Deadly Dozen: 12 Mysteries/Thrillers (201 page)

Heartbreakingly so.

Quite literally, in fact, because the sharp ache in the center of his chest seemed to have a direct line to his eyes, from which tears were trickling. He’d always wondered why humans wept at moments of beauty—a Brahms symphony, a Shakespeare sonnet, a sky like this one.

It hurt.

In a sublime way.

This was what it was like to be human—to
feel
the contrast of light and darkness, hate and love, despair and hope. He stepped out onto the balcony and leaned against the wall, fully taking in the breathtaking canvas upon which Father had once again painted one of his masterpieces.

The words of the great psalmist came to mind.

Where can I go from your Spirit?

Where can I flee from your presence?

If I go up to the heavens, you are there;

If I make my bed in the depths, you are there.

If I rise on the wings of the dawn,

If I settle on the far side of the sea,

Even there your hand will guide me,

Your right hand will hold me fast.

If I say, “Surely the darkness will hide me

And the light become night around me,”

Even the darkness will not be dark to you;

The night will shine like the day,

For darkness is as light to you.

The roar of the rushing waves, the gulls floating over the shore, the briny gusts, the thrilling sky...He sighed with pleasure. It was the difference between reading about someone you love and being with them.

How could he ever go back to being an angel?

A man on a motorcycle on the street below revved his engine while waiting for a red light. Another man in a T-shirt revealing muscles that would intimidate anyone with half a brain was about to cross the street in front of the biker. To test if he was still an angel, Nick tried to conjure up a construct that would make the man in the T-shirt look like a hot blonde in a red bikini .

“Hey babe,” the biker said in a gravelly voice. “Want to ride with me?” He made kissing noises and smacked his lips.

The man in the T-shirt hit him in the face so hard he fell off his Harley.

Right. Still an angel.

He quickly ended the construct. The expression on the two men’s faces caused a burst of air to shoot out of Nick’s mouth and nose—a snort, followed by laughter.

His first prank. Being human was going to be fun.

It was different this time, though. So much more real and intense than in London back in the early 1900s. Perhaps that was the difference between temporary defection in which you lived as a human, and elective renouncement of angel existence, in which you
became
human. In any case, he couldn’t wait to tell Hope.

As he got ready to leave, he decided he’d try to find her sans angelic powers. No supernatural surveillance, no celestial fly-bys, just human ingenuity. He pulled out his mobile phone, which felt even less physically solid than before, and texted her.

CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE

SITTING AT A TABLE OUTSIDE THE COFFEE SHACK in LaJolla Village, Hope watched the fiery sky and told herself not to worry. She hadn’t heard from Nick all day, but he could go anywhere and be back before anybody even noticed. He experienced time differently. For all she knew, he could be anywhere on the planet between here and the spiritual layers. She had to trust that he’d be back soon.

Since she was a little girl she’d loved watching sunsets. And now, to perfect this glorious scene, a monarch butterfly alighted on her hand and fanned its wings.

“Hello.” Hope brought it close to admire the intricate patterns on its wings, the bright colors that matched the ones dominating the sunset. Hard to believe this lovely creature had recently been a creeping bug.

Well, yesterday she’d been a woman with nothing to live for. Today, a new creation.

“Like you,” she said as the butterfly flew off. “Free
.
” Now that the burden of depression and despair had been removed, her spirit could soar with the same sweet liberty.

She took a sip of coffee that not only warmed her but tasted better than coffee had tasted in years. Her new lease on life came with a renewed appreciation for its simple pleasures.

She couldn’t wait to tell Nick what had happened during her first day of freedom. After all those emails and phone calls over the past few years, she had finally been able to contact the source of light that had been there in her darkest days with a different report–an encouraging report. The conversation had led to something incredibly exciting. Nick would be so pleased.

The phone on the table chimed. Her first text message.

It was from Nick, of course.

Nick: How do I get to The Coffee Shack?

Hope: Are you still at the hotel?

Nick: No, I’m actually...

She heard a dull, clanging thud nearby, followed by a loud moan.

“Oh my gosh, Nick! Are you okay?” She hurried over to the sidewalk, where a very dazed, a very physical Nick lay at the base of the streetlamp into which he had walked. He was rubbing his forehead with one hand and clutching his cell phone with the other. A small crowd had gathered.

“I guess that’s why they tell young people never to text and walk.” Hope said, offering him a hand. He was a lot heavier than she’d imagined. “You found me.”

“It wasn’t far.”

She led him to her table, wondering how an angel could be so...well, clumsy.

“Wait a minute, Nick.” She glanced around. “Can they
see
you?”

“Yes.”

“And...that’s okay?”

“I’ll explain in a minute, all right?” He pointed to the cup. “May I?”

“Sure, knock yourself out.”

“I nearly did back there,” he said.

“It’s an express—”

“I know. Sorry, just trying this humor thing. Need some practice.” Nick lifted the cup and took a long sip. “Mmm...now
that’s
good.”

“My fave.”

“Oh, bother. I’ve finished it.”

“It’s all right, there’s more from where that came from.” She reached out and slipped her hand in his. “You act like you’ve never had a latte before.”

