Sarah's dreams were filled with the smoky angels again; with the smells of candle wax and dusty feathers and burning leaves. In her dream, she was hiding behind a pillar watching the winged men discussing something--they were angry, and one of them stood and paced around the table, throwing his wings around him like a cloak. They were frightening, and she cowered behind the pillar, hoping that none of them would notice her, or hear her breathing.

She suddenly felt like she couldn't breathe, and woke, gasping, to find Dinah sleeping on top of her. "Dinah!" she said. "You can't sleep on top of me, I can't breathe!" She rolled over and resettled the cat on the other pillow, then tried to get back to sleep.

The dreams were unsettling, to say the least. When she remembered her dreams at all, they were usually inconsequential. She seldom had bad dreams, and she was very grateful for that. If she had had a tendency toward nightmares, she didn't think she could stand it. These weren't nightmares, exactly, but they were strange, different from her usual type of dreams, and she wondered what they meant. Maybe she was channeling Zach's dreams. Now there was an idea! Or maybe it was just because of all the talk about angels. It was probably to be expected that she would dream about them since they, or Zach, specifically, were in her thoughts, but where had these unusual images come from?

And the smells! She couldn't remember ever experiencing scent in a dream before, or certainly not to this extent. She remembered the night she had thought there was a fire in the house--the smoky smell had been so real that night that she had brought it with her out of her dream and into her real life. She finally fell back asleep near dawn, and this time, she didn't dream.

* * *

"Sarah!" As she turned the corner, Elizabeth Graham, the female half of the couple that lived above the shop, called to her. They were both tall, elegant, and white-haired, and at the moment they were both hurrying down the sidewalk toward her. She sped up so they wouldn't have so far to come, and they met in front of the shop door.

"Sarah!" she said again. "How are you, dear? Did that young man find you?"

Sarah opened the door of the shop and ushered them in. "Um, what young man?" Her thoughts immediately turned to Zach, and her heart gave a little lurch. Cate looked up as they came in--she was sitting behind the counter working on the red scarf--and raised her eyebrows at Sarah as she shrugged. I have no idea what they're talking about, the shrug said.

Elizabeth continued, "We got in last night, late, and we didn't have any coffee in the house, and you know how Donald loves his coffee in the morning, so we went out early to get some, and there was a young man standing in front of the door." Her husband chimed in, "We told him the shop wasn't open yet."

"He insisted we tell him where you lived," said Elizabeth, "but we didn't, of course."

"I wonder who he was?" said Sarah. "What did he look like?"

"Tall," said Elizabeth.

"Blonde," Donald said.

That ruled out Zach, although of course he already knew where she lived.

"Well, who knows," Sarah said. "If it's someone who needs to talk to me, I'm sure he'll come back sooner or later."

The Grahams turned to leave. "Be sure to let us know!" Elizabeth called on the way out the door. "It's all quite mysterious!"

Once they were gone, Sarah turned to Cate. "I wonder what that was all about?"

"Who knows. Bill collector? Old boyfriend? Salesman? Secret admirer?"

"I guess we'll find out sooner or later."

Sarah made a cup of tea and took it back into the office with her, where she pulled the angel book down off the shelf. Feeling silly, she turned to the index in the back of the book and looked under "Z." She was slightly relieved not to find his name; rather than confirming his claim, it would have made her feel even more like he was mad, like he'd picked a name out of the dictionary to use. If he was an angel--and he must be, given the wings--would he be an important enough angel to show up in a book? And that brought up another question, of course--angel? Demon? It was certainly possible that he was something other than an angel, although she had no idea what possible purpose his courting her could have.

She closed the book and put it back on the shelf. Zach, she thought. Help me out here. Tell me what to do.

Something was blocking the light, and she looked up to see a tall blond man filling the doorway.

"Where is Zachriel?" he asked.

"What?" she asked, not because she didn't understand the question, but to stall for time.

"Zachriel," he said again. "Where is he?"

"I don't know," she said. "I--" She suddenly felt as if she couldn't breathe, but this time there wasn't a cat sitting on her chest. She felt as if a cold, hard hand had suddenly clamped itself over her mouth and nose, and she couldn't catch her breath. She struggled to breathe, hand to her throat, then, as suddenly as it had come, it was gone. She gasped.

"I ask you again," the man demanded, "Where is Zachriel?"

"Sarah?" Cate appeared in the doorway, standing on her tiptoes to peer over the stranger's shoulder. "You okay?"

"Fine," Sarah said, massaging her throat. "Fine."

She looked into the stranger's eyes. "I don't know where Zach is. If I see him, I'll tell him you're looking for him."

He looked at her with something like pity. "Tell him Cadmiel wishes to speak with him." He turned and left, brushing Cate aside.

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