Page 57 of The Bad Weather Friend

“What ... what was it then?” Benny asked.

“They wouldn’t listen to me.”

“Who wouldn’t?”

“The seven percent. They had free will, you know. I wasn’t the boss of them. There were things I told them to do, but they wouldn’t do them, and they were murdered horrifically.”

“Stop saying they were murdered horrifically.”

“Well, they were. Don’t ask me how. I’d be obliged to tell you. If you knew how, you might never sleep well again.”

“Even that’s too much information,” Benny said. “Why did you have to tell me two died? Why didn’t you keep that to yourself?”

“I have to be honest with you, honest at all times. That’s an important craggle protocol.”

“Some craggle protocols,” Harper said, “are maybe a lot like white chocolate.” She stopped massaging the back of Benny’s neck and patted his shoulder as though to reassure him that he wouldn’t die horrifically—or as though she was expressing a sad little bye-bye.

“Honesty is always the best policy,” Spike insisted. “You know that’s true.” He placed both hands over his heart, as if to suggest he was wounded. “Cut me some slack here. Anyhow, it’s a long time since I lost the second one.”

“How long?”

“Nine hundred years. And the first one was nine hundred years before that, when I was a newbie.”

“So,” said Benny, after a brief pause for calculation, “one might conclude that you lose someone every nine hundred years. And now it’s time again.”

“Not at all, Benjamin. It’s not apattern.”

“It kind of looks like a pattern,” Harper said.

“Well, it isn’t. Some nice people can be wonderfully nice but not wise. And I can’t make them wise. That’s all. It’s very sad. But that’s the way it is. Niceness plus free will minus wisdom equals sudden and horrific death. But that won’t happen to you, Benjamin, because you’re wise. If I tell you there’s something you must do to save your life, I’m sure you’ll do it. You know, this relationship isn’t all about me. It’s a partnership. We’re in this together. We share responsibility. You and me against the forces of evil.”

To Benny, Harper said, “Now that he’s walked us through it, I have to agree with him. You need to trust Spike. He’ll do right by you.”

“Thank you, Miss Harper.”

“You’re welcome. Benny, a guardian angel can protect you from all kinds of trouble, but not from yourself.”

Although Benny knew she was right, he remained spooked by the revelation of a 7 percent failure rate. “Okay, but what kind of guardian angel beats the shit out of bad guys?”

“I’m not a guardian angel,” Spike said. “I never claimed to be a guardian angel.”

“He never claimed to be an angel,” Harper agreed.

“I’m a craggle.”

“He’s a craggle, Benny.”

“Iknowhe’s a craggle. I don’t know what craggles are, where they come from, what their backstory is, but I know he’s a craggle.” An involuntary sigh escaped him. “All right, we’re in this together. I didn’t mean to be a jerk. I’m grateful to be given a ninety-three percent chance of getting my life back on track, and I’ll do my part. I’ll be as wise as I know how to be.”

“We’ll play golf sometimes, right?” Spike asked. “Go out to a movie now and then, right? Like we agreed?”

“Yeah, absolutely. Take a walk on the beach. Go bowling. After we get through this crisis.”

Spike opened his arms wide. “Give us a hug.”

“Ah, man. I’m not really a hugger.”

“You’re totally a hugger,” Harper said. “A hugger is exactly who you are, sweet thing.”

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