My head spins with possibilities and impossibilities of what Sean Tattersall could most likely mean in a dizzying Escher-esque array. Go—the devil only knows what he intends by saying such a thing.
And I couldn’t even think the G word fully just now.
“Callie, there’s steam coming out of your ears.” Luke passes his fingers slowly in front of my face.
Ah, some of the Escher effect is actual smoke. It clouds the air around us, and Luke steps out of the cloud to avoid coughing. Sean continues walking ahead.
“My reactions are like a cartoon character…” I throw up my hands.
Luke attempts to soothe me. “A very brave cartoon character.”
“You agree I’m a plucky cartoon character and I’m supposed to save him? How?” I gesture to Sean.
“That’s not what I meant,” Luke says.
“I know,” I tell him. And I do. “The question stands. How on Earth am I going to save him?”
Sean does a half-turn. “No offense taken.”
I continue to process this situation the best I can. I stalk forward. “What do you mean, we inspired you?”
“The story goes you found the Holy Lance and it almost worked,” Sean says like it’s plain. “I want the Holy Grail, and I’m good at getting what I want.” An indefinable emotion crosses his face. “Usually.”
“You want to live forever?” Luke asks. “How did you die?”
No, that’s not it. I can tell by Sean’s lack of reaction. He’s still hiding something from us. But what? When I try to call up even basic facts about him, my mind goes blank. Lucifer’s block.
“If we agree to help you, you’ll behave?” Not that I’ll believe him and I intend to figure out what he’s up to, but better to keep him where we can see him.
“You have my word that I’ll try,” Sean says.
Luke gives a slight nod and so I say, “Good enough.”
I realize we’re within sight of the Great Escape’s standalone building at the end of the complex. Giant halo and horn signs are hung on either side of the front sign with arrows, the symbols echoing the shirts. The shirts we’re not wearing, because I forgot to get them back from the stand-in crew.
But I set that aside. It’s such a small thing and Mom probably won’t notice. (She notices everything. She’s Holmes and Watson in one nerdy bibliophile package.)
From here, I can see Mag and Jared working at a table out front. They must be finishing up.
I want to see my friend. And my brother. To touch base with my real life.
But you want this to be your real life, I remind myself.
“Am I still smoking?” I don’t think I am, but I consult Luke to be sure.
“Only in the metaphorical sense.” He grins wickedly at me, and I’m pretty sure it’s meant to comfort. It works.
“Why won’t you tell us anything about yourself?” I ask Sean while we walk.
He shrugs and gives me that annoying smirk of his. I study him and if I’m not mistaken, he’s doing his best to feign an innocent look. Yeah, right. “I think you just don’t want to tell us because it’ll make you look bad,” I say.
He gestures from his face to his torso. “Darlin’, nothing makes me look bad.”
Luke and I both roll our eyes at him.
“Knock it off,” I say. “And behave like you promised. Sort of. Follow our lead.”
He gives a sarcastic twirl of his fingers in deference.
In addition to the shirts, I didn’t get the folder from the guys. I don’t know if I was supposed to bring it back or not. I envision the neatly labeled manila file and it materializes in my hands.
I have no idea if it’s the same folder they had and it just disappeared from their hands or the trash or wherever or if I’ve created something identical. All I know is it’s cheating.
Like knowing facts without learning them is cheating.
Like not telling my mother the truth is cheating.
Cheating that I have to do. There’s no alternative in the time available. That’s what I tell myself. Too bad that feels like cheating too.
I don’t bother to magic the shirts onto our bodies, though I could. One less lie to feel crappy about.
“Callie?” Luke’s hand is on my arm. This is what I wanted, the test case, a shot, but he must be able to sense my sudden case of the major doubts. I hired someone else to do my job and I’m going to let Mom believe I did it. What am I doing?
It’s for the greater good. Of the not-all-bad. Agnes is counting on you, whether she admits it or not.
“I’m fine,” I say and speed up, crossing onto the parking lot blacktop.
Mag calls out as we get closer. “The prodigal child returns!”
“The prodigal child is Jared,” I point out.
Mag and Jared rise from the table when they realize we have a tagalong. “And you’ve brought the new James Bond with you, I see,” Mag says. “Who’s he?”
“Sean Tattersall, at your service,” Sean introduces himself and gives Mag a bow.
They clap with delight and I expect Jared to glower. Luke goes over and claps him on the shoulder. “I understand, but don’t worry about it.”
