Earth Angel

by Siri Caldwell

  “Then there was the Black Death in the fourteenth century,” Sapphire added.

  A plague would be bad, of course, but with modern medicine, even if there were no angels around, was that really a risk? The nurses at the hospital had been talking about the latest pandemic scare, debating whether it was all drug company hype. A few were worried they’d be the first to die, but most insisted the threat was overblown. These two angels, however, were definitely trying to scare her.

  “Are you going to kill me if I don’t cooperate?”

  Elle looked so taken aback she couldn’t be faking it. “I can’t kill you.”

  “Why not?” On second thought, maybe daring an angel to kill her wasn’t her best move. Not that she was convinced any of this was real.

  “I’m an angel,” Elle said. “It’s not in my nature to kill.”

  “But it’s okay for me to kill someone?”

  “Suicide is not the same thing.”

  “Sure it is.”

  “Look, the point is, we’re all taking our lives into our hands every time we touch that bridge. We can avoid the potholes, but the whole thing could collapse at any time. We already lost one angel.”

  “You…lost one?” Now that Abby wasn’t worried about her imminent death at Elle’s hands, she could hear the grief in her voice.

  “A piece of the walkway broke off and she tumbled off the bridge and died.”

  “But you can fly. How could she fall?”

  “The bridge isn’t located in space. It exists between space. Between dimensions. If an angel falls off…” Elle grimaced. “We assume she’s dead.”

  “I didn’t think angels could die.”

  “Our lifespan might seem like an eternity to you, but yes, we eventually die. We’re beings, not gods. We were created, so one day we will die, and we look forward to that day when we’ll have evolved beyond the need to evolve and are ready to return to God and we will all finally be free. It will be glorious.”

  “Huh.”

  “Don’t worry, the human race will die out one day too,” Elle said breezily. “Their suffering won’t last forever. Their end will be a glorious day too.”

  Abby shrank back. That was one dangerous angel. Definitely had a sharp edge. She’d always thought of angels as saving lives, easing suffering, and spreading love. Even though she’d spent a lot of time with people who were dying, and the angels who guided them, she’d never seen this side of them.

  “I thought you were upset that an angel fell off the bridge.”

  “We are. Because now is too soon. Now is not the end of time. Not yet. Not now. We’re not ready yet.”

  So much for not worrying.

  “Why do you think I’ll be able to fix it? I don’t know anything about bridges.”

  “Not a problem!” Elle’s abrupt switch to perky salesperson mode was a little scary. “All we need is your presence.”

  “My presence? That’s going to fix the bridge? How is that going to help?” It sounded fishy.

  “This is not the first time we’ve had difficulties with the bridge. We discovered eons ago that all we need is for all the angels in existence to gather on the bridge and it will fix itself. It couldn’t be easier.”

  “Isn’t there any other way?” Abby shot a glance at Sapphire, who was not coming to her defense.

  “Not that we know of,” Elle said.

  “Really, it’s easy,” Sapphire said.

  Abby tried a different tack. “Don’t you have engineers who could take a look at the thing and figure something out?”

  Elle’s fake perkiness vanished. “We’re not builders,” she said flatly. “We dedicate our lives to healing and music and comforting people in despair. Understanding technology isn’t important.”

  Funny, it seemed kind of important right now. “Maybe a human engineer could take a look at it for you.”

  “They wouldn’t be able to see the bridge or even detect it with their instruments. Nor would they understand how it was built or how to fix it, any more than we do. It is a mystery far beyond anyone’s comprehension.”

  “Someone must understand it.”

  “No one does.” Elle muttered something under her breath that sounded like frickin’ malfunctioning alien technology. “But we know how to fix it,” she insisted. “All we need is your cooperation.”

  “Maybe someone else could do it?” It wasn’t noble, but it had to be said. “Maybe another incarnated angel who remembers and understands what you’re talking about? I can’t be the only one, right?”

