The Deception Dance (44 page)

“The next time I see you,”
I lean in to say, “I’ll chop off your head.”

A woman (I didn’t realize
was in the restroom) runs out of a stall without flushing the toilet
or washing her hands and flees out the door.

Chauncey laughs so hard she has
to support herself on the sink.

I can feel heat creeping up my
cheeks.

“I see...” she
manages after a minute, “that you don’t play it old
school
Leijonskjöld
.”

The first rule Albert hammered
into me (so to speak) when I forced him to train me, is ‘discretion,
discretion, discretion!’ And… I really intended to
follow that. But, I’d rather be set on fire again than let
Chauncey see my embarrassment. I glare at her. “With you, there
are no rules. I’d behead you in the produce isle of a
supermarket.”

She winks at me through the
mirror. “I’ll keep that in mind, sugarplum. But, don’t
hold your breath.” She spins to tap my cheek. “You only
see me right now because I want you to; you’ve only ever seen
me when I’ve wanted you to.” Her teeth elongate into
spikes to give me a shark-ish smile.

Without a moment’s
hesitation I thrust my hand toward her mouth.

Chauncey’s hand snaps out
lightning quick and grabs hold of my wrist while her teeth shrink
back. “Uh, uh, uh...” She shakes her head. Her eyes
examine my face while the corners of her painted lips point to the
bathroom ceiling. “You know, Birdie...”

I cringe.

“…you entertain me.”
She firmly guides my wrist to my side. “If you weren’t
the only thing standing between me and a promotion, I might not even
want to destroy you and everyone you care about, utterly and
completely.”

I narrow my eyes to glare. “The
feeling isn’t mutual.”

“Well, I’m delighted
that we had time for our little
tête-à-tête
.”
She steps away from the sink. “But, I have a plane to catch.”
She waves her fingers at me. “Ta, ta.”

If Hayvee weren’t right
outside the door waiting for me, I probably would wait a minute
before following Chauncey out. But as it is, I chase after the demon,
hoping I can do some damage control. Hayvee and Albert wait outside
the restroom, a wall of windows as their backdrop. I’m too late
to prevent Hayvee seeing Chauncey. Chauncey is unabashedly skipping
up to the couple.

I can’t think fast enough
to know what to do to stop the confrontation. I run toward Hayvee,
but before I can get there, Hayvee is rushing forward. I stand there
amazed, wondering if she is going to...? Is she really going to
attack Chauncey?

Albert thankfully grabs his wife
around the shoulders before she can attack the demon.

“Well, hello,”
Chauncey says, giving them the sweetest smile, “Fancy meeting
you here.” To Hayvee, “How’s the baby?”

“Get the Hell out of here!”
Albert thunders, now struggling to hold Hayvee; I can see her
scratching him.

“That’s not very
courteous,” Chauncey whines. “Well pooh, pooh. I guess
I’ll just hurry off to my plane.” She does just that, but
before she’s ten paces away she calls over her shoulder, “Oh
Albert, I owe you for last time. No one can give me a pounding quite
like you.” She scampers off.

Nasty
.

Albert waits until Chauncey is
out of sight until he releases Hayvee. The screaming, fighting match
that follows between them is, thankfully, in some other language.

I cross to the window wall and
watch the people on the ground scurry around the giant planes. I
guess it was too much to hope that Chauncey would just crawl into
some hole and succumb to her wounds. But, I never imagined she’d
go home. The old Chauncey had nothing there for her really, except
Linnie. I wonder if demons keep any of a soul-bounds traits or
memories when they steal their bodies. They must.

“Raven,” Albert
calls.

I turn to look at Hayvee and
Albert. They are no longer fighting but Hayvee is stomping away.

“We still have an hour left
until our flight. Are you hungry? Stay with us. We are going to eat.”
He doesn’t wait for my answer, but follows after his wife.
Albert running is a pretty funny sight...from the back, from the
front I bet it’s closer to terrifying.

I follow the ‘happy couple’
but keep my distance. I know there is an unseen perimeter of guards
escorting me, but I’m more comfortable staying visible to
Albert. Chauncey got to me, didn’t she?

My duffel bag vibrates so I rush
to a chair and extract my phone. I’m startled to find my
father's phone number is flashing on the caller ID. Is he actually
going to talk to me? My father has refused to speak to me in a week,
ever since I said no to his latest demand that I stay in Arcata next
year and attend Humboldt State University. It's ridiculous, he wants
me to change my entire life plans just so he can keep a constant eye
on me. Well, maybe not so ridiculous. I don't know.

Ever since Andras and my showdown
(well, ever since I told my father a highly edited version of Andras
and my showdown), my father has called me every day with a new
demand. I owe him, I know that; but, I agreed to pepper spray,
self-defense lessons or demon defense lessons, attending bible study
(once in a while), checking in with him twice a day (forever), and
lots more.

If I agree to Humboldt State next
he'll want to slap an ankle tracker on me. And even though he won’t
talk to me, I still have to check in twice a day; he just doesn't say
anything when he answers the phone, he listens for my voice, and then
hangs up.

I flip open my phone and ask,
"Hello?"

"Hey," Linnie sings.
"Yay, yay, yay! You're coming home." Even though she sounds
happy, her voice is a little different ever since, well... since
Chauncey
happened.

"Yeah." I pause. “Why
are you calling on dad's phone?"

"He switched ours when he
headed for the airport...”

"What?" I exclaim.

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure he's
planning on just sitting there until you arrive," she says.

"That's ridiculous," I
say, I seem to use that word a bunch lately.

"Well, you know dad. Anyway,
my papers are through, I'm transferring. I know you probably want to
stay living at home, but I was thinking that we could get a little
two bedroom, and...”

