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  “Normal. Right.” Mike knew how to put up a serious military face no matter what the circumstances, and cleared his throat, standing up straighter as the doors opened and Barrett casually greeted what staff had arrived a few minutes early on a Monday morning. He showed Mike around a bit, with the usual stops of where the food and bathroom were, and a quick spin around Cubicle Row, complete with a pole full of handmade “street signs” that pointed to various places on earth, much like the one on M*A*S*H.

  Angela walked in then, and almost did a double-take. She hadn’t seen Mike’s photo more than once or twice, and even then it was always in fatigues. He was taller than Barrett, but only by an inch, and had far more muscular bulk. She couldn’t help but run her eyes up and down him, admiring.

  “Hey, Angela, I’d like you to meet my brother, Michael.”

  “Ma’am,” he said softly, putting out a hand.

  “Oh... yes, of course,” she said, shaking his hand with a warm smile. “You were in the service, right? But you’re back now?”

  “Yeah. Purple heart and everything.”

  “Oh...! Are you all right?”

  “Yeah. Am now. It all worked out.”

  Barrett chuckled. “Yeah, he couldn’t handle the desk job in Sacramento, so I figured maybe he could work for me, here.”

  “It was... very gray and utilitarian,” he explained, a little amused and a little annoyed. Couldn’t handle...?

  Barrett ignored him. “Where’s David?”

  “He had a dentist appointment...” Angela started to say right as the dynamic, portly man burst through the front door, waving a hand.

  “HAD a dentist appointment,” he said, walking straight up to Barrett. “Rescheduled for Wednesday afternoon. Who’s the new guy?” David had nothing up top and a scruffy beard on the bottom, and although he was nearly as wide as he was tall, he was surprisingly energetic and sharp-witted. Occasionally he was just as sharp-tongued, but most people liked the outgoing office manager, and forgave his sometimes overly blunt delivery of what was always the truth, whether the recipient wanted to hear it or not.

  “Michael Mason,” said Mike, putting out his hand. David, sharp as he was, could see the family resemblance and immediately suspected nepotism, but shook his hand cordially.

  “Nice to meet you, Michael. Can I call you Mike? What are you going to be doing for your brother, anyway?”

  “Uh... I have no idea, actually. And Mike is fine.” He looked to his older brother for help.

  “Don’t worry, David, he’s not taking your job,” Barrett said with a chuckle. “We’ll fit him in someplace.” He clapped the stout man on the shoulder, then turned to his brother. “David’s the office manager. Takes care of things when I’m out of town, generally keeps things running smoothly.”

  “I keep the machinery oiled, like in Metropolis,” he joked.

  “Except you’re in the manager class, not the worker class,” said Barrett, keeping pace. When the two really got going, they could have the place rolling on the floor, and in fact David did occasionally haunt comedy clubs on open mike nights. Angela, knowing she’d been upstaged again, rolled her eyes and went back to her desk.

  “Oh yeah? Then what’s that giant clock machine thing doing in the basement?” David quipped. Mike grinned – he was liking this guy more and more by the minute.

  “What do you think keeps the lights on?” Mike added. “It’s not his sparkling personality.”

  David chuckled, an unspoken agreement and friendship coming into being. “You’re all right. Hey, you guys up for lunch together? There’s a new sandwich shop next to the park I want to try.”

  “Sounds perfect,” said Barrett. “I’m gonna show Wonder Boy here some more stuff, and I’ll see you at the 10:00 meeting, all right?”

  “Sure thing. Some good stuff to discuss for San Fran. Need to get the new displays figured out, for one.”

  “Yep, I know,” said Barrett over his shoulder, then took Mike to his office and closed the door, but left the blinds open in a gesture of friendliness to the rest of his employees.

  “Got some good people here,” Mike said, walking over to the wall of windows behind his brother’s desk and admiring the view.

  “Absolutely. They know their stuff, and it’s like a family here, kind of. The whole thing has been so good to me,” said Barrett, a little wistful. “I’m really lucky.”

