a t-shirt and sweats. He tried to get up, but a hand forced him back down on the bed. "Whoa, buddy, just lie still, okay?"
Marissa and the man from the bar stood over him, worry etching both of their faces. "Wha, what happened?" he stuttered tiredly.
"You collapsed downstairs," the man replied. "You've been out for about ten minutes."
"W-who are you?"
"My name is Andrew. I'm your new bartender."
"Gary," Marissa jumped in, her voice tight, "what's going on? I thought you said the pain was getting better."
Gary closed his eyes, exhausted. "Well, I guess I was wrong. I'm sorry."
"Gary." Gary opened his eyes to find Marissa holding out a glass of water and a couple of pills. "I got these from the pharmacy. I want you to take them, okay?"
"I don't-"
"End of discussion. Unless you prefer a trip to the emergency room."
Gary sighed, knowing he probably wasn't going to win this battle. He took the medication, then fell back onto his pillows. "Gary," Marissa said softly. "I need you to talk to me. Last night, with Armstrong, there was something you were holding back, wasn't there? What was it?"
"To be honest, Marissa," Gary replied as he drifted towards sleep, "I really don't know."
*****
Much later that night, Gregory crept into the alley behind McGinty's and made his way towards the back door, a can of gasoline banging against his knees. Grinning broadly, he splashed some gas onto the back door and poured the rest on a stack of garbage nearby. Then he reached into his pocket, pulled out a small box, and lit a match...
A TBAA/Early Edition Crossover by Stephanie Souders
Chapter One
Jo Anne Goldstein brushed sweat-slicked bangs from her eyes and put her hands on her hips, surveying her handiwork. She had just spent the last hour hauling some newly arrived books from the basement of Goldstein's Used Book Store and organizing them according to subject. All of the books were now neatly arranged in piles in the back room, ready to be stocked on the shelves. Jo glanced briefly at her watch and realized that would have to wait until tomorrow- there was only ten minutes left until closing.
A crash of thunder roared overhead as Jo walked through a small doorway and into the main store. The rain that night had kept most of the customers away, and she took the opportunity to finish some jobs that had been put off in favor of more pressing business. Moving through rows of shelves, her footfalls softened by a worn carpet, Jo came upon a book that must've been knocked off its shelf by her cat, Boots. She looked up, and sure enough, a nearly all black feline with white paws stared down at her from its perch inches from the ceiling with glittering green eyes. Sighing, she reached down and retrieved the book, reading the cover absently: Lost Chicago. Climbing up a wooden ladder, she hissed at Boots to shoo- Boots took a flying leap and landed gracefully on the floor, her tail winding around a corner and disappearing from view. Another thunder rolled through the heavens as Jo replaced the book. Halfway down the ladder, she was startled by the sound of the bell at the front counter.
"Just a minute," she called. "I'll be right there." Finishing her descent, she moved towards the front- and froze when she saw who was standing there.
The man, dressed in a long, black raincoat, his head shaved, smiled at her menacingly. "Good evening, Jo," he drawled, his voice oily. "I happened to be in the neighborhood, and I thought I would stop by and pay you a little visit."
Jo held one hand out, her wiry frame wound as tightly as a corkscrew. "I don't know who you are, or who sent you, but I want you out of my store before I call the police."
The man laughed a cold, horrifying laugh and grabbed her, pulling her close to him with one arm wrapped around her waist and the other hand clutching her chin. "Hmm," he purred. "I imagined you taller- but I can see now that your verbal bravery is not matched by physical strength." He pushed his face into Jo's and she recoiled slightly from the stench of his breath. "What are you going to do now, nigger lover?"
Jo's eyes narrowed in passionate defiance, and, jerking her head quickly to the side, she clamped down with her teeth on her assailant's hand. The man let out a curse and let go, giving Jo the opportunity to run towards the back room- and the telephone. Her attacker recovered quickly, however, and before she stepped through the doorway, he had her again. This time the grasp was tighter, almost squeezing the breath out of her. She saw a glint out of the corner of her eye and realized with barely controlled panic that he was holding a knife to her throat. "Not smart," he growled. "I might have let you live before, but now I'm afraid that's not possible."
Jo steeled herself for the stab of the blade she knew was coming when suddenly she heard a shout from the front of the store. "Hey! Let her go!"