"Wait, hold up.
Transferring?" I cut Linnie off before she really gets into
whatever she's talking about.

"To Humboldt State, dad said
you were going to accept there."

Jeez, way to trap me in, dad
.
Smart. Real smart
.
I sigh. "Yeah, I guess I am. But there is no way that I'm living
at home."

"Cool!”

And then there is silence. We
never used to have these silences before, but now they seem to have
more weight than what my sister and I actually say to each other.
It’s as if all the words I could say to her stretch on between
us, but for some reason, I don’t.

I could say: “Oh, did I
mention that while I was entombed in Hell fire, my mouth stretched to
the size of a big rubber toilet bowl and I ate Andras?” Or, “I
think I might have had a conversation with Satan, like
the
Satan.” Or even, “Guess who I just ran into in the
airport bathroom? Your demonically-possessed best friend. She’s
moving back home to stalk us. Won’t that be nice?”

Yeah
.

What I do say is, “So, I
should probably go.”

It’s strange, up until this
trip it was always Linnie I confided in; but I just can’t force
myself to tell her the details of what
really
happened. For whatever reason, there’s only one person I want
to tell exactly what happened. Almost as if I’ve convinced
myself that he’s the only person in the world who would
understand. Stephen. But that’s not going to happen.

After hanging up with Linnie, I
sit until I see Hayvee laugh, then join Albert and Hayvee's table.
I’m silent as they talk in some other language.

When my watch reads three
twenty-five, I stand. “We should probably go if we want to make
the flight.”

By the time Albert and Hayvee
have gathered their belongings, we have to run. The last person in
the boarding line is just disappearing into the ramp as we jog up
with our carry-ons. Albert fights to extract his ticket while the
ticket lady holds out her hand.

I glance around; the gate is
completely deserted, except for one elderly man sitting alone. I rock
on my heels, waiting for Albert to find his ticket. The ticket lady’s
smile is tightening; she impatiently rubs her fingers.

I blink and turn back to the
elderly man. He’s just sitting, no bags, and his face...

I grab Albert’s hand, and
ask, “Albert...?”

He spins, knocking over his small
carry-on bag.

“Look.” I nod toward
the sitting man, who's now watching us, smiling.

Albert examines the space behind
me before returning his gaze to me. He narrows one eye and shakes his
head slowly, asking, “What am I supposed to see?”

“Nothing, never mind,”
I say. I let go of him and watch as he and Hayvee give their tickets
and walk up the ramp.

The ticket lady, a short
dark-haired woman, holds out her perfectly manicured hand, but I turn
away from her.

I turn to face father Dixon. He’s
still just sitting in the same seat. I know that if Albert couldn’t
see him, the ticket lady definitely can’t, but I don’t
care. I raise a hand and wave.

Father Dixon’s hand raises
too. His eyes brim over with tears, they fall down his cheeks like
snowflakes, but his mouth is turned up in a wrinkled kindly smile.

“Goodbye, Father Dixon,”
I call to him. I want to say so many things: “I wish I knew
you. I’m sorry you died.” But what I really want to say
is: “Thank you. Thank you for talking with me… for
holding my hand… for forgiving that man with your last breath…
for being good and kind in a world that just feels more and more
evil. Thank you, because since you’re appearing to me, and only
me, it must mean that I can’t be evil, no matter what happened
in the Hell fire.”

But, I don’t say any of
this, what I say is, “Thank you, for seeing me off.”

I wish I had tears for him, happy
tears, sad tears, even relieved tears; but for whatever reason, I
never have any tears.

When I finally give the lady my
ticket, she pointedly looks over my head. I grab my duffel bag from
where I dropped it and head up the ramp.

The flight attendant that
welcomes me on the plane guides me to first class. This plane,
thankfully, has seats grouped into threes, so Hayvee, Albert and I,
all sit together.

Hayvee is already asleep in the
aisle seat, her shoes kicked off. Albert is in the center, managing
to look too big for his first-class seat; thank God we’re not
in coach! I would have been squished against the window.

I cross to the window seat, where
the window is pulled down, and plunk down. I kick my small duffel
under the seat and lean back. “Albert?” I ask without
looking at him, “Are there angels?”

“Oh, yes,” His accent
is nice and thick and there’s a spark, like gleeful lightning
in his stormy eyes, when he whispers this. “We have seen lesser
angels, but not often.” He pauses then adds, quietly, “We
pray to God to
never
see the greater ones. But, that is not something we
ever
talk about.”

Strange
.
But I don’t pursue the comment, instead I tell him, “I
think there are angels in the Oresund.”

I slide open the window. I can
see father Dixon standing at the terminal window. The sun reflects
off his clothes making him look as if he is made out of multi-colored
lights, maybe he is. He waves again, and so does the living man next
to him...

I gape.

There’s a man standing
beside father Dixon.

I narrow my eyes, thinking that
he can’t be... but he really looks like...the man is tall and
blond; I can see that from here. And he’s waving. “Huh...?”
escapes my lips.

Albert leans over me to peer out
my window; he huffs like a bull and shakes his giant hairy head. “He
never follows orders.” He shifts back in his seat and closes
his eyelids, still shaking his head.

“Who?” I ask.

But Albert just opens one eye at
me, and then closes it.

I turn back to the window and
squint. From this distance I can’t tell which brother he is,
Nicholas and Stephen are so alike in size and coloring, and whichever
he is he’s too far for me to make out any facial features or
see if he has a scar.

It’s probably better if I
don’t know.

I pull out an in-flight magazine
and focus on it, but my gaze drifts back to the window. I stare, and
then squint; he’s definitely one of them, but I just can’t
tell which one he is.