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  “No.”

  “Mike...”

  He found himself leaning against the wall, his head against the hard bricks, his naked back brushed with soft, dark feathers. He shivered uncontrollably, holding himself, eyes dark and pleading, as if Brian could do something to fix it.

  “I don’t... I don’t want this...”

  “Mike...” Brian started again, but didn’t know how to finish. He looked around to be sure nobody else could see, then turned back to his older brother. “Maybe you can make them go away.” He nodded encouragingly with a weak smile, still shaking a little himself.

  Mike nodded back, not having any better ideas. He closed his eyes and tried to concentrate on feeling the wings behind him, managing to move them a little in the process. Brian almost managed to suppress a gasp of awe. Mike ignored him, biting his lip hard enough that it bled a little before healing again.

  He cocked his head a little, eyes still closed, and moved his wings a little more, tracing the sensation through his back and body. It seemed to connect deep inside him somehow, more than flesh and blood and sinew and bone could. His brows knit with concentration, and he felt them fold back behind, then move inside, following that connection. It was both a physical and mental sensation, energy tingling at his shoulder blades, and he felt more full somehow. He could feel them there now, inside himself, waiting to be brought back. And, somehow, he knew exactly how to let them out. He slowly opened his eyes and met Brian’s gaze with a long breath.

  “Whoa,” Brian said with a shaking breath of his own. Mike grabbed him into a hug, needing to feel something solid and real and normal. Brian stopped himself from pulling away from the apparition, and instead gently held his brother, understanding that he needed all the support he could muster at that moment.

  “What am I gonna do?” Mike said in a shuddering voice, still trembling a little. “This isn’t... I’m not...”

  “Shhh. Don’t think about it right now. Let’s go back inside.” Brian’s voice was surprisingly calm and soothing, and he put an arm around his big brother, leading him back into the building. He closed the door and leaned against it quietly, Mike choosing instead to pace around the room nervously, chewing on a thumbnail.

  “Hey, how about that tea I promised? I’ll make some fresh,” Brian said softly, and Mike nodded.

  “I’ll come with you. I... don’t want to be alone right now.”

  Brian smiled a little and motioned for him to follow, the two of them quietly making tea together in the little kitchenette. Simple. Normal. Both their thoughts were racing, but the peace of the little ritual of making tea helped them both to keep things together. At last, Brian broke the silence as Mike sipped his tea.

  “When Barrett gets back...”

  “Yeah,” said Mike with a nod and a defeated sigh. “I’ll show him.” He took a few more sips, then gave a soft chuckle. “He keeps missing all the good stuff.”

  Brian broke into a grin. “No, he just keeps coming in late to the party.” Mike couldn’t help but smile a little. They quietly finished their tea and sat back in their chairs. Mike ran his fingernail along a seam in the wooden tabletop.

  “So...” they both said at the same time, and smiled at each other.

  “Jinx,” said Brian.

  “Owe you a Coke,” said Mike, the room falling silent once more. At last he spoke again. “Why, though? That’s what I don’t get. Am I dead? I don’t feel any different, other than... I can feel them there, now.”

  “What, like ghost limb syndrome?”

  “No, like... inside. Waiting.”

  “Huh.” Brian nodded, only sort of understanding. “I don’t think you’re dead. I think you’re right on that, what you said before. You bleed, you’re sitting there having tea, you’re solid and warm...” With a sigh, he picked up the mugs and started washing them in the sink.

  “I wish Bear was here, I want to get this over with.”

  “Yeah. Hey, are you gonna go see that Roberta woman?”

  “You know, I just might.” Mike pressed his lips together and looked out into the studio space, the light gone outside, cold air falling in through the ruined skylight hole. “We still gotta fix that.”

  “What? Oh, the skylight. Yeah, let’s get on that before he gets back.”

  They were fitting the last piece of plywood into place as Barrett drove up, and they called down to him. He waved back, pointed at the car, and pulled a surprising number of bags out of the trunk. Brian rushed down the ladder to the ground, Mike following with a chuckle. Leave it to Barrett to take care of his brother by overcompensating like usual.

