Free Tapping the Dream Tree by Charles De Lint

feeling so helpless before the fallen angels.
    â€œCan you still hear them?” Christina asks.
    I nod. It’s all I can hear, though Christina and I seem to be alone in that. The concierge, the bellhops, the desk clerk, a couple sitting together surrounded by a small tide pool of luggage, none of them give any indication that they can hear that unheavenly chorus. My ears are ringing, like we just got back from a loud concert.
    â€œLook,” Christina says.
    It’s the guy from the pictures, coming in through the front door into the lobby, big as life and still alive. Of course he’s not due to die for another five days, if the date stamps on the photos are to be believed. Christina gets up to meet him, tugging down the hem of her dress.
    â€œExcuse me, sir,” she says.
    He gives Christina a once-over that makes me really understand—emotionally, as well as intellectually—how she feels when my gaze gets locked on her cleavage.
    I stand up as well, feel like hitting the guy, but Christina plays mind reader again. She puts out a hand to stop me from walking past her.
    â€œWhat can I do for you?” the man asks, implying there’s a great deal and all of it would be pleasurable. What, does he think she’s a hooker and I’m her pimp? It’s that damn dress.
    Christina cuts right to the chase.
    â€œHave you had any dealings with strange beings?” she asks.
    It’s amazing to see the man’s facade collapse, a balloon losing all its air, macho man goes flaccid.
    â€œAre they here?” he asks. Scared now, libido forgotten. “I know we had a deal, but I just need a little more time. Do you know how hard it is to find a teenage virgin in this city?”
    Christina’s revulsion is plain. I don’t even want to know what he needs the virgin for.
    â€œYou better start running,” I tell him.
    It’s funny. He doesn’t question us or anything—what we know, how we know it—just bolts back out the door he came in. Christina and I collapse back on our couch and let the soft cushions envelop us.
    Christina leans her head against my shoulder. “What happens now?”
    â€œYou want to go out there and chance running into them again?”
    She shakes her head.
    â€œMe neither.”
    I dig a charge card out of my pocket. It belongs to one of the lawyers I work for, couple of grand limit. It’s for expenses and normally I wouldn’t touch it.
    â€œI’ll get us a couple of rooms,” I say.
    Christina catches my arm as I start to get up.
    â€œOne room,” she says.
    Of course, later I start in to wondering what happens when the monsters think of us again and that involves another visit to Father Sully. This time I bring Christina with me. She’s wearing a nice flower print cotton dress, another thrift shop find, but this time it’s a winner. We find Sully drinking out of a paper bag in Fitzhenry Park, doing a really lousy job of hiding what he’s got in the bag. I ask him what we can do to keep the monsters from coming after us again.
    â€œLive a good life,” he tells us. “Be good people. Keep hateful thoughts out of your heart and mind. The angels will be too busy tempting sinners and following up on old bargains to even think about you again.”
    That’ll be easy for Christina, I think, but where does it leave me? I’m not the gentlest guy in the world, though lord knows I’ve been trying. I figure with my luck, I’ll have the uglies on my tail within a couple of weeks, though they’ll have to wait in line behind the repo man since I just got my car out of hock again.
    I feel Christina’s fingers twine with mine and turn to look at her.
    â€œI know what you’re thinking,” she says.
    I never could put anything past her.
    â€œI’ll be here to keep you honest,” she tells me.
    Sully gives a big amen to that and I nod in agreement. Looks like