Triune Page 11

  “Campout,” Barrett said finally, then put his wings away as well, and got ready for bed. Brian made them all some tea, remembering that Barrett had wanted some, and they spent the rest of the evening just sitting on the mattress in the middle of the floor and talking. Catching up and discussing what was happening to them. Eventually sleep overtook them, and they nestled under the blankets just like they did when they were kids, an arm sticking out here, a leg there. Barrett smiled to himself in his sleep – it was the most loved he’d felt in years.

  He was first up, as usual, ready to meet the day head-on with a full five hours of sleep. He sat there, hugging his knees, watching them sleep and gazing at the stained glass windows. One thing he observed was that the panes were built into existing double-hung windows that went nearly floor to ceiling and which were separated by brick columns. He also noticed there’d been no seismic upgrade to the old brick building, and he figured a large earthquake could bring the whole thing down.

  At last they began to stir a little, and he kissed them each on the head and went to make coffee. By the time he got back with it, they were sitting up and stretching and blinking.

  “So,” he said, handing out mugs, “what is the deal with that tree?”

  SEVEN

  They stared at it from the futon mattress on the floor, the morning light making it gently luminous, the sun not yet around to that side of the building. The stained glass tree’s textured brown bark seemed ordinary, and in fact Brian had never noticed anything unusual about it in all the previous times he’d gazed at that pane. But now there seemed to be a pattern there that all three of them could vaguely see, but that didn’t seem to want to make itself fully known. Something was missing.

  At the same time, Barrett was putting on his pants, wrinkling his nose in disgust at having not only slept in the previous day’s boxers, but having to wear them a second day before he could get back to...

  “Dammit,” he muttered to himself, and his brothers looked at him. “It’s morning. I’ll have to rent a car and drive all the way back, unless I wait until tonight. Dammit.”

  Brian creased his brow, thinking. “What about last night, though? That lady couldn’t see us. What if you... I don’t know... did... something?”

  Barrett was about to ask what, when Mike cut in. “I did that. Last night. I didn’t know it, but I did. When I left my place, I was kind of mentally telling the universe “you do not see me,” and nobody did. I thought it was just that nobody happened to be around or look toward me, but I think now that it was more than that.”

  Barrett’s brows lifted. It made sense. In the stories about angels that he’d been trying to remember from childhood, they did tend to just appear out of nowhere. But theory was one thing – trying to actually do it and fully own that he, Barrett Mason, could now do these things was still hard for him to get his head around. He looked at his brothers. They looked just the same as the men he had grown up with. Hair turned into bird nests from sleep, enjoying their coffee, in various states of undress, sitting on a futon mattress in the middle of the floor. For a moment he began to doubt that the previous night had been anything but a weird dream. That was when Mike brought his wings out.

  Brian gasped loudly and Barrett had to steady himself against a table. Unable to stop the domino effect, soon Brian’s came out in response, then Barrett had to let go and let them do what they wanted. The gooseflesh raised on their backs and shoulders.

  “Christ...” their oldest breathed. “Warn a guy when you’re gonna do that.” Mike gave them a little sheepish half grin.

  “Sorry. Didn’t think it be that intense. I was going to test my theory. People have seen me around here anyway, so it’s a good place to check, right?” He threw on his jeans from the day before, didn’t bother with a shirt, and laced up his boots. They watched as he poked his head out the front door, looked around, and stepped outside.

  A few people were out and about on the beautiful spring morning, and he simply stood outside the front door, arms crossed, putting out the invisibility vibes. Someone across the street was walking a dog, which barked at him, the owner confused and seeing nothing. Mike chuckled softly, a smirky grin appearing crookedly on one side of his face. A woman on her way to the mini-mart walked right past him, and neither heard nor saw a thing.

  His brothers looked at each other, then at him. He seemed very slightly less... solid. Not transparent like a ghost, just a little misty around the edges. They started to grin a little, then Brian pushed his way past his brothers and stood in the middle of the street.

