door.
"Where are we going?" Zach asked as he hurried to keep up with her.
"I don't know!" she answered. "I just needed to get out into the fresh air." She ran down the sidewalk, then down the steps to the beach. She balanced herself on one foot, then the other, as she took off her sandals and dropped them in her bag.
"Race you to the water!" she said, and took off, and he ran, laughing, after her. He caught her at the edge of the ocean, and they stood gasping for breath. "Zach?" she asked. "Is this real?"
He opened his mouth to speak. "Sarah--" he started, but she threw out her hand. "No, don't tell me!" she said. "I don't want to know. Just let me be happy for as long as it lasts, okay?" And she turned and started walking down the beach, only to turn back to him and say, "Tell me about angels."
* * *
"Do you talk to God?" she asked. "I mean, talk to him and he answers, not like I talk to him."
They were walking along the beach hand in hand, skirting little children building sand castles and teenagers lying on blankets; no one seemed to notice them--a small barefoot blond woman holding her skirt up out of the water and a tall man dressed all in black.
He stopped abruptly and held out his hand, palm up like a traffic cop, indicating that she should stop talking. He stood stock still, gazing into the middle distance.
"What?" she said. He held up his hand again.
"Yes?" he said. "All right." He turned to her and mouthed, "God."
She backed up a step and clamped her hand over her mouth, her eyes wide.
"Yes sir," he said. "No problem at all." He turned back to her, reaching for her arm, and started walking again. She pulled on his arm and made him stop.
"That was God? You were talking to God?" He grinned at her. "Just kidding," he said.
She reached out and swatted him on the shoulder. "Don't tease me like that!"
They went on walking.
"So you weren't really talking to God? Do you talk to God? I mean, on a regular basis?"
"Sure. Well, listen mostly. He does tend to go on a bit."
* * *
"And what about the wings ," she asked.
"What about them?"
"I've done some research. I'm not totally clueless about angels. Wings that size wouldn't get you off the ground!"
"Oh no? Do you believe everything you read? Do you think we're governed by the same laws of physics that mortal beings are? Sure, if you were going to fly, you'd need wings the size of a 747, but for me . . ." and he took off, soaring, into the air.
She stood on the beach, laughing delightedly, as he swooped around her, then glided to a graceful stop at her feet. She clapped. "Bravo!" she cried, then hugged him.
* * *
Sarah suddenly remembered her morning visitor. "Oh, I forgot to tell you! There was someone at the bookshop looking for you this morning. He . . . well, I think he might have hurt me if there hadn't been other people around."
"What? Who was it?" He instantly lost the playful mood.
"I don't know. He said to tell you that Cadmiel wanted to talk to you."
"Cadmiel?" He frowned. "Cadmiel wouldn't come here. He must have sent someone . . . What did he look like? Did he hurt you?"
"No, not really. Scared me, that's all. Tall. Blond. A big guy. Bigger than you, heavier."
He turned away from her, thinking.
"What is it, Zach? Do you know who he is?"
"I know what he is," he said.
"What is he?" She took his hand. "Zach, tell me. I need to know what to do if he comes back!"
"I don't think he would hurt you in any lasting way," he began. "I need to find out who he is, first. If he's from Cadmiel, he just wants me. It doesn't have anything to do with you, he was just using you to get to me."
"But who is he?" she asked again.
"I don't know. But as I said, I know what he is, or what I assume he is--an angel of retribution."
"And he's after you?"
"It would seem so."
"But why?"
He started walking again. "They must have sent someone to find me and bring me back. We're generally not allowed to deviate from our assigned duties.
"Where are we going?" Zach asked as he hurried to keep up with her.
"I don't know!" she answered. "I just needed to get out into the fresh air." She ran down the sidewalk, then down the steps to the beach. She balanced herself on one foot, then the other, as she took off her sandals and dropped them in her bag.
"Race you to the water!" she said, and took off, and he ran, laughing, after her. He caught her at the edge of the ocean, and they stood gasping for breath. "Zach?" she asked. "Is this real?"
He opened his mouth to speak. "Sarah--" he started, but she threw out her hand. "No, don't tell me!" she said. "I don't want to know. Just let me be happy for as long as it lasts, okay?" And she turned and started walking down the beach, only to turn back to him and say, "Tell me about angels."
* * *
"Do you talk to God?" she asked. "I mean, talk to him and he answers, not like I talk to him."
They were walking along the beach hand in hand, skirting little children building sand castles and teenagers lying on blankets; no one seemed to notice them--a small barefoot blond woman holding her skirt up out of the water and a tall man dressed all in black.
He stopped abruptly and held out his hand, palm up like a traffic cop, indicating that she should stop talking. He stood stock still, gazing into the middle distance.
"What?" she said. He held up his hand again.
"Yes?" he said. "All right." He turned to her and mouthed, "God."
She backed up a step and clamped her hand over her mouth, her eyes wide.
"Yes sir," he said. "No problem at all." He turned back to her, reaching for her arm, and started walking again. She pulled on his arm and made him stop.
"That was God? You were talking to God?" He grinned at her. "Just kidding," he said.
She reached out and swatted him on the shoulder. "Don't tease me like that!"
They went on walking.
"So you weren't really talking to God? Do you talk to God? I mean, on a regular basis?"
"Sure. Well, listen mostly. He does tend to go on a bit."
* * *
"And what about the wings ," she asked.
"What about them?"
"I've done some research. I'm not totally clueless about angels. Wings that size wouldn't get you off the ground!"
"Oh no? Do you believe everything you read? Do you think we're governed by the same laws of physics that mortal beings are? Sure, if you were going to fly, you'd need wings the size of a 747, but for me . . ." and he took off, soaring, into the air.
She stood on the beach, laughing delightedly, as he swooped around her, then glided to a graceful stop at her feet. She clapped. "Bravo!" she cried, then hugged him.
* * *
Sarah suddenly remembered her morning visitor. "Oh, I forgot to tell you! There was someone at the bookshop looking for you this morning. He . . . well, I think he might have hurt me if there hadn't been other people around."
"What? Who was it?" He instantly lost the playful mood.
"I don't know. He said to tell you that Cadmiel wanted to talk to you."
"Cadmiel?" He frowned. "Cadmiel wouldn't come here. He must have sent someone . . . What did he look like? Did he hurt you?"
"No, not really. Scared me, that's all. Tall. Blond. A big guy. Bigger than you, heavier."
He turned away from her, thinking.
"What is it, Zach? Do you know who he is?"
"I know what he is," he said.
"What is he?" She took his hand. "Zach, tell me. I need to know what to do if he comes back!"
"I don't think he would hurt you in any lasting way," he began. "I need to find out who he is, first. If he's from Cadmiel, he just wants me. It doesn't have anything to do with you, he was just using you to get to me."
"But who is he?" she asked again.
"I don't know. But as I said, I know what he is, or what I assume he is--an angel of retribution."
"And he's after you?"
"It would seem so."
"But why?"
He started walking again. "They must have sent someone to find me and bring me back. We're generally not allowed to deviate from our assigned duties.
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