Cate watched in amazement as the bullet from her gun stopped in midair and fell harmlessly to the sidewalk. Its trajectory would have carried it into the vicinity of Yurkemi's heart--assuming he had one--and she was amazed by that, and chastened: she couldn't believe she'd actually fired the gun. She hadn't really meant to, but she'd gotten so carried away with the excitement of the moment, and was so afraid that Zach was going to get hurt . . . She felt faint. What if she had actually killed someone? She slid down the side of the car and sat in the street, her legs splayed in front of her.

She hadn't even noticed when the gun had flown from her hand and landed several yards away in the middle of the street.

And since she had her eyes closed, she didn't see what Sarah saw--another angel who had appeared out of thin air, and who stood between Zach and Yurkemi, holding out his hands like a referee preventing two football players from fighting with each other. His wings were steel gray, and he appeared to be wearing armor.

Sarah closed here eyes and leaned her head against the back of the seat. Was this real? Was any of it real? Angels? And not even just angels, but bad angels. A swordfight in the middle of a suburban front yard, and angels appearing out of nowhere to stop bullets, and Cate with a gun. Cate? With a gun?

And where was Cate, anyway?

Sarah took a deep breath and opened her eyes. She couldn't just sit there with her eyes closed and pretend nothing was happening. She'd spent enough years doing that. If everything wasn't over, if there still looked like there was going to be trouble, she was going to have to get Cate and get out of there, and let Zach fend for himself. There was nothing she could do against an angel, particularly not if Cate's gun was useless.

"Cate?" she whispered through the passenger side window, and Cate reached her hand up above her head. They sat like that, Cate on the ground and Sarah in the car, each clutching the other's hand, as they watched the tableau play itself out on the lawn.

previous | index | next

weblog | mobile