Emily went back to the door and began pounding on it again, but she had hit it only once when it swung open. Cautiously, with her heart pounding, she stepped into the shadowy hall.
No one was there. In fact, she couldn’t hear a sound anywhere in the house. Looking about, she nearly screamed when she almost backed into the swords that were stuck in the entrance hall floor. Exactly where Michael had been standing was what looked to be three cavalry swords, their tips buried two inches into the floor boards. They were still quivering.
Reaching out, she touched the nearest sword. The man who had been hanged for murder had been a captain in the U.S. Cavalry.
Emily didn’t think what she was doing—she just shouted, “Michael!” then started running up the stairs to the second floor of the house.
Heedless of whoever or whatever had thrown those swords, Emily went tearing through the house at breakneck speed, throwing open doors to rooms and closets. Years ago she had obtained a copy of the house plans from the architectural firm in Philadelphia, still in business, that had originally designed the house. She had studied them until she could have walked about the house blindfolded.
“Michael, where are you?” she shouted. Her voice echoed off the empty walls, making her feel less alone, less frightened of what she could feel all around her.
It wasn’t until she was on the third floor, at the top of the house, that she realized that she was becoming hysterical. Had Michael disappeared as quickly and as easily as he had appeared in her life?
When a strong hand shot out of nowhere and covered her mouth—with an arm wrapping around her midsection so tightly that she could hardly breathe—Emily started kicking and struggling with all her might.
“Ow!” Michael hissed in her ear. “Stop that. Those shoes of yours hurt.”
At that she bit his hand; he released her and she whirled on him in a fury. “Where have you been?” she demanded. “I’ve been searching for you all over this house. You could have answered me and—”
Michael grabbed her hand and started running, pulling her along behind him. “Is there an upstairs? The top of this place? I don’t know the word.”
“Attic. Yes, there. That room has a staircase hidden in a closet. Captain Madison was very private about his attic.”
“Don’t mention his name to me,” Michael said grimly, still pulling her by the hand as he ran into the bedroom and flung open a door half-hidden by paneling. “Go!” he ordered, half-pushing her upward as he followed close behind her. “Am I right that there’s a way out of this room? I can feel that it isn’t a closed space.”
“Yes,” she said. “The captain has a tunnel for escape but I don’t know how safe it is after all these years. This house is rotting.”
“The mind of that man is rotting,” Michael said under his breath as they emerged up the stairs into the attic of the house.
“Oh my,” Emily said, looking around. She’d never been up here before. It was full of trunks and old wardrobes and other things that she very much wanted to explore.
“Don’t even think about it,” Michael said, grabbing her hand again. “Now, where is this exit? We have to get out of this place.”
Emily had to concentrate. It was difficult, for against one wall was a glass case full of old books. What was in there? Rare editions? First editions signed by the authors? Maybe even the original manuscript of a classic novel. Maybe—
“Emily!” Michael snapped. “Where is the exit?”
She had to blink a couple of times to bring herself back to the present. “There, I think—under the eaves. But I really don’t think it’s safe. Maybe we should—” She glanced again at the books with longing.
“Should what? Stay here and be skewered?”
She stood back as he ran his hands along the wall in the eave trying to find a door or an opening. “Found it,” he said, then pried it open with his fingertips because he could find no latch. When he reached for Emily, she was within two feet of the glass cabinet and her hand was extended toward the doorknob.
Michael grabbed her, shoved her toward the tiny door, then bent her to her knees. “I’m going first and, so help me, if you stop to look at any material object I’ll make you sorry,” he said, then disappeared into the darkness behind the little door.
“Alice through the rabbit’s hole,” she said, taking a deep breath and beginning to crawl.
There were sounds around them. Emily couldn’t tell if they were from the creaky old house or other things that she didn’t want to think of. “Would you mind telling me what’s going on? I thought you were friends with ghosts. Can’t you just talk to this man?”
“Put your hand here,” he said, reaching out and guiding her. Emily could see nothing at all, not her own body or Michael’s, but he didn’t seem to distinguish between dark and light. “Good, now, come on. Slowly. Yes, that’s right. We’ll be out of here soon.”
“Would you answer me?” she asked impatiently. She couldn’t bear the silence in the darkness; she wanted constant reassurance that he was still with her.
“The spirit in this house wants to kill this body so my spirit will go back where it belongs. I’d prefer not to die until I’ve found out why I was sent here in the first place.”
“I see,” she said. His words made her even more frightened, so she tried to replace her fear with anger. “You’re an annoying man,” she snapped. “Why aren’t you afraid?”
“Afraid of what?”
“Death! Everyone is afraid of death.”
“Careful there! That board is rotten. Good. You’re doing well, Emily. People are afraid of death because they don’t know what comes after death. I do. And it’s pretty good.”
“Someone’s trying to kill you and you’re talking spiritual philosophy?” she snapped.
“You know of a better time than this to pray?” There was amusement in his voice.
“Actually, no,” she said as she felt fear coursing through her. She hated this attic, hated crawling, hated—
“Adrian, where are you?” Michael said rather loudly, as though he meant to distract her from her thoughts.