The attacker turned towards the sound, dragging Jo with him. Standing by the door was a young man who was soaked to the skin, his dark hair plastered to his forehead and his chest heaving as if he had just run a marathon. "I-I said let her go!" he repeated with a slight stammer.
Jo took advantage of the distraction and wrenched herself from the man's strangle hold, once again charging towards the back room. She heard her assailant's footsteps behind her, followed by a loud crash. Grabbing her wireless phone, she dialed 911 with trembling fingers and turned around to find that the sopping interloper had thrown himself on top of her attacker and was now struggling to wrestle the knife from his grasp. When the dispatcher answered the phone, she took one deep breath and tried as hard as she could to recount the events of the past few minutes in a coherent manner, shaking even as she did so.
With another crash, Jo saw her rescuer being slammed into a bookcase, a cascade of books toppling from the shelves and raining down onto his shoulders. The attacker then grabbed the other man by his shirt. The young man's eyes widened in terror as the assailant glared coolly at him. "I don't know who you think you are," he spat, "but I don't much care for other folks interfering in my business." Jo saw the flash of metal and gasped as the other man cried out in pain, clutching his slashed arm momentarily before reaching out and grabbing the attacker's wrist. The assailant slashed again, this time opening a red welt over the young man's eye. Gritting his teeth, the man brought his knee up into the attacker's groin- the attacker let loose a string of curses, dropping the knife and collapsing to his knees. Jo then heard the sirens and almost collapsed herself with relief.
The attacker heard the sirens as well, panic lighting his pained eyes. He slowly rose and lurched towards the door, vanishing into the rainy night seconds before the police cars pulled up to the curb. Strobe lights flashing across her face, Jo turned and looked down at the man who had just saved her life. He had slid down along the bookshelf after delivering that final blow and now sat curled up against it, cradling his injured arm and breathing raggedly. Blood poured down his face from the gash over his eye.
Two uniformed officers burst through the front door, guns ready. "Is that him?" they demanded, gesturing to the crumpled form.
"No!" Jo replied a little too forcefully. Taking another deep breath, she started over, softer this time. "No, he was the one who saved my life. The one you're looking for has already gotten away." Quickly, she described the attacker, and one of the officers radioed an APB. "Please," she added, referring to the young man, "you have to help him. He's hurt."
"Don't worry, ma'am, the ambulance is on its way." Jo nodded, biting her lip anxiously. She looked down again at her rescuer and saw that he had begun to shiver violently. She went into the back room and found her favorite afghan. Then, crouching down to look into his face, she wrapped the blanket around his shoulders.
The young man opened his eyes, and Jo saw deep sincerity behind the pain. In fact, now that she finally had a chance to get a good look at him, Jo concluded that his features suggested nothing but kindness. Reaching into the back pocket of her jeans, she pulled out a handkerchief and, brushing wet hair out of the way, tried to mop some of the blood off his face. The man winced slightly, causing Jo to pull back. "I'm sorry," she murmured.
"'S okay. Thanks."
"Well if anyone should be thanking anyone here, it should be me thanking you. You saved my life." The man's eyes looked down slightly, an expression that looked to Jo like embarrassment. "What's your name?"
"Gary..." he puffed between stabs of pain. "Gary Hobson..."
"Well, it's nice to meet you, Gary. My name is Jo."
*****
"Hello, Gary."
Gary and Jo turned toward the warm voice that was issued from the foot of the hospital bed. A rather imposing black woman dressed in a white lab coat and carrying a chart smiled down at her patient and his visitor. "My name is Tess. I'm going to take a look at your lacerations to make sure they're clean, okay? Let me know if I hurt you at all."
Gary was grateful that Tess was his doctor- she looked powerful enough to knock you over if she wanted too, but she carried out her examinations with utmost gentleness. "Well, everything looks good. Now I'm going to see about stitching you up. I'll be right back."
As she turned to leave, she almost ran into a smaller woman who was standing at the edge of the curtain. "Are you here for Gary Hobson?"
"Yes," the other woman replied, her face lit with concern. "Is he alright?"
"He's right through here and he's going to be fine," Tess assured her, touching her gently on the arm. The woman breathed a sigh of relief and allowed herself to be led to another chair next to the bed.
"Marissa?"
"Gary?" Marissa reached out and brushed against Gary's hand, taking hold of it in her palm. "Are you alright?"
"Yeah, I'm fine.
