A Real Angel

by Cassie Miles

  "Nice wheels," she commented. "An Infiniti?"

  "New model. The Eternity."

  "I thought an avenging angel would ride in a fiery chariot."

  "Consider this the nineties version."

  He slipped behind the steering wheel of the car that looked like it had been designed especially for him. With his long black hair, incredible build and classic features, Rafe was the archetype of southern California glamour. Though he claimed to be an angel, he blended with the other wealthy and powerful people of Hollywood. She could easily imagine him shopping on Rodeo Drive, attending high-powered cocktail parties, playing golf with moguls.

  She stared at his profile, trying to discover whether he was glowing or not. In the sunlight, she couldn't tell. "Are you an angel right now, or a mortal?"

  "It doesn't matter."

  "Actually, it does," she said. "Because if you're an angel, you've probably got some superpowers. Right?"

  He shrugged. "I'm not Batman."

  "But this car looks like the Batmobile. And, last night, you said you could fly. Can you make yourself invisible? Do you have super strength? Can you read minds?"

  "My business is serious, Jenna."

  "But if you're an angel, why don't you already have all the answers? Why don't you know who killed Eddy?"

  "I have certain skills and abilities that make it easier for me to discover the facts, but I have to go through the same deductive process as any street detective."

  "So, you're not all-knowing?"

  "No."

  "You'll have to forgive me, Rafe, but I'm finding it hard to be casual about your secret identity. I've never met an angel before."

  "Are you sure?"

  "Absolutely." At last, this was something she could be certain about. "I've never before met anyone like you."

  Being with him eased some of her confusion. She enjoyed watching him as he glided through traffic, hitting every green light. His finesse made the most boring, mundane task seem masterful.

  "I have information from the coroner's office," he said.

  "Autopsy information? How did you find out about that?"

  "I have my ways."

  "Okay, what's the news?"

  "Basically, the coroner who performed the autopsy is stumped. He discovered a substance in Eddy's blood that couldn't be explained. At first, he didn't consider poison. Then, he found a fresh needle mark on Eddy's arm."

  That seemed to gel with her observations. Eddy hadn't been bludgeoned, stabbed or shot. Therefore, poison was a logical answer.

  Rafe continued, "He was injected sometime within the last two days before he died. This isn't any kind of standard poison. So far, the analysis indicates an unknown virus or bacteria."

  "A virus? Is it contagious?"

  "The coroner doesn't know. He's called in specialists to stand over the microscope beside him."

  "My God, I was exposed to whatever Eddy had. And so were my animals."

  "Exactly. That's why Metz should have told you about it. Have you experienced any unusual physical symptoms in the past few days?"

  "Like what?"

  "Fever," he suggested. "Aching in the joints. Something like a flu."

  Hallucinations? Had her brain been infected? Jenna stared at the license plate on the car in front of them. Her vision was clear. "I don't think there's anything wrong with me. How is the virus passed? Is it airborne?"

  "Right now, the assumption is that the illness is passed through bodily fluids." He glanced over at her. "If we further assume that Eddy contracted this deadly virus by injection, the incubation period is short, probably only forty-eight hours. Since you're showing no signs of illness, you're probably safe. But I'm not so sure about your animals."

  "Why?"

  "In addition to the puncture wound, the coroner found a laceration. It looks like an animal bite."

  "If one of my animals bit Eddy, they'd be infected." And the illness could pass from one species to another. "Is there some kind of blood test we can do?"

  "I'd think so," he said. "Metz should have suggested it."

  Rafe turned onto a residential street and pulled into the driveway of a modern, stucco house. The thick landscaping hid most of the windows.

  "What are you doing?" Jenna demanded. "I need to get back to the soundstage and get these tests under way. Did the coroner have any idea which animal bit Eddy?"

  "It was a pig."

  Pigs could be aggressive animals. She'd heard stories about farm pigs who had a tendency to attack, slashing with their tusks. They were known to kill more people than dogs. And pigs ate their victims. But Jenna's animals were as sweet-tempered as Babe. At the very most, they might butt somebody out of the way. But to bite?

  "Where was the bite?"

  Rafe illustrated by holding up his own well-formed hand. "On the edge. Just below the little finger."

  "That sounds like Eddy stuck his hand into the pig's mouth. But why would he do that?"

  Layers of puzzlement piled one on top of the other until the final answer was hidden behind an impenetrable shield. Jenna shook her head, trying to clear it as she stared at the attractive suburban house. "What are we doing here?"

  "I wanted you to know the location of this house." He got out of the car and came around to her door. "If you need a safe haven, come here."

  "Am I in danger?" She almost hoped the answer was yes. If someone was after her, it would explain her midnight intruder.

  "I'm not sure," Rafe said. "It never hurts to be prepared."

  "Do you live here?"

  "For now I do."

  She followed him from the carport to the entrance. "I thought angels lived…somewhere else."

  "In Heaven?"

  "Something like that. I like to think my dad is an angel in Heaven. And I hope it's more than fluffy white clouds. He'd be bored with that. What's it like, Rafe?"

  "Some things are too complex for explanation."

  "Is there a place? Is it a state of being?"

  When he gazed down at her, his blue eyes seemed fond and warm, far too warm for an angel. "Think of infinity. Infinite possibilities spread beyond anyone's comprehension, even mine. That's where Heaven lies."

