Possession (Fallen Angels #5)(91)
Author: J.R. Ward

Back at the garage, she shined it inside. “Wooooow…”

And she thought the attic was full of adventures. Turned out the garage was an open single bay stuffed full of an incalculable amount of lawn equipment and carpentry machines and automobiles that must have come from the fifties. There were a number of new additions, however—three dust-free duffel bags were clustered around Adrian’s feet.

Buttressing himself on that cane, he got down on his knees and unzipped the first of them. Out came … a huge leather coat. A couple pairs of jeans. Combat boots. Shirts. Each item was set aside with care on the concrete.

Eddie’s things.

Sissy was tempted to step away and give Adrian some privacy, but he needed the light. And maybe the company.

He was talking: “Such a good little packer, he was. I used to think it was a waste of f**king time. When we moved, though … I did it like he would have. Folded everything. Put the shit in by category.”

Sissy blinked back tears as she wondered how her family was going to do things differently in the future. She didn’t want her survivors changing themselves as a way to remember her … but she probably would have done the same thing.

“I’m sure he appreciated it,” she whispered.

“He’s dead. He’ll never know.”

“Are you certain about that?”

The angel’s hands stilled for a heartbeat. “Dunno.” He moved to the next bag. “Maybe it’s in this one. I know I packed the goddamn thing—ah … got it.”

Awkwardly moving around, he held his forearm up against the flashlight. “You can turn that off.”

“Sorry.” Click.

Adrian grunted as he got to his feet and walked out into the sunshine. “Here. This is all I got to offer you.”

It was a book, an ancient book that was thick as a tree trunk.

Tucking the flashlight under her arm, she accepted the thing with trembling hands. The cover was so old, she couldn’t even tell what color the leather was—something between red and black and gray and brown. And there had been some kind of embossing and maybe some gold leaf, but most of that was worn smooth and worn off.

“What is this?” she said, gingerly opening the tone.

Inhaling deeply, she smelled flowers, the kind that were up in the attic, and as she scanned the title page, she had a vague impression of Latin words.

Thank God her father had made her study that in high school.

“I have no clue.” Adrian looked away, to the rooftop of the mansion. “It’s where he went whenever he got that look in his eye—the one that meant he was worried he was coming up with the wrong answer. He hated that.”

Sissy frowned as she realized that Adrian was in serious pain. He had one hand on the small of his back, and was arching to the side as if trying to pop something into place.

It had been hard for him to be on his knees like that.

“Hold this for a sec,” she said, returning the book to him.

Walking around him, she turned on the flashlight and entered the garage. Laying the beam down by her feet, she crouched by the open duffels.

One by one, she put the things he had taken out back where they had been, making sure that the categories were preserved. When she was finished, she zipped up the two bags and shuffled them into their original position.

As she exited, she got up on her tiptoes and pulled down the door, batting away the leaves that hung off the bottom, and the spider that tried to land on her hand.

Back by his side, she took the book from him again. “Thanks.”

When she went to turn away, his hand landed on her shoulder. Looking up at him, she found it physically painful to see him struggle for words.

She put her hand over his. “You’re welcome.”

Taking care of someone’s dead was just as important as taking care of their living.

When Jim got home, it was about two seconds after five p.m. Thanks to Angel Airlines, he didn’t have to worry about a commute—and good thing. He was coming back and checking in only long enough to make sure that Sissy and Ad were hanging out okay. Then he had to go back to tailing Duke Phillips.

Opening the front door—

“What the …” Inhaling again, he nearly groaned. Onions sautéing with spices. Something meat, too. And fresh bread?

As he shut himself in, he faltered again. Talk about a woman’s touch … even though the light was fading in the sky, everything was so much brighter inside the house, the lamps shining as if the bulbs and silk shades had all been cleaned. The rugs were more colorful, too, like someone had vacuumed everywhere—and the floors. Jesus Christ, the floors were gleaming.

Glancing up the stairs, he was astounded to find that the carpet runner wasn’t actually brown … it was a deep garnet red. And the carved balustrade was glowing from having been polished. And the walls? The paper that had been gradually peeling free and dropping down was reaffixed, the pattern itself resurrected from aged obscurity, the subtle vines and blooms showing once again.

Jim headed back to the kitchen, and was gob smacked to find Adrian in an apron, sitting at the kitchen table, cutting green beans with a crystal dagger like he was performing heart surgery.

“Like this?” the angel was saying intently.

Sissy pivoted away from a steaming pot. “Perfect. Yeah, just nip the ends.”

Ad nodded and went back to work.

The fact that neither of them noticed him was a little galling. But he couldn’t really be jealous of Adrian—who, at last glance, had only grudgingly accepted her presence. Right?

Then again, six hours later, how times had changed. They were best frickin’ buddies, evidently.

Jim cleared his throat. “Smells good.”

Sissy jumped enough to drop her spoon, but Adrian just glanced up, and then returned to his job.

“You want to eat with us?” she said as she smoothed her hair. “We’re going to be ready in thirty minutes?”

He could wait that long. “Yeah. Please.”

Feeling like he was back in his mama’s house, he went to the sink and washed his hands. Hey, check it, he could actually see out the window into the backyard for the first time. And as he rinsed off, he noticed that the stainless-steel sink was shiny as new. So were the pans that were sitting in a pile in the rack.

Jim took his time drying things on a clean dishrag, lingering just behind Sissy. Her hair had been pulled back into a messy knot, held in place by a big barrette. At her nape, tiny curls had formed, and he had an almost irresistible urge to touch them, wrap them around his finger … and the impulses didn’t stop there. He wanted to wrap his height around her from behind and plant a lingering kiss on the side of her throat.