Chapter 3 – We Plan, God Laughs

Bright and early Sunday morning, Joey Tripepi emerged from his lovely, south Boston home on 1st Street, dressed in his churchly best. He and a pair of his goons climbed into his modified, extra wide Plymouth and headed out for mass. Miriam waited for several minutes after they had turned the corner before stepping out from behind the wooden fence across the street, which had served as her hiding spot for the last twenty minutes. Naomi stayed close behind her, once again tightening the belt on her spring coat.

“Miriam, I’m not sure this is a good idea,” she said, not nearly for the first time, even as she followed her across the street.

As far as Miriam concerned, it was the only viable idea. She had spent the last several days convincing herself of that. “It’s not like we’re breaking in,” she reasoned. “I’m just going to knock on the door and see what I can learn.”

“But you told Mr. Tripepi you would meet him Tuesday.” Naomi looked up and down the sidewalk in paranoia. “If something happens to the book before then, he’ll know it was you.” She tugged on Miriam’s elbow. “Let me ask Darby if he has another copy he can give you to make the trade with.”

“I’m not asking him for anything,” Miriam replied stubbornly. “Now shh.” She hopped up the three steps to the main entrance and reached for the broad, brass knocker. 

It was louder than Miriam expected, and she startled a little and let go after only the first knock. With a deep breath to settle her nerves she wiped her sweaty palms against her pants. She was just in the middle of another knock when the door opened a crack, and stern face appeared.

“Who’s there?” asked the woman in a deep voice.

Miriam gathered herself up to her full height, which was still nowhere near the woman’s, and stuck her chin up. Her “disguise” wouldn’t have fooled Joey himself had he been home: she had dressed in a suit coat and pants, her long hair drawn up tight beneath a cap. “My name is Jordan Price,” she introduced herself, doing her best attempt at an indescribable European accent. “I’m an archivist from the university. Mr. Tripepi is expecting me.”

“Mr. Tripepi is at church,” the woman said, unimpressed.

Miriam heaved a sigh and pretended not to notice Naomi fidgeting behind her. “Oh, of course he is. Well I can’t very well come back tomorrow when classes are in session, now can I? Would you mind if I come in to wait for him?”

The woman eyed her distrustfully. Miriam stared straight back, anxiety beginning to prickle along her seams like in the club when facing down Joey himself. But she hadn’t ultimately buckled then, she reminded herself; she wasn’t about to back down to glorified bouncer. The worst that could happen was she’d be thrown out. Right? After a moment, the woman snorted. “What is it you want?”

Here goes nothing. “There’s a book in Mr. Tripepi’s collection he said deserved my attention,” Miriam said, trying to sound mostly disinterested. “I believe he was hoping I would authenticate it for him, or else, alert him of it being a forgery.”

The woman’s eyebrows rose; apparently Joey was proud enough of his stolen tome that all his subordinates had heard about it as well. After a bit more hemming and hawing, she nodded and took a step back. “You can wait inside.”

“Thank you.” Miriam touched the brim of her cap but was careful not to tip it, for fear of her curls springing free. “This is my assistant, Ms. Yale,” she said, gesturing for Naomi to follow her inside. “And you are…?”

Naomi smiled nervously and gave a tiny curtsey. The woman nodded in return and gruffly introduced herself: “I’m Abigail.”

“A pleasure to meet you, Miss Abigail.” Miriam looked the woman up and down: she was tall and broad, like just about everyone on the Slate Street Gang, it seemed, her ashy blonde hair done up in pin curls. “I don’t suppose I could trouble you for a glass of water?”

Abigail hemmed some more, but beneath Miriam’s unfaltering stare and Naomi’s shy smile, she gave in. “Come with me.”

The place was large for a city house, with tall ceilings and lots of cozy, well-furnished rooms. Despite his brutish size and appearance, Joey “The Brick” seemed to be quite the collector of delicate trinkets: the foyer boasted several glass display cases filled with statuettes, and a glance into the dining room as they passed showed several shelves holding antique painted plates. The kitchen seemed a better fit for a gangster and his crew—a large freezer and a full knife block especially drew Miriam’s attention—but even it featured framed paintings and ceramic bobbles on every available surface. 

“Mr. Tripepi is quite a collector,” said Miriam. “More so than books.”

“The boss has very sophisticated tastes,” said Abigail, with a pride and confidence that dared Miriam to disagree. “He’s a great man.”

Naomi moved closer to one of the shelves that held a small collection of ceramic roosters. “It must take an awful lot of work to maintain so many surfaces.”

Abigail puffed up a bit as she poured Miriam the glass of water she’d requested. “I do a lot of the dusting myself.”

“Oh! Well, you do incredible work.” Naomi smiled at her sweetly. “Everything is immaculate.”

Abigail mumbled a suddenly shy “thank you” as she poured a second glass. Miriam couldn’t help but eye Naomi as she sipped from hers. Oh, I guess that’s just how she always looks when she smiles, she thought, feeling foolish for remembering when they had met for the second time at the courthouse—the warm and unusual sensation of being welcomed so gladly. An unfamiliar emotion bit at her stomach, and she coughed a little. “Yes, excellent work. I certainly hope the books are in just as fine condition.”

“Of course they are,” Abigail retorted. “I’ll show you.”

She led them back the way they had come in, and as they passed into the north half of the house, movement caught Miriam’s eye that caused her heart to skip: there was someone else. Straight back from the main entrance past the foyer was the staircase to the upper floor, and seated across from  it was another barrel-chested goon. He was reading from a newspaper and didn’t so much as glance up as they passed, but Miriam’s nerves frayed a little nonetheless. What if there were even more in the house that she didn’t know about yet?

It doesn’t matter, because we’re not here for trouble, she thought determinedly. I just want to get a peek if I can, so I know it’s worth it. 