  “We have to wait for all the incarnated angels to die and return to angelic form so together we can fix it. Any number fewer than the full complement is ineffective.”

  “I’m not willing to kill myself.” She couldn’t believe she was even discussing this. She’d learned a grand total of one indisputable thing today—that Elle and Sapphire were as good as she was at remembering random historic dates. Which meant nothing. Lots of people were good at trivia. It didn’t mean she had anything else in common with these two. “Even if you could prove to me that I would absolutely, positively become an angel, I’m not doing it.”

  Elle and Sapphire exchanged meaningful looks.

  “We’ll talk later.” Sapphire flew off into the crowd of wedding guests, circled Gwynne, who was weaving her way around tables and heading in Abby’s direction, and disappeared.

  “And one more thing. Don’t go out with Gwynne,” Elle warned.

  “Excuse me?” Abby blinked at the sudden change in subject.

  “Don’t date her.”

  Elle was full of advice, wasn’t she? Irrelevant, unwanted advice. “I wasn’t planning on it,” Abby said coldly. Was there no privacy around here? What difference did it make who she did or did not date, anyway? It wasn’t like it was going to be an issue if she was dead.

  “Good,” the angel said.

  “Why is that good?”

  “I don’t want any other complications.” Elle shrank to the size of a butterfly and blinked out.

  Dating Gwynne was a complication? Why? Oh, who cared. Elle was gone and Gwynne was almost at her side. She could worry about dating Gwynne when and if the issue ever came up. She sat on her stool and pulled her harp to her shoulder. She was supposed to be providing music, not gabbing with uninvited guests—invisible or otherwise.

  Gwynne came to a stop beside her. “I have a song request,” she said cheerfully. “‘Another One Bites the Dust.’”

  Abby glanced around to see if Elle was back yet. She would definitely be back. “I don’t know if the brides would appreciate that.”

  Gwynne angled her head to one side and gazed at her steadily, probably wondering what had Abby so distracted that she didn’t laugh at her comment. “How are you holding up?”

  Abby leaned her harp away from her body and gently lowered it so it was balanced firmly on its base. She rolled her shoulders and stretched her arms behind her back, considering how to answer. How about: While you were gone I was offered a job? Two jobs, actually, but one was volunteer, and the working conditions were not up to OSHA standards, which probably frown upon on-the-job deaths. And is it true you can really see angels?

  She settled for a less complicated response. “My shoulders are sore.” She twisted her neck at various angles until it gave a satisfying crack.

  “May I?” Gwynne positioned herself behind her and placed her hands on her shoulders.

  “Mmm.”

  She wasn’t sitting in a chair with a back, she was on a stool, so there was nothing between her and Gwynne but a few inches of empty space, a few inches that made her back tingle with awareness and reminded her of Gwynne pulling her zipper. Careful of the material, Gwynne massaged her shoulders and her back through the layers of her dress, her thumbs releasing the tight spots that came from playing the harp for too long and twisting to reach the strings.

  “That feels fantabulous,” Abby said. “I should schedule a massage with Megan or Yolanda.”

 
Gwynne tensed. She felt it in Gwynne’s hands.

  “I went to massage school too, you know.”

  “Did you? No wonder you’re so good at this.” She hadn’t meant to offend her. She wasn’t sure exactly what Gwynne did to all those people who kept begging her to help them with faith healing or energy healing or laying on of hands, but she wouldn’t call it massage. “Are you taking clients?” All she ever saw her do was turn her old customers away and tell them she quit, but if she ever changed her mind…

  “If it’s you—yes.”

  Abby leaned back against Gwynne’s body and let her head fall back too, because God, she was leaning against her breasts and it felt like home. She had no shame. None. She was taking advantage of a sweet gesture and Gwynne was going to gently but firmly push her away any second, but all she could think was Please, don’t let this end. She didn’t want to think about plagues or exploding comets or anything else except how wonderful it felt to have Gwynne’s hands on her, making her feel safe.