“Who is Adrian?”
“My boss.”
“I thought Archangel Michael was your boss.” A cobweb hit her in the face and she started frantically brushing it away, but he turned and gently smoothed the sticky mass from her face.
“No,” he said softly, his hands on her face. Emily could feel her fears calming. “Archangel Michael is about two hundred levels above Adrian, and I’m about ten levels below Adrian.”
“Oh, I see,” she said, but she didn’t see. When Michael turned back around and started crawling again, she felt less frantic and much less frightened, but she still didn’t want to be in the dark in silence. “What you’re describing sounds more like a corporation than Heaven.” Before he could respond, she said, “And don’t you dare tell me corporations are based on Heaven. That I will not believe. They are based on the other place.”
“Same basic structure. Satan steals ideas.”
“What a surprise,” she said sarcastically.
He chuckled. “Emily, I’m going to miss you.”
“Do you think the person who takes you away will be dead or alive?” she whispered.
Laughing, Michael stepped through an opening, and suddenly there was light. Reaching back, he took her hand. She was at last standing upright, no longer on her knees. And maybe it was seeing light or maybe it was Michael’s hand touching hers, but she no longer felt afraid.
“He’s here,” Michael said. There was relief in his voice.
“Who is?” she asked, and found that she was whispering. If her memory of the house plan was correct, they were now inside a tiny secret room inside the ground floor of Captain Madison’s study. The room was smaller than a modern walk-in closet and the door was so hidden that no one in the outside room could see it.
“Adrian is here,” Michael said, grinning. “He has no body for this earthly spirit to threat
en so there’s no need for him to be afraid. Adrian will calm the man and you’ll be safe.”
She didn’t want to think how lightly Michael valued his own life while he seemed to think constantly of hers. “Did you try opening the door?” she asked, reaching past him.
But he caught her hand. “Not yet. It is not time,” he said quietly.
There was something strange about his voice, but Emily was not going to think about it. Better that she make jokes to keep her fear under control. “Great. I’m stuck in a closet with an angel who’s in the body of a killer while more angels are outside calming down an angry ghost. That about it?”
“You always were clever, Emily. Clever and beautiful. Emily….”
His voice was so serious that she looked up at him. It was very dark in the closet room, but she could see his outline and she could feel the warmth of his big body so near hers. Her heart was still pounding, but she told herself that that was due to what she had just come through, not to her proximity to him.
“This body and, uh, your body are making me feel things,” he said softly. “I want to put my lips on your neck. Kissing your neck seems as necessary to me this moment as breathing. May I?”
“No, of course not,” she said even as she turned her head and tipped her chin to allow access to her neck.
His lips were on her neck and Emily was sure she’d never felt anything so divine in her life. He was so gentle, yet ardent at the same time. Without thinking of what she was doing, her arms went about his waist and drew his body closer to hers, then she turned her face so his lips could find hers.
But in the next second the door flew open, letting in a flood of light that dazzled Emily’s eyes. Turning toward the open door, she saw nothing but an empty room. When she glanced back up at Michael he had turned pale.
“I am up the river without a whip,” he muttered.
“Paddle,” she said, her voice catching in her throat and her knees feeling strangely weak. She wasn’t sure she was going to be able to stand if he removed his arm from around her waist.
But in the next second, Michael dropped both arms from around her and came to attention like a soldier. When she looked at his face, he appeared to be listening to someone. But there was no one in any part of the room that she could see.
After several moments, he turned to her. “Emily, stay here. This isn’t going to be pleasant. Adrian has a terrible temper.” With that, he closed the door and left her in the dark.
Immediately she could hear Michael’s voice on the other side of the door. She couldn’t make out the words but there was a tone in his voice she had never heard before, one of quiet reverence and deep respect. And he sounded just like a soldier being dressed down by his superior officer.
Emily began to recover herself, either from Michael’s kisses or the ordeal of the attic tunnel—she didn’t want to know which. Instead, her curiosity took over. It couldn’t be true, of course, but just maybe on the other side of that door, one angel was being bawled out by another and, well, maybe she shouldn’t miss it.
Cautiously, she opened the door and saw Michael standing in the middle of the room, head down, nodding.
“It’s the body,” he was saying softly. “I don’t seem to have control over it. Yes, I understand. But she is so beautiful I have difficulty resisting her attraction.”
Behind him, Emily smiled. She’d often been told she was cute and pretty in a pleasing way, but the way this man said she was beautiful almost made her believe it.
“But her spirit is beautiful!” Michael said fiercely, as though defending her honor, and Emily smiled broader as he paused and listened some more.
“You wouldn’t know why I was sent here, would you?” Michael asked the unseen other person.
Emily listened in silence as Michael nodded and murmured, “Mm-hmm, mm-hmm,” over and over. After several minutes, he turned his head slightly in Emily’s direction and explained. “He’s telling me that he doesn’t presume to know what is in the head of an archangel, but he doesn’t think my mission includes kissing pretty girls in closets.”