Some of Miriam’s concerns flittered away at the first glimpse of their destination: Joe’s library. Every available wall was lined with bookshelves that stretched nearly floor to ceiling, arranged in such neat and perfect rows that Miriam may have finally experienced a pang of irritation at the state of her own small, cluttered room. With a fireplace against the far wall and a broad, gentle lighting and a plush sofa at the center, it was a perfect comfort space for any bibliophile. If this was the kind of cozy luxury offered by a life of crime, maybe it was worth considering.

“What a beautiful room,” Naomi said brightly, moving toward the sofa. “A shame, that’s it’s too warm now for a fire.”

“It’s Mr. Tripepi’s favorite room,” said Abigail. “You can wait here for him, if you want.”

Miriam cleared her throat. “Yes, this will do just fine.” Her eyes darted from one shelf to the next, seeking a familiar spine. “Do you happen to know if the book in question is here, so that I can get started?”

“No, I wouldn’t know,” Abigail replied a bit too quickly. “You’ll have to wait for Mr. Tripepi.”

“Happily.” Miriam flashed her a smile, even known she couldn’t match Naomi for charm. “We’ll call if we need anything.”

Abigail frowned, but she nodded. “Do that,” she said, and as she left she made certain to open the library door all the way. “Just keep this open.”

“Of course! How else would you hear us, if we call?” Miriam then took another sip from her glass and moved closer to the nearest shelf to begin investigating. Grumbling, Abigail returned to the foyer.

Naomi set her glass down on one of the end tables and moved up close against Miriam’s side. “I think we should go,” she whispered. “This is dangerous, Miriam—what if he comes back?”

“He’ll at least be gone an hour,” Miriam reasoned. “We’ll be long gone before then. Now help me look—it might be in here somewhere.”

“It’s not. It’s above us.” When Miriam turned to stare at her in surprise, she sputtered over an explanation. “When we scryed before coming here, I saw…I think it’s in the study, upstairs.”

“Blast. We’d have to find a way past that other guard, then.”  Miriam took another sip as she leaned back to see if Abigail was close by; she stood in the hall opposite the dining room, inspecting a row of fine china ornaments. “Maybe I’ll go ask him where the bathroom is. If he takes me upstairs there might be a chance…”

“I could…make a distraction?” Naomi suggested, fingering the cuffs on her jacket. “If I made a ruckus in the kitchen…”

Miriam straightened up, unsure if she was more touched by the gesture or concerned for her safety. “You’re the one worried about the danger. I don’t want you to put yourself in trouble for me.”

 Naomi shook her head. “I’ll be careful,” she promised, taking Miriam’s glass from her. “Go first, and if you can’t slip upstairs, I’ll figure something out.”

“Okay…” Miriam nodded, determined to extend her trust to her new friend. “Don’t go too far. We can always just leave.”

“I know—I won’t.” Naomi smiled at her. “Good luck.”

Miriam felt her cheeks go hot, and before she could say or do anything embarrassing she thanked Naomi and headed out of the library. Even if Naomi did smile like that at everyone, it still felt pretty good to be on the receiving end.

Abigail was still occupied further down, so Miriam held her breath and snuck across the foyer as stealthily as she could manage. The second guard, absorbed in his newspaper, didn’t look up until she stood directly in front of him, but he didn’t look surprised enough to have not noticed her coming. He stared at her expectantly.

“Excuse me,” Miriam said, keeping her voice down as if embarrassed as she put a hand to her stomach. She was by no means a practiced or talented actress, but she’d learned from a young age that the best way to lie was to look the person in the face, and she was determined to do so now. “Might I borrow your bathroom?”

The man pointed toward a door under the staircase across from him. Miriam was only barely successful in keeping the disappointment out of her face; there wasn’t going to be any slipping past him, except with Naomi’s help. With a nod of thanks to the man she slipped into the bathroom.

Maybe she was right—this is a stupid idea. Miriam turned on the sink and wet her hands so she could smooth a few errant curls back under her cap. Even if I find the book, how could I get it out? No—getting it out wasn’t even the plan anyway, right? I just need a peek. She kept the water on so the guard wouldn’t suspect anything as she stared back at herself in the mirror. 

Everyone had always told her she had her father’s eyes. She met their reflection and wondered if Joey had thought the same thing, when she introduced herself to him at the club. It should have been an intimidating thought, considering what her father would have said could he see her now, but instead it filled her with an unexpected surge of courage. He had never backed down from a challenge, and certainly neither had Boston’s infamous Brick. There was no reason she couldn’t be as bold as them, and every reason why she should.

If it matters to you, you fight for it, Miriam, she told herself fiercely. Every inch of it.

~

She was pulled from her thoughts by the sound of glass breaking. Oh, no, I hope that wasn’t one of the plates, Miriam thought as she turned off the water and flushed the toilet. I told her not to go too far. She crept to the door and could hear a commotion from the kitchen. When she cracked the door open, she even glimpsed the guard heading into the hall with his newspaper left behind. Whatever Naomi’s distraction had been, there was no use in wasting it. Miriam slipped out of the bathroom and dashed up the stairs as quickly as she could without making too much noise.

Miriam was greeted on the second floor by the largest cat she had ever seen: pure white, with a pronounced snout and pale, yellow eyes. It darted away from her down the hall, toward the north end of the house that sat above the library. Remembering what Naomi had said, she followed on her toes. There’s a saying for this, she thought. About cats and how they end up. Even so, she chased the cat to the end of the hall and through the partially open door on the right.

It was a study, just as Naomi had said. Even more book shelves lined two of the walls, though rather than being novels and tomes, they looked more like photo albums and ledgers. A handsome, mahogany desk stood at the far end of the room, and sitting on top of it, right out in the open, was the book. 

Miriam dashed over to it. She held her breath as she ran her fingertips over the cover, tracing the angelic sigil that adorned it. Her heart pounded as she began to flip hastily through it. Almost immediately some of her enthusiasm waned; the pages didn’t feel as old as they should, and she thought she could smell tea on the leather cover, as if it had been aged artificially. Undoubtedly it wasn’t an original text, but rather some reproduction trying to pass itself off. Even so, it appeared to be written entirely in Hebrew, with a few translations in English scrawled into the margins. She noticed a few glyphs she recognized. Just as she was coming to realize she would have to make a decision about it one way or the other, she flipped to a page with another familiar symbol.

