Hi Awesome Readers!

I'm so glad you are all enjoying the direction of the story so far. This next chapter was getting very long, so I decided to break it kind of in the middle. I love your reviews and I love reading all your theories. Maybe this chapter will scatter a few more breadcrumbs? :)

For those who aren't familiar with the play, the Lady Bracknell paraphrase is from "The Importance of Being Earnest" by Oscar Wilde.

Enjoy!

psyche b

5. A Little Night Music

Sara watched the clock tick slowly toward five o'clock. This was the sixth of these bible study/future planning sessions that she had attended in the month since the end of school. They were mandatory and always mind-numbing. Today's session was even worse. Summer heat had settled like a blanket over the mountains and the eleven girls and two nuns were stuck in a classroom on the second floor on the sunny side of the high school building. The room had started out too warm, but two hours before, Sister Maureen decided that having the windows open was too distracting to the younger girls. Since then, they had been slowly sweltering. Sara couldn't wait to get back to the dorm and a cool shower. For now, fanning herself with her notebook would have to do.

For most of the day's session they had been split into two groups. Sara was in the sixteen and over group with four other girls. Erika and Martha, the girls from her dorm who had made the decision to join the convent. Monica and Jen were both still in high school and far too boy crazy to be thinking about a life of celibacy. It didn't matter what anyone else happened to be thinking. Erika had been pontificating for last half hour about her great struggle to understand what God wanted for her.

Monica was staring out the window longingly. Jen was doodling hearts in her notebook. Even Sister Helen was struggling to look interested. The only one whose attention was fully held was Martha.

"I finally came to the realization that it's not about what I want," Erika said. "Sure being a nun will be a sacrifice, but doing the right thing is never easy." She looked at Sara down her too-sharp nose. "Some people are so resistant to that idea."

Sara kept up her fanning and ignored her.

"You've been quiet this afternoon Sara." Sister Helen said.

"I don't have anything to say." Sara answered.

Erika rolled her eyes. Martha shook her head, her blond curls frizzy from the heat and humidity.

"Sara, the purpose of these sessions is to help you think about your future." Sister Helen said.

"I know." Sara told herself to keep it neutral or she would be stuck in this hot room even longer.

Sister Helen smiled. Her steel-rimmed glasses were far too severe for her pretty features. "Any thoughts?"

"I really don't have anything to share." Sara repeated.

"Well you must have thought about it." Martha insisted, a touch of Atlanta adding length and emphasis to her words.

"I have."

"Well then," Sister Helen smiled. "I'm sure we're all anxious to know what you've been considering."

Sara looked directly at the nun. "I don't want to share."

"Selfish." Erika whispered loudly to Martha.

Again, Sara bit her tongue. "It's late and I don't think anyone wants to sit here and listen to me-"

"Of course we do!" Sister Helen said. "The girls wouldn't mind spending an extra minute or two."

Sara took a deep breath. "Fine. You present the future as a choice between marriage and family with someone from St. Al's or religious life. I don't want either of those things."

"Really?" Jen looked up from her doodles.

The nun's eyes went wide. "Sara, I don't think-"

"You wouldn't want me to lie, would you Sister?" Sara asked.

The nun's hands fluttered nervously on the desktop. "Well no, but-"

Sara shrugged. "I told you I preferred not to talk about it but you kept asking, so I'll tell you. I don't have a religious vocation. I don't want to have children and unless St. Al's get some seriously interesting new students in the next few years I'm not interested in anyone there. I'll graduate and when I have access to my trust I'll find a different school where I can study design."

"On your own?" Monica's eyes were sparkling with curiosity.

"That's completely ridiculous!" Erika said.

"Have you found a school yet?" Jen asked.

"I think that's enough for today girls." Sister Helen stood up quickly. "Remember, it's games night. We'll meet in the dining hall at eight."

The younger girls had already been dismissed. The other four headed for the door and some fresh air. Sara tried to follow, but Sister Helen put her hand on Sara's arm.

"Sara wait."

She shrugged away from the nun's grip. "Sister, it's a hundred degrees in this room. If I don't get some air I'm going to pass out."

"Then I'll walk with you."

She was silent until she got outside. "I told you I didn't have anything to say." Sara said. Shivering a little at the cool breeze chased over the back of her neck.

"I know you did, but you can't really mean what you said."

Sara stopped and turned to the nun. "Why not? Plenty of girls graduate from here and go on to other schools or to have careers. Why should I be any different?"

Sister Helen paused. "Your parents chose this school for a reason."

"Oh?" Sara looked curiously at the other woman. "Just what was that reason?"

The nun looked flustered. "I'm sure you would know that better than I would."

"You would think so, but they never told me. So until someone can explain to me why I'm so different I'm making my own plans." Sara started walking again.

