Free You and I, Me and You by MaryJanice Davidson

back. And Emma Jan stupidly looked at it.
    â€œThat bitch!” Her shriek made us both flinch, and then she flung the mirror to the floor, where it broke. And if it hadn’t, Emma Jan was right there to stomp it with her special-issue shoes: they looked like classy round-toe flats, but you could run in them, and fight in them. And stomp the bejeezus out of my compact mirror with them.
    â€œThat bitch won’t leave me alone!”
    I rubbed my forehead to avoid George’s glare. It was deserved. A slap would have been, too. Handing Emma Jan a mirror at any time was unforgivably stupid. I wouldn’t have done it, and she wouldn’t have taken it, if Michaela’s announcement hadn’t rattled us. But still.
    â€œThere!” She kicked a few of the shreds, scattering them. No chance of a reflection now, not on what was essentially a bunch of blitzed plastic and mirror dust. “Fixed her. You wanna come around again?” she taunted the pile of plastic and shiny dust. “You can have another helping!”
    Emma Jan had mirrored-self misidentification. She thought her reflection in a mirror was another person. Always. We looked and we saw that we needed a haircut, that nudity made us look fat, that the acne medication wasn’t working. She saw another person, the same person who had been following her around to sinister purpose since the first time she looked in a mirror.
    â€œI am so sorry,” I said, embarrassed beyond all measure. “Could you not mention this to Shiro? Ever?”
    Emma Jan squeezed my shoulder. “It’s not your fault that bitch is always around. I ran her off for a while. Let’s use the time—I’d like to take a look at your suicide killer, too. The weekend’s probably shot.”
    â€œIt’s not even five o’clock,” I observed after a glance at my watch.
    She shrugged. “Sussudio’s escalating, we might soon be out of work, and I got the arrest warrant for Jesus. That’s why I came in.”
    â€œYou did? You’re gonna go get him?” George was delighted, almost jumping up and down. “Can we come? Can we? Please? Pleaseplease?”
    â€œUgh, stop it.” She shoved him back a step. “I actually prefer you when you’re being a sexist pig and ramping up the horrible. ‘Please please’ from you is so wrong. It’s freaking me out.”
    â€œNobody wants you freaked out,” I said, which was nothing but bare truth. “Let’s see if we can get Paul in tonight. Let’s go get your guy while we’re waiting. Then let’s see if Paul’s gotten even smarter in the last week.” Since his IQ was more or less immeasurable, anything was possible. And … who was I kidding? I wanted to be there when Emma Jan arrested Jesus, too.

 
    chapter nineteen
    Luckily, Jesus was home.
    â€œAgent Thyme!” the son of God said, delighted. He instantly threw the door open wide and stepped back to usher us in. He was shirtless and wearing olive cargo pants. No socks; no shoes. A bold choice in December. Maybe Friday was Jesus’s laundry day. “I knew you were coming. ‘When ye come to appear before me, who hath required this at your hand, to tread my courts?’ You guys want a Pepsi or some hot chocolate or something?”
    â€œNo, thank you.” Emma Jan checked for mirrors—she’d been to God’s apartment before, so she had a good idea of the interior—and went in; George and I were right behind her. “The time has come, Jesus.”
    â€œAs I also knew. I told you, didn’t I?”
    â€œYou did,” Emma Jan allowed. “You also told me your ex-wife, Trixie, murdered two of your apostles, dismembered their bodies in her bathtub, then poured lye over the whole mess and sent them … ah…” She pulled out her notebook. “… ‘howling and bubbling to Hell via the City of