  Gwynne didn’t push her away. Instead, she looped her arms around her shoulders in a loose hug and held her close. Abby turned her head to one side, snuggling more deeply into the softness of her chest. Gwynne didn’t budge. She stood solid and warm and welcoming, and although she could feel Gwynne’s breathing had changed pace, she was pretty sure there was still air going in and out. Which was more than she could say for herself, because she herself was holding her breath, praying neither one of them would move or freak out or remember this wasn’t the kind of relationship they had—at least not yet.

  But after a minute, something in Gwynne’s energy shifted. “Looks like we have company,” Gwynne said.

  Abby jerked her head up and saw that Sapphire had reappeared, but there was no one nearby paying them any attention, so who was Gwynne talking about?

  “Who’s your friend?” Gwynne asked.

  Abby looked at Gwynne and Gwynne nodded in Sapphire’s direction. But she couldn’t be talking about Sapphire. No one could see Sapphire. Not even Gwynne, no matter what people said, no matter what she thought she saw at the hospital the day Gwynne’s mother died.

  Sapphire whizzed threateningly around Gwynne’s head.

  Gwynne should have looked unperturbed. She shouldn’t have been shooing at Sapphire like she was under attack by gnats, or crossing her forearms protectively over her forehead.

  “Charming little fireball, isn’t she?” Gwynne said.

  Abby shot up from her seat. She felt like she’d entered some alternate universe and didn’t know how to get out.

  “You can see her, can’t you?” Gwynne drew her eyebrows together and frowned.

  “You can see her?” She’d suspected Gwynne could see angels. She’d heard other people talk about it, she’d heard Gwynne talk about it, and part of her wanted to believe it was true. But believing wasn’t the same as knowing. She’d never fully believed—never known for sure—that Gwynne could see her angels—that Gwynne could see Sapphire. No one could see Sapphire.

  Still, there was no reason to feel light-headed. There was no reason to overreact. No reason at all.

  Her vision tunneled and blurred. Through the ringing in her ears she heard Gwynne say, “Of course I can see her. Didn’t we go over this already? I can see angels.”

  In a last-ditch effort, Abby stiffened her knees and tried to clear her head, but gray spots rushed in and swamped the tent.

  * * *

  Gwynne knelt by Abby’s side and felt for her pulse. She was lucky she’d fainted onto the sand without hitting her head on the edge of the low wooden platform or falling onto her harp.

  Abby’s eyes blinked open.

  “Are you all right?” Gwynne asked.

  Abby grimaced and rolled to her side. “I need to get up. People will wonder what I’m doing on the ground.”

  “Everyone’s having too much fun to notice. They can wait.” She gave her a butterscotch candy from her secret stash in her pocket. Sugar was good for fainting. So was not rushing to get back on your feet.

  Abby popped the butterscotch in her mouth and sat up and shook sand out of her skirt. Gwynne helped her brush sand off her back and made herself not think about the promise she’d made herself about what she’d do the next time she touched her dress.

  “Do you want to talk about what just happened?” Gwynne asked.

  “Nothing happened.”

  “I won’t think you’re crazy.” She had to know that already, but she said it anyway, because apparently Abby had been covering up her abilities, pretending not to notice angels when she was around other people.

  Abby squeezed her eyes shut.

  Like that would help. Poor thing. “There’s more to reality than most people know.”

  Abby opened her eyes a slit. “Maybe we’re both crazy.”

  “We’re not crazy. Believe me, we’re not.” She wanted to hold her, tell her it was okay, kiss her until she stopped worrying about it.

  She wasn’t sure Abby would appreciate that.

  “I have to get up.” Abby rocked forward onto her knees and rose an inch before pressing her hands to her head and changing her mind.

  “Someone really did a number on you, didn’t they? Someone convinced you angels aren’t real.”

  Abby looked like a cornered rabbit weighing the odds of escape. “Didn’t anyone try to convince you?” She squeezed her head and started to get up, but she still couldn’t manage it.