It was the demonic sigil that had been embossed on the door knob of Georgie’s club: the seal of the demon Gremory. Miriam’s attention latched onto the text surrounding it, but rather than being in Hebrew like the rest, the letters were completely foriegn to her. It bore no helpful translations or notes like other sections of the book. 

Gremory and Poiel, Miriam thought, struggling to recall everything she knew about both entities. Something must connect them. She continued to page back and forth through the book and noticed no other sigils she recognized as demonic. If someone was faking this book, why would they slap in just one other demon’s name? Do they not know any better? But this can’t be coincidence, either!

Miriam’s curiosity bubbled, and almost without conscious thought she scooped the book off the desk. After a quick glance to the door she tucked the whole tome into the back of her slacks and drew her coat down over it. He said it’s mine, she told herself, hands shaking and legs itching to run. If it’s for real, I have to have it!

Something brushed her calf, and Miriam yelped before she could stop herself. The white cat she had glimpsed earlier stared up at her curiously. She gulped. “Are you friendly?” she asked. “Because I could really use an alibi right now.”

The cat didn’t react in any way to indicate how it might behave, but Miriam could hear footsteps in the foyer below, and she didn’t have much choice. “Hail Bastet, goddess of cats,” she whispered by way of a prayer, and she scooped the huge feline up into her arms. It squirmed at first, but she didn’t get claws or teeth, so she considered herself blessed and headed swiftly out of the study.

She reached the top of the stairs just as the guard was reaching the bottom. He glared up at her, clearly suspicious, but Miriam didn’t break stride as she hefted the cat’s weight and descended. “Sorry,” she said. “It looked like he had something in his mouth. I know how animals can be when they have something they’re not supposed to.”

“She,” the guard corrected her, unconvinced. He held out his arms.

Miriam quickly handed the cat over. “Oh? What’s her name?” When the guard continued to stare back at her with distrust, she cleared her throat. “Nevermind. I think we’ve disturbed the house enough and should probably show ourselves out.”

With her chin held high, Miriam stepped past the guard and beelined towards the front of the house. She could feel the book shifting beneath her coat and began to sweat—would he be able to see it? His footsteps followed her toward the entrance, and the tread of his heavy soles behind the clack of her flats made her want to take off running. She reached the foyer just as Naomi and Abigail emerged from the direction of the kitchen.

“Oh!” said Naomi. “Mi…Mr….?”

“Ms. Yale!” Miriam chirped, and as soon as she got close enough she snagged Naomi’s elbow. “I heard a commotion! I hope everything’s all right?” Without waiting for her to reply, she nodded to Abigail and then guided them toward the exit. “Good! I’m afraid we can’t wait for Mr. Tripepi any longer and must go.”

“Hey, hold on a minute,” said Abigail, following after them. “Where were you just now?”

“Sorry to leave so abruptly, but tell Mr. Tripepi I’ll be in touch,” Miriam rambled on as she twisted the front door open. “Thanks so much for your hospitality.”

“Hey!” Abigail gave chase—she may have even reached for them. Miriam didn’t look back and didn’t know. With one hand still gripping Naomi and the other twisted behind her to keep the book from bouncing free, she hopped down the front steps to the sidewalk and kept going. Her haste could have only made them look more suspicious, but her better instincts had finally kicked in and she couldn’t make her legs stop. Did Abigail have a gun? Would a hardened Boston thug be bold enough to open fire on two fleeing girls in the middle of the street on a Sunday morning? She couldn’t even begin to contemplate what those odds were, and just as she was ready to take off running for real, she felt Naomi yanked back and instinctively turned.

“Now hold on just a minute,” Abigail said crossly, gripping Naomi’s shoulder. Poor Naomi was too startled to look frightened; it made Miriam absolutely sick. “What’s that you’ve got behind your back?”

Miriam’s mind went briefly white before she could recover a decent enough lie. “Uh…a corset!” She took a step back, still trying to tug Naomi along. “All the rage even in men’s fashion down south.”

But Abigail tightened her grip on Naomi’s shoulder as if she were a hostage and gestured with her other hand. “Let me see.”

“No.” Miriam gulped. “I-I don’t have to show you anything. We’re leaving.” 

“Not until I—”

“Is there a problem here?” interrupted a man’s voice.

All three women startled, and Miriam’s pulse hitched even another notch when she felt someone step up behind her. Even though she didn’t recognize the voice she somehow was convinced that it was Joey Tripepi himself; her imagination whirled with a host of gruesome fates that might await them. 

Then she realized that Abigail’s expression had gone slack, while Naomi’s brightened with a hesitant relief. Shivering, Miriam turned to see who it was.

The stranger was, without a doubt, the tallest man Miriam had ever laid eyes on: nearly seven feet tall, she was sure of it, even with his posture slouched. His pale suit was understandably cut too short at his cuffs and ankles, and his hair was pure black against his equally pale skin, straight and glossy as if it were a wig. He looked over the scene calmly, the hard lines of his angular face intimidatingly impassive.

“Elijah!” Naomi exclaimed, clasping her hands together. “Wh-what are you doing here?”

“I was concerned about you,” the tall stranger replied, though it sounded far more like a reprimand than sympathy. He motioned for her to step forward. “Come along, now.”

Naomi obediently did so, and Abigail was just thrown enough by the man’s sudden appearance that she let go. “Now…now hold on a minute,” she said once she’d gathered her wits. “These two were snooping about Mr. Tripepi’s home, and—”

“That’s fine,” interrupted Elijah, taking Naomi’s shoulder once she was close—again in a way that seemed too similar to how Abigail had been holding her hostage only a moment ago. It set Miriam back on edge. He extended his other hand to Abigail, and with a flick of his wrist like a stage magician, he produced a white business card. “Please give my regards to Mr. Tripepi. If anything is misplaced or damaged, he can call me.”

