Page 25 of Ruled By Fate

There was another pause. Much longer this time.

Then she turned on her heel and headed up the stairs. “I’m going to take a shower.”

“I’m serious, Brianna—”

“You want to be useful? Resuscitate my plant.”

? ? ?

Five minutes later, Brie was still waiting for the hot water.

Perfect house. There had to be something.

The pipes were humming, but no matter how she flipped the dials, the water remained ice cold. After a few more seconds spent shivering impatiently on the tile, she gave up with a sigh and redressed before slumping back into the living room. Cameron was standing not far from where she’d left him, running his fingers over her endless stacks of books.

“Done already?” he asked.

“No hot water.” She threw him a teasing grin. “I don’t suppose your celestial powers could help with that?”

Only half-joking.

He shook his head. “These powers aren’t even mine. I am merely a vessel. They are to be used only to do God’s will.”

She tilted her head. “So, God willed you to fix my car?”

His eyes flashed up uncertainly before clearing with a cool expression. “God was feeling a bit generous today.”

Fair enough.

The two worked in silence for a while, shifting things around and casting each other secret looks, as the sun dipped lower and lower in the sky. It wasn’t until the windows began to darken that she looked at him with a sudden start.

“Cameron,” she paused. “Are you planning to stay here?”

He glanced up with a hint of surprise. “Of course I am. Why?”

She looked around the little cottage, trying to find the words. In all honesty, she didn’t know what was more surreal: the fact that she was playing house or the fact that she was doing it with a divine protector.

True to form, she decided to deflect. “You know, in some cultures, it’s considered highly inappropriate to move in with a woman, uninvited, without telling her your full name.”

He tilted his head, considering this for a moment. “My real name is unpronounceable by the human tongue.”

“So, you picked Cameron?”

“A dear friend of mine was named Cameron. So, yes. I picked it because I liked it.”

“Oh,” she exclaimed with a touch of surprise, warming in spite of herself. “I didn’t imagine you had human friends. So, what happened with the original Cameron? Was he willing to share?”

“He was martyred in the third century under Emperor Diocletian.”

She stared as he pulled a blender from a box. Right. I have friends like that, too.

That was the last of the talking.

They continued unloading the car for the next few minutes and quietly placed items around the house. Bags were relocated to the upstairs hallway. The desiccated Ficus was given a thoroughly unnecessary drink of water, then left to molder by the fridge.

While they worked, they watched each other. Rather, she watched him.

A friend martyred in the third century… he doesn’t know how to use a toaster. The power to annihilate demons… which he uses on the radio, when he’s not ferrying the souls of the dead.

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