At this Emily smiled and Michael winked at her, and a moment later he turned and smiled. “You ready to go? This body is hungry.”
“But what about—?” she began, but Michael fairly pushed her from the room, out of the house and into the car.
Emily was cleaning the kitchen, scrubbing dried egg from the fronts of the cabinets, while Michael was sitting on a stool at the little bar and thinking.
On the drive back to her apartment he had been mostly silent, but she could tell that he was worried. It had taken some doing to get the cause of his worry out of him.
“I have to find out why I’m here,” he’d said. “After what happened today I could be withdrawn before I even find out what I’ve been sent here to do. I’m much too mortally attracted to you, Emily, and I’m letting that interfere with discovering and executing my objective.”
Emily had no answer or advice to give him. He had seemed to take this morning’s terror in a haunted house all in stride, but she was still shaking. Crawling through filthy attics was not her idea of fun. But all that concerned Michael was that he hadn’t found out why he was on earth.
“What are you planning to do tomorrow?” he asked as she began to make sandwiches for their late lunch.
“Go to work. Remember that place? It will be chaos by the time I return and I’ll have to—”
“I’m going with you.”
“No, you’re not. And don’t even think that you are. You can’t be seen.”
“Too ugly?” He was trying to make a joke, but the humor didn’t extend to his eyes.
“No, too dangerous. You’ll be seen.”
“And if anyone does see me, what can they do to me? Kill me?”
“I really wish you wouldn’t talk so lightly of something so serious.”
“The only thing serious about my death would be if it happened before I completed my assignment here—whatever it is.”
“You don’t think it has to do with what happened at the Madison mansion?” she asked.
“I’m not sure. Could be, but….” His head came up. “I just think that I’ll know what it is when I come to it. I’m concerned that….” He looked back down at his hands and didn’t seem as though he were going to say any more.
“You’re concerned about what?” She tried to sound lighthearted, but she knew that what he was thinking about was serious.
When he looked back up at her, his eyes were soft. “You see, Emily, the truth is, I’m not a very good guardian angel. I tend to play favorites and like and dislike people too much. We’re all striving to be like God. He loves everyone. Really. It doesn’t matter who they are or what they’ve done—God loves them.”
Michael took a deep breath. “We try to be like Him but, well, I’m not even close. I tend to, well, intervene.”
“And how do you do that?”
“I warn my favorites of danger, that sort of thing.”
“Like tickling their noses when something dreadful is about to happen?”
“Exactly. I guess if I did the same for all my people, it would be all right. But I can’t seem to do the same for each one of them. For example, I have this one spirit who is really bad. Pure, pure selfishness. Evil. He murders, beats people, tortures children.”
“But you’re supposed to love him.”
“Yes, exactly. Adrian treats all his clients the same. But I—” He gave her a sheepish look.
“What do you do to him?”
Michael grimaced. “Make him get caught. In every lifetime I whisper in someone’s ear where he is and they catch him and lock him up. If he escapes I make sure he’s caught again. In one lifetime I kept him in prison for twenty years for stealing a spoon because I knew what he’d do if he were free. And when he was released I made him steal a melon and back he went.”
“I can see that you’re a terrible angel,” she said, but the laughter was bubbling from inside her
.
“It’s not funny. God has granted you mortals free will and I am not supposed to tamper with it. Adrian would have told me that the man could have changed. But when I put him into prison he didn’t have the free choice to try. But, Emily, when you watch a man do nothing but evil for over three hundred years, you think: He is not going to change, not ever!”
Emily had no response to his problem. All she could do was say that she thought he was right. But what did she know about being an angel? Not that he was one, of course, she made herself add.
“Mustard or mayonnaise?” she asked.
“What are they?” he asked. Her explanation distracted him.
Chapter 9
THE NEXT MORNING AS EMILY WAS WALKING TO WORK she thought about how she’d meant to get rid of Michael by this morning, but she hadn’t. He had a way of making her forget all her best intentions.
Last night he’d asked her to show him what he’d seen men do with steel and food. It took her a moment to understand what he meant, because at first she imagined swords, and sheep being sacrificed on ancient altars. She was almost disappointed when she figured out that he meant modern grilling. There was a little wooden deck between her apartment and Donald’s, so she dragged out charcoal and lighter fluid, then gave him instructions while she went to the store to get steaks. She was fully prepared for the whole building to have burned to the ground by the time she returned, but she was happily surprised to see perfect coals ready and waiting. And Michael was so pleased with himself he was nearly floating. “Want me to float? I can, you know,” he said, and she couldn’t keep from laughing.
After dinner, he’d wanted to learn to dance like he “used to see her do.” This took a bit of time, but she finally figured out he meant a waltz—as he’d seen her do in an Edwardian lifetime. Not that she believed in reincarnation, of course, but she did pick up the moves extraordinarily quickly. As she and Michael spun about the room together, he told her of a ball she’d attended and the silver dress she’d worn, with diamonds in her hair.
“You were the most beautiful woman there,” he said, “and no man could take his eyes off you.”
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