Abigail accepted the card, mystified. She looked up into Elijah’s face and must have found something there she didn’t like, as she gulped and took a step back. “I had better not see you back around here,” she told Miriam and Naomi in an attempt to save face, shaking the card at them. “I’m going to tell him all about this.”

“Go ahead,” Miriam retorted. “He can—” Elijah withdrew his hand only to settle it on her shoulder; she flinched with apprehension. Though it felt as if he were delivering a warning to close her mouth, it gave her the creeps, and she wasn’t about to let anyone who spoke coldly to Naomi get away with that. “He can call me at the university,” she finished. “Jordan Price in antiquities, like I said.”

Abigail glared at her suspiciously, but another glance at the towering Elijah prevented her from saying more. Scowling, she turned in full retreat to head back to the house.

Naomi released a long, elated sigh and turned to look up at their surprise benefactor. “Thank you, Elijah. I’m sorry you had to intervene like that.”

Miriam, on the other hand, didn’t relax. She took a step away from Elijah to shake his grip from her shoulder—and so she could face him without craning her neck all the way back. How could a human be so damn tall? “How did you know we were here?” she asked, probably less kindly than she should have.

Elijah regarded her with an uncomfortable intensity.  “I don’t believe we’ve met,” he said. 

“Oh!” said Naomi, flustered. “That’s right.” She moved closer to Miriam and touched her arm; it was impossible not to find her at least a little reassuring. “This is Miriam Vance,” she introduced. “Miriam, this is…Mr. Elijah Sands. A colleague of mine.” She hesitated for a moment and then clarified, “My superior, actually.”

“A pleasure to meet you,” said Elijah, and though he smiled, the stiffness of his pronounced cheekbones and the muscles around them gave his face an eerie, almost plastic appearance that didn’t help at all.

“Same,” Miriam replied, tempering her obvious mistrust in light of Naomi’s introduction; she didn’t want to get her new friend in trouble with her boss, after everything else. “Um, thank you. For helping out. You probably shouldn’t have given him your card like that, though. He might actually call.”

“I’m not concerned,” said Elijah, and his easy manners certainly corroborated that. He motioned for them to follow him. “Do you need a lift? I’m parked nearby.”

Miriam was tempted to say they would walk to the nearest bus stop, but Naomi was already falling into step behind him, the slight pressure of her hand against Miriam’s arm spurring her along as well. She gulped and followed.  “Yes, thank you. If you can drop us off over at the Common that would be very convenient, assuming it’s not too far out of your way.”

“It’s not.”

Elijah turned to lead them around the nearby corner; as soon as his back was turned, Miriam leaned into Naomi’s ear and whispered, “Is this okay?”

“It’s fine,” Naomi reassured her in kind. “He’s a little, um, eccentric, but he’s a great man.” She moved her hand to Miriam’s back, helping to stabilize the book that was still tucked rather haphazardly into her belt. “We’re safe now.”

“Okay. As long as you trust him…”

They reached Elijah’s car, which was disappointingly of a very normal size. Miriam eyed it along with its owner and her suspicion was momentarily waylaid by  her curiosity. How in the world will he ever fit in here? she wondered as he opened the rear door for them. She climbed in, and while she was taking a moment to make sure she wasn’t crushing or bending the book, Elijah slid in behind the wheel. She missed seeing the moment in action, and when she did look, he was seated quite comfortably in the driver’s seat. Though the top of his head was closer to the car’s roof than she was used to seeing, he suddenly didn’t appear nearly as tall as he had out on the sidewalk.

Are my eyes playing tricks on me? Miriam wondered as Naomi settled next to her, and the car pulled away from the curb. She shook her head. It doesn’t matter now. I got what I came for.

She reached behind her to feel out the shape of the book beneath her jacket. Even if Naomi trusted the odd Elijah, Miriam didn’t dare reveal her prize to him. But it was hers—she had reclaimed it by her own wits, and as soon as she had privacy, she might finally have what she’d wanted for so long. It made her giddy to think about, and she had a hard time keeping her manners impassive as they made their way back uptown.

~

Naomi spent the trip buzzing with excitement. Miriam had the book—would she try to use it as soon as she was home? Would she be able to puzzle together the notes and translations—would she be as excited to finally meet an angel as Naomi was to reveal herself? It was all she could do to keep from squealing from delight. It felt like it had been ages since she was able to really stretch her wings, and her shoulders itched with anticipation. Despite the rather rocky start, her plan was back on track and soon to be fulfilled.

Oh, she’s going to have so many questions, Naomi thought. It can’t hurt to tell her…almost everything, right? She glanced to Elijah in the front seat, but of course he was impossible to read. It’s not as if he’s ever been shy about revealing himself, even to humans. If Miriam asks, I won’t lie to her. She nodded to herself with conviction, only to come across a new worry. Oh no, but what if she asks about Gremory? Her seal was on the entrance to that club, and—

Miriam cleared her throat. “So, if you don’t mind me asking,” she said, and Naomi held her breath, “what is it you two do? Naomi, you said he’s your boss, but I don’t think you’ve ever mentioned your work.”

“Oh, no, I guess I didn’t.” Naomi looked to Elijah again; she hadn’t even begun to think of a passable backstory for her current self.

“I’m an anthropologist,” said Elijah without missing a beat. “I study people. Miss Yosef is my assistant.”

Miriam gave a quiet snort and then cleared her throat again as if to cover it up. “Oh, is that so? Any particular area of history?”

“No, not particularly.”

“Oh.” Miriam shrugged. “All right then.”

Naomi worried her fingers in her lap. “But you can see why it caught my attention then, right?” she said, trying to smooth over the awkwardness. “The book?”