  Oh, no. She shouldn’t have assumed Abby was comfortable with the weird, angel-filled reality they shared. Holding her by the shoulders at her harp had muddled her brain, made her say things she shouldn’t. But hadn’t Abby ever talked to anyone about her ethereal companions?

  “You must have told your parents when you were little, right? And your parents told you the angels you saw were imaginary.”

  “Not my parents, my grandparents. They raised me,” Abby said. She still looked pale, but at least she wasn’t trying to get up. “They sent me for psychiatric testing.”

  “Yikes.” Gwynne sat back on her heels. “Isn’t that taking it a bit far?” No wonder Abby didn’t know whom to trust.

  “They were worried I’d turn out like my mother. They felt like they failed her, and, no matter what it took, they weren’t going to fail me.” Abby pushed herself up from the ground and stood. “It’s not that I don’t believe angels are real,” she said. “I do. Sort of. I mean, they seem real to me. It’s just that I’ve never met anyone else who can see them.”

  “We’re pretty rare.” That had been surprising, watching Abby have a conversation during the wedding reception with a being she shouldn’t have been able to perceive. Gwynne had stared at her for far too long, trying to figure out if she was really observing what she thought she was observing. “Megan sees them too.”

  “Yeah, I guess that’s what Kira was saying. She really can?”

  “Yeah. And Kira won’t think you’re wackadoodle, either, even though she can’t sense them herself. It’s pretty funny watching her make small talk with thin air ever since Megan told her she sicced one of her angels on her. And you—you’ve got hordes of them following you around. More than I do. I think they must like hanging out with people who know they’re there.”

  “You really saw Sapphire? The one who was circling you?” Abby’s face lit up, so innocently delighted that Gwynne couldn’t bear it.

  What was she doing, talking to Abby about angels? She’d assumed Abby could see them. It hadn’t occurred to her that Abby would doubt the evidence of her own eyes. And now Gwynne had just gone and confirmed for her that no, she was not crazy, and yes, angels were real. Perfect. Just freaking perfect. As if getting Heather killed because of this exact same information wasn’t enough. When would she learn to keep her mouth shut? She should do it for the good of humanity.

  She couldn’t stand the look on Abby’s face. She looked so happy, and all Gwynne could do was wish she’d never met her.

  Because Abby would have been so, so, so
much better off believing angels were not real.

  Chapter Eight

  Potential hallucination or not—with a strong vote for not from Gwynne Abernathy—Abby didn’t completely trust Elle. She needed proof.

  Penelope had assigned her a place at one of the tables for the wedding dinner and told her not to work the whole evening, but she wasn’t hungry. Instead, while the guests enjoyed grilled tuna steaks and chicken cordon bleu by candlelight flickering in hurricane lamps, she walked down the beach, away from the tent, and phoned her grandmother.

  “Grams. Do you remember me talking about angels when I was little?”

  There was a long pause, just as she expected. The pause had been honed all through Abby’s childhood to give her plenty of time to feel guilty.

  “I thought we’d put this behind us.”

  We. Like it was Grams’s problem too.

  “When are you going to outgrow this, Abby? This unhealthy fascination with the supernatural?”

  “Can’t we talk about it?”

  Another silence. Abby rubbed her ear. The infection was back. She needed to go to the doctor and get more antibiotics, but she never could get around to making the time to do it.

  Was Grams going to say anything at all? Maybe she was doing the wrong thing by bringing this up. She’d stopped talking about her so-called hallucinations long ago and discovered it made her relationship with her grandparents go much more smoothly.

  “I know you don’t like to talk about it…”

  Her grandmother cleared her throat. “You were such a tiny little thing when you lost your mother. Such a precious little thing. Only three years old. You were too young to know the difference between fantasy and reality. And you’d been through a terrible shock. We weren’t surprised when you clung to these…stories. It was a coping mechanism.”

  “What stories?” Abby said quickly, biting her lip and hoping she didn’t sound too eager.