“Yes,” Mag says, “do not.”
“I wasn’t,” Jared says. “This?” he gestures to himself. “This is a confident man who trusts his person one hundred percent.”
Mag blows him a kiss. “Smooth,” they say.
The two of them are so good together.
“How’d today go?” I ask to gauge what Mom’s mood will be. “Everything okay?”
“Better than,” Jared says, confused. “You must know.”
I say nothing. Concern crosses Mag’s face. “Yes,” they say, “since you passed all those people through your checkpoint. So, as you know, we have ten teams still in, seventy-five people. Another thirty washed out. We broke a hundred participants. Way exceeding our goal. Of fifty.”
The goal part I remembered. I try not to resent that I was clearly not needed, because I know how unfair that is. “Mom must be thrilled.”
“Over the moon,” they say. Then lower, “Why does this seem like news to you?”
I’m not sure how to answer.
Luke steps in. “Our date may have gone the slightest bit sideways. Nothing to worry about.”
Sometimes having a boyfriend who lies as easily as he breathes comes in handy. “I’d better go check in with Mom.”
“I’ll stay out here,” Luke says. “Unless you want me to come with?”
“Nah, that’s okay.” Luke will only remind Mom of all her issues with me. But I don’t want to face her alone. “Mag, do you mind coming in with me?”
They give me a shrug and a “No problem.”
We enter, but Mom’s not up front. Bosch is though. I bend to give my dog a hug, one of her favorite things. When I stand, Mag is looking at me funny and then they open their arms and I step into the hug.
“Thank you,” I say. “It’s been a lot of day.”
“Hey, I know you,” Mag says. “Disappointing people is your kryptonite. Your mom will get past this. She’s just worried about you.”
My emotions threaten to flood me like an engine. Worse, to short-circuit my brain. My feelings are as intense as my senses, now that I have a moment and my best friend has nailed my emotional state.
I take a deep breath and push the feelings to arm’s length, the same way Luke advised with his heightened senses. I flush with embarrassment as I back up. “Sorry,” I say.
They hesitate. Then, “What’s going on?”
“It’s … Sean.”
Mag frowns. “The new James Bond? What do you mean?”
“I see him more as a Hemsworth.”
Mag tilts their head. “Good call.”
Talking with them centers me. “You know our big idea? The giving people second chances? He’s the test case Lucifer forced on us.”
“Not Agnes?”
“Not Agnes.” I huff. “He also wants to find the Holy Grail. We’ve agreed to help him. For now.”
Mag’s eyes go wide.
I don’t even bother with the part about my having Luke’s powers. That’s too much. And it would lead to admitting how I cheated today. I don’t want Mag complicit in that.
Mom bustles in from the back then, humming the theme song for the She-Ra reboot. “Callisto! You’re back!” Mom says. “We made enough to pay off the rest of the repairs.” Turns out an act of God wasn’t something we could claim on the place’s insurance. Another disaster courtesy of my adventures.
“Amazing!” I chirp. “What time should we be here tomorrow?”
Mom puts one hand on her hip. “Where’s your shirt?”
“Uh,” I say, articulately.
She goes on. “And you’re not coming home tonight—did you tell me that?”
Oh, good point. We have nowhere else to stay without going back to Hell—where we can’t take Sean yet.
Mag jumps in. “She’s staying with me. I think they stopped by home already?” they say and I nod with gratitude at their quick cover story. “I’m going to tell her Jared’s and my big news.”
Mom relaxes. “Ah. Okay, see you tomorrow. Be here by eleven.” She pauses. “No, wait, ten thirty.”
“Great.” I don’t risk another hug, especially not a Mom hug. “Do you mind if Bosch comes home with you?”
“Never,” she says. “Honey, my house is home as long as and whenever you need it. I didn’t mean that earlier. I just needed to say something.”
“No, you’re right,” I say. “I’m working on it. I promise.” Not in a way you’ll approve of, but we can’t have everything …
“I know, sweetie.” Mom nods. “Love you.”
I repeat it back and even at arm’s length the emotion is a deep river.
As soon as we’re outside, Mag asks, “Where are you going to go? You guys can stay with me.”
Luke, Jared, and Sean stand awkwardly a few feet away, not talking.
Mag’s one-bedroom studio will be a snug fit for this crowd, to say the least. We’ll go to a hotel. I imagine with my powers I can (cheat and) get us a suite.