  Mike turned and saw a softness in his brother’s eyes that wasn’t there often, and knew the last bit had been meant for him. He smiled back gently, then pulled him into a light hug.

  “Me too.”

  They both sighed a little, then Barrett patted Mike’s back and stepped away, moving over to his desk. He pulled out a catalog and plunked it onto the walnut surface, then motioned for his brother to take his seat.

  “Here’s our wholesale catalog. First thing, get familiar with what we’re currently selling, then you can sit in on the 10:00. You want some tea?”

  “Please.” He didn’t bother to say “extra cream and sugar” because he knew Barrett already knew. He stole one last look out the big windows, then eased into the leather executive chair and leaned back, taking up the elegant catalog. Barrett nodded, then went off to get the tea, giving Mike some alone time.

  Mike couldn’t help but contrast this office with the gray one he would have had. The C.O. had been none too pleased with his sudden departure after only one day, and of course there was mountains of paperwork to fill out so that he was officially out, but that would come later. Barrett’s office was in warm browns with a hint of color here and there – still sleek and modern, like his condo, but with bits of real life and nature and even imperfection. On the walls were prints of places Barrett had been on buying trips: Egypt, China, India, Mexico, Bali, and places Mike couldn’t identify. On a shelf rested an exquisite pottery bowl, the glaze an iridescent copper with a splash of metallic blues and greens contrasting with a matte black. He’d never seen anything like it, and it reminded him of something.

  Your wings.

  Mike nearly jumped out of his skin and turned toward the door. Barrett handed him his tea.

  Your wings. Sometimes, in the light, they get an iridescent sheen a little bit like that.

  “...Do they?” Mike stammered, taking the cup. Some part of his brain had forgotten what he and his brothers now were.

  “Yeah,” said Barrett with a wistful grin. “And we should probably be more careful about not suddenly switching how we’re talking or people are going to think we’re nuts.” He sipped his tea, amused.

  Mike nodded, still taking it all in. “What kind of a bowl is this? I mean... how do they get those colors?”

  “It’s called Raku. They use a lot of copper in the glaze, then they do what’s called a reduction firing. They fire it, then put it in a barrel with shredded newspaper, then put a lid on once the heat of the pot catches the paper on fire.” He picked up the bowl and handed it to Mike so he could get a proper look. “That oxidizes the glaze, and it also gives the unglazed parts this black color. I love this stuff.”

  “It’s amazing. Where do you get it?” He was still thinking back to what Barrett had said, unable to believe that his feathers could look anything like the exquisite artwork in his hand.

  “Japan, mostly.” Barrett went over to his desk drawer and pulled out the large feather he’d hidden there. The color was a dark gray, not the glossy black Mike had developed into, but it still gave enough of an iridescent sheen in the light that it proved his point. They’re so much more vibrant now. I wish you could get a good look at them some time.

  Mike's eyes had widened a little when his brother had pulled out the feather from the desk. Of course he’d recognized it immediately as his own, and knew it was from that very first night.

  “Keep it around as a memento, huh?” He put the bowl back and sipped his tea.

  Barrett knew he was talking about the feather, and not the bowl, and held it up a little before hiding it back away.
>
  “Yep.”

  Mike chuckled softly and went back over to look through the catalog as Barrett went through a stack of new files. Mason imports didn’t carry a huge number of different things, but there seemed to be a million variations to the ones they did, and it was obvious each item had been selected to be the highest quality possible. Raku pottery from Japan, designed as art pieces rather than functional ones, each one exquisite. Carvings in wood and stone from Egypt, with detail so fine and perfect that it was obvious the descendants of the pharaohs had made them. Textiles from India, sheer and elegant and with a hint of metallic threads here and there. Wool rugs from Peru, woven so fine that Mike almost couldn’t figure out how they were made.

  Then he found the tea section. Page after page of teas: Loose, in bags, in boxes, in tins, in gift sets... every way imaginable. And every flavor imaginable from every tea-drinking country in the world. England, Ireland, India, China, Japan... all of them ranging from simple and organic to the most exotic and elaborate combinations he’d ever seen.

