Ground Rules Read online

  PUBLISHED BY:

  Cate Masters on Smashwords

  Ground Rules

  Copyright © 2013 by Cate Masters

  First published by The Wild Rose Press in 2011

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  For my bad boy angel, Gary.

  Chapter One

  Stifling a yawn, Luke flicked the remote, checking on his assigned stations. Could it possibly get any more boring? One millennium was like any other. He’d tired of his job centuries ago. Monitor screens surrounded him, similar to an earthly office cubicle, though transparent. Associates glided past, to and fro, so impressive in their dedication. They might be a distraction if they weren’t so predictable.

  Doing his best to appear a team player, Luke scanned the screens. Images of humans scurried from place to place, oblivious to one another. What did they know of love? Their selfish motives changed little at Christmas time. He could hardly stand watching them.

  Except for one human. Not one of his assignments, but once he saw her, he couldn’t stop dialing back to her. So lovely. So unhappy—like him. She stared up at the porcelain angel atop her decorated evergreen, pleading for help. Almost as if speaking directly to him.

  She’d become a professional hazard. An obsession. One he had to hide from the others. But the vision of her stayed with him, silently calling to him until he returned to view her again.

  Soon, it wasn’t enough to watch from another realm. Luke had to see her in person. A few times he’d dared to slip away to her loft and inside the treetop angel. When she made her plea, his weary soul came to life again. He made his own Christmas wish—for her.

  Ridiculous, to behave like this. He didn’t believe in love. He tried to attribute his actions to boredom, but he hadn’t been so smitten with a female since—

  At an approaching whoosh down the aisle, he clicked her image to a different one. A pang shot through him, an ache long forgotten.

  Zeke appeared in the station beside him. “Hey Luke, how’s it going?”

  “Fantastic. Couldn’t be better. You?” Luke hoped his coworker didn’t pick up on the disdain. Or the overkill.

  Adjusting the multiple monitors, Zeke smiled. “Wonderful. I’m really looking forward to the big Christmas Eve bash.”

  Oh please. Luke would give anything not to have to attend yet another ho-hum event. Stand around and sing, chat up the bosses, flirt with the seraphim—to no avail. He’d give anything to have a little one-on-one time with a girl. A real, in-the-flesh, warm-blooded girl. Her.

  Thoughts like that could get him demoted. Stripped of his robes. That is, if he bothered to wear them. He preferred jeans, worn boots, a soft cotton tee.

  Zeke hummed Santa Claus is Comin’ to Town.

  “Careful,” Luke joked. “Peter will hear.” And might organize an impromptu chorus.

  “Ha. I heard him singing it earlier, so now it’s stuck in my head.”

  “Oo, an earworm. Hate that.” And the holiday season in general. But to share that with any of his peers would invite scorn and endless calls for repentance.

  “Look at those dear people,” Zeke mused. “Rushing in and out of stores. Why do humans always wait until the last minute to get gifts for friends and loved ones?”

  “I never understood the mentality. Waiting in lines before the break of day to buy buy buy. To fund their spending sprees, they work relentless hours, never able to sate the depth of their desires.” Luke could relate. He felt the same, but not about material objects.

  With one exception. Ninety horsepower happiness. The rev of a motorcycle engine always brought immediate bliss, especially with him seated atop the bike.

  Zeke chuckled. “It’s why they need us to look after them.”

  Enough small talk. It only churned up bad memories of a certain Christmas past. One that ruined his existence. “Right. In fact, I think I’ll go out for a spin. Observe up close.” Instead of through a screen, though the images appeared three-dimensional.

  Zeke glanced up in surprise. “Now? You’ll miss the early cantata.”

  All the better. “Peter’s always telling me to get more involved with my work. Show more of an interest.” How better to get a feel for the mortals than to ride among them?

  A smile made Zeke appear more angelic. “True. And they’re at their best this time of year. So full of cheer and good will.”

