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  Gabriel was nearly at the gates when a shapely brunette stumbled in front of him in a poorly executed attempt at an accidental fall. In one smooth movement Gabe caught her in his arms just before she hit the ground. There were audible gasps of admiration from the watching students, and I saw some of the other girls bristle with jealousy at not having come up with the idea themselves. But there was little to warrant their envy: Gabriel merely steadied the girl, replaced the items that had fallen from her bag, wordlessly picked up his battered briefcase, and kept walking. He wasn’t being unfriendly; he simply wouldn’t have seen the need for any exchange of words. The girl stared wistfully after him and her friends crowded around, hoping some of the glamour of the moment might rub off on them.

  “You poor thing, you have a fan club already,” I said, patting his arm sympathetically as we began our walk home.

  “I’m not the only one,” Gabriel replied. “You didn’t exactly escape attention either.”

  “Yes, but no one’s really tried to talk to me.” I didn’t mention my encounter with Xavier Woods—something told me Gabriel wouldn’t approve.

  “Be grateful for small mercies,” said Gabriel drily.

  I related the day, point by point, to Ivy when we got home. Gabriel, who hadn’t been thrilled by every little detail, remained silent. Ivy smothered a smile when I told the story of the swooning girls.

  “Teenage girls can be quite lacking in subtlety,” Ivy mused. “The boys, on the hand, are much harder to read. It’s all very interesting, don’t you think?”

  “They all just seem lost to me,” Gabe said. “I wonder if any of them really know what life is all about. I didn’t realize we’d be starting from scratch. This is going to be harder than I thought.” He fell silent, and we all were reminded of the epic task we had ahead of us.

  “We always knew it was going to be hard,” Ivy said softly.

  “You know something I noticed,” I said. “It seems like a lot has gone on in this town over the last few months. I heard some of the most awful stories.”

  “Like what?” Ivy asked.

  “Two students have died from freak accidents recently,” I said. “And there have been outbreaks of sickness and fires and all sorts of strange things. People are starting to notice that something’s wrong.”

  “Looks like we got here just in time,” said Ivy.

  “But how will we find whoever . . . or whatever is responsible?” I asked.

  “There is no way to find them yet,” said Gabriel. “It’s our job to clean up the mess and wait until they show up again. Trust me; they won’t go down without a fight.”

  We all fell silent as we thought about confronting such random destruction.

  “So . . . I made a friend today!” I announced, in an attempt to lighten the gloom that was settling over us. It came out sounding as if it was a major achievement, and they both looked at me with their now-familiar mix of concern and disapproval.

  “Is there something wrong with that?” I said defensively. “Aren’t I allowed to have friends? I thought the whole idea was to blend in.”

  “Blending in is one thing; but do you realize that friends require time and energy?” said Gabriel. “They’ll want to bond.” He winced as if the thought was painful to him.

  “As in physically meld together?” I was confused.

  “I mean, they’ll want to be emotionally close,” my brother explained. “Human relationships can be unnaturally intimate—I’ll never understand it.”

  “They can also be a distraction,” Ivy somehow felt the need to add. “Not to mention the fact that friendship comes with expectations, so choose carefully.”

  “What kind of expectations?”

  “Human friendships are based on trust. Friends share problems, exchange confidences and . . .” She petered out with a shake of her golden head and looked imploringly at Gabriel.

  “What Ivy means is that anyone who becomes your friend will start to ask questions and expect answers,” said Gabe. “They will want to become part of your life and that’s dangerous.”

  “Well, thanks for the vote of confidence,” I replied indignantly. “You know I’d never do anything that might jeopardize the mission. How stupid do you think I am?”

  I was pleased to see them exchange guilty looks. I might have been younger and less experienced than they were, but it was no reason to treat me like an idiot.

  “We don’t think that,” said Gabriel in a more conciliatory tone. “Of course we trust you; it’s just that we want to avoid things getting complicated.”

  “They won’t,” I said. “But I still want to experience life as a teenager.”

  “We just have to be careful.” Gabriel reached out to give my hand a squeeze. “We’ve been entrusted with a task that is much more important than our individual desires.”