The nun followed, searching for something to say. "It's not exactly the same though, is it?"

Sara started walking faster. "How did Lady Bracknell put it? Because losing both of one's parents looks too much like carelessness?"

"That's not what I mean." The nun's cheeks were flushed pink.

"That's certainly what it looks like. These little 'sharing sessions' only happen when the others have gone home. To their parents."

Sister Helen's mouth was open for a moment. Then she closed it. "Please come to games night." She tried to smile. "Rack up a few more Scrabble wins?"

"I don't think so."

"Oh Sara, I really think you're spending too much time alone."

"I won't be alone. The Graton Sinfonietta is giving one of their outdoor concerts tonight. I'll be surrounded by people." Sara walked up the steps to her dorm.

Sister Helen paused at the bottom. "Don't be too late. You know Sister Julia worries when you girls are off campus."

Sara nodded and went inside.

#

Sara wasn't sure how long she spent in the shower, but when she got out her mind wasn't any more settled than it was when she went in. This was one of those times when she wished she could talk to Leah. Sure, there were a few other friends she could call, but none of them were as versed in rebellion as Leah was. She wrapped her robe around herself and picked up her phone, fully intending to dial Leah. There was already a text waiting for her.

"Hot times tonight!" A photo of a man in purple suit with a wide pink and purple striped tie was attached.

"Well, that's just wonderful," Sara said. "My best friend, the Las Vegas showgirl, is hooking up with a demon who has criminally atrocious taste in clothes. Only me."

Of course that made her think of a certain well-dressed demon.

A demon with a great voice.

A well-dressed demon with a great voice that had a way of touching her- Sara rubbed at the heel of her hand and tossed the phone onto the bed.

There was no use going down that path. That certain demon, whose name would not be mentioned, had made it quite clear by his silence that he wasn't interested. And why would he be? She wasn't selling what he was looking to buy. What else could he want?

She opened her closet door and stared. The concert was outdoors and definitely informal. Jeans and a t-shirt would have been fine.

Sara wasn't in a jeans and t-shirt mood. She pulled out a sleeveless cotton dress with a full skirt and fitted bodice. The aqua fabric was patterned with bold pink roses. A slightly gathered lace border attached underneath hem fell to several inches below it, adding a little extra movement when she walked. Wearing it always made her feel confident and pretty.

Exactly what she needed.

#

Sara sat in a canvas lawn chair in Lakeside Park, a wide sunhat sheltering her face from the worst of the early evening sun. A cool breeze teased the back of her neck and her bare arms. After so many hours in the stuffy room, the comfortable evening was a slice of paradise. Her kindle was in her bag, but Sara knew she wouldn't be able to focus. Her mind was still turning over her conversation with Sister Helen. No matter what path her thoughts scurried down, they always came back to the same place; the nun knew more than what she was saying. Sister Helen was the youngest of all the nuns at the school. Whatever was going on at the school, if Sister Helen knew they all knew.

A tingling itch built in the heel of Sara's hand. She rubbed at it absently.

Sara was good at ferreting out information, but she needed a starting point. Maybe after the concert she would be focused enough to come up with one.

#

It turned out that the ridiculous friend had her uses after all. An evening of what he presumed was average sex with Jubal and she had given up Sara's last name. He had thought that from there it would be an easy matter to do a bit of research. After exhausting his resources, he'd come up with her mobile number and exactly nothing else. Hardly surprising considering the context.

At least he had managed to resolve the little problem of finding her. She'd left several mahogany hairs in the suite. Tracking spells could be bloody inconvenient, but they would do until he could make other arrangements.

Now he stood on the pavement next to LaCombe's Antiques and looked down into the small lakeside park tucked in between two buildings on Graton's main street. People were milling around, spreading out blankets, unwrapping picnics, setting up lawn chairs all facing a band pavilion. She was just about the only person not moving. The sunhat sheltered her face, but he could see the tension in her shoulders and her hands fluttered from her lap to the arms of the chair she was sitting in.

He took out his phone and dialed. It began to ring, but she didn't move at first. For a moment she wondered if she hadn't brought it along. Finally she reached into her bag.

"Hello?" She sounded guarded.

Crowley smiled a little. "Hello Pet."

There was a long silence and he saw her sit up a little straighter. "H-hi." Most of the guarded tone had been replaced with uncertainty.

"That's not a very warm greeting. A lesser man might be discouraged."

"It's been three weeks. I'm a little surprised to hear from you at all. How did you get this number?"

"Well-"

"Let me guess, Leah." She sat back in the chair. The tension in her shoulders shifted, but didn't ease.

He smiled a little. "She was a part of it." He leaned against the brick building. "You look lovely this evening, by the way."

She shook her head a little. "I could be wearing a patched flannel bathrobe and half bald bunny slippers for all you know." He could hear the little smile in her voice.