  “There’s gotta be a month’s worth of stuff in there,” he called over as he approached, pulling his older brother into a hug. “Thanks, man. I’ll pay you back once this new job...”

  “Don’t worry about it. On me. You’ve been through hell and I want to...” Barrett noticed the funny look on his brother’s face, and cocked his head a little. “What’s up?”

  “Why don’t we go inside,” offered Brian, taking some of the bags.

  “My job. How am I gonna...” Mike closed the door behind them, the bags ending up all over the desk, knocking over the pencil cup and a few other things.

  “What’s wrong with your job?” Barrett asked, confused.

  “Am I supposed to have one now? I don’t know. I don’t know how all this works.”

  Barrett squinted at him and opened his mouth to ask what the hell he was talking about, when Brian interjected.

  “Show him.”

  Mike’s gaze darted between them, suddenly reluctant, but then took a deep breath and nodded, biting his lip.

  “Show me?” asked Barrett as his middle brother’s eyes closed in concentration. “Oh, god. Don’t tell me there’s something else besides the healing th...” His voice trailed off as he noticed the look on Mike’s face, and he braced himself for whatever was about to happen, taking a few steps back just for safe measure.

  After a moment, the massive deep gray wings unfurled behind his brother. Barrett staggered backwards into the desk, the feathers that had been set there falling to the ground. They were a perfect match in both size and color. Mike opened his eyes and looked between his brothers, face reddening, the room silent once more.

  Barrett started to approach, a hand out to touch them, but Mike backed away. “Don’t. It’s already weird enough.” With a thought, easier this time, he put them back away inside and hugged himself, feeling very alone. Barrett froze, nodding a little, but Brian somehow understood what his older brother was feeling and held him tight.

  “So... are you... you know... dead...?” Barrett asked softly, making Mike roll his eyes with exasperation.

  “No, I’m not dead, for crying out loud! Well, as far as I know, anyway.”

  Brian related the entire alleyway story, Barrett listening carefully.

  “I keep coming in late to these things,” he said with a sigh, and Brian chuckled.

  “Yeah, that’s what we said. Tea?”

  A smile quirked at the corner of their oldest brother’s mouth. “Sure. What the hell. Wait, can I say hell around you?”

  “Hell yes,” chuckled Mike. “I’ve been saying worse than that, and nothing’s burst into flames or been struck by lightning yet.” It felt good to be able to shoot off a joke, just like old times, the other two smiling with a mix of amusement and relief. When Mike started smarting off, things were looking up. Brian brought them all into the little kitchen for Barrett’s tea, and threw some popcorn in the microwave for good measure, Mike’s stomach growling at the scent of it.

  “So...” Barrett began slowly, “...does that mean you can fly?”

  Mike blinked at his brother. It hadn’t even occurred to him.

  “I honestly have no clue.”

  “Well, logically...” said Brian, letting it hang there. Barrett shrugged and nodded. Mike was half lost in thought.

  “Uh, I don’t think...”

  “Well, why not?” said
Barrett. “That’s what angels are supposed to be able to do right?”

  “I’m...” Mike started to protest, but then realized his ongoing denial would sound even more stupid than the idea that he was one, at this point. He rubbed at his face. “Supposedly. I guess. But I’m sure as hell not going to test it out right now.”

  “Why not?” asked Brian, disappointment in his voice.

  “Because I’m damn tired, and I’ve had enough freaky shit for one day, thanks. I just want to crash. And no, not like that,” he said with a nod toward the ceiling. “A real bed, with a real pillow, and real peace and quiet for once.”

  “Hotel room?” offered Barrett, and Mike nodded.

  “Sorry Brian, but...”

  “Oh, no problem, all I’ve got is my futon. I understand. You need comfort tonight, and I ain’t got it here,” he chuckled. “But, tomorrow? Maybe we can all drive out to the desert where nobody can see, and...”

  “Maybe,” said Mike, a little more tersely than he intended. There was something else on his mind.

  “What is it?” asked Barrett. Mike tapped his fingertip on the table for a while, then looked at them.