  Nothing.

  Barrett couldn’t help but laugh softly to himself. “Well. That solves that problem,” he said quietly, then put his wings away again. Brian came back in, giggling, and was about to put his away when Barrett stopped him and went around behind his back.

  He ran his fingers right along the base of his brother’s wings, where they emerged from his back and t-shirt, making Brian shiver and bite his lip, his wings spreading gently, goosebumps running up his back at the touch.

  “What...?”

  “Just seeing... For one thing, I wanted to see how they go through clothing. They just kind of... do. They phase right through the fabric. It’s a trip.”

  “Huh.”

  It was true – much like the edges of Mike had been a little fuzzy when others couldn’t see him, the base of Brian’s wings simply passed through the fabric like a ghost, allowing normal clothing to be worn.

  Now Barrett was getting mesmerized at seeing the perfect white feathers up close in the studio’s multicolored morning light, touching their impossible softness. Moved by their beauty, a lump rose in his throat and he found himself having to take a step backwards. Brian felt that something wasn’t quite right and turned to see his big brother’s eyes shining with emotion. He gazed back, amazed that such a reaction would be for him.

  “I wish you could see yourself...” said Barrett with a little watery smile as he wiped at his eyes. Brian blushed deeply. Mike quietly strode over, his own feathers as dark as his brother’s were light, just in time to see Brian put his away and hug Barrett.

  “It’s just me.”

  Barrett choked out a laugh and held him, pulling Mike into the embrace as well. Their middle brother gently encircled them with his wings, comforting and protective.

  “It’s all of us now, Bear. You’re just as beautiful.”

  In the quiet of the studio, they just stood there. Together, surrounded by the soft, warm, protective wings of an angel, they just held each other, the sunlight slowly drifting higher and brighter in the sky. Time seemed to slow. Brian’s head was on Mike’s shoulder, Barrett’s forehead tipped onto his middle brother’s, all of them seeking comfort in each others’ presence. Then, as if on some hidden cue, they all began to stir gently.

  “I’ll go back in a bit,” said Barrett softly. Mike folded his wings neatly behind himself again and nodded. Brian moved over to the mattress on the floor and started folding up the bedding. Soon, however, they all found themselves standing together and looking at the windows again.

  Barrett stood with his arms crossed, a finger tapping on his bicep, lips pursed. His brow began to crease. “Do these windows open?”

  “Open... yeah, I think they all do,” answered Brian. “I just never do because they’re so damn heavy. He replaced the regular glass, and the lead makes it so the weights in the walls aren’t enough to hold them up. They have to be propped.”

  Barrett nodded and waved a hand at the tree window, indicating that they should give it a try. Brian went and unlocked the catch where the two panes met in the middle, the peacock window above, almost as if sitting on top of the tree’s branches. Mike went over to help.

  “What about the upper pane? I know a lot of these things are painted shut. Stupid, really,” Barrett continued, thinking of the old windows in the 1920s bungalow he’d lost in the divorce. “When you crack open the top one, it lets out heat in the summer.”

  “Y
eah, I don’t know. I’ve never gotten on a ladder and tried to do that. Seemed like too much of a pain in the butt. Maybe even dangerous if it was too heavy and I lost a grip on it. And the skylight opened, so I didn’t worry about it.” He and Mike managed to slide the tree pane up about halfway, then they all realized they needed something to prop it open. Barrett grabbed a piece of scrap metal from the back of the studio – the very piece that had impaled Mike’s shoulder upon impact, though none of them realized it.

  “Now... Mike... you’re the strongest of us, can you see if the top half opens? Lower it until it lines up with the one below it.”

  Mike squinted at him, then looked around for a ladder. “But how am I gonna...”

  “Just fly up there,” said Barrett in a soft voice. He couldn’t help but smile a little, a glint in his eye.

  Mike blinked a few times. “Oh... right...” A slightly sheepish grin snuck up as he realized how obvious the answer was – he even had his wings out still, half forgetting they were there.