Jo spoke up from the other side of the bed. "The doctor says he's going to need some stitches and he'll be sore for a few days, but he'll recover."
"Who's that, Gary?"
"Oh, um, that's Jo. I...um..."
"What he's trying to say," Jo broke in, "is that he saved my life. If it wasn't for him, I would've been slashed by some goon."
Tess left the three of them to talk while she went into the supply closet for some surgical thread. As she rummaged through the shelves, she felt, rather than saw, the presence beside her. "Hello, Monica."
"Hullo, Tess," the brown haired angel responded in her Irish lilt. "I'm a little confused- which one is my assignment?"
"Jo is your assignment," Tess answered, facing Monica. "You're here to help her stand up for what she believes in, no matter what happens. Andrew should be here too in just a minute."
As soon as Tess uttered his name, Andrew materialized in the closet, his expression also slightly bewildered. "Tess, I thought I wasn't going to be a part of this assignment."
"I thought so too, Angelboy, but the Father had different plans." Her expression turned serious. "God's just put a whole new wrinkle in this equation, baby, and his name is Gary Hobson."
Chapter Two
Andrew nodded once in recognition. "I remember him from a case I had a few months ago. How did he get involved in this assignment?"
"How does that child normally get into trouble, Angelboy?"
"Oh."
Andrew may have understood the message behind his supervisor's question, but Monica did not. Looking back and forth between her two friends, she asked, "Wait a minute- how DOES he usually get into trouble?"
"Monica, the Father's miracles come in many different forms," Tess replied. "Some are subtle, like a newborn baby, or a beautiful sunset. And then there are the miracles that are a little more concrete." The angel reached into the pocket of her lab coat and produced a soggy newspaper. "This was found among Gary's personal belongings."
Monica took the paper from Tess' hands. "The Chicago Sun-Times?"
"Yes, but it's a little more than that, Miss Wings. Look at the front page a little more closely and you'll see why."
Monica scanned the front page for a few moments. Much of the ink had blurred from the rain, but one thing was readable. She suddenly looked up, wonder in her eyes. "Tess, the date on this paper is July 14th. Isn't today the 13th?"
Tess nodded. "For almost four years, Gary has been getting the newspaper a day in advance, and with it he has been saving people's lives. He still has trouble understanding this sometimes, but he was selected for this purpose long before that paper first hit his doorstep, and he serves it in a way that honors not only his own soul, but the souls of others and the Almighty Himself. And while he doesn't know it yet, tonight God gave him another task to perform."
"And that's where I come in?" Andrew asked.
Tess took the paper from Monica's hands and deposited it in a nearby garbage can. "Angelboy, not only are you here to help Gary understand what God asks of him, but you are also here to protect him. The Father has temporarily appointed you as Gary's Guardian."
The Angel of Death stared at Tess, his hazel eyes somber and his mouth turned down in a frown of concern. "A Guardian? Is he in danger?"
Tess' face was stricken. "When Gary first came into the ER, I felt this cold chill descend down my spine. I can't explain it exactly, but it's something I've felt before..." Her eyes suddenly hardened. "Babies, there are a lot of things about this situation that I don't like. I don't like them at all.
"Gary has an extraordinary gift- he can see inside the hearts of every person he makes contact with. That's part of what makes him so good at what he does. But I'm afraid that gift may have gotten him into very serious trouble- he saw a dangerous truth today and now it's locked up inside of him, leaving him vulnerable to something no human should have to face. Andrew," she continued urgently, grabbing the blond angel by the arms, "you have to reach him soon. There's no time to waste."
Andrew looked down at the older angel, bewildered and suddenly frightened. "Tess, what's going on here?" He had only seen her behave this way on a few other occasions, and that was always when...the angel's heart froze at what his mind suggested. He stole a glance at Monica, and saw that she too had also made the connection- one hand was covering her mouth, her eyes shining. Without even thinking about what he was doing, Andrew pulled both of his friends into a hug. "It's okay," he whispered, sudden tears belying his own fear. "We've confronted this before, and we can do it again. God is with us."
"I want both of you babies to be careful, do you hear me?" Tess admonished her charges fiercely as she held them both.
"We will, " Andrew replied. "I promise, we will."
*****
He ran for sometime before he was certain he had lost the police. Collapsing at last in a dark alley, he nursed his wounds, cursing the weak, human form he was inhabiting, and then cursing the man who had interfered with his assignment.