  Ho, Luke could argue against that. Miranda had broken his heart that fateful Christmas. The other man might have found her at her best, but Luke had seen her at her worst. And after he’d given her his engagement ring the day before.

  Better to pretend an interest in his human charges, and never reveal he wanted only to be one again. Yes, the first time around had given him nothing but heartbreak, but it went with the earthly territory.

  The speakers clicked, and the strum of a harp sounded. Luke barely suppressed a wince. With all the talent and innovation up here, couldn’t they come up with any signal more original?

  “Luke,” a booming voice said.

  Great. Peter. “Yes.” Always checking up on him, as if he were some rookie.

  The image shimmered on the screen. They should reserve the trite effects for humans. “I need you in my office.”

  Ah, who’d complained now? “When?”

  “Now.”

  He sat straight. “Is everything all ri—”

  Fizzles and sparkles dazzled the screen, and Peter disappeared.

  “—right…” This couldn’t be good. Slumping back, Luke barely had time to drum his fingers on the table top.

  Peter’s voice sounded through the ether. “Now, as in, this instant.”

  Right. Might as well get on with it. The sooner he finished, the sooner Luke could hop on his Harley. Blow this popsicle stand, in all its self-aggrandizing majesty.

  Rising, he sighed. Mostly, he’d overcome his mortal emotions. Mastered all but frustration. And irritation. Impatience. All those plaguing his life.

  Well, his former life.

  Traveling along the corridor, he cringed at the golden bells chiming carols. Not that he preferred the usual meh white-on-white décor, but enough with the holiday nonsense.

  He nodded in greeting to those passing. “Andrew.” Pious putz. “James.” Brown noser. “Joan.” Hello, babe. Unfortunately, after all these centuries, still too young. And not a bit interested in him.

  As he entered Peter’s octagonal office, more transparent videos moved on the walls. Not unusual; Peter kept a close eye on everything. Unlike normally, these all showed the same woman. The very woman Luke had become obsessed with.

  Heavenly alarms should have sounded in Luke’s head, but he couldn’t stop staring at her magnified likeness. High definition brought her to vivid life, and it captivated him, made him feel like she was just out of his reach. How apropos.

  So lovely. Dimples appeared when she smiled, but her smiles were too rare. Must take a lot to make her happy. In most of the video montage, she frowned, or focused intently. Or gazed absently out the window at the snowfall.

  “Luke, you’re here. Finally.” Peter’s brow arched ever so slightly.

  “Sir.” Luke bowed his head in apology. For being two freaking
seconds late.

  “Let’s get started.” In a sweeping gesture, Peter pointed at the images. “What do you see?”

  Holding a hand to his chin, Luke withheld his initial impression, that of an overindulged twenty-something unhappy with her life. After many more viewings, he’d come to the conclusion there was much more to her. Besides, Peter didn’t appreciate negative comments. “A beautiful young lady. An artist apparently committed to her craft.” Not bad sketches, though she seemed disappointed with them. A perfectionist, no doubt.

  “And?” Peter’s blank expression gave nothing away.

  What was this about? Someone must have ratted on him for skimming the last assignment.

  Or did Peter find me out? Did he learn about my obsession with her? “Well, she…” Luke had the feeling that whatever he said would be wrong.

  Heaving a sigh, Peter snapped his finger. “Pay attention.”

  One image loomed large. Standing beside a Christmas tree, a tear streaked down her face. “Please. Help me.”

  His gut clenched. Luke had heard her make that same plea the first night she’d spoken it and every night after. He’d hidden inside her treetop angel to be near her, hoping his presence might lend her some peace. It became a torture to merely listen.

  One thing he’d never discovered—why did she ask for help? There she stood, in a sumptuous loft he’d have envied during his lifetime.

  Surprise edged Peter’s voice. “You disapprove?”

