"Okay. That makes sense." He was silent for a few moments. "What about money?"

  "I beg your pardon?" I was starting to regret taking the freeway. While the roads were relatively clear of snow, traffic was heavy. People were avoiding the smaller roads that weren't as well-plowed.

  "Money? Do you work? What do you do? What does a Saver do? What does a Helper do?"

  "We get a stipend, which is adequate as long as you aren't too extravagant. If we want to work, we can, but it sometimes interferes with our real job. A Helper is someone who assists other people in the background. You're usually assigned to a particular location, like a truck stop for example. You keep an eye on things and sort of nudge luck when it's needed."

  I spied my exit ahead and breathed a sigh of relief. "The next level is Advisor. That's where you interact with someone, pointing them in the right direction. I'm a Saver. We intervene when needed, rescuing children and animals and the occasional adult."

  "How do Helpers do what—"

  "I don't mean to sound like a broken record, but you'll get all the details during your orientation. Just hold tight on the questions." I checked the side mirrors and made my cautious way to the right lane. "Tell me about you. Where are you from? Were you married?"

  His hand, resting on his knee, flexed. "Born in Jersey. Joined the Army when I was eighteen. I was married. She died."

  "Oh, I'm sorry."

  He stared stonily out his window. "I'm not."

  Hmm. I might want to do a bit of research. "What did you do in the Army?"

  "I was a military advisor in Vietnam."

  I took the exit. We slid a few feet to the stop sign at the bottom of the ramp.

  I managed a left turn and we headed west. "Wait a minute. Military advisors weren't in 'Nam in the Seventies."

  "Yeah, right."

  I eyed the cars ahead. We were slowing for a traffic light, so I decided I could risk it. I tapped the App button on the car's touchscreen.

  "Siri, when did military advisors leave the country during the Vietnam conflict?" I asked into the air.

  "What are you doing? Who are you talking to?"

  "The car is paired with my phone."

  "What do you mean it's paired?"

  "Official military advisors were requested to leave the country before 1970, but clandestine operations continued until the official end of the conflict." The pleasant female voice sounded positively cheerful about the possibility of illegal activities.

  "Who the hell is that?"

  "Siri, stop." I slammed on the brakes, sliding a foot and almost touching the car in front of us. "I wish people would learn to drive in snow," I muttered.

  "Who's talking?" Boyd demanded.

  "It's a personal data assistant. A computer." We moved through the traffic light. I once again breathed a sigh of relief. Just a few more miles and we'd be home.

  I considered my larder. "Are you hungry? Do you want to stop to eat somewhere?"

  "Do we eat? I mean, are we like, you know, human?"

  "We're very human," I assured him. "We can be killed. When we are, we may or may not be eligible for promotion, depending on how we handled the current job. We don't age, though, at least not as fast as regular people do. If we're injured, we'll heal very quickly except from extremely horrible wounds."

  He absorbed that information for a minute then said, "You probably have to move around a lot then."

  "Yes. It can be lonely," I admitted. "People notice you aren't changing, so every ten years or so, you move on."

  I spied a pizza place. "I'll get us a take-and-bake pizza for tonight. How does sausage and mushroom sound?"

  "Take and bake?"

  "Trust me. It's fine."

  "Sure. Whatever."

  I pulled into the parking lot. "Do you want to wait here? It won't take long."

  "Sure." He stared out his window, his expression unreadable.

  I parked the car and hurried into the store, which was, thankfully, empty. I placed my order, paid for it, then pulled out my phone.

  "Barnum, he's had no training whatsoever." I whispered as I peeked at my car from under an advertisement for a Cowboy Pizza, whatever that was. "He's very disoriented."

  "I'm sure that's why you were chosen to work with him." Barnum sounded avuncular and reassuring, two adjectives that I didn't believe for one minute.

  "That's ridiculous and you know it," I hissed. "I'm not known for my motherly persona."

  "But you are an awesome representative of the Service. I'm sure that's why They want you to handle this."

  I heard the capital letter on They. "Joel was there at his ascension. Boyd said that Joel told him specifically that he was needed."