"What are you doing, Gregory?" a sharp voice suddenly demanded beside him. Startled, he turned and snarled at the cool, impassive face of Kathleen. "You still have an assignment to finish."
"I'm working on it."
"If you continue failing like this, the boss may just decide to take you off case work.
"I'm not going to fail," Gregory hissed, sending small specks of spittle into the fallen angel's imperious eyes. "In fact, I think the key to my success has just fallen into my lap."
Kathleen was skeptical. "Oh?"
"It's clear that Jo isn't moved by threats to her own life. But if we threatened someone else's life..."
"Who do you have in mind?"
"If you will let me finish," Gregory growled, "I will tell you. Tonight a man named Gary Hobson stopped me before I could finish Jo off- and now she owes this man a debt."
Kathleen's smile was abrupt. "Ah, Gregory, there may be hope for you yet."
Chapter Three
Tess had just finished putting a bandage on Gary's arm when a small, red- headed nurse poked her head inside the curtain. "Doctor? A detective is waiting outside registration."
"You can send him in, Lisa. I'm finished here." Then to Gary, she said, "Okay, baby, you can get dressed now, and I'll go fill out your discharge papers." With that, she swept out of the cubicle behind the nurse, her white coat billowing slightly behind her.
Never a big fan of hospitals, Gary breathed a small sigh of relief and carefully swung his legs over the edge of the bed. When his bare feet hit the cool tile, he then propelled himself to a standing position, a movement that sent a stab of pain through his injured arm. "Ow."
"Gary, do you need help?" Marissa asked.
"Naw, I'm just a little sore, that's all," he replied, easing himself into a chair and reaching for his jeans. Pulling them on took a little longer than usual, as he was trying to avoid moving his arm as much as possible. When this effort was completed, he paused briefly to catch his breath, somewhat embarrassed to find that beads of sweat had broken out on his forehead.
Standing behind Gary, Jo offered, "I can untie the ties back here if you want."
Gary was about to decline, but the thought of reaching back there himself was making his arm throb even before the movement. Blushing slightly, he nodded.
Jo undid the knots and helped Gary pull his arms out of the hospital gown. With Gary undressed from the waist up, Jo could now see several angry bruises that were beginning to appear across Gary's back and shoulder blades. She drew in a sharp breath, suddenly feeling guilty.
Then she heard a low whistle behind her. Gary and Jo both turned in the direction of the sound to find a black man standing just inside the curtain with a serious expression gracing his features. "You know, Hobson, every time I see you, I keep hoping that's the last time, but it never turns out that way, does it?"
"How are you, Detective Armstrong?" Marissa responded in greeting.
"I'm doing alright. Gary's crawling now, and getting into everything. Just like his namesake," he added, shooting Gary a small look. Gary swallowed a grin.
"Wait a minute," Jo interrupted, "you guys already know each other?"
"Um...yeah, sort of," Gary replied.
Jo was about to ask how, but decided against it, instead addressing the detective. "I'm guessing you're here to get our statements?"
Armstrong nodded. While Gary slowly put his shirt and socks on, Jo told Armstrong her side of the story, ending with the phone call to the police and Gary's heroic intervention. She recounted all she could remember about the attacker: "His head was shaved, and he was wearing a long black rain coat. Average build."
Gary was just beginning to tie his left shoe, when suddenly he paused and looked up. "He had a scar. It-it was a white scar, down his cheek." Gary traced his finger down his own cheek in demonstration. "And...um..." Inexplicably, his voice trailed off, an almost imperceptible shiver going through his frame.
Marissa picked up on the silence instantly. "Gary, what is it?"
"Hobson, is there something else?" Armstrong was frowning.
Gary avoided Armstrong's gaze, becoming very focused on tying his right shoelace. "No...n-no, that's it. He had a scar, on-on his cheek."
"Hobson..." Armstrong began sternly, but the stricken look in Gary's eyes made him stop. He started over, taking a softer stance. "Alright, Hobson, I won't pretend I don't know you're holding back on me, but for some crazy reason, I trust you. If you remember anything else, I want you to call me, okay?"
"Okay." Gary's expression was still troubled, but a little more relaxed.
Armstrong turned back to Jo. "Do you have any idea why anyone would try to kill you, Ms. Goldstein?"
"I have a pretty good idea."
