Whatthefuckhadcome over me, bringing her into a closed museum? Why hadn’t I just left her room once I’d seen she was okay?
I stretched my wings in irritation.
“And this one I’m sure is a flower. I bet it’s beautiful. It is, isn’t it, Lucian? What’s it called?”
Her questions do not stop.My head hurt, but I had to grudgingly admit I admired her curiosity and adaptability to new situations.
“It is a bluebonnet.”
“I remember those,” she squealed, throwing a blank glance over her shoulder, her face pulled into an excited smile. “When I was little in the spring, one of the sisters grew some in the front, near the door.” Her eyebrows furrowed. “Wonder if they’re still there. If they are, I’m going to feel their petals to see if the texture matches the painting.”
How in damnation can she be so happy when her life is such a dismal world of black? I don’t understand.
She moved along the wall, and I followed, silently pulling barricades from her path with my power, ensuring she didn’t trip or smash into anything.
When she encountered a perpendicular wall blocking her path, she twisted toward me. “Do I still have time to see more?”
Her thirty minutes had passed a while ago, but I shook my head. I found denying her anything difficult and unsettling. Then I remembered she couldn’t see my unspoken answer.
“Come with me.” I took her cold, tiny hand and led her to the next exhibit. “This room is filled with all manner of human creations over the centuries, mainly weapons of war.”
“Like what knights used?” Her curly hair floated around her face, unbrushed and untamed.
“Yes. These particular soldiers fought in the Crusades, hiding behind God, and using it as an excuse to conquer and claim.” I smiled at the memory. “We had quite an influx of souls during that time. Imagine their surprise when they landed in Hell instead of Heaven.” Chuckling, I tugged the annoying little human to an empty suit of armor and placed her hand on a greave, which had covered the lower leg of a warrior at one time.
“Did you kill these knights and take them to Hell yourself?” Her fingernails scrabbled across the metal as she traced the surface.
“No.” Using a wing, I gently guided her hand away from the sword propped near the suit of armor’s leg. “I mostly punish the wicked who arrive of their own actions, though there are occasions where I will actively intercede and drag someone to Hell.”
“Why?” Her touch rose higher to pluck at the chainmail under the breastplate, the metallic clash of metal on metal a tinkle in the darkened museum.
“Because sometimes I just get bored and like to piss off God.”
“That’s mean.”
I quirked an eyebrow and gathered my wings to my back. “So is God letting a little girl go blind.”
“God didn’t let me go blind,” she retorted, a hint of steel in her voice.
“Well, God certainly didn’t intercede on your behalf.”
“Sister Carrie said that God never gives us more than we can handle, and there is always a lesson we can learn from our misfortune.”
I laughed, the sound careening through the tall room. Stepping next to Anna, I leaned a hip against a supporting column and crossed my arms.
“Dear little Anna, those sisters and priests you love so much will always have an excuse for the sickness and injustice in this world. It’s the only way they can bear the burden of what they see and do not understand.”
She pouted her bottom lip and opened her mouth as if to argue.
“Come on.” I took her wrist and pulled her to the next display. “This is a statue of the Virgin Mary. I’m sure you’ll fall to your knees and weep when you feel it.”
“Really?” she gasped.
I rolled my eyes.
After this, I’m dumping her back in her room and washing my hands of the little nuisance.
Chapter 9