“Yes, certainly,” said Miriam, though she continued to watch Elijah with what Naomi considered to be a very unwarranted level of distrust. “It’s a shame we weren’t able to get our hands on it. I sure hope Mr. Tripepi makes the most of it.”

“Oh…yes. Rather, we should hope he doesn’t.” It’s her prize, after all—I guess it makes sense that she wouldn’t want anyone to know she has it. She straightened up and brightened her tone. “But either way we really appreciate your help, Elijah. Lucky that you happened to be nearby. I’ll make it up to you.”

“That isn’t necessary,” he replied. “You’ve done plenty of fine work for me already.”

Miriam pulled a face but didn’t comment, and the conversation soon died out. Which was probably for the best.

As promised, Elijah dropped them off at the Public Garden. Miriam thanked him for the ride but her eagerness to be away from him was palpable, and Naomi leaned into the driver’s side window to try to smooth things over. “She’s really wonderful,” she whispered. “Perfect, even—you’ll see.”

“I’m sure she is,” he replied, though his thin smile failed to reassure. “Bring her to me when she’s ready.”

“O…Okay.” Though Naomi was well used to his peculiar manners, for the first time his pale eyes gave her a chill, and she backed away from the car. “See you later!”

Elijah drove away. He was barely out of sight before Miriam gave a great shudder. “Ugh! No offense, Naomi, but your boss gives me the willies.” She pulled the book out of the back of her pants and instead tucked it into the front of her jacket. “Walked all over my grave with those long legs of his.”

“He’s a great man,” Naomi said automatically. “I think you’d like him, if you…got to know him better. He knows so much.”

“If you say so.” Miriam gave herself one more shake and then started marching down the sidewalk. “In any case! Let’s get this back to the apartment before anything else goes wrong.” Her eyes gleamed. “Let’s see if we can’t summon an angel.”

“Y-Yes!” Naomi hurried into step alongside her. “I can’t wait.”

Miriam led them into her apartment, and though Naomi hadn’t thought to ask ahead, she was relieved to see that Odelia, the roommate, was not at home. They headed straight into Miriam’s bedroom, where Miriam immediately shed her jacket and cap; her brown curls almost seemed to stretch as they unfurled, as if grateful to be free. She hopped onto the bed, and Naomi joined her, her heart pounding.

Don’t get ahead of her, Naomi told herself, blushing a little as Miriam ran her fingers over the book’s cover reverently. Let her find it on her own. She ducked her head, smiling to herself. She’s going to be so surprised!

Miriam flipped through the pages, her eyes alight with fascination. Her fingertips danced over the different passages, and Naomi could see her lips even forming a few words now and again, among the Hebrew and Latin inscriptions. Much of the text she had included only to make the book longer, with long lists of mundane heavenly details and passages borrowed from other tomes. But as Miriam flipped to a particular page, her heart skipped. Gremory’s sigil glared up at her in slashes of dark ink.

“Gremory,” Miriam whispered, pointing to it, and Naomi’s mind went blank with panic. She lifted her head. “Do you know anything about this demon?”

“N-No!” Naomi squawked. Miriam’s eyebrows lifting made her sweat, and she fought to sound less suspicious. “Sorry, no. I don’t know anything about demons…other than they’re not to be trifled with.”

 Miriam frowned thoughtfully as she swirled her thumb around the curves in the sigil. “How strange, to have a whole page devoted to this one demon.” She flipped quickly back and forth through the pages. “Seems like the only demon mentioned at all. Why would that be?”

“I, um. I have no idea.” Naomi drew her thumbnail to her teeth only to realize that might look even more suspicious, and she forced her hand back down. Why did I ever include this? What was I thinking?  She swallowed and looked away. “What about the summoning?”

“Mm! Right.” Miriam shook her head and continued her hunt through the book. “It’s not very long, is it? Probably for the best since it’s going to take a long time to translate—there are glyphs in here I don’t recognize at all let alone can read!” A smirk tugged her lips. “Too bad there isn’t a real Jordan Price I can ask. Now what happened to that…aha!”

Miriam opened to the book’s final section: the invocation rites. Naomi cast all other worries out of her head and sat up straighter, watching Miriam’s every move. Will she want to try it now? she wondered as Miriam traced her path through the text with her fingertips. I hope she’ll at least follow all the instructions—she has the candles, I’m sure she has chalk and—

“Blast!” Miriam scowled and shoved the book away from her. “It’s a damn fake.”

“Wh…” Naomi blinked, caught entirely off guard. “What?”

“It’s a fake!” Miriam exclaimed, throwing her arms up. “Or an amateur, or some half-baked English hobbyist! Look.” She drew the book back to her, pointing out the seal of summoning that Naomi had painstakingly inked. “You draw the circle to protect yourself during the invocation, and another circle around that, and in between you write out the angel’s corresponding Psalm. But this isn’t even the right verse!” She scowled again bitterly and began pointing out other labels and sigils. “And it has these seals that correspond to the Principalities that Poiel belongs to, and the zodiac and planet she rules under and all that, and those are right, so how could they miss something so obvious? And why is the pentagram inside the seal? That defeats the point of having the seal in the first place!”

She pushed the book away again, all but shaking with frustration. Naomi gaped and stuttered, her heart in her throat. “Well, of course—” She stopped, chewing her nails. Of course I didn’t put in the right verse! That would be so dangerous if this got into the wrong hands! “Well, you know the right verse, don’t you? Can’t you just…try it with that?”

“I have tried it,” Miriam said, though her anger was starting to give way to a more precarious emotion. “Not with Poiel, but other angels, before now. God damn it….”

Miriam flopped onto her back, her breath leaving her in a heavy sigh. “I should have known. It’s just another of Mr. Fairchild’s tricks after all.”

“But…no! It’s not, though.” Naomi drew the book closer to her; her hands shook with the memories of so much time and care put into its construction. “I’m sure it’s…it’s close at least. Please don’t give up, Miriam.”