Several eyebrows went up. "You do?" Gary asked, nonplussed.
"A few months ago, a group in Alabama called the First Aryan Order burned down a black church and desecrated its graveyard. I've been helping them to rebuild in any way I can. Apparently, somebody in the Order found out." Jo reached into her purse and pulled out a few envelopes. "These are death threats. I've been getting phone calls too."
"Why didn't you call the police?" Marissa inquired, anger evident in her tone.
"Because words don't scare me, Marissa. I didn't think it would escalate to physical attacks."
"Under the circumstances," Armstrong broke in, "I don't think putting your home under twenty-four hour guard is an over-reaction. And Hobson, I would suggest watching your back as well. Who ever it was who attacked Ms. Goldstein may decide to seek revenge for your interference- try to stay out of trouble, okay?" Gary nodded.
At that moment, Tess came through the curtain. "Okay, Gary, you're free to go. Try to take it easy for awhile, okay, baby?"
Gary bit his lip and smiled. "I'll try." There wasn't much chance he would succeed, however. Not with his...responsibilities. Which reminded him: "Um, Tess, you didn't happen to find a newspaper in one of my pockets, did ya?"
Tess' expression was unreadable. "Oh, yes, I remember- but it was completely soaked, so we threw it away."
Gary opened his mouth, but Marissa beat him to the punch. "Gary," she said in a low voice, "let it go."
Gary moved to protest, but the shooting pain in his arm forced him to relent. "Never mind, I'll get another one tomorrow." 6:30. Like clockwork.
"Well," Jo said, smiling, "if Gary's done here, I would like to ask Marissa and him over to my place. After what he's done for me, I think some chocolate chip ice cream is in order."
Chapter Four
Unseen, Monica watched as Jo left the cubicle, followed by Marissa and Gary. Armstrong lingered for a moment, writing something down on his notepad, closing it and putting it in his pocket before he too disappeared. The angel turned to her supervisor: "Why didn't you give Gary his paper back, Tess?"
"How else was I going to get that boy to relax? Besides," she added darkly, "what he needs right now can't be found in that paper."
"Do you really believe the Enemy is involved in this somehow?"
"Yes, baby, I do. And if Gary is going to confront Him, what he needs is the courage to ask God to stand behind him."
*****
Armstrong being true to his word, there was already a squad car parked outside the bookstore when Jo finally arrived with Gary and Marissa. Jo found its presence immensely comforting after the events of the past few hours. She greeted both officers politely before unlocking the door and flipping the light switch.
"You live here?" Gary asked.
"I have an apartment upstairs." The sudden wash of illumination revealed quite a scene- books were scattered everywhere, and there was still blood on the bookcase and floor where Gary sat after the fight. Jo swallowed another pang of fear and guilt. "I guess I'll have to clean that up before I open tomorrow morning." Still somewhat disturbed, she turned to her guests. "Come on, I'll show you upstairs."
The staircase was behind the back room. It was very narrow, allowing only one person at a time to pass, and lit by a small tungsten bulb. The apartment itself, however, was spacious and rather eclectically decorated. Gary liked it- it was friendly and unpretentious. "Marissa," Jo said before disappearing into her small kitchen, "there's an armchair right in front of you. Gary, you can sit on the couch if you want."
Gary eased himself onto the couch, suddenly feeling very stiff. Across from him, Marissa had found her way to the over-stuffed armchair by feel and was now folding up her cane. Jo reappeared carrying three small bowls, two of which she handed to her visitors. "This is the last of the ice cream," she said, seating herself next to Gary on the couch. "I guess I'm going to have to do some grocery shopping tomorrow."
"So," Marissa began after a short silence, "how exactly did you get involved with a black church in Alabama?"
"My old college roommate is married to the associate pastor there." Jo smiled at the memories. "Amy, Eli, and I were inseparable- all of us were Religion majors, so we crammed for all of our exams together. I also remember some really wild discussions we had in the middle in the night about God and faith- we would scream at each other sometimes, but in the end, we'd agree to disagree and go out for a drink. When it came to our friendship, it just didn't seem important that I was Jewish, or that Eli was black."
Gary nodded- he knew what it meant to depend so completely on someone for their friendship that certain differences didn't seem to matter. And he found himself wondering suddenly how Chuck and Jade were doing. He hadn't heard from them in awhile.