  “Wow,” he finally said.

  “Hm?” said Barrett, looking up.

  “The teas. The selection of... well, all of it. Everything in here seems like it should be in a museum.”

  “Isn’t it great stuff? Only the best. And the teas... hey, you know what I like. That’s our specialty, really.”

  “No kidding. This is amazing,” Mike said, handing back the catalog.

  “No, you need to keep that. Take it home and get familiar. Become one with the inventory...” he said in a mysterious-sounding voice that made Mike laugh.

  “I will, master,” he said, taking a bow. “But do you think my midichlorian count is high enough?”

  Barrett snorted a laugh. “Um... yeah. I’d say yes to that.”

  Just then, David knocked on the partially open door as he pushed it open.

  “You coming?”

  Barrett did a double-take at the clock. “Crap! Yes. Be right there.”

  As the 10:00 meeting started rolling in San Jose (a few minutes late), Brian was attempting to find someone to fix his skylight in Reno. He’d called glass companies, iron companies, historic repair companies, and was getting absolutely nowhere.

  “No, look... I don’t want a new aluminum... I just want the old... yes, it’s damaged. I just told you that. That’s why I need... Yes. I mean, no, the insurance... I can pay you in cash, that’s not the problem... I... Look, just forget it!”

  He stabbed the disconnect button on his phone and was tempted to throw the thing straight through one of the windows, but knew how pointless and stupid that would be, and how much he’d regret it later. With a growling sigh, he leaned back in his chair and then sipped his coffee, mind working out how he could get his skylight back the way it was. Or even close. He’d settle for close.

  After finally finishing his coffee and a quick snack of a breakfast, he got back to work on the Saint Joseph window. He’d rigged some artificial lights to get by with, and it was working out okay. Not great, not like his skylight, but it would do. He cranked up some music and dug in, losing himself in the meditation of re-shaping a section of lead came so that the repair pieces would fit in properly. Then it came to him.

  “Jeff! Oh my god... Jeff could do the framework, and I could do the glass...” Jeff did industrial metal work, but also some sculpture. The two had met at the same stained glass class that had started everything off for Brian. Jeff had been curious about how it was done, since he was occasionally asked to help do preservation work on old metal-frame windows, including church stained glass. One quick phone call later, an appointment had been set up, another call was made to locate who had the right plate glass in stock, and Brian set back to work with a grin on his face. The natural order of things, or at least his workshop, would soon be restored.

  TEN

  Evening saw Brian so absorbed in his work, the music blasting, that he didn’t even hear or feel his brothers come in until a movement out of the corner of his eye startled him. He’d felt them bring their wings out about two hours earlier, and that had made him dive into his work deeper than usual -- he wanted to ignore that they were together, probably flying around, without him.

  “Christ, you guys!” he said, putting a hand on his chest dramatically. “Warn a guy before you just go all angelic visitation on him.” They grinned, and Brian welcomed them in with a huge hug. Knowing he’d get little else done, he turned down the music, locked the door, made sure all the windows were closed, and brought his own lonely wings out to join their brothers.

  Something clicked then, a little rightness that grew inside when they were together and all fully in that state. And each time it happened, another tiny thread was added to the growing strand connecting them, even if they didn’t fully realize it. The problems of the day, the stress of phone calls and traffic and bills to be paid and all the stuff of daily life just melted away as if it didn’t matter any more. The only thing that mattered was that they were together.

  “You guys want to go out flying?” asked Brian brightly, but Barrett shook his head.

  “We just got here. We were thinking more like dinner, then flying after.”

  Brian nodded, his smile a little faded, but he understood. They’d just flown all the way from San Jose, and the fact that they’d waited to have dinner so that they could share it with him meant a lot. It was then he realized that Barrett was wearing a business suit, which meant he hadn’t even stopped at his house first.

  “Sure, what do you guys feel like?”

  “Indian?” suggested Mike, and they all nodded.