  Put like that he had a point. Why was he so irritatingly wise? And why was it so impossible to stay mad at him?

  I felt much more relaxed at home. In a short time we’d already made the place our own. We were manifesting a typically human trait—to personalize and identify with a space—and home felt like a sanctuary after the day we’d had. Even Gabriel, although he would have been loath to admit it, was starting to enjoy living here. We were rarely bothered by the doorbell ringing (the house’s imposing façade seemed to deter visitors), so once inside we were free to pursue our own interests.

  Although I’d been eager to get home, I now found myself at a loss as to how I should be occupying my time. It was all right for Gabriel and Ivy. They were always absorbed in a book, playing the baby grand, or up to their elbows in flour in the kitchen. Without a hobby of my own, I was left to wander aimlessly around the house. I decided to focus on domestic chores for a while. I brought in a load of laundry and folded it before putting the kettle on. The house smelled a little musty from being shut up all day, so I opened some windows and cleared the clutter on the dining table. I picked sprigs of pungent pine from the yard and arranged them in a slender vase. I noticed there was some junk mail in the mailbox and made a mental note to purchase one of the No Junk Mail stickers I’d seen displayed on some of the other mailboxes in the street. I glanced at one of the leaflets before dropping them into the trash and saw that a new sports store had opened in town. It was called, rather unoriginally, I thought, SportsMart, and was advertising its opening sale.

  It felt strange to be carrying out ordinary tasks when my whole existence was so far from ordinary. I wondered what other seventeen-year-old girls were doing at that moment—cleaning their bedrooms at the behest of frustrated parents, listening to their favorite bands on their iPods, sending each other text messages to make plans for the weekend, checking their e-mails when they should be studying?

  We’d been given homework in at least three subjects and I’d written it down diligently in my school planner, unlike many of my fellow students who seemed happy to rely on memory. I told myself I should start it now in order to be prepared for the following day, but I knew that it would take hardly any time and was unlikely to pose any intellectual challenge. In short, it would be drop-dead easy. I’d know the answer to any question asked, so going through the motions of homework seemed like a tedious waste of time. Nevertheless, I hauled my school bag up to my room. My bedroom was the loft at the very top of the stairs, facing the sea. Even with the windows shut you could hear the sound of waves crashing over rocks. There was a narrow lacework balcony with a wicker chair and table that looked out over the sea where boats bobbed rhythmically on the water. I sat there for a while, highlighter in hand, my psychology textbook open in front of me on a page titled, “Galvanic Skin Response.”

  I desperately needed to keep my mind occupied, if for no other reason than to stop thinking about my encounters with Bryce Hamilton’s school captain. Everything seemed to stay with me—his piercing eyes and his tie slightly askew. Molly’s words kept echoing in my mind: I wouldn’t go for him if I were you. . . . He’s got baggage. But why was I s
o intrigued? As much as I wanted to shut him out of my mind, I couldn’t seem to. I would make myself think of other things, but before long there he was again, his face floating across the page I was trying to read, the image of a smooth hand wearing a plaited leather wristband cutting across my thoughts. I wondered what Emily had been like; what it felt like to lose someone you loved.

  I made a pretense of tidying my room before wandering down to the kitchen to offer Gabriel some help with dinner. He’d continued to surprise Ivy and me by throwing himself wholeheartedly into the task of cooking for us all. Part of his motivation was our well-being, but he also found the handling and preparation of food fascinating. Like music, it provided him with a creative outlet. When I walked in, he was standing at the white marble workbench, cleaning an assortment of mushrooms with a checked dish towel and occasionally frowning as he referred to a cookbook propped open on a metal stand. Soaking in a small bowl were what looked like pieces of black bark. Over his shoulder I read the title of the recipe: “Mushroom Risotto.” It looked ambitious for a beginner, but then I reminded myself that this was the Archangel Gabriel. He excelled at everything without needing to practice.

  “Hope you like mushrooms,” he said, seeing the curiosity in my face.