  "See? I was right. This is a special case. That's why you're on it. Call me once he's settled in for the night." He hung up.

  Settled in for the night? I picked up the pizza and went back to the car. I set it on the back seat before I slipped into the driver's side.

  "I want to apologize in advance for your accommodations tonight," I said while pulling out into traffic once again. "My condo is quite small."

  "It's temporary, right?" Boyd's gaze bounced from right to left, taking in the shopping center, the movie theater, the chain restaurants, and the gas stations.

  "Of course." As soon as I said it, I had second thoughts. Who knew what his assignment would be?

  Well, I would just chat with whoever was in charge of him and make sure that it was temporary. Savers normally didn't babysit Helpers for more than a few hours at the most. The order to take him home with me for overnight orientation was highly unusual.

  "You said you may or may not be eligible for promotion. Who decides?"

  We passed out of the more heavily populated suburb of Chanhassen and came into open farmland and fields.

  "Your archangel decides. There's an archangel in charge of each level and that angel decides. That's the Minnesota Landscape Arboretum." I gestured to my left. "It's known for its research facilities."

  "He didn't say he was an archangel." Boyd sounded almost belligerent.

  "He probably didn't want to frighten you."

  "Frighten me? That guy? He was a wimp."

  A wimp? An archangel? They were the Swords of God, capable of heaven only knew what kinds of destruction.

  "Appearances can be deceiving," I muttered.

  "Yeah, right."

  "That appears to be your standard response to just about everything."

  "So what?"

  Hmm. Belligerent. "I understand that this is all confusing."

  "Quit saying that. If you can't explain shit to me, then just shut up." Then he must have realized how he sounded because he added, "Please."

  My rebuke died on my lips at this polite addendum. I decided to take his advice. I didn't speak again until we approached the tiny town of Victoria.

  "We're almost there. Do you need anything? I can stop at the drugstore."

  "I don't know," he muttered. "I suppose I need everything."

  "I have the basics at my home. We'll see what your assignment is. If needed, we can go out later on to shop."

  "Do you have any beer?"

  I glanced at him. He was staring at the local brew pub while we passed it. "I have beer and wine," I said.

  "I'd like a beer." He said it so softly I could barely hear him.

  I felt a burst of sympathy for him, thrust into a strange world with no idea of his purpose or his reason for being. I resolved to encourage him to relax and start his orientation as soon as possible.

  I parked in the underground garage. We rode upstairs in the elevator in silence, Boyd carrying the pizza. We emerged on the third floor and I had my key ready.

  "There are only six units on each floor," I explained, walking past the first door on the right to my unit at the far end.

  A woman emerged from the far stairwell. This was a secure building, so I had no qualms about a stranger in the hallway. She wore a long black winter coat, a thick red scarf, and a jaunty beret perched on her long dark hair.

  It was odd, but the more I looked at her, the harder it seemed to make out her features. It was as if she carried a shadow with her that kept her camouflaged.

  She reached my door at the same moment we did. I finally saw her illuminated by the overhead light.

  It was the archangel Uriel. She smiled genially at me.

  "Hello, Florence."

  Chapter Two

  "YOU? WHAT—WHERE—WHY—?" My purse slid off my shoulder. My keys joined the contents of my bag on the floor.

  Boyd stepped in front of me, pushing me so I was jammed against my door. "Back off, lady."

  "How gallant," Uriel murmured. She was a large woman with flowing black hair, dark skin, and brown eyes flecked with amber.

  I knew who she was even though I'd never personally met her. Anyone who'd been through orientation knew her.

  Oh, damn. Orientation, which was something Boyd hadn't experienced.

  "It's okay. She's a friend. It's okay." I struggled to worm my way past Boyd, who somehow was using his body as a shield.

  Boyd looked over his shoulder at me. He wasn't much taller than me, maybe only five-seven or so, but he was stocky and solidly muscled. There was no way I would be able to budge him. "You sure?"

  "Yes, of course. It's fine." I tried a smile and an encouraging nod. "She just startled me, that's all." That was the understatement of the century.