I’m not ready to give up on figuring out Sean. We need research. A plan.
“That’s all right,” I say. “We’ve got somewhere to go for the night.” I remember Mag’s cover story. “What’s this news of yours?”
“Oh.” They duck their head, a little shy. “We’re moving in together. End of the month.”
“That’s great. I’m happy for you.” If I let my feelings surge, they’d be a mix of happiness and envy. Their relationship looks so easy. I know it’s because I’m on the outside of it, and that no relationship is easy. But they’re from the same world. Home court advantage, to steal the kind of sport speak Jared might use.
“Congrats!” I call to Jared. And I add: “You better learn to squeeze the toothpaste tube from the bottom. Finally.”
Jared laughs. “They already schooled me on that one.”
Mag speaks just to me. “Jared hasn’t told his landlord yet. You could take over his lease—think about it.”
I have a little money saved and I have been thinking about moving. But it makes me uncomfortable they’ve been discussing me. Poor Callie, let’s help her. This is my best friend though, who covered for me without asking. “Okay, I will,” I say.
“All right then.” Mag smiles. “See you tomorrow. Good luck.” Mag goes over to kiss my brother and no doubt fill him in on what he’s missed.
I decide that we deserve to stay somewhere nice and land on the fanciest hotel in our town. I should say the fanciest I know about. Or at least the hippest. It has a free art gallery Mag and I have spent many afternoons strolling through, loving and hating on bizarre and gorgeous contemporary art by turns. Also, a restaurant we’ve eaten at a couple times named Lockbox because the building used to be a bank.
Special occasions only, because it’s spendy. But if this doesn’t count as special I don’t know what would. What a day. What a date.
“Time to go?” Luke asks.
“Beyond.” Figuring out Sean’s past, present, and, maybe, future is our next order of business.
Luke convinces me all I need is to apply some light suggestion to the clerk. Apparently his powers aren’t limitless—not that he’s disclosed the places they stop short.
And so inside an hour we’ve Lyfted—to give zappitying a break—and checked into the last suite available at the 21c Museum Hotel. That’s how Luke and I find ourselves headed up a hotel hallway, keycards in hand. I’m feeling tired, superpowers or no, and I can tell Luke’s dragging. But we have to get some answers to sleep on.
So much for the not-much-sleeping night I anticipated in Luke’s apartments.
I find our room number along the hall and swipe. Luke and I enter first and Sean stays in the hall. The room is spacious with a private bedroom off a large lounge area with sleek furniture that I hope is more comfortable than it looks. A wide skylight shows a swath of stars and black night.
“Do I have to invite you in like a vampire?” I say to Sean.
It takes him a moment to respond. “My mind chose that moment to remind me where I was at this time yesterday.”
“Well,” I say, gently, “you won’t have to go back there, if this works out. So, come on in. There’ll be room service—something else Hell lacks.”
“Not strictly true,” Luke says.
“Even outside the palace?”
“Beings of pure evil still have to eat,” he says, and flings his body onto a chaise so much more gracefully than I’d be able to, it hardly seems fair. “They work up quite the appetite.”
“Subject change, please, before I lose mine,” Sean says, and comes into the room. “What kind of food are we talking?”
I rummage through the tidy array of publications on the glass-topped desk until I find a menu and pass it to him. “Live it up. It’s on your Venmo victim.”
He doesn’t protest. He opens the menu, and walks over to the hard-angled but generously sized couch and sinks onto it, eyes closed with a smile of complete happiness, as if he’s seen a glimpse of the good place. “They have biscuits,” he says.
His accent has mostly settled into the British I’ve begun to think of as its home turf. Their biscuits are cookies with tea, something I know from books. I haven’t been many places, but the list is growing: Hell, Portugal, now Italy, Vatican City, and Spain. I should wish a passport into existence. I content myself with pursuing the biscuit lead.
“So you’ve traveled here?” I ask.
“Been almost everywhere,” he says.
Doesn’t sound like he found anything he wanted in all those places. Who is he?
We don’t know the first thing about him, except what he’s looking for. But soon we will. We have to.
I get our order sorted out and text Mag, Thanks for the hug. It helped. Then I ease down on the room’s other couch beside Luke, who guides me to sit lightly between his thighs. Hotel room. Luke. His scent, masculine and clean and, best of all, familiar. I wish again that we were alone.
“Sorry you had to lie to your mom,” he says as he leans forward, his chest against my back. It feels so good to have him behind me, body and, I think, soul.