  “I guess we’re about to find out,” I replied, sitting down at the table. I liked watching Gabriel work and was always struck by the deftness and precision of his movements. Under his touch, ordinary things seemed transformed. The transition from angel to human had been much smoother for Gabe and Ivy; they seemed removed from the trivialities of life, but at the same time seemed to know exactly what they were doing. They were used to being able to sense each other in the Kingdom, a skill that had followed them on our mission. They found me much trickier to read and it worried them.

  “Would you like some tea?” I asked, wanting to make some kind of contribution. “Where’s Ivy?”

  She walked in just at that moment, wearing linen pants and a tank top, her hair damp from the shower. Already there was something different about my sister. She had lost some of her dreaminess, and there was a purpose in her face I hadn’t seen before. She seemed to have other things on her mind, because as soon as I’d poured the tea, she excused herself from our company. I’d also caught sight of her recently scribbling page upon page in a notebook.

  “Is Ivy okay?” I asked Gabriel once she’d gone.

  “She just wants to get things rolling,” he said. I didn’t know or ask exactly how Ivy planned to do this, but I was envious of her sense of purpose. When would I discover mine? When would I have the satisfaction of knowing I’d done something really worthwhile?

  “Get things rolling how?”

  “You know your sister’s never short on ideas. She’ll come up with something.” Was Gabriel being deliberately mysterious? Did he realize how much in the dark I felt?

  “What should I do?” I asked, hating the way I sounded so petulant.

  “That will come to you,” said my brother. “Give yourself some time.”

  “And in the meantime?”

  “Didn’t you say you wanted to experience being a teenager?” He gave me an encouraging smile, and as always, my unease dissolved.

  I peered into the bowl with the black strips floating in gritty liquid.

  “Is this bark part of the recipe?”

  “Those are porcini mushrooms—they need soaking before you can use them.”

  “Mmm . . . they look delicious,” I lied.

  “They’re considered a delicacy. Don’t worry, you’ll love them.”

  I passed Gabriel his mug of tea and continued to entertain myself by watching him. I gasped when the sharp paring knife he was using slipped from his grasp, slicing open the top of his index finger. The sight of blood shocked me—a frightening reminder of how vulnerable our bodies were. Warm, crimson blood was so human and seeing it spill from my brother’s hand seemed so unnatural. But Gabriel hadn’t even flinched. He just brought his bleeding finger to his mouth and when he withdrew it any trace of injury had disappeared. He washed his hands with the soap from the dispenser on the sink and went back to his methodical slicing.

  I picked up a piece of celery that was destined for the salad and chewed absently on it. Celery, I decided, must be more about texture than taste as it didn’t really have much flavor, but it was certainly crunchy. Why anyone would eat it voluntarily was beyond me, apart from its nutritional value. Good nutrition meant a healthier body and a longer life. Humans were inordinately afraid of death, but I supposed we couldn’t expect anything else from them given their lack of knowledge about what lay beyond. They would find out in due course that there was nothing to fear.

  Gabriel’s dinner turned out to be the usual success. Even Ivy, who took no real pleasure in food, was impressed.

  “Another culinary triumph,” she said after the first forkfull.

  “Amazing flavors,” I added. Food was just another wonder the earth had to offer. I couldn’t help marveling at how every food could have such a different texture and flavor—bitter, sour, salty, creamy, tangy, sweet, spicy—sometimes more than one at the same time. Some of them I liked and some made me want to wash my mouth out—but everything was a unique experience.

  Gabriel modestly dismissed our praise, and talk turned once again to the events of the day.

  “Well, that’s one day down. I think it went well, although I hadn’t expected to find so many musical students.”

  “I think you’ll find a lot of them developed an interest in music once they saw you.” Ivy said with a smile.

  “Well, at least it gives me something to work on,” Gabe replied. “If they can find beauty in music, they can find beauty in one another and the world too.”

  “But aren’t you bored in class?” I asked Gabe. “I mean, you already have access to all human knowledge.”

  “I expect he wasn’t really concentrating on the content,” Ivy said. “He would have been trying to pick up on other things.” Sometimes my sister had an infuriating way of speaking in riddles she just expected everyone else to understand.