Jo continued: "I was the first to notice that Amy and Eli were falling for each other- they were totally clueless until I pointed it out to them. And, you know, while they were going out with each other, and while they were engaged, I never felt like a third wheel. I loved them both so much. Seeing them happy together made me happy. I was excited to be Amy's maid of honor. And when they moved to Alabama, I made them both promise to keep in touch." At this point, she clenched her fists, her dark eyes fierce. "When I got their letter about the fire, I was so angry and determined to do everything I could. So I got some people together and started raising some money. I even went down there to see if I could help clean up the graveyard, and I guess that's when the Order found out about me."
"Well, I think what you're doing takes a lot of courage," Marissa replied. "And Gary and I are willing to help in any way we can."
"I certainly didn't expect Gary to appear tonight, but I count myself fortunate that he did." Jo turned to face the man seated next to her. "Gary, I know I've already thanked you for what you did, but it still doesn't seem adequate. The last thing I wanted was for anyone else to be hurt in all this, and..." she trailed off, her voice breaking. After a brief pause, Jo started over, her words choked with tears. "I'm not the only one in this room with courage. What you did for me was very brave and very selfless, and I...thank you." Being careful not to squeeze Gary's bruised shoulders too hard, Jo embraced him. "I've only known you for a few hours, but I can see it in your eyes, Gary Hobson. You're a good man."
*****
Kathleen watched all of this with barely controlled excitement. Gregory's idea was looking better and better the more the situation unfolded.
Gary would make a perfect target. He was tenderhearted, idealistic, and very noble- in other words, completely vulnerable.
And Kathleen knew Jo would try to protect Gary.
Even if it meant giving up her soul.
*****
A bolt of lightning made it's way across the sky, followed by a crackle of thunder that seemed to resonate with the ground Gary was standing on. He had forgotten his umbrella again, his jeans soaking through as he ran. His last errand had held him up. A power outage was going to cause an old woman to fall and break her hip- Gary caught her before she toppled down the stairs, and for ten minutes after that, she started telling him about her children, one of whom Gary apparently resembled. Now he was going to be late for the stabbing at a used bookstore.
Gary stopped for a moment to glance at the paper again. "Women Stabbed To Death In Bookstore. Jo Anne Goldstein, 33, was fatally stabbed at around nine last night as she was closing her used bookstore. Authorities are still unsure of the motive for the attack." He looked at his watch: 8:50. "Oh, jeez," he whispered to himself, taking off down the road once again.
A few blocks later, he found himself in front of the store. Looking in the window, Gary saw the attacker. Bursting through the front door, he yelled at him to stop. Jo Anne Goldstein wrenched herself out of the assailant's grasp and broke into a dead run towards the back of the store. The attacker started to follow her, but Gary, making a split second decision, threw all of his body weight onto the other man, struggling violently to grab hold of the knife in his hand.
Then the attacker took hold of his shirt and stared directly into his eyes. Gary felt a finger of icy terror descend down his spine. The attacker's eyes looked almost red as he hissed, "I don't much care for other people interfering in my business." Then the assailant shoved Gary to the ground and advanced on Jo.
No, wait, Gary's mind protested. That's not how it happened!
With one thrust, the attacker stabbed the knife through the center of Jo's chest. "No!" he shouted, lunging towards Jo and catching her as she collapsed to the ground. "No, it didn't happen this way," he whispered, watching as Jo took one last breath and fell still. Slowly, he pulled his hands out from under her body- they were covered in blood.
"Gary." He turned towards the voice. Marissa was standing over him, a look of accusation on her face. "Why didn't you save her, Gary?"
"Y-You don't understand," he pleaded. "It didn't happen this way. I-I-I saved her."
A powerful force pulled Gary to his feet and spun him around. The face of the attacker sneered at him, obsidian eyes again shining. "You didn't save her, my friend. You only delayed the inevitable." And the fingers that held Gary's arm began to burn through his skin...
"No...please..."
Gary was jolted awake by the impact of his body hitting the floor beside his bed, stars of pain bursting into his blurred vision. He pulled his feet out of the tangled bed sheets he had taken down with him and folded his knees up to his chest. He stayed in this position for a long moment, clutching his arm and choking on his breath, until the throbbing eased to a more manageable level. He then leaned his head back against the bed, catching a glimpse of his alarm clock before he squeezed his eyes shut- 3:02. Not even close to morning.
