Among Us: A Supernatural Novel written by Carver Edlund

Deviating from the Plan

Castiel paced through Aya Nakano's still, quiet apartment, making no noise on her carpet, though his trousers and his coat whispered against one another. He glanced down at the Winchesters sleeping in the front room, looking less than comfortable. Dean, a throw pillow folded under his ear, lay on the floor, his face relaxed in a way it never was while he was awake. Sam sprawled across the single couch, using his bent arm as a pillow, his long legs spilling off the other end.

A small cat appeared, balanced on the back of the couch. She winked her large green eyes at Castiel. As he neared her, she lifted her tail and began to purr. He offered his hand, and the animal spirit pushed her head into it.

<<What are you still doing here?>> he asked her, angelic grace to mortal soul, while he scratched her ears; the purring intensified. <<You know what awaits you on the other side of the Bridge.>>

<<All cats know,>> she answered, her speech a flood of impressions rather than words. She moved her shoulder to his scratching fingers; he was careful not to knock her over. <<I am waiting for my person.>>

He tilted his head. <<Do you delay paradise for a human?>>

<<You would too if you knew her,>> the cat said matter-of-factly, sitting back. <<She cares for us when no one else can. I will care for her until she no longer needs me.>>

<<Stewardship was given to Adam's children,>> he reminded her.

The cat tapped her tail. <<Adam's stupid brats. She invited this one inside. He smells bad. Don't trust him.>>

With that, she disappeared.

As though he'd felt the breath of chilled air left by the territorial soul, Sam shifted, his eyebrows pinching together.

Castiel considered him. The boy with the demon blood. An abomination, according to Uriel. Sam did not wake, however, so Castiel passed him by. For now. A cat's opinion was not something to dismiss out of hand.

Untroubled by the darkness, he moved down the short hallway, taking note of the pictures framed upon the walls, the narrow table supporting a lamp, several candles, fox figurines, and a pile of books. He flipped through one but, being an angel, could not read much of it without feeling sick.

The sweet scents emanating from the bathroom did not impress him. Manufactured. False. Unnecessary. Perhaps he thought so because his current vessel was male, making him, for the moment, male. Or perhaps it was because he could smell each product arguing with each other. He moved on. How human females could stand to live in a cloud of belligerent molecules was beyond his scope of understanding.

Two humans occupied this space. He followed the vibrations of a living soul into a bedroom done in cobalt blue, dove gray, and white, muted in the darkness that was interrupted by a thin finger of yellowish light from beyond the curtained window.

He paused at the foot of Aya's bed. Not long ago, Dean had let him know, in no uncertain terms, that watching over a man while he slept was not acceptable behavior. This rule was related to the one about respecting personal space, of which Dean was fiercely protective but that Castiel could never seem to measure correctly. Multi-dimensional wavelengths of celestial intent simply did not generate "personal space."

Dean's warning did not seem to apply here, however. Castiel could see nothing of Aya except for a lump of blankets and a few strands of hair, leaking out over the pillow. Cold air circulated, cooler than the machine-regulated air, which at least explained why she had burrowed so deep. Quite a few souls had congregated here, drawn by the girl's vibrations. They brushed against the Veil but didn't pass through, invisible to his vessel. He stood still for several minutes, doing nothing, while the fake breeze ruffled his hair and the unseen souls drifted. He had been ordered to save this human. Now he wanted to know why. Uriel would not tell him. Maybe she could.