  Boyd picked up my keys. "Let's get that pizza in the oven. I'm hungry." He opened my door.

  "Wait a minute." I grabbed for his arm, but he slipped away from me and strode into the condo like he owned it.

  "Patience, dear. He hasn't been through orientation. He doesn't know the rules." Uriel smiled at me and followed him in.

  "He may not know rules but he should know some basic politeness," I muttered under my breath.

  I stooped to retrieve my purse and its scattered contents. I glimpsed my neighbor, elderly Mrs. Moffit, coming down the hall. She manhandled her portable shopping cart, which bounced into the wall with every other step.

  I jammed everything into my handbag, knowing that if she caught sight of me I'd be delayed for several minutes of chatting. I caromed into the condo and closed the door behind me.

  "Coats go in here." I gestured to the coat closet on the right, but my comment was futile.

  Both Uriel and Boyd had walked past the entryway and shed their outerwear, now draped over the chairs at my kitchen island. They were at my stove, examining the controls.

  Uriel wore a flowing navy dress with sparkles in it that shimmered in the light overhead. Her braided hair also flowed over her shoulders to mid-way on her back. She seemed to dwarf Boyd with her size and presence.

  "I think the oven needs to be set to—"

  "We got it." Boyd glanced at the instructions on the pizza then unwrapped it, slipping it into the oven.

  "It's supposed to be pre-heated."

  "I'll keep an eye on it." He turned to Uriel. "You want a beer?"

  I started to protest him taking over my hostess duties, but Uriel glanced at me and shook her head slightly.

  "I'll take some wine if you have it," she said.

  "Red or white?" I asked, going to wine fridge.

  "Red."

  "Where's the beer?" Boyd peered into my fridge. It was just a step or two away from the gas stove.

  "On the bottom."

  "Got it. Coors. Good." He opened the can and took a long swallow.

  I poured wine for Uriel, who had taken a seat at my kitchen island, her arms resting on the polished gray granite surface.

  "This is a very nice place, Florence." She took the wine with a regal nod of her head and sipped. "Very nice."

  "Thanks. It suits me. It's small but big enough." I gestured behind me, toward the entryway. "A little den back there." I nodded to the door on the right. "Bedroom there." I pointed toward the windows overlooking the lake. "And a nice little deck in the summertime." I held up my arms. "And everything else is kitchen and living room."

  "So what's the job?" Boyd leaned against my counter, regarding Uriel with an evaluating stare.

  Uriel sipped her wine. "Why do you think I'm here about a job, as you put it?"

  Boyd nodded toward me. "She acts like you're a boss. Bosses usually hand out jobs. So what is it?"

  I poured myself a glass of white wine with a trembling hand. At this rate, he'd probably get me demoted before the pizza was out of the oven.

  "Quite astute of you, Mr. Boyd. We need you to go to Colorado, to a little-known Army research base between Denver and Colorado Springs. While there, you must meet a young man. It's critical that Captain Calvin Booker be kept safe this weekend."

  "What's happening this weekend?" Boyd asked.

  "We believe someone is poised to cause an unfortunate accident for the young man. We have, hmm, ears in many places. It appears Captain Booker has caught the attention of some of the players on the opposite side of our playing field."

  I almost dropped my glass. "Demons?"

  Boyd frowned at me. "Demons? Really? The kind with horns and tails?"

  I nodded. "Well, I'm not sure," I temporized. "I haven't interacted with many of them. But they exist."

  Or so I was told. I had successfully evaded all contact with the Other Side. I fervently hoped to keep it that way.

  "Why?" Boyd demanded. "What's so special about him?"

  "You don't need to know the details."

  He considered that, frowning at Uriel. "You want us to go to Two Ridges and make sure this guy doesn't get assassinated. Is that the job?"

  "You're familiar with Two Ridges." It wasn't a question. I suspect Uriel knew that before he even spoke.

  "Yeah, I am. It's an upper-level research base doing all kinds of hush-hush shit. At least, they were doing that when I last heard about it." He shot a glare at the archangel sitting at my counter. "Forty-some years ago."