  “If I’m like this, and I’m not dead...” He looked down, thinking for a moment, then nodded to himself and looked back up at them. “You guys know how we are. Coincidences follow us around. Things click. We’re connected like nobody else I know. What if... what if I’m not the only one of us like this?”

  Barrett nearly choked on his tea.

  “Okay, now you’re the one talking crazy.”

  “No, listen to me.” Mike reached across the table and gently grabbed his older brother’s wrist, meeting his eyes, dead serious. “I had no idea myself until earlier today. Maybe all three of us are...” But he couldn’t bring himself to say the word. Brian did it for him.

  “Angels...?”

  Mike nodded, still looking into Barrett’s eyes, almost pleading. He hadn’t been alone in anything in his life, and he wasn’t about to start now. It was all three of them or nothing, just like it had always been.

  Barrett stood up and paced. “But I don’t feel any different. There’s nothing there to bring out, Mike.”

  “It was when I had to, both times,” he replied. “First time was to help that woman and then save myself, the second time was protecting Brian in the alley out back. Both times, it just... happened. Now I know how to bring them out myself, but I didn’t even know they existed when I woke up this morning. I didn’t feel anything either.”

  “You can heal, though. We can’t.”

  “He’s right on that one. I cut myself on stuff all the time and it doesn’t heal up like you do,” put in Brian.

  “But on the plane I had to pop a Vicodin because I was in so much pain. I couldn’t heal from any of this,” said Mike, running a hand over his scarred left side. “It was only after the first time the... the wings showed up that I started healing. Something happened. Something changed.”

  Barrett continued pacing, thinking.

  “So you’re saying that we just haven’t changed yet?”

  “I guess? Maybe something has to trigger it. Or the time’s right for some reason. Stars are aligned or something. I don’t know any more than you do.”

  “Huh.”

  Brian watched the pacing, then spoke up. “What’s your gut say, Bear?” His brother looked over at him.

  “Gut says... makes more sense than I really want to think about right now. See you in the morning.” And with that he abruptly went out the door and drove away, leaving them both blinking with surprise.

  “Well. Shoe’s on the other foot, now,” said Mike with a snort. “As soon as it’s him, it’s not such a fun thing to think about.”

  “I think... I think it’s amazing,” said Brian softly, a dreamy little look of awe in his eyes. “Do you really think all of us...?”

  “I hope so, because I really don’t want to deal with this alone.”

  “Never alone, Mike. You’ll always have us, no matter what.”

  Mike looked down, his lip trembling a little, and finally broke, sobbing quietly into his hands. Brian put an arm around him.

  “Hey... let me get you to a hotel, okay? You need rest. And some dinner.”

  Brian drove him to a decent mid-range hotel, made sure all his new clothes and toiletries made it up to the room, waited for him to change into something decent, then took him to dinner. The food did help, as did two glasses of wine. The youngest Mason got his brother into the room for the night, closed the door, then stood outside it in the quiet hallway for another minute or so before driving home. He sent Barrett a text to let him know where Mike was, then turned in, the night a restless one for all of them.

  THREE

  “You have the gift, Brian.” The old man’s gaze seemed to look right into his soul, the teen looking down nervously at the broken antique stained glass window on the work table.

  “I don’t know if I...”

  “Don’t doubt yourself. Doubt leads to fear, which makes it impossible to breathe and be who you are. You have to feel what the glass is saying it needs to be. Like a sculptor sees the shape in the stone or clay. It’s the same here. Empathy. And when repairing an old piece, like this one, you have to be able to feel what the creator intended, or the pieces will never match. Do you see?”

  Brian nodded slowly. He did see. He understood completely what his mentor was saying, and cocked his head at the design. The man took a step back, letting his student see for himself without any influence. Brian held the long edge of the artwork and lifted it up so the light shone through, looked at the samples on the table, and smiled.

  “This one. The hand-blown amethyst,” he said, holding up a piece of the antique imperfect purple glass. Old Mr. Jefferson’s face lit up.

  “Yes. The hand-blown amethyst. You felt it, didn’t you.”

