Through the driving rain, Gabe could see flashing red lights, a washed out building full of urgency. As the driver squealed to a stop, Gabe already had the door open, and he guided Luce out gently. Everywhere his hands touched his friend’s body, they came away burned. Turning toward the driver, he said, “May the Lord be with you for your kindness.” He hoped his words were more a blessing than a curse.
The driver nodded quickly. “Will your friend be all right?”
Gabe cradled Luce beneath one wing to shelter him from the rain. Each drop that struck Gabe sent shivers of pain through his angelic body. “I can only pray.”
“Angels,” the driver hooted. “Wait’ll my wife hears this. Goddamn angels.”
You don’t know how right you are, Gabe thought bitterly, slamming the truck’s door shut behind him