  Better to pretend indifference. “She’s obviously well off, by the looks of the overstuffed bookshelves, the leather sectional sofa, the fashionable cut of her clothes.” And healthy, if a little thin.

  “And yet, material objects cannot bring true happiness.”

  Fine. Throw his own words back at him. But then, Peter had a penchant for dialogue.

  Luke studied her surroundings. “The dozens of holiday cards hanging across the doorway suggests she’s well-loved.” Yet, she remained alone. On Christmas Eve. “And she has a cat.” Oo, over-reaching on that one. A fat feline proved only she loved the cat, which she’d already proven to Luke by the way she spoke to it, cuddled it.

  Peter pointed to one specific image, and it zoomed in closer on Alice. Yes, a very beautiful girl. What made her so sad? The more he stared at the video, the more he wanted to reach out, smooth back her silky brown hair, erase the tear from her cheek. He could almost feel her slight frame beneath his touch. Her warmth.

  “We’re closing out your station.” Peter glided to his desk.

  Dread froze Luke. Fired? He hadn’t thought it possible. “But sir.”

  Peter held up a hand. “We’re moving you up a level.”

  So he’d passed Peter’s little inquisition? “I don’t understand.”

  “As of today, Alice is your new assignment.”

  “This girl?” The images on the screen now appeared like Purgatory. A sentence to be endured. Perhaps a test of Luke’s willpower. “But I have so little experience.”

  His superior spoke in a soft, but firm, voice. “We’re about to remedy that.”

  His mind raced. With Alice as his assignment, it provided the perfect opportunity to be near her. And the perfect opportunity for disaster. “Surely there’s been a mistake.”

  “No mistake. And don’t call me Shirley.” Peter’s stern expression crumbled as he chuckled.

  Luke groaned. Saint or not, Peter shouldn’t feel the need to recite ridiculous movie lines, at least not with him. Let Peter go act out the movie with Leslie Nielson himself.

  Another glance at Alice, and he held open his arms. “Sir, what can I possibly do for her?” Besides screw up her life even further?

  Peter leaned closer. “Help her. You’ve been idle too long. Now get going.” He went to the exit. “Oh, and Luke?”

  No way out but down. What he’d wanted. Before Alice had become a dangerous temptation. “Yes.”

  “Remember the Ground Rules.” Peter rounded the corner, and disappeared into the whiteness.

  “Yes sir.” He would give it a quick review. It had been a century or so since he’d last read through the ancient text. Skimmed, really. He’d have to dig out his copy to bring along.

  Shooting a last grimace at the images, he stalked off. Alice. Appropriate name, since he was headed down the rabbit hole, and would like to send her through the looking glass. Far from me.

  Yes, maybe that’s what she needed. A Mad Hatter might shake her up, set her straight. Make her realize how good she had it.

  Back at his private space, Luke grabbed the copy of the Ground Rules. Instead of opening it, he stashed it into his pack. He’d read the rule book later. Scanning the area, he couldn’t help feeling he’d forgotten something. Maybe to apply himself a little better. Then Peter wouldn’t have tasked him with Alice, the very human he needed to avoid.

  Normally, he kept his visits to Earth short because he had no positive memory of his lifetime there. The one girl he’d loved had crushed his heart, leaving a useless organ in his chest. Never having achieved his goal, his life felt unfinished. Too late now.

  Right. Now others made choices for him. What happened to free will? If it existed, he should opt this very instant for a demotion instead of this assignment.

  Beyond a column of white cumulus, his beloved Harley awaited. Grabbing the handles, he walked it to an open area and straddled it. Oh, it had been too long since he’d taken it for a spin. After he kicked the starter, the engine roared to life. Such a glorious sound, the rumble of four hundred cc.

  The disapproving glances of his contemporaries provided a bonus. They knew as well as he that the motorcycle was completely unnecessary. He could travel anywhere with a mere thought. But what fun was that? It had, however, came in useful when he’d visited Alice earlier.