  “Well, I was bored,” I persisted. “Especially in chemistry. I’ve decided it really isn’t my thing.” Gabriel gave a low chuckle at my choice of words.

  “Well, you’ll just have to find out what is your thing. Try things out and see what you like best.”

  “I like literature,” I said. “We started watching the film version of Romeo and Juliet today.”

  I didn’t tell them this, but the love story fascinated me. The way the lovers fell so deeply and irrevocably in love after their first meeting sparked a burning curiosity in me about what human love might feel like.

  “How are you finding that?” Ivy asked.

  “It’s very powerful, but the teacher got really mad when one of the boys said something about Lady Capulet.”

  “What did he say?”

  “He called her a MILF, which must be offensive because Miss Castle called him a thug and sent him out of the room. Gabe, what is a MILF?”

  Ivy smothered her smile behind a napkin while Gabriel did something I’d never seen before. He blushed and shifted uncomfortably in his chair.

  “Some acronym for a teenage obscenity, I imagine,” he mumbled.

  “Yes, but do you know what it means?”

  He paused, trying to find the right words.

  “It’s a term used by adolescent males to describe a woman who is both attractive and a mother.” He cleared his throat and got up quickly to refill the water jug.

  “I’m sure it must stand for something,” I pressed.

  “It does,” Gabriel said. “Ivy, can you remember what it is?”

  “I believe it stands for ‘mother I’d like to . . . befriend,’ ” said my sister.

  “Is that all?” I exclaimed. “What a fuss over nothing. I really think Miss Castle needs to chill.”

  5

  Small Miracles

  With dinner over and the dishes washed, Gabriel took a
book out onto the veranda even though the light was already fading, while Ivy continued to clean, wiping down surfaces that already looked immaculate. She was starting to come across as obsessive in her desire for cleanliness, but it might have just been her way of feeling closer to home. I looked around the room for something I could do. In the Kingdom time didn’t exist and therefore didn’t need to be filled. Finding things to do was very important on earth; it was what gave life purpose.

  Gabriel must have sensed my unease because he seemed to change his mind about reading and poked his head back through the door.

  “Why don’t we all go for a walk and watch the sunset?” he suggested.

  “Great idea.” I felt my mood lift immediately. “You coming, Ivy?”

  “Not until I go upstairs and get us something warmer to wear,” she said. “It gets very cold in the evening.”

  I rolled my eyes at her display of caution. I was the only one who got cold, and I’d already put my coat on. Ivy and Gabriel had trained their bodies to maintain normal temperature on previous visits, but I still had a long way to go.

  “You’re not even going to feel the cold,” I objected.

  “That’s not the point. We may be seen not feeling the cold and draw attention.”

  “Ivy’s right,” said Gabe. “Best to play it safe.” He disappeared upstairs, returning with two bulky jackets.

  Our house was set high on the hill, so we had to meander our way down a series of sandy wooden steps before reaching the beach. The steps were so narrow that we had to walk single file. I couldn’t help thinking how much more convenient it would be if we could just release our wings and swoop down to the sand below. I didn’t articulate my thought to either Gabriel or Ivy, certain of the lecture that would follow if I did. I knew how dangerous flight was under the circumstances, a surefire way of blowing our cover. So we took mortal steps, all one hundred and seven of them, before reaching the shore.

  I threw off my shoes to savor the feel of the silky grains beneath my feet. There was so much to notice on earth. Even the sand was complex, shifting in color and texture and quite iridescent in places where the sun hit it. Aside from the sand, I noticed that the beach held other small treasures: pearly shells, fragments of glass worn smooth by the motion of the water, the occasional half-buried sandal or an abandoned shovel, and tiny white crabs that scuttled in and out of little pea-size holes in the rock pools. Being so close to the ocean was thrilling for the senses—it seemed to roar like a living thing, filling my mind with noise that subsided and reared up again unexpectedly. The sound hurt my ears, and the sharp, salty air scratched my throat and nose. The wind whipping against my cheeks left them pink and stinging. But I was growing to love every minute of it—every part of being human brought with it some new sensation.