  Brian grinned back. It felt strange to be talking about cold, hard, sharp, unfeeling glass in such a way, but he had to admit that the window had told him what it needed. It felt strange, but completely right. He nodded.

  “You’re the first in a long, long time. I felt it when you...” The old man was interrupted by a particularly deep coughing fit, Brian helping him to a chair. His dark skin turned a little darker under the strain, the younger man watching him carefully. They both knew it was the lung cancer taking its toll, and that he only had a few more weeks. There was a bit of blood on the cotton handkerchief this time.

  “This is yours. You have the gift,” he rasped.

  Brian jerked awake on his futon in the loft, confused for a moment as to where he was, half his mind still in the dream. But unlike a normal dream where things are somewhat distorted, this was a crystal-clear memory. Everything was exactly as it had happened on that day long ago.

  The light didn’t look right in the main room of the studio, and he sat up with a sharp gasp. The skylight. Had it really happened, everything with Mike the night before, or was that a dream as well?

  He scrambled to the top of the stairs and saw the tangle of debris all over the floor, plywood covering the hole where the skylight had been. Shivering, but only half from the morning chill, he cautiously descended into the silent studio space as if something else was about to happen. The morning sun was still at the back of the building, not quite making it around to the end where the front door was yet. The old man had a sense of humor, and had placed a huge stained glass rising sun above the door, the first thing that would catch the morning light every day.

  Brian hugged himself and strode over to the two remaining gray-black feathers that had been forgotten on the floor – Barrett had apparently kept the third. He picked them up and studied them, then looked once again at the mess at the back of the studio. It was real. All of it. And he began to wonder if there was anything to what Mike had said. Could they all be the same?

  He looked up at the image of Michael once again, trapped in stained glass, just as the phone rang.

  “Hey, did you slee
p as crappy as I did?” Mike’s voice was still gravelly, but had a taste of humor in it, always a good sign.

  “I don’t remember, I was asleep,” Brian quipped back with a chuckle. “But seriously... I did have a vivid dream about Mr. Jefferson for some reason.”

  “Yeah, well... at least I didn’t dream about either combat or drowning for a change,” said Mike. Brian could hear him making coffee in his hotel room in the background. “But I tossed and turned all night. I feel like ass. You want to get some food later?”

  “Yeah, sounds great,” he said, twirling one of the feathers between his fingertips. “Hear from Bear yet?”

  “Nah. He said he’d see us in the morning though, so I don’t think he bolted. But I can’t tell what the hell he’s thinking. He seemed to accept all this so easily, and then he tours.”

  “Who knows. He’s always been a little... wait a second, he’s calling now.”

  “Okay. No surprise there, I guess.”

  Brian nodded, coincidences being more than commonplace for them, and clicked over to the other line.

  “Morning, Bear.”

  “Morning. You want to get something to eat in a bit?”

  “Yeah. I’ve got Mike on the other line. Breakfast together? He says he slept like crap.”

  “Yeah, I didn’t sleep that great either. Unfamiliar hotel room and all that.”

  “Sure.” Brian smirked to himself. He knew damn well that Barrett traveled enough that unfamiliar hotel rooms never phased him. The room wasn’t what had kept him up.

  “How does 10:30 sound?”

  “Great. There’s a place a few blocks from here that’s really good. Their gingerbread waffles are amazing.”

  “See you at 10:30.” Barrett hung up abruptly, making his youngest brother sigh before clicking back over to Mike.

  “He says he’s meeting us here at 10:30, should I go pick you up now?”

  “Yeah, it’s only... what the hell time is it? 8:40... I want to help clean up the mess over there and that gives us a little time.”

  “You got it. See you in a few.”

  Brian threw on a ringer tee and some jeans, didn’t bother with coffee, and met his brother in the hotel lobby. Mike had showered again and had on a casual button-up cotton shirt and black jeans. He actually looked like any ordinary man except for the military haircut and well-muscled yet scarred arms which were currently crossed over his chest. He looked a little nervous, but smiled slightly when he saw Brian.