“I could leave you the room and eat downstairs.” Sean sounds amused. And a touch jealous.
“No,” I say. Luke backs off a fraction. “Let’s talk. We need to know more about you.”
“But I’m so shy.” He arranges his lips into a pout.
“Good luck with that. I’m used to this one here.”
Luke settles a hand on my waist over my T-shirt. “She’s got you there. If you don’t want to be up with us all night, start talking.”
Sean lies down on the couch so we can’t see his face, legs stretched out long.
We may be about to provide free therapy. Why, yes, that is a twinge of sympathy for this pain in my ass. I’ve learned enough about Hell that I question whether anyone except the worst of the worst can deserve to be there. We don’t all start out with the same head start on morality and ethics and caring. That difference in circumstance follows us like an invisible weight, making feather-light souls heavier, harder to carry, than they would be without it. I know Luke must feel it too, since he discovered he has one.
“Let’s start big. Who is Sean Tattersall?” I lean back into Luke’s chest.
Sean coughs a dry laugh, but then he answers.
“The greatest con man who ever lived,” he says.
I wait for the punch line that doesn’t come. Is he serious? Because the truth is, it tracks.
“What about Victor Lustig?” I ask. “He sold the Eiffel Tower twice, and ran a scam on Capone,” I explain to Luke.
“An amateur compared to Sinner Sean,” Sean says. “You don’t know my name because there’s more competition for newsprint than in Lustig’s day.”
That is certainly true.
The knowledge hits me that we haven’t even done the most basic thing. We haven’t googled Sean’s name. If he’s only been in Hell for five years, he must have a digital footprint.
The room service knocks—that was fast—and I sit up. “Can you get that?” I ask Luke.
I sneak my phone from my pocket and open the browser, tap in Sean’s name. He sits up as the waiter bustles in to present us with half the menu in elegant domed dishes, setting out a spread worthy of a royal court. Burgers, truffle fries, biscuits, a Southern cheese plate, and fried chicken. Too much for three people, but probably nothing compared to what the waiter has seen before.
“Tip,” I say and then think better of leaving the task to Luke or Sean—who knows what either of them understands about tipping—and pass the waiter a hundred.
The waiter leaves, and I turn to Luke. “Those aren’t counterfeit, right? The bills I make.”
Sean stands beside us and shakes his head at me. “What a lamb you are.”
Luke says, “Money makes the world go round. Hell has an endless supply of it. It’ll spend.”
Satisfied, I hit enter on my search of Sean’s name. Too many results come back.
Luke and Sean both dig in, but I stay with refining my search. Luke comes over with a burger and a plate of fries and peers over my shoulder. “Con artist, hmm?” he asks and feeds me a fry. Perfect crisp salty goodness. “Add theft,” he says.
He’s right. That’s something most cons have in common. I enter the new term.
Bingo.
I scroll down the first page, and hit next, and then scroll down the next page. Sean has been a busy, naughty boy. I think we’ll learn more about him by reading these than asking him more direct questions he can dodge. Will it be enough to get more truth from him? Enough to redeem him? That remains to be seen.
“You know what, we’ve had enough truth or dare for one day. Sean, take whatever food you want in there.” I nod toward the suite’s bedroom. “Luke and I will sleep out here on the couch. Don’t get any ideas about taking off.”
Luke has a frown. “It pulls out,” I say. And then, “Neither of you make a joke.”
“I would never,” Luke lies and goes back to inhaling his burger.
Sean artfully balances the fried chicken and a plate he’s loaded with biscuits and other things and nods to us as he disappears. “I hope there are earplugs in here.”
“We’re working,” I say.
“Uh-huh,” Sean says, and vanishes into the bedroom with a click of the door.
I flush as I remember what we’d be doing if today had gone as planned. Settling in for a romantic night. Crossing the intimacy Rubicon, which is how I’ve been thinking of our finally having sex.
Luke looks a question at me. “Why’d you banish him?”
“He is a con artist. We’ve got some reading to do.”
“Ah.” Luke nods and his eyes blink sleepily. He’s already eaten the entire cheeseburger.
He’s asleep before I’ve finished the first article about Sean. I let him rest.
I keep reading. My greatest gift, an attention span that will easily last way past my bedtime.
What I learn about Sean Tattersall gives me even more questions that he won’t answer. It makes me triply curious about what he wants with the Holy Grail.
But it also makes me think we might be able to save him after all.