Page 144 of Stealing Embers
Twisting in her direction, Deacon answers her. “I think this is something you have to see for yourself. Come on, girls. Let’s get out of the hallway.”
I carry Tinkle in my hands as we traverse the spaceship-like hallway. Turning on a heel when we reach her, Sable leads us past four doors before stopping at the one at the end of the corridor. After punching a code into the lighted panel recessed into the shiny wall, she nudges the door open and gestures for us to follow.
We enter a small living area. A tendril of unease weaves its way through my belly. Eloise and Laurent are seated in sofa chairs around an oval coffee table. Eloise presses a teacup to her lips, sipping some of the steaming liquid. Pulling the cup back, she tilts her head as she regards our group.
Laurent stands as soon as the door shuts behind us. “What’s happened?”
“That’s what I’d like to know.” Deacon settles his shoulder against the doorframe before folding his arms across his chest.
Ash and I exchange another weighted look. She shrugs a shoulder, which I take to mean that this is all me.
Shifting from side to side, I side-eye the Durands. I’m hesitant to share this news with them in the room. I don’t really know them and this is important information.
Okay, it’s only Laurent that gives me pause . . . Eloise seems cool.
“Emberly?” Sable prompts.
Oh, fine.
“Yeah, so . . .” This is so awkward. “We found this.” I bring my cupped hands up and forward for the adults to see. Tinkle is on all fours. His nose twitches, but besides that he’s frozen.
“You found a squirrel?” Sable squints as she regards the rodent in my hands. Her eyes flick to me, her face scrunched in confusion.
“Ah . . . no.” How is it that the Celestial hasn’t reacted to being called a squirrel yet? “Come on, Tinkle. Do your thing.”
There’s a gurgle and Eloise’s porcelain teacup rattles against the saucer. “Did you just call that creature ‘Tinkle’?”
“I didnotname it.” I’m quick to defend myself. “That’s what he said he wanted to be called.”
A feminine giggle escapes Eloise’s lips. She brings a hand up to cover her mouth. I don’t blame her—this whole thing sounds ridiculous.
“Yo, dude.” I bring Tinkle up to my eye level. “Shoot some sparkles out your backside or something.”
He cocks his nutshell head at me, his dark eyes unblinking black beads.
“What’s going on here?” Laurent asks. “Is this some sort of joke?”
“No, I swear. I’m being a hundred percent serious. This is a Celestial. He’s just in the form of a flying squirrel right now. And up until five minutes ago he was a Chatty Cathy. I don’t know what his problem is now. I think he’s messing with me.”
“There’s no such thing as Celestials.” Laurent scoffs as he retakes his seat. “We tell stories of those mythical creatures to our children to sooth their fears of the spirit realm. Can we please get on with our discussion, Sable? Entertaining these two is an obvious waste of our time.”
Nice to know where Steel learned his people skills.
“Excuse me, sir, but that’s what I thought too.” The Durand patriarch has Ash pulling the “sir” out. I have to press my lips together to keep from smiling. “That is until I watched this little imp fly around our room while shooting fire sparks. And then he changed into a monkey and panther. As you know, Emberly didn’t grow up in our community. She doesn’t know the stories, but I do. I know how unbelievable this sounds, but it’s true. That is a Celestial.”
“I think I heard it talk,” Deacon adds from outside the circle. He hasn’t left his sentry position by the door. “It bit me, too.”
“Well,” Sable plops down on a loveseat to the right of Eloise. Reaching a hand up, she rubs the corner of her eye. “I’m not sure what to say right now. Girls, I’m sorry, but it just looks like a rodent to me.”
Tinkle launches himself from my hands and glides to the coffee table, startling almost everyone in the room, including Laurent, who shoves his chair backward a foot.
Scurrying to the middle of the table, Tinkle grabs a piece of round shortbread off the tray and makes a valiant attempt to shove the whole thing in his mouth. He’s too small to accomplish the task though and ends up jamming the cookie against his face, his thin fingers clutching around the edges.
“Gotta be bigger,” he says right before he explodes in a burst of sparks and dissolving glitter. In the next instant, Tinkle is lying on his back in the form of a large tabby cat. The whole plate of shortbread is gone. Only crumbs remain. Tinkle licks his paws, purring happily.
“See!” I shout, pointing at the feline.
“Oh. Wow. That just happened.” Eloise brings her teacup to her lips, but forgets to take a sip. Her eyes are wide and the cup quivers as she sets it on the saucer.