“Oh Naomi, I’m sorry.” Miriam pushed her glasses up so she could rub her eyes. “God, I’m so gullible. And we could have been in real trouble today, all for this…this forgery.” She let her hands fall to her stomach. “I shouldn’t have dragged you along like that.”

“But no, I…” Naomi scrambled after some explanation. She flipped through the pages, struggling to remember if she had included any buried hints that would at least encourage Miriam to make the attempt. At least if she believed she was doing the right ritual to summon an angel, that would be excuse enough for Naomi to make her entrance…

“Can you believe Joey Tripepi himself thought it was real, too?” Miriam continued, and she gave a short bark of laughter, even though her voice was already growing rough. “Maybe I’ll just mail it back to him. He can waste his time with it, then.”

Naomi cringed, but it already felt too late. She couldn’t think of what to say—she couldn’t find anything she’d already written that would help. The perfect, choreographed introduction her book was supposed to represent had already crashed into rubble. She looked back to Miriam lying on the bed, who suddenly appeared so devastated, so despondent, that it broke her heart twice over.

You could just tell her, Darby had suggested, but Naomi felt as if the entire world had shifted beneath her feet. She hadn’t prepared for this, nor the unexpectedly fierce guilt she felt for having disappointed someone so much, and the panic of having to reveal herself unrehearsed. That had never worked in her favor before.

“I’m—I’m sorry,” Naomi stuttered out, and unable to do anything but follow blind instinct, she climbed off the bed. “I should go.”

“What?” Miriam fumbled her glasses back into place as she sat up. “You’re leaving?”

“Yes, I—I’m sorry. I don’t want to bother you.” With no clear idea of what she was talking about, she headed for the door. “I’ll come back another time, okay?”

“But…” Miriam crawled down the bed toward her. “You don’t have to—”

But Naomi couldn’t wait. It was challenging enough to breathe all of a sudden, and she fled from the apartment, passing a confused Odelia on the stairs on her way down. She burst out onto the sidewalk gasping and then kept going, suddenly nervous that Miriam with all her determination and grit might have followed her out.

Coward! she scolded herself as she rushed away from the building. Why couldn’t you have just told her? What will she think now? She chewed anxiously on her fingernails as Boston’s post-Church traffic rumbled on alongside. Oh, but she looked so upset! What if saying too much made it worse? What if she’d be mad I hid it from her? This was such a stupid idea to begin with!

Naomi glanced behind her, but seeing that Miriam wasn’t actually following her, she slowed to a halt. She even stayed there for a while, watching the building’s entrance to see if Miriam might barrel out of it. As the seconds ticked by and that became less and less likely, Naomi’s heart sank, and she scolded herself all over again for being disappointed when she was the one who had run away.

What will I do now? she thought, grimacing when she remembered that Elijah likely hadn’t gone far. He would be anxious to hear about the transfer of magic he’d been expecting to take place. If he found me today, he’ll find me again when he wants to. He’ll be so cross with me for not just getting on with it. With a deep breath she forced herself to fully straighten up and continue down the street. I have to think of some other way, and maybe just…stay away from him until then. I won’t let him down—I’ll figure out another method. She gulped. I don’t have a choice.

***

Miriam slumped on the bed again and glared up at the ceiling. She stayed that way until Odelia peeked through the open doorway.

“Miriam, honey? Everything okay?”

“Fine.” Miriam pushed her glasses up again so she could swat at her eyes. As sweet and accommodating as Odelia always was, the last thing she wanted was for anyone to see her upset. “Just…taking a rest, here.”

But Odelia was too kind to leave her be so easily; she stepped into the room. “I saw your friend Naomi leave in a hurry,” she probed gently. 

“Oh, yeah, big hurry.” Miriam continued to glower at the ceiling, willing herself to be annoyed rather than dwell on the sting of rejection that was worming under her ribs. “Would have been polite to give me some warning, but I’m sure she’s got lots of really important things to do. Her and that two-story creep of a boss, I guess.”

Odelia sat down on the edge of the bed; Miriam quickly turned her head away. “Do you want to tell me more about it?” she offered.

“No,” Miriam said quickly, even as her throat tightened around the words. “It’s nothing anyway.”

“All right.” Odelia gave her arm a pat and then stood up once more. “Then you’re free, right? Come here and let me show you what I brought home.”

Miriam pursed her lips. There was a hard pit forming in her stomach—determined not to be upset, but just as determined not to dissipate any time soon. What she really wanted was to be alone and angry for a while. Even more than that, though, she wanted Odelia to at least believe she was fine for the moment, so with a tiny, childish grumble she slid off the mattress and drew herself up. “What is it?”

She rounded the bed, but rather than lead them out of the room, Odelia simply drew Miriam into a hug. Miriam didn’t even try to fight it at that point; immediately the strength went out of her, and she sank gratefully into Odelia’s warm and welcoming arms. It wasn’t the first time her enthusiasm had barreled her straight into a wall, nor the first that Odelia had been there to pick her bruised ego off the floor. She was sturdy, but soft, and her gentle hum of empathy reminded Miriam so much of her grandmother.

It’s so stupid, Miriam chastized herself as she sniffled into Odelia’s shoulder. All that work, for nothing. Why am I even upset? I should have known better. She burrowed deeper into Odelia’s embrace as if to block out the traitorous thoughts. And Naomi—I barely know her! It’s only been a few days! So what if she smiled so pretty—she probably smiles like that all the time! For everyone! And why should I care if she does?

She remembered Naomi’s concerned face as they marched up to Joey’s door—how right she was to be cautious! It was no wonder Naomi was so eager to get away, realizing how much danger Miriam had thrust them into, all for a good-for-nothing book. The sudden realization of what Abigail could have—and might have—done to them without the eerie Elijah’s interference made her blood run cold on top of everything else.

Miriam shook her head, but she quickly fell still again when Odelia softly hushed her. She let the worries slip away for a little while and took what comfort she could from her wiser roommate.