  With a salute to the heavens, he gunned it. The bike’s growl echoed past the seven chambers in quick succession. Radiant light and cirrus clouds gave way to dim gray, then utter blackness punctuated by the glow of distant stars, other galaxies.

  Luke steered the Harley to dip into the massive carpet of thick gray clouds shielding Earth. Moisture hung heavy inside them, and a quick drop in temperature coated the bike’s chrome until it shone in crystal splendor. When he broke through the bottom of the clouds, snowflakes whirled all around.

  Forgetting his dread, he laughed. “Snow.” One thing about the season he loved, at least.

  Swerving side to side through the air, he danced the Harley through the swirls of snow. Cutting the handlebars sharply, he performed a pirouette. No human stuntman could match his moves. Snow whirled upward like an immense, glistening holiday ornament.

  The girl’s loft appeared below him, and he slowed. The roof’s angle didn’t appear too steep. No matter. His bike would stay where he left it, invisible to locals.

  His boot slid across the slick surface, already inches thick with snow. Crouching, he scooped up a handful, packed it into a ball, and chucked it. It thudded against the brick building next door. Inside, a dog yipped.

  Something else he missed—animal companionship. Still, he had to be careful. Anyone seeing a stray snowball might grow suspicious. Wasn’t that one of the Ground Rules? Damn, he’d forgotten to read it. Pulling the tome from the sack, he slipped it inside his leather jacket.

  He visualized Alice’s Christmas tree. In a wink, he stood beside it, and gave it a quick scan. At least she hadn’t used gaudy ornaments. These decorations imitated nature. Strings of plump wooden cranberries, beautiful snowflakes rendered in beads and glass.

  The cat descended the steps from the upstairs loft, sat and meowed hello.

  “Shh.” Luke bent to pick him up. “And what’s your name?” On previous visits, Luke never dared leave the treetop.

  “Archimedes,” the cat said. “Who are you?”

  “Luke. Your owner’s new helper.”

  The cat purred. “About time you descended from your perch. She’s been asking for days.”

  “Yes. Seven, to be
exact. How did she know to wish seven times?”

  Intelligent green eyes stared into Luke’s. “Dumb luck.”

  That didn’t sound promising. “She’s not the brightest bulb, then?”

  “I have little human comparison.” Archimedes glanced away. “All I know is she’s sad.”

  “Any idea why?” Hopefully Archimedes would prove as wise as his namesake.

  The cat looked toward the loft. “She complains about her work, but it’s all she ever does.”

  Luke had gathered as much. “No social life?” His stomach went taut at the thought of her out on the town with a man.

  Archimedes tilted his head. “Other than me? Not for awhile.”

  Deep in thought, he scratched the cat’s neck. “Odd. She’s pretty enough to attract more than her share of men.” Maybe she suffered some reprehensible personality disorder. Perhaps, like Miranda, she turned on those she claimed to love. Yes, that thought would help keep his enthusiasm in check.

  Archimedes angled his chin higher to accommodate Luke’s strokes. “When I was young, she used to throw parties, almost every weekend. Then those stopped.”

  A party girl. Luke should have guessed. “What happened to change it?”

  “One man came instead. Every night, he’d stay over, eating all her food, taking up all her time. She worked less often, cooking for him, waiting on him. Her agent threatened to stop sending her work, so Alice put in more time at the easel. Then he left one day, without a note, no goodbye.”

  Luke’s heart lurched. The same thing that had happened to him. “When?”

  Archimedes blinked. “You’re asking me?”

  Right. Cats generally had no reliable sense of time. “Was it before last Christmas?”

  The cat nodded. “Yes.”

  “Was it sunny and hot? Did trees still have leaves?”

  “Yes.” After leaping to the floor, the cat licked its paws.

  So about a year and a half, give or take, and Alice was still heartbroken? Or had she given up on love altogether? Sad, for one so young. He should know. After his experience, he’d sworn off love as well.