“If I have, I can’t remember it ever tasting that good.” He stopped her as she was about to signal the waitress for another cup. “Never mind that. I’ve something important to tell you.”

“Wait, Nick! I have something to share too. Can I go first? Please? I’ll explode if I don’t tell you soon.”

“By all means, ladies first.” He sat back in the chair, eyebrows raised.

“Okay, then. A few years back, when I was depressed and hitting rock bottom—”

“Excuse me,” the barista said. “Can I get you two anything else?”

“I’m good, thanks.” Hope looked at Nick. “Another latte?”

“How about something stronger?”

“Espresso?” the barista said.

“Anything stronger than that?”

The barista told him the best they could do was a double espresso. Nick asked for it to go, then leaned over the table to loop a wayward lock behind Hope’s ear.

“You were saying?” His touch electrified her but this time it seemed more natural. The sensation originated from within her.

“During my dark years after Chloe died,” she said, “one of the only rays of light came from Jonathan Hartwell’s talks on the radio. You know who I’m talking about?”

“Who doesn’t by now?”

“Yeah, too bad about that scandal. I’m sure there’s a good explanation, if he says there is. Guess we’ll know tomorrow.” She sighed. “Anyway, I used to call his lifeline a few times a year, when I needed someone to talk to, and eventually I became one of their regulars. They prayed for me, sent me care packages—they’re really the sweetest people, and they did everything they could. But I stopped calling, pulled away from them once I started thinking about...you know.”

“You were afraid they might talk you out of it.”

The very memory of those recent attempts sent a chill through her heart. She reached out for his hand.

He took it, and smiled poignantly.

“Well, anyway, that’s all the past, thanks to you. And today, after almost a year, I called them again and told them how I’d been rescued from—”

“You didn’t tell them about me, did you?”

“No.” She hadn’t thought they’d believe an angel had saved her life and with a touch healed the pain within her.

“Good.” He let out a sigh. “What
did
you say, then?”

“That God had revealed the truth to me—I mean, that’s what angels do, right? Bring messages from above?”

“Um, right.”

“Anyway, long story short, they called me back—thanks for this cute little phone, by the way—and told me Jonathan Hartwell loved my story and asked if I would share it at Cabrillo Stadium tomorrow at his speaking event!”

“Really?”

“Isn’t that amazing?”

“That’s wonderful!” he said as the barista returned with his double espresso.

CHAPTER SIXTY

“I’M HAPPY FOR YOU, HOPE.” Nick drank the espresso, which made up in strength what it lacked in volume, and put a twenty-dollar bill on the table.

“You’re a big tipper,” Hope said. He stood and took her hand to help her up.

“It’s just money.”

“Still, you don’t just throw it around like that.”

He’d never given this human issue much thought. Might want to start, though—once his transformation was complete, he wouldn’t be able to conjure up currency like that anymore.

Hope wrapped her arm around his as they left The Coffee Shack and walked down the sidewalk toward the shore. The sky’s embers cooled to a deep violet as the moon rose and the multitude of heavenly hosts entered the stage. Enthralled, Nick stopped.

“Is it usually that beautiful—I mean, from down here?”

“The sky and the stars?” She watched with her head leaning against his shoulder. “It
is
special tonight, but yeah, it’s usually like that.”

“Remarkable. It’s like I’m seeing everything for the first time.”

“Is that a good thing?”

He took a minute to answer her.

“Yes, I believe it is.” He led her across the street to a bench overlooking the foamy waves hitting the shore with a soft hiss. They sat under a street lamp and he turned to face her. The words didn’t come readily, though.

“You all right, Nick?”

“Yes, of course. Why?”

“I don’t know, you seem a little preoccupied.”

Going from immortal and eternal to finite and human was hard on the system. But there really was no middle ground. If anything, it was only temporary

“I’ve got something weighing on me,” he said.

“I knew it,” she said, not looking at him, her lip quivering.

“Knew what?”

“It was too good to be true, wasn’t it?”

“I haven’t said any—”

“Don’t have to, it’s written all over your face. You’ve done your job and angels can’t become involved with mortals and you have to leave even though you don’t want to and I really
do
understand, but—”

“I don’t think you do.”

“It’s always been that way. Something good comes into my life, only to be—”

He pressed two fingers over her lips.

“Just listen to me, love. I am not going anywhere.”

Then he lowered his hand, and let her speak.

“What about the angel laws?” she said.

“Applicable only to angels.”

“You mean…?”

“I’m giving up my angel status to become human.”

At first, she stared at him, as though trying to understand what exactly that meant. All at once, her eyes grew wide. Hope cried out his name, threw her arms so tight around his neck he thought he might suffocate. Then she became quiet for a minute. Sighed. Looked away, then back again.

“You’ve been an angel for thousands of years,” she said finally. “Becoming human means...”

“I’ll die one day. I know.”

“For someone who’s lived as long as you, a human lifespan will seem as short as a breath.”

“And what a glorious breath that life will be if I could spend every day of it with you.” She could feel his gaze deep in her soul—he sensed this with what remained of his angelic powers.