“Rough morning, huh sweetheart?” Odelia said after a while, and when Miriam nodded, she gave her one more squeeze and then eased her back. “You wanna talk about it now?”

Miriam shook her head. She’d managed not to thoroughly embarrass herself by sobbing outright, but she accepted Odelia’s handkerchief to dry her watery eyes. “I’m okay, really. Just…a few disappointments at once, that’s all.” She straightened her blouse and skirt after all the flopping about on the bed. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize.” Odelia fussed with Miriam’s hair for a moment, brushing it back with her fingers and then gave her hand a tug. “Now come see what I got. First good greens of the season—asparagus and broccoli, great big bushels I got on sale. We’ll roast them up for supper tonight.”

Miriam rolled her eyes as Odelia tugged her into the kitchen to see her bounty—vegetables were low on her list of things to be excited over. But they were a blissfully welcome distraction.

Miriam cast one long, bitter look at Sefer Poyel and shut the door behind her.

***

Naomi was so anxious to cross town as quickly as possible that she very nearly unfurled her wings after all. Instead she took a cab.

She rode the elevator to the top floor of Darby’s Atlantic Ave apartment building, fiddling with her own fingers, heart in knots. It was definitely a mistake to come to Darby, of all people, for advice, but the circumstances had become too specific to rely on anyone else. Her angel brethren would never have approved of her taking a familiar in the first place, Elijah would only scorn, and even if there were a few demons in her acquaintance that knew the ins and outs of humans and magic, none could be trusted. She wouldn’t dare expose Miriam to the dangers of Hell’s curiosity.

He’s just going to say again that I should tell her, Naomi thought even as she rapped on the door. Which isn’t helpful at all. Unless…maybe he can convince me this time that it would work. She stared hard at the door, only just realizing she had been too preoccupied with her concerns to scry on him before coming, if only to make sure he was at home at all. He’s a liar, though, so if he says I really should, can I trust that at all?  She speculated herself into an anxious stupor and jumped when the door finally opened.

Darby stood on the other side, dressed in a casual sweater vest and slacks. He regarded her with cool surprise which very quickly slid into cool amusement. Naomi didn’t like it one bit. “Oh, it’s you,” he said. “What timing.”

“Is this a bad time?” Naomi asked, even though she desperately hoped that Darby wouldn’t ask her to leave. When he stepped back to let her enter, she did so. It wasn’t until she was past the threshold with the door closing behind her that she fully registered that he had company, and that it was the very last person she could have hoped to see.

She had changed a lot since the last time Naomi had seen her—still tall, but narrow and angular, with pale skin and short, almost platinum blond hair—but the eyes were the same. Wherever she went, her lavender eyes flashed like jewels, and Naomi would never mistake them. For the briefest moment as they met each other’s stare, there was surprise and trepidation in her face; so brief in fact, that the smirk that followed convinced Naomi she had imagined it entirely.

“Gremory,” Naomi said, breathless and pinned into place like a moth to a specimen board.

“Caught me.” She was reclining deeply on Darby’s chaise lounge in a sleek, cream-colored blouse, a champagne flute in her hand, easy as a queen surveying her domain. “I’m going by Georgie, now. It’s Naomi, isn’t it?”

“Yes.” Naomi gulped, mind full of static. She couldn’t remember why she’d come here in the first place. Why oh why hadn’t she thought to scry on Darby first! “You’ve changed.”

Georgie chuckled. “And you haven’t changed at all.”

“Champagne?” Darby offered. 

He had to pick Naomi’s hand up himself and fit the glass into it, but once he had, Naomi held it, barely even aware. She couldn’t bring herself to look away from Georgie, who in turn was watching her closely. Once her glass was full Darby nudged her toward a chair, and like a puppet she allowed it. She sat down as he retook his own chair and his own drink closer to Georgie.

“My, isn’t this a lark,” he said, eyeing the pair of them. “Together again.” He lifted his glass in a toast and drank.

Georgie did the same, but still Naomi could only stare. Her wits were very slowly returning to her, and she became painfully aware of how easily Georgie might steal the truth of why she’d come from her mind. She had always seen straight through her, except for that one time it had mattered most.

“Sorry to intrude,” said Naomi, at last tearing her focus away to fix on Darby. “I didn’t know you had a guest.”

“No? Why, here I thought that was the very reason you are here.” Darby arched a curious eyebrow. “Is that not your one true gift, after all?”

“Yes, well…” Oh, I should have agreed with him. Naomi’s fingers twisted anxiously around the stem of her glass. I can’t say why I’m here in front of her. But if I did say I came for her…then I’d have to think of a reason for that! She squirmed and started to get back up. “I can come back another time.”

“We were just talking about you,” said Georgie, stopping her in her tracks. “Darby here says you’ve been fraternizing with humans again.”

Darby waved dismissively. “I would never,” he retorted. “That’s far too close to the truth, and you know how I feel about that.”

Naomi gulped. She wanted nothing more than to get out, but she couldn’t bring herself to retreat until she knew just how much Darby had let slip. Cursing herself for ever having gone to him for help in the first place, she retook her seat. “Like you said,” she replied carefully, “I haven’t changed much.”

Georgie frowned and tried to cover it by taking a sip of her champagne. “It’s at least a little different when Elijah is skulking about though, isn’t it?” 

“Elijah does not skulk.”

“I agree,” rejoined Darby. “He’s as tall as a lamp post—hardly within his nature to be inconspicuous.”

Georgie gave him a side-eye. “You’re the one who invited me here to gossip about what he’s being so secretive about. Unless you’re objecting specifically to the word ‘skulk’?”

“Yes, precisely that.”

 I have to know what she knows, Naomi thought, her eyes darting between them. If Darby already told her it’s Miriam…she’ll ruin everything. I’ll have to give up and find someone else. She took a sip from the champagne just to smother the bitterness threatening to show in her face. The last thing she wants is to see me succeed. “I know you’re both very curious, but it’s really not  your business if I want to have a familiar. Your kind do it plenty.”