"You could, but that would be what is commonly called a lie." He smiled a little. "Such a naughty girl."

She started to look around. He stepped into the shelter of the storefront. "I don't know what-"

"I know, I know, it's an ugly little word and I generally tend to avoid it but I'm afraid it happens to apply in this situation." He was silent just long enough to hear her start to take a breath. "And for my own peace of mind, please, tell me you don't actually own either of the garments you just mentioned."

She laughed and he was certain that he could feel her silky skin under his fingertips again. "Normally I would tell you that I'm not going to discuss my night attire with someone I barely know. But since I wouldn't want to upset the balance of your mind, I will say that no, I don't own either of those things. But that still doesn't mean that you know how I look at this moment."

Crowley was silent for a moment, his eyes closed picturing her in his vivid imagination. "You're wearing an aqua dress that fits you so well it must be tailored. It's sleeveless, but the neckline and hemline are both teasingly modest. The pattern of the fabric is bolder than I expected you to choose, but it suits you. The hat is another unexpected touch. It adds a dash of Audrey Hepburn that is really quite delicious." He picked up a folding chair and walked down the steps into the park, taking care to stay intermingled with a clucking band of old hens. "Shall I go on?"

"What? Where are you?" She was looking around.

"Some sort of outdoor event. Know of any open seats?"

She turned toward the sound of his voice, her cheeks blooming as pink as the roses on her dress.

#

Sara's heart had leapt when she first recognized his voice, now that he was standing there she was sure he could hear it pounding in her chest. She took a deep breath and took the phone down from her ear. She deliberately looked at the screen and ended the call before looking up at that those slightly amused eyes.

Sara couldn't suppress a little smile. "You do like to make an entrance."

"One has to rely on one's strengths." He indicated the open space next to her. "May I?"

She nodded. "Please."

Sara watched him set up the most luxuriously padded high-backed quad chair she had ever seen. He unbuttoned his jacket, sat down, arranged his cuffs, crossed his legs, picked a bit of dandelion fluff off of his immaculate black trousers and then turned to Sara. "Tell me we're not waiting for a brass band."

She smiled a little. "No."

"A high school band?"

"No."

A look of horror crossed his face. "A middle school band?"

"No."

He was silent for a moment. "A polka band?"

She laughed. "Do I seriously look like a polka band kind of person?"

His eyes traveled slowly from her toes to the top of her head and then back again. By the time his eyes were back on hers, Sara was fighting not to squirm. A downright lascivious little smile was tugging at his lips. "Perhaps not. If I had a closer look I might be able to make a better determination."

Sara held his eyes, even though her face was growing warmer by the minute. "Would you like to keep guessing or do you want me to just tell you what we're waiting for?"

He thought for a moment. "Was I close?"

"Well, you're right in that I am not a polka band kind of person." Sara told herself she needed to look away. If she didn't she'd end up lost in those limitless eyes.

"Tell me." His voice was soft, commanding.

"We're waiting for the Graton Sinfonietta. Tonight is Mozart by the Lake."

A little smile. "Are they any good?"

She forced herself to turn back toward the pavilion. "Well, better than a high school band." Sara took a deep breath and pretended to be interested in watching the musicians beginning to file in and set up their music. For several long moments they sat in silence. Finally, Sara could feel his eyes on her. She resisted the urge to bite her lip or to grip the chair arm. None of that will power kept her heart from pounding or helped the blush fade from her cheeks.

"No, 'I missed you Crowley'?"

She looked over at him and shrugged with one shoulder. "It's been three weeks. Leah finally called and thank you for that, but-"

The corners of his lips twitched into a little smile. "How do you know I had anything to do with it?"

Sara smiled and looked at the phone in her lap. "Leah isn't exactly stoic. Jubal told her to call, said it came from you and she told me when she called." She looked up at him again. "Then I didn't hear from you and even though I'm not as, shall we say, social as Leah but that kind of silence usually means 'One evening of your company is my limit'." She shrugged. "I'm used to it. So when I didn't hear from you I didn't question it."

He studied her, the smirk gone from his features for a moment. "Do you have any idea how difficult you are to find?"

She was taken aback by the question. "Well, no. I thought you got my contact information from Leah."

"I got your name. I thought the rest would be easy to find. How do you manage to operate in the twenty-first century without an e-mail address?"

"I have an e-mail address and a facebook account," The realization hit her. "And none of it tracks back to my real name." She dipped her head, letting the wide brim of the hat shelter her face for a moment while she cursed her stupidity. She looked up at him again. "Sorry."

The music started with the first movement of Eine Kleine Nachtmusik and for a moment they both looked toward the pavilion.

"You're going to have dinner with me tonight."