  “Perfect,” said Barrett.

  “I know just the place,” said Brian, washing his hands in the utility sink before changing his shirt. He looked down at his stained jeans, sighed, and went back in and changed those too. “Okay, now I’m actually ready.”

  “How far is it?” asked Barrett.

  “Like... a couple miles? It’s downtown.”

  “Can we fly there?” asked Mike, not winded from the trip in the least, and sensing Brian’s need to get airborne.

  “Oh... Yes, I don’t see why not,” said Brian, brightening. “We could just land somewhere private and then de-cloak, you know?”

  Barrett chuckled softly and nodded. “All right, all right. Flying it is. You lead.”

  With a huge grin, Brian launched himself straight through the ceiling, intangible, Mike close on his heels

  Barrett concentrated, then pushed off, tapping into the feeling he’d found when trying to escape the fire before, and found himself outside above the studio, his brothers nearby.

  “Okay, I can’t be the only one thinking this,” he said, giving in a little to the lack of normalcy he still battled with inside. “But is some of this stuff getting easier?”

  Brian cocked his head, thinking. He’d been so busy working and wrestling with getting his skylight fixed that he actually hadn’t been pondering the things they could do. But now that his brother had mentioned it, he started to wonder.

  “I think... yeah.” said Mike, nodding. “Maybe it’s me making things up, but it seems like it’s easier when we’re together, too.”

  “That’s it. Or part of it,” said Barrett. “Things feel different when we’re all together. Stronger.”

  A little shiver went through all three of them as they flew and looked at each other. As they glided over Reno, each of them felt that little rush of excitement all over again as what they were and what they were doing at that moment struck them almost anew.

  “Only been, what, a few days?” Brian said, leading them downward into a dark area behind the row of buildings that housed the Indian restaurant.

  “Since all this started? Since Friday, I think,” said Barrett. “Everything’s been such a blur. Seems a lot longer, though.”

  “Like a lifetime,” said Mike, putting his wings away when his feet hit the ground. One by one they did the same, becoming visible again, just like ordinary men.

&nb
sp; Inside, the strong aromas of the Indian food made their mouths water and stomachs growl. Evening was falling, and lunch had been hours previous. Barrett and Mike had eaten with David at the new sandwich shop, but Brian had only grabbed some popcorn and was now starvingly hungry. They perused the menu, Brian humming to himself and picking out some mattar paneer and dalchini pulao with flatbread and yogurt dip. Mike, however, was taking forever to decide.

  “What’s wrong?” asked Barrett.

  “I just...” He hadn’t been able to quite put his finger on it, and shook his head a little. Then he leaned in and looked at his brothers, finally deciding what the growing nagging feeling was. “Okay, maybe it’s me, but... eating meat just seems wrong,” he said quietly

  Brian blinked at him. This, coming from the man who had eaten almost nothing but meat for years, was completely unexpected.

  “Wrong?” Barrett simply looked at him with an unreadable, mild expression.

  “Yeah, like... what we are. You know?” He leaned in even closer, but then remembered they had other ways of not being heard by others. Seems like eating a dead animal isn’t something an angel should be doing.

  Brian, still a bit stunned to be hearing this from Mike, especially inside his head, looked between them to see what would happen next. To his growing surprise, Barrett nodded a little.

  “I didn’t realize it until you just said it, but I guess I’ve been choosing meatless things since all this started. Huh.”

  “Listening to your gut in more ways than one,” said Mike with a little chuckle. He turned to Brian. “What are you having?”

  Brian blinked again, belatedly realizing he’d been spoken to. “Oh! Uh... paneer, which is this soft handmade cheese, and it’s in a curry with peas, and spiced rice, and flatbread.”

  “Sounds good. I’ll have the same,” said Mike, putting down his menu.

  “I’m trying the chana masala, and it comes with some kind of rice and potato side,” said Barrett. “You’re welcome to try some of mine, too.”

  Brian grinned, nodding. “We’ll all share, okay? I love doing that.”