Samael by Heather Killough-Walden

used that to summon food from where she had it sequestered in one of her apartments. As people moved in and out of the stalls on either side of her, she remained locked safely in her own, eating a granola bar.
    Then she waited some more. The line progressed quickly enough that no one noticed she remained locked in her single stall. When she had the strength the food afforded her, she again morphed, cleaning her clothes and turning her hair red. Her skin became tanned, and her eyes shifted into a gold-green.
    As an added touch, she gave herself freckles before at last creeping out of her stall. She flushed the toilet behind her for the sake of appearance. Then she exited the restroom with another small crowd and made her way into the first open area of the faire bordered by tents and booths on either side. A wave of dizziness swept over her once she’d cleared the crowd, and she frowned.
    She stopped to lean against a tree. That was weird. It had never happened before.
    Worried, she looked up at the gathering clouds. Were there more than there had been before she’d gone into the restroom?
    When she felt stable again, she pushed off the tree and continued deeper into the faire.
    To be safe, she should probably transport from one place to the next until she was in her permanent location. But she was frankly exhausted. She needed a break. And the truth was, she’d always been a sucker for ren faires. They reminded her of days she’d actually lived through. They also amused her a little, because she was able to enjoy the good qualities of those ages without the bad, such as rampant disease, heavy handed religious laws, barbaric medical practices, horrid stench, Neanderthal attitudes toward women, and more disease.
    From where she was standing, she could see things she wanted to check out. Not far away was a booth selling customized leather boots. She loved boots. Another booth a few feet away had astrolabes displayed behind glass cases. She loved those too. She even knew a man who carried one around. Of course, that was a very special astrolabe, hidden inside a very special pocket watch. The watch, like the man, was an enigma, capable of secret things only he knew.
    Speaking of time - Angel sort of felt it ticking away. It was slipping, like sand through that infamous hour glass. If she wanted to enjoy the faire, she would have to do so quickly and then move on. Because Sam was not a man to take lightly.
    She ran a hand through her hair, and suddenly closed her eyes. “Is the rest of my life going to be like this?” she asked herself softly. Would she always be running from Samael? Would every day consist of brief stops at places she enjoyed, followed by more running?
    It was either that, or give in.
    An image of Sam’s face floated through her mind. She saw his powerful eyes peering right through her, heard his deep voice wrap tight around her, and felt goose bumps raise across every inch of her flesh. She felt warm inside, and a moan escaped her throat. It was a sound of regret, of longing, and of frustration.
    Was all of this worth it?
    Was it worth it to keep fleeing the man she loved – had loved for two thousand years, deep down inside, in the core of who and what she was – just so she could play Superwoman to the people of this realm? Just so she could be their wayward hero?
    Did they even deserve it? Did they warrant her pain?
    That’s a hell of a question, she thought. And she knew it was one thought in anger. You know they deserve it. At least, most of them. And besides, it’s not just you, she told herself firmly . It’s the others from the angel realm as well. Think of all Rhiannon does. Think of everything they all do! Together, you’re better than nothing.
    Yes, it was worth her pain. If maybe some days, just barely.
    Angel opened her eyes and trembled. Her mouth was dry. She felt strange, and it wasn’t getting any better. Maybe she needed a drink.
    She looked around quickly, spotting the edge of the