She looked at him, her eyes on his. "I will not."

Shock flickered over his features. "Excuse me?"

Sara looked around at the crowd. She forced herself to keep her voice down. "I am not under contract to you or anyone else. You're not just going to show up here after almost a month and give me orders. If you want me to have dinner with you, you ask me."

He studied her for a long moment. His eyes sparkled with amusement and something else Sara couldn't name. "Will you have dinner with me tonight?"

Sara lowered her eyes for a moment. "In town?"

"Yes."

She looked up at him again. "Well then, I guess it depends."

"On?" His eyes were still sparkling.

"If you already have a reservation. Concert night is big here. Every place that's half decent is full and the ones that aren't are mobbed anyway because no one can get into anyplace half decent."

"Give me ten minutes." He said.

She reached out and then drew her hand back before her fingertips made contact with his jacket. "No contracts, no wishes, nothing that any other ordinary person couldn't do."

His eyes narrowed and she felt his appraisal. "Why?"

Sara looked down at her hands for a long moment before looking up at him again. "I found that crossroads spell. Even if Leah had known where to look she wouldn't have been able to translate it correctly. I even drove her there-"

"Pet-"

"I know it was ultimately her choice." She shrugged. "This is a nice little town. I don't want to be responsible for setting any of them on the road to perdition."

He thought about that for a moment. "Agreed. Fifteen minutes." He stood and walked away from the crowd, his phone to his ear.

Sara sat back in her chair and wondered where all that bravado came from. She had just given orders to the King of Hell and she didn't even blink. No wonder Leah said she scared men. Still, this wasn't a date. How could he have any interest her? Well, other than the soul thing. That had to be what he wanted, but why expend so much energy to get it? It was an ordinary soul.

Her finger drifted to the small gold locket under the fabric of her dress and thought about the myriad of symbols etched there while her eyes swept over the crowd. It occurred to Sara that she only people she really knew were the other girls at the school. It was an unusual life by any standard. Sheltered. Hidden. Every normal thing like e-mail addresses and facebook accounts were secrets that had been so well-kept that she'd forgotten she was keeping them.

One finger made slow circuits around the edges of the oval. An ordinary soul buried in a mountain of secrets and fenced in by lies.

She looked at the middle-aged couple in front of her and to the young family in front of them and wondered if there were as many secrets under those relaxed exteriors.

#

The reservation was a simple matter, even with the conditions she put on it. When it came to the roots of evil money was only in to top three, but it was arguably the most universally useful.

Crowley studied the set of her shoulders and the angle of her head. There was power in that stillness. Power she didn't realize she had. Well, not consciously. When she looked directly into his eyes and told him – told him – that she wasn't going to take orders, she felt it too. Truth be told, so did he. That unflinching gaze and simple refusal sent a rush of tickling pleasure to his nether regions. Spontaneously. That was a rare thing these days.

Oh he fucked. Often. The reasons ranged from stress relief to a reminder that the king had certain rights that he would exercise whenever the mood struck him and he always enjoyed himself. The same couldn't always be said for his partners but they were only outlets. None of them were his equal and if any of them had so much as hesitated when he gave an order he would have made them suffer. This enigmatic human girl - who wasn't impressed, wasn't tempted and wasn't afraid - just might be.

He doubted it, but it was an interesting idea. Isn't that what he had been looking for all along? She would prove that she was less than she seemed and he would lose interest. Of course, that day was not today. Crowley tucked his mobile back into his inside jacket pocket and made his way along the edge of the crowd.

#

Almost exactly fifteen minutes later, Crowley settled himself into his chair again. Sara was tempted to ask, but she forced herself to stay silent. Bright notes of a violin concerto chased through the crowd. He leaned over to her. "Have you heard of The Terraces?"

Sara turned a little. "Of course, it's supposed to be really good but a night like this-."

"I have a reservation for two at nine-thirty. Will you be joining me?" One eyebrow slightly.

Sara felt heat rise to her cheeks. She looked down at her hands and then back up at him. "I have one question."

His eyes narrowed slightly. "Do you think my patience is limitless?"

The note of danger was not lost on Sara, but she forced herself to hold his gaze. "I'm just curious if our agreement about questions and honest answers is still in place."

He smiled a little. "Still don't trust me?"

She couldn't suppress a little smile. "No, and that isn't an answer."

"Smart girl. Yes, it's still in place."

"Then yes, I will be joining you. Thank you."

"Good." He turned back toward the pavilion. So did Sara.

The quiet that grew between them was strangely comfortable. Sara was used to silence, but most of the people she spent time with found silence awkward. It was a relief to be in the company of someone else who was able to just be quiet. It struck her that for the first time in days she didn't feel alone in a crowd.

Sara closed her eyes and felt some of the tension of the day beginning to slip away.