  "You heard about it?" I asked. "I thought you were stationed overseas."

  "I was, but rumor buzzes around the Army like flies around shit. I heard they were working on a super soldier."

  Visions of Arnold Schwarzenegger and G.I. Joe flashed through my mind. "What kind of super soldier?"

  Boyd shrugged. "I think they were working on different programs. Some were working on psychic crap. Others were working on the physical aspects." He watched Uriel, his gray eyes sharp and assessing.

  Uriel nodded calmly, her dark face revealing nothing. "This is a two-pronged assignment. We need you to handle this part of it. We may need to send Celestine Delgardio and her, um, partner to handle the other part later this spring."

  "What?" My question came out as a high-pitched squeak.

  Boyd laughed. "You sound like somebody squeezed your butt."

  "Oh, shut up," I snapped. Then I remembered who was in the room with us. "Be quiet," I amended. "Celestine Delgardio? She's involved?"

  "Maybe. We need you to handle part of this assignment now."

  "But—but—but—"

  "Now you sound like a motorboat."

  "Would you just shut your pie hole?" I shot him a look that should have disemboweled him.

  Boyd reared back. "Wow. I didn't think you had it in you."

  I ignored him. "She's famous." She's everything I'm not, I almost said. She was confident, self-assured, take-charge. "She killed a dozen demons."

  "Wow. I want to meet this broad." Boyd took another swig of beer. "Delgardio, huh? What did she use to kill them? Hatchet? Gun?"

  I rounded on him. "Would you please just be quiet?"

  "Why? I thought you were supposed to be helping me adjust. I don't know who the players are. If this broad has the chops, I'd like to meet her."

  Uriel glanced at him. "Please. Show some respect."

  "Thank you," I muttered. I forced myself to think rationally. "All right. Where do I drop the Helper? Who will partner with him?"

  "I'm sorry, dear. I thought you understood. This will be you and him handling one part of it. We'll deploy others to handle the rest of it. We may need Celestine and her partner for other work." Uriel frowned. "It's rather iffy at the moment."

  The knowledge that I would be saddled with Boyd for the foreseeable future paled in comparison to her words.

  "Oh, my God. Her partner? Celestine Delgardio's partner? The demon? The one who lives with her?"

  "Wait a minute. This babe kills demons and she screws 'em? Boy, she's really got game." Boyd looked excited at the prospect of meeting such a paragon of womanhood. Or maybe he was repulsed. It was hard to tell.

  I closed my eyes and prayed for patience. "Why do I need a Helper with me? Why do we have to go to Colorado? I don't understand."

  Uriel took a sip of her wine. "You don't need to understand all the details immediately. For now, just know that you must be in Colorado by Saturday in order to circumvent what might be a calamity."

  "Wait a minute." Boyd regarded Uriel with thinly disguised suspicion. "Why don't you guys just circumvent this calamity? Why do you need us?"

  That was a good question. I'm glad he asked it and not me. Beginners could get away with stuff like that. I gulped more wine, waiting for the answer.

  Uriel's head turned slowly until Boyd was caught in the snare of her eyes, which seemed to glow. "You don't get to ask questions. That's part of the agreement you made when we chose you to be an angel. Your job is to do what we tell you. Do you understand?"

  I was prepared to blabber, yes, ma'am, whatever you say. Boyd, however, just regarded her with that impassivity he wore like armor.

  "What you're saying is this is an Army and we're grunts?"

  She stared at him, her face regal and unyielding. Then she nodded almost imperceptibly. "That is your world view, isn't it?" She sounded like she was talking to herself. "Yes, that's one way to look at it. This is a Service, in the same way you were employed in an armed service. There is a certain amount of trust between us, just like in your Army."

  One corner of Boyd's mouth twisted up in a faint parody of a smile. "You obviously don't have a lot of experience with the Army."

  "Why do you say that?"

  "Trust has nothing to do with it." He met and held her gaze without flinching. I felt a faint burst of admiration for him. He certainly was braver than I.

 

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