Guarding the Angel

Chapter 3

I yank the bag of flour out of the young man's hands. He takes a step back, making more flour come up in clouds. "Who do you think you are?" I demand, whacking him over the head with the now-empty flour bag. 

Rather than answering, he stops moving around and stares at me intently. I open the trash can and throw the mutilated flour bag away. Next, I grab a broom and dust-pan and start trying to clean the mess up. At first, all sweeping does is send more flour into the air. Soon, I'm as covered in flour as the menace. 

"You're strange," he says suddenly.

I turn to look at him as more flour rises around him in a cloud. "I'm calling you Cloud from now on, unless you care to disclose your actual name," I say.

He frowns and then shrugs. A key begins to turn in the front door. I see my mother through a thin veil of flour. "Go to my room. Now," I command, pushing Cloud towards the stairs leading to my room. 

I'm relieved when he does as I say. My relief is short-lived. My mother walks into the room and lets out a loud scream. "Harimanne, what is going on in here?" she asks, voice coming out in short gasps.

"There was a mouse in the flour and I panicked."

Based on the second loud scream she lets out, I know that was the wrong thing to say. I forgot how much my mother hates mice. "How did such a vile creature get in here?" she demands, "We need to call an exterminator at once. This must be your fault! Were you eating food outside of the kitchen again?"

I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from pointing out that the "mouse" was in the kitchen. "I only saw one and no evidence of others." 

My attempt to assure her doesn't stop her from digging out her phone and speed-dialing the exterminator. The fact that she has the exterminator on speed-dial says enough in itself. I continue sweeping flour towards the dust pan. My mother steps out of the room and starts talking loudly into the phone.

Thirty minutes later, she walks back in. I pour the remaining flour into the trash can. "Pat said that he will pay our house a visit within an hour," she says. Most of the color has returned to her cheeks. She narrows her eyes when she sees my appearance. "For one tiny mouse, you seem to have over-reacted," she comments wryly. 

I bite the inside of my other cheek and head upstairs. "Be back down here as soon as you've showered," she calls after me, "I need to go to your sister's choir concert. I expect you to answer the door when Pat comes by."

"Sure thing," I call out behind me.

As soon as I reach my room, I shut the door behind me. Cloud is sitting perched on my bed. He's still mostly covered in flour. To my annoyance, he has spread a bunch of flour to my bed. I add washing my sheets to my mental list of things to do. 

"You're a mess," I tell Cloud, "Between the flour, the tears in your cloak and the dried blood, you are in complete disarray."

Cloud frowns at me. "You don't exactly look put together either," he points out.

"Whose fault do you think that is? What were you doing with the flour in the first place? I didn't give you the option to peruse through my kitchen."

"I was hungry and ran out of other things to eat," he explains.

Right on cue, I hear my mother calling my name. I step out of my room. "Harimanne, what did you do with the chicken we were going to cook for dinner tonight? I know you have a ravenous appetite, but don't you think eating everything in the fridge is a bit much?" she shouts up to me.

"Sorry. You know how I get if my blood sugar is low," I respond.

"This is not okay! If I weren't already late, I'd have more to say to you." With that, I hear the front door open and then close again. 

I let out an annoyed huff. Does she truly think that I ate everything in the fridge? My stomach has some limits. Actually, a lot of limits compared to Cloud's. I open my door again and glower at Cloud. He removes one of his boots and dumps a pile of flour onto my bed. I march over to my closet and grab out a clean set of clothes and my towel. 

"Don't leave my room," I command Cloud and then head into the bathroom.

Ten minutes later, I'm wearing a clean set of clothes and feeling somewhat refreshed. I re-enter my room. "Your turn," I tell Cloud, throwing a towel at him.

He looks at it blankly. "Pick it up," I command.

He pinches the edge of the towel between two of his fingers. "What kind of fabric is this?" he questions, "Can this even be called fabric at all? It's so scratchy and undignified."

I grab onto Cloud's arm and pull him towards the door. I practically shove him into the bathroom. "Don't come out until you are clean and there is no trace of flour anywhere," I yell through the door.

There is no response. Typical. A loud knock comes on the door downstairs. I'm a bit startled. Usually, Pat exaggerates how quickly he can get over to our house to calm my mother down. I walk down the stairs, hoping the sound of the shower isn't too noticeable. The knocking grows louder and faster.

"I'm coming," I call out. 

I pull the door open and come face to face with an old woman. She has bright purple hair and lipstick to match. For a moment, my brain is rendered senseless by the contradiction of what I'm seeing compared to what I expected to see. 

The old woman grins at me. Then, she lifts up her cane and sweeps my legs out from under me. I fall over backwards  onto the ground. "Oof." I exhale as she uses my stomach as the final step into my house. 

"I know you are here," she calls into the house, "Come here now and everything will be easier."