  “Okay, precision.” Mike nodded to himself, wondering how exactly he was going to pull it off in such a tight space, but then just decided to go for it. He pushed off lightly, trying to keep his wings behind himself the best he could so they didn’t hit the windows or, as he drew closer to it, the ceiling.

  Biting his lip, he did his best to grasp the frame of the upper window and see if it would move, all the while concentrating on not touching the other glass. Or brushing against it as little as possible.

  “Christ, it’s like playing Operation,” he grumbled to himself as a misplaced wing stroke made the “Michael” window rattle a little. With a careful shove, the peacock window started to slide down, then suddenly it lurched downward freely. He cried out an expletive, muscles straining, trying to prevent the window from crashing down and destroying the other pane as well as itself, all the while conscious that he could break something with his wings. Barrett rushed over to help catch it, and between the three of them, they had it safely propped up behind the tree in short order. An out-of-breath Mike drifted backwards toward the other side of the room, then landed, letting a flappy breath out through his lips.

  “I thought I was gonna lose it for sure,” he said, then stopped cold and cocked his head at the windows, brow furrowing a little. “Hey...”

  They looked at him, then at the windows, then strode over to join him to get a better look themselves.

  The pattern in the bark was made much more distinct by the peacock design behind it. It looked like some kind of diagram, and the eyes of the peacock’s tail feathers formed circles that seemed to mark locations where the lines of the bark’s pattern met.

  “What do you think it...” But Mike’s question was cut off by Brian’s gasp.

  “Wait... waitwait. You know what it reminds me of... hold on.” He ran off and then returned with an old book, flipping through it until he found the page he wanted. They looked back and forth between the book and the tree diagram, until finally Barrett spoke up.

  “So what is that thing?”

  “It’s the tree of life. Well, this version of it. This is a diagram of the Kabbalah tree of life. And that kind of looks similar, but not the same.” They nodded in unison – the circles were in different places, but it still formed a sort of ladder of “stations,” starting with one at the bottom of the trunk, where it touched the ground, and branching out to three where the green leaves started. But unlike the Kabbalah diagram, the three circles were exactly on the same horizontal line with each other. Completely equal in status.

  Barrett took the book and turned it over in his hand. The title was Masonic Symbolism: Its Roots and Origins. He grunted at it and handed it back to Brian.

  “One of the first jobs I did with Mr. Jefferson was a window for the Barstow Masonic Hall,” their youngest explained. “Picked this up at a used book store because I was curious.”

  Mike got out his phone and took a picture, then sent it to their phones so they’d all have it, even if they were separated. “Seems important. This can’t be an accident. And the other windows...”

  “They don’t make sense, though,” said Barrett. “What do flowers have to do with anything? And that saint guy...?”

  “Saint Peter. He has the keys to heaven. See them?” Brian moved over to point at the tell-tale symbolism, and they looked at each other.

  “Heaven?” Mike said quietly, a shared shiver going up their spines. The connection between angels and heaven was obvious, even if it hadn’t occurred to them consciously until that moment.

  “One thing at a time,” muttered Barrett after an uncomfortable silence. “Okay, let’s assume, based on the evidence of the... other three windows, that the rest of the windows could be related to us.”

  “You mean the angel ones?” Brian asked brightly, some of the brightness an exaggeration in order to needle his brother.

  Barrett stopped, mouth open and about to speak, and looked at him. “Yes,” he said slowly and a little patiently, knowing exactly what Brian was up to, “the angel ones.” His brothers snickered, and he couldn’t help but smirk a little, then continue. “So we have Saint Peter, some California poppies, the tree and peacock, of course, and what else?”

  Mike, realizing that the open window made it relatively easy for someone passing outside to hear them talking, motioned for them to help close things back up again.