Gary willed his pulse to slow. It was a nightmare, that's all. Go back to bed. He reached up and passed a trembling hand over his face. Sweat glistened on his palm in the dim light. Why was he sweating? He didn't feel hot- he felt cold.
Very cold.
Chapter Five
Marissa knew Gary had entered the office before he spoke- she heard his familiar footsteps and smelled his shampoo. "Good morning, Gary."
The brief moment of silence made Marissa smile. Truth was, she enjoyed surprising Gary with what she could perceive- like the day of the blizzard a few months ago, when she reminded him to put on his hat and scarf. That was an educated guess based on her own memory of her friend's absent- mindedness when he was in a hurry, but she wasn't about to explain that to Gary.
"Morning, Marissa," came the eventual reply, in a voice that was a little more muffled than usual. She heard a chair move across the floor nearby, the rustle of a newspaper, and a sharp intake of breath as Gary sat down.
"Are you alright, Gary? You sound tired."
"Yeah, I'm fine. I just...didn't sleep very well last night."
The subtle twang that Marissa usually found endearing was fully evident, another signal that something was up. She was once again reminded of Gary's strange reticence the night before. "Do you want to talk about it?"
"It was just my arm hurting, that's all."
"Maybe we should fill out the prescription for the pain medication. If the pain is keeping you awake-"
"Naw, that's alright," Gary interrupted. "It was bad last night, but it's better now."
Gary was withdrawing- and after all these years, Marissa knew that was a bad sign. Whenever her friend became suddenly quiet and pensive, it usually meant he was upset and trying to deal with it on his own. Marissa opened her mouth to press the issue, but then a wiser portion of her brain took over and she changed the subject. "Did the paper give you a day off at least?"
Gary sighed. "No knife wielding psychos today, but my schedule is tied up until six tonight. I guess I'm not going to be there to interview the new bartender. I'm sorry."
"It's alright, I can handle it."
Marissa heard the chair move again along with more crinkling of the paper. "Listen, um, I gotta go. There's a kid that's going to be separated from his mom on the El..."
"Good luck. And be careful, Gary. I don't want any more phone calls from the hospital."
*****
When Monica arrived at Goldstein's Used Book Store that morning, she found Jo serving coffee to the officers out front. Dressed in a baseball cap, faded rugby shirt, and jeans, Jo smiled and chatted easily with the two gentlemen and didn't notice the angel's presence until Monica cleared her throat. "Hullo. Are you Jo Anne Goldstein?"
"Yes, I am. And you are..."
"Monica."
They shook hands- Jo's grip was firm. "It's nice to meet you, Monica. Are you here about the temporary position?"
"Yes."
"That's wonderful. Why don't I take you inside and we'll talk over coffee."
Jo led Monica upstairs to her apartment and offered the angel a seat on the couch while she poured two more mugs. She handed one to Monica before she flopped down onto the armchair. "You know, I'm really glad you showed up. I wasn't sure that last minute call to the temp agency was going to work."
"What happened?" Monica asked, curious.
"Well, most of the time I can handle this store on my own, but during peak hours, I have a local student who comes in here to help out. Unfortunately, yesterday she got a call from her parents in Florida- they think her grandmother is very close to death, and they wanted her to be there just in case."
"I'm so sorry to hear that."
"So am I. Mary was very close to her grandmother. I just hope she dies peacefully." Jo took a sip of her coffee and continued. "Anyway, now I'm a little short staffed. You think you can handle stocking book shelves and manning the cash register?"
Monica smiled. "I think I can manage."
"That's great." Jo's face suddenly became serious. "There is one thing you should know before you start, Monica. You know the policemen you saw out front?"
Monica nodded.
"They are here to protect me. I got mixed up with some racists down south recently, and last night I was attacked. I would've been stabbed to death if it wasn't for the man who intervened."
"Are you alright?"
"Yes, I am, thank God, although I don't think I would feel so confident if those guys weren't out there. So, do you still want to work here?"
"Yes, I do. If I let evil prevent me from doing what I came here to do, evil would win." The angel looked up at her assignment. "We can't let evil win, Jo. We have to trust that God is in control."
Jo stared at the coffee in her mug. "I know that. I mean, I know it was God's grace that sent Gary to me when I was in trouble. But part of me wishes God hadn't gotten Gary involved. He doesn't deserve to be hurt in all this."