Darby sipped his champagne, while once again Georgie’s usually impeccable composure lapsed, however briefly—could it really have been concern that darkened those lavender eyes of hers, before she was able to paste the smug superiority back into place? “And Elijah is…okay with that?” she asked with increasingly blatant curiosity. “I thought Heaven’s Decree outlawed that a century ago.”

“Not that you would know,” Naomi replied before she could stop herself, and that time there was no doubting or mistaking the coldness that dug into Georgie’s expression then. “But yes, Elijah has already approved my choice, even. A very fine young man who I’m hoping you’ll stay away from.”

Naomi was not a skilled liar by far, but all she hoped for in that moment was to determine just how much Darby might have revealed. If he had already told Georgie all about Miriam, there was no chance that Georgie would pass up the opportunity to rub it in her face. It wasn’t in her nature to be coy for too long. But Darby didn’t attempt to correct her, and Georgie herself looked too irritated by the news for Naomi to believe he’d said too much after all.

“A man this time?” Georgie brought the champagne to her lips. “Fascinating.”

“And so, is that why you’ve come?” Darby suggested. He, on the other hand, was so at ease, Naomi might have believed he had forgotten about Miriam. “To crow to the lesser class about your good fortune and the strapping young buck now bound to serve you for eternity?” He snorted. “Now that I’ve said it, I must admit I’m a bit jealous.”

“Familiars aren’t worth the trouble,” Georgie retorted. “Trust me.”

She pushed to her feet; as had been the case for millenia, her every movement was graceful almost to a fault, and Naomi could not help but stare. She handed her flute to Darby and carded her fingers affectionately through his curly hair, which he did not respond to. “I think I’ll show myself out. It’s getting a little stuffy in here.”

“If she gives me the boy’s name, by my word you’ll be the first to know,” Darby promised lazily.

Naomi kept very still, holding the champagne in her lap as Georgie swept past her without a second glance. Just when she had reason to hope that might have been the end of their excruciating encounter, Georgie paused at the door. “Watch yourself, Poiel,” she said, and though her tone was teasing, Naomi had always been able to see through her, too. “Taking a human familiar is very different from taking a human lover, no matter how much experience you have with the latter.”

Naomi ducked into her shoulders. “Good to see you too, Gremory.”

Georgie chuckled. “Well, I tried,” she said, and with that she finally left.

Naomi watched her go. In her mind’s eye she scryed on Georgie making her way to the elevator, and it was only once she was safely a floor below that she bounced from her chair. On one breath she downed the champagne and crossed the room to take Georgie’s place on the lounge at Darby’s side. “Why didn’t you tell her?” she demanded.

Darby placed his two flutes aside, not a care in the world. “Tell her what?”

“About…about Miriam, of course!” Naomi leaned closer and lowered her voice, as if there was still a chance Georgie would overhear them somehow. “Did you really not tell her?”

“Ohh, that. Of course not.” Darby cocked his head. “I held back on purpose thinking I might earn more of your trust, so I can talk the rest of your scheme out of you eventually.”

Naomi let out a long sign, but she hadn’t forgotten why she had come, and she was eager to say her peace before any other intruders interrupted them. “You know I can’t. I need your help again, Darby.”

Darby released a long-suffering sigh of his own, though it was decidedly manufactured. “So the book didn’t work.”

“She saw through it immediately!” Unable to sit still, Naomi pushed to her feet and began to pace. “There were a few things I changed on purpose—it would have been too dangerous to keep it intact—but she could tell! And now she’s given up on summoning an angel altogether.”

Darby watched her impassively and made a circular gesture. “Have you considered trying—”

“Don’t suggest I just tell her the truth,” Naomi interrupted, and he leaned deeper into his chair. “I’m not going to—that won’t work.” She stopped pacing so she could face him directly. “Will you please tell her the book is real? You’re the one who gave it to her.”

“My dear, you have always been an inspiration to me,” Darby drawled, and seeing the face she pulled, he quickly added, “And I mean that very kindly. But I’m the playwright, not the actor. It wouldn’t do for me to get involved.”

“But you’re already involved,” Naomi insisted. “You agreed to give it to her in the first place! I just need you to convince her to try again.”

Darby sighed again, and he ran a hand back through his hair to resettle the curls Georgie had mussed. “I suppose…that’s true enough. Though don’t you think she’ll find it a trifle suspicious if I waltz up to her and declare it so?”

“I’ll arrange a meeting.” Naomi returned to the lounge so that she could go back to whispering; Darby watched her hurrying about with bland amusement. “I’ll keep an eye on her, and when she’s out and about somewhere, I’ll tell you where to go—you can just bump into each other.”

“My, how conveniently contrived.”

“Please, Darby. I…” Naomi hesitated, licking her lips, and went through with it. “I’ll do a favor for you, next time you need one.”

Darby’s eyes swiveled toward her, and though his face didn’t change much, his intensity certainly did. “Will you.”

“Yes. I…I promise.” Though Naomi already felt regret creeping up from her fingernails, she clenched her fists tight in determination. “So? Will you do it?”

“Well, when you put it like that…” Darby shrugged. “I suppose yes, I will. Though do take care that it’s nowhere unreasonable, whatever this meeting place ends up being. If I’m going to be out in public it might as well be in character.”

“Of course.” Not wanting to push her luck—or wait to see if Darby would invoke the promised favor right away—Naomi returned to her feet. “I’ll call you with the details later. Thank you, Darby!”

“You know,” Darby said as she headed for the door, just like she feared he would. “She really does worry about you still.”

Naomi’s heart gave a heavy pang. Despite her better judgment, she looked back; Darby was reaching again for the champagne, and God help her he looked sincere. But she couldn’t believe that he meant it. It was far too dangerous, even more so if it were true.

“The Cursed Stag always lies,” Naomi replied, and Darby shrugged in acceptance. “But thank you for this. I’ll call you soon.”

Too afraid that Darby might try to reply, she dashed out.