  “There’s lightning, a mermaid, a dragon, and an open book,” said Brian, turning the catch in the middle of the windows and locking them up again once they were back in place. “Dragons usually represent Satan, or the forces of evil. Saint George and the Dragon, that kind of thing. Sometimes you see Saint Michael killing one.” He blinked at what he’d just said and turned to Mike, who looked less than pleased.

  “Please, God... do not tell me that I have to fight a dragon. Or that they even exist. Because this rabbit hole’s already deep enough.” Mike flicked his wings in annoyance behind him and scowled at the window.

  “Uh... probably more like the forces of evil. If anything...?” Brian suggested weakly. Barrett waved a hand.

  “Might not mean anything. Some of these might not even be related to us at all,” he said, still looking at the windows.

  “But they might!” protested Mike, who was growing more agitated. His brothers each put a hand on one of his shoulders, and he crossed his arms, brow creasing.

  “But they might not. Besides, it’s not like you’re alone. Whatever it means, if it’s even connected, we’ll face it together.” Barrett managed a little reassuring smile, and Mike sighed with a nod.

  “Together,” he said, sounding not quite entirely convinced that the dragon didn’t have to do with him directly somehow.

  “Maybe it’s a good dragon,” offered Barrett. “They’re a good thing, in Asia.”

  “That’s a European kind, though,” said Brian, who winced when Barrett sent him a warning look. “But he doesn’t look very mean,” he added, trying to salvage it. Michael just rolled his eyes and fell silent. Barrett went back to the open book on the work table.

  “Okay, so this tree thing. What are you supposed to do with it? What does it mean?”

  Brian nodded. “It’s like the path to heaven. A person’s spiritual journey. You start here,” he said, touching the bottom circle labeled Malkuth, “and eventually, if you do everything right, you climb up to here.” His finger slid upward to the top circle labeled Kether. Barrett laid his phone next to the diagram, since his had the biggest display, and they compared the two.

  “Well, this doesn’t look anything like the other one, the circles are all different” Barrett said with a sigh. “But I do see the similarities. So what does it mean?”

  “And what’s with the black one in the middle?” added Mike, finally having shaken his disturbance over the whole dragon thing.

  “Black one?” Barrett looked more closely at the two diagrams. Somehow he’d missed it, especially in the more subtle form of the glass windows – there
was a black circle in the upper center of the tree, and in the diagram.

  “Da’at. The Key,” Mike muttered as he examined the book for himself. “The key... the key to what?”

  “Enlightenment, supposedly,” said Brian. “It’s the void where enlightenment is.”

  “A black hole where you find enlightenment,” muttered Barrett with a little derisive snort. “Sounds like an oxymoron. Like jumbo shrimp.” Brian couldn’t help but chuckle a little.

  “Well, if this is where we’re going, I guess we’ll find out what it really means,” he said quietly with a soft smile. “In the mean time... breakfast?”

  “Yes,” said Mike suddenly. “I’m starved. What about that waffle place again?”

  “Sounds good to me,” said Barrett, putting away his phone. “Then I gotta go home for a change of clothes and a shower.”

  “Oh! Can we come? I want to see your place,” said Brian, excited to fly anywhere at all with them, let alone all the way to San Jose to see his brother’s new condo. He suddenly realized he’d just invited both himself and his brother along, and belatedly looked over at them. “I mean... if that’s okay with...”

  Barrett chuckled at his enthusiasm and nodded. “Fine with me. Mike?”

  “Sounds good,” said their middle brother, smiling. He stretched his back, one wing reaching out at a time, first the right, then the left. He grunted with satisfaction as he felt a little crack between his shoulder blades, then put his wings away and scrubbed at his scalp. Realizing they were watching him, he shot them a little smirky grin, punched Barrett lightly on the shoulder, then rummaged around in the balled up bedding in order to find his shirt. Brian chuckled and went off to change into some fresh clothes for the day.

  Soon they were all sitting at the restaurant, hair combed and faces washed, even though two of them were a little rumpled. Barrett’s suit jacket and tie back had been left at the studio, and they’d apologetically borrowed some of Brian’s deodorant.