"And neither do you, Jo. None of you deserve to be hurt in all this. But the Enemy doesn't care who He hurts. He only cares about creating as much misery as possible."
*****
Gregory lurked outside of McGinty's, his hand stuffed into his black coat and his eyes scanning the crowd of people that walked by on the sidewalk. He had seen Gary leave sometime earlier, his arm bandaged and dark circles forming under his eyes, but he decided the time was not yet right to go after him. There was still more Gregory could do to weaken his resolve- and Jo's as well.
He only wished he wasn't limited by the body he possessed. What was his name again? Ah yes, Richard Stokes. Stokes had been an out of work, angry young man who already harbored some resentment towards the "nigger scum" he believed had stolen his job out from under him. It was almost too easy for Gregory to gain entrance into his soul and take control. And this time, the demon was certain neither God nor His angels could save Stokes from the Eternal Separation.
Gregory then saw something that made him pause. A very familiar young man was walking down the sidewalk towards the bar, his blond hair glinting in the sunlight. Andrew. The demon retreated into the shadows before it occurred to him that Andrew probably didn't recognize him in his new form. He wondered what the Angel of Death was doing here, and, for a moment, Gregory worried that he would wreck the whole plan. Then, his more confident side took over. "Ah, Andrew," he growled to himself. "So nice to see you again..."
*****
Thunder rattled the windows the moment Gary set foot inside the bar at 9:00 pm. He stomped on the welcome mat to loosen some of the mud that streaked his clothing, and berated himself for the fiftieth time for not reading the weather report.
"Gary? Is that you?" Marissa asked from the bar. It was clear she had been waiting for him for awhile.
"Yeah, it's me," he murmured, sitting down on the stool next to her with a small groan.
"I was starting to get worried. You said you'd be home by six." Marissa's hand brushed up against his arm and she jumped back slightly. "Oh my God, you're completely soaked. Didn't you bring your umbrella?"
"I forgot to read the weather report," Gary replied, color creeping into his cheeks.
"I'll go get you some coffee."
"Naw, it's alright, I-" But Marissa had already disappeared into the kitchen. Gary groaned again, his face falling onto the crook of his good arm. The paper had kept him constantly busy all day- he was bone tired, and his stab wound was throbbing again. He closed his eyes for a moment, and that's when he heard the voice.
"You've only delayed the inevitable."
Gary's head shot up as a sliver of fire went through his arm. His good hand curled around the bandage and he gritted his teeth, waiting for the pain to pass.
"Are you alright?" a voice suddenly asked nearby. Gary turned and saw blond man standing behind the bar, staring at him with concern. The man looked very familiar, but Gary couldn't quite place him.
"I'm fine," he gasped, his fist opening and closing. But despite his deep breathing, the agony seemed to increase. He stumbled off the stool, his vision swimming, then suddenly going black.
*****
When Gary came to, he was lying flat on his back on his bed, his arm aching dully. His wet clothes had been removed, and he was now clad in a t-shirt and sweats. He tried to get up, but a hand forced him back down on the bed. "Whoa, buddy, just lie still, okay?"
Marissa and the man from the bar stood over him, worry etching both of their faces. "Wha, what happened?" he stuttered tiredly.
"You collapsed downstairs," the man replied. "You've been out for about ten minutes."
"W-who are you?"
"My name is Andrew. I'm your new bartender."
"Gary," Marissa jumped in, her voice tight, "what's going on? I thought you said the pain was getting better."
Gary closed his eyes, exhausted. "Well, I guess I was wrong. I'm sorry."
"Gary." Gary opened his eyes to find Marissa holding out a glass of water and a couple of pills. "I got these from the pharmacy. I want you to take them, okay?"
"I don't-"
"End of discussion. Unless you prefer a trip to the emergency room."
Gary sighed, knowing he probably wasn't going to win this battle. He took the medication, then fell back onto his pillows. "Gary," Marissa said softly. "I need you to talk to me. Last night, with Armstrong, there was something you were holding back, wasn't there? What was it?"
"To be honest, Marissa," Gary replied as he drifted towards sleep, "I really don't know."
*****
Much later that night, Gregory crept into the alley behind McGinty's and made his way towards the back door, a can of gasoline banging against his knees. Grinning broadly, he splashed some gas onto the back door and poured the rest on a stack of garbage nearby. Then he reached into his pocket, pulled out a small box, and lit a match...