  "Have you always been an angel?"

  "I was human once, but it was so long ago I've lost count of the years." He turned the doorknob and pushed the door open. "You don't need a key. This house will always be open for you and for your mother. No one else can enter."

  "How does that work?"

  "It just does. There's high tech, and there's a technology that comes from on high."

  "I hope Bill Gates never finds out about that."

  Inside, the house was attractively furnished with a fawn leather sectional sofa and chairs. An entertainment center featured television, CD and stereo. In the spacious kitchen, he showed her fully stocked cupboards and a packed refrigerator. Jenna had the impression that someone could live here, very comfortably, for several days.

  "Rafe, I don't understand. Why did you bring me here?"

  "I wanted you to know of this sanctuary, close to the movie lot. If you come here, you'll be protected." He frowned slightly. "And so will I."

  "But why do we need protection?"

  He turned away from her. "You're probably hungry. Help yourself from the refrigerator."

  Frowning, she opened the refrigerator door. There was a brand of bagel that she liked and a hazelnut spread that tasted almost as good as chocolate. And a six-pack of her favorite soda pop. "Very nice, Rafe. And can I get anything for you? Toast? A glass of milk? Or can I get something from you, like a straightforward explanation of what's going on?"

  She glanced over at him as he leaned against the white tiled countertop with his arms folded across his broad chest. "You don't need food," she said. "When you're an angel, you don't need to eat or drink, do you?"

  "It's not necessary to feed my celestial body," he said. "When I'm mortal, it's a different story. As you saw last night, I get drunk when I have alc
ohol. Human flesh requires nourishment. That's one of the reasons I arranged for this house. It might be necessary for me to take human form during much of this investigation. I'll need a place to sleep, food and a car."

  "So, you conjured this place up?"

  "In a sense."

  "Another unexplained mystery," she said sardonically. "Up until now, my life has been fairly simple. Feed the animals, clean up after them, train them and show up for work on time. All of a sudden, I've gone through the looking glass into a world where everything is innuendo and puzzlement. It's making my brain hurt."

  "If it's any consolation, I'm also confused."

  He thought of the many complicated situations in the past that had required his intelligence. There had been wars. There had been devastation. He'd seen empires topple and watched others, even more corrupt, arise to take their place.

  Yet this murder of a Hollywood stuntman boggled his mind.

  "Just tell me one thing, Rafe. Am I in danger?"

  "I fear that you are. It's this virus, Jenna. It could be a simple poison—like food poisoning. Or it might be more devastating than the plague. And if the virus is synthetic, man-made, it was purposely developed."

  "For chemical warfare?"

  "There could be international implications. Widespread death. Possibly, Eddy was murdered because he got in the way."

  "And I might be in the way, too."

  He nodded. "I don't want to frighten you, but—"

  "It's almost a relief," she said.

  What was she talking about? "Explain."

  "When Eddy came crashing onto the soundstage, I had a feeling that somebody else was there. I didn't see anyone, but there was a sense—a prickly feeling on the back of my neck."

  "He might have been followed," Rafe concluded. "Or pursued. Why didn't you mention this before?"

  "For one thing, you told me that this investigation was none of my business." She busied herself with spreading creamy hazelnut on her bagel. "For another thing, I just wasn't sure. It might have been my imagination."

  "Is there more?" he asked.

  "Last night, after I dropped you off, I had the impression that another car was following me. Again, it wasn't anything definite."

  "Yet you said nothing. Jenna, you need to trust your intuition. It's highly accurate."

  "What makes you think so?"

  "You noticed my aura," he said. "That indicates a high level of perception."

  "I've never thought of myself like that. I was always considered to be too trusting, too naive, not a very good judge of people."

  Innocence, he thought, was the wisest judge. That was why children could see things that were not apparent to adults. Somehow, Jenna had evaded the decadence of Hollywood and remained clear-sighted enough to see the truth. "How have you stayed so untouched?"

  "I grew up on the ranch," she said. "We were kind of secluded. I didn't have many friends. It always seemed like I was an outsider, but I wasn't unhappy. The opposite, in fact. My life was good. I liked my family. We were close."

  He saw pain in her eyes. "Were you?"

  "I guess I was a little separate from them, too. I mean, my parents had each other. And my little brothers played together." She lifted her chin. "They never tried to make me feel excluded. But I was, somehow, different."

  Rafe wanted to hold her, to comfort her. He would offer himself to be kindred to her, bonded forever. But he carefully held back. There could never be a true relationship between Jenna, a mortal woman, and himself.

  "There's something else," she continued. "Last night, I was exhausted. I fell into bed, fully dressed. When I woke up during the night, I was under the covers, wearing only my bra and panties."

  "You don't remember taking off your clothes?"

  "No." She shook her head, and her long curling hair rippled. "I'm about to tell you something that sounds impossible and crazy. Promise you won't laugh?"

  "I promise."

  "I was lying in bed. It was dark, except for the light coming through the open doorway. I looked over and saw the silhouette of a man. He scared me. I was half-asleep. I didn't know what to do. Before I could react, he came at me and put some kind of cloth over my nose. There was a musty odor, and I fell back to sleep immediately."

  As an angel, Rafe was forbidden to use profane language, but the urge to swear had never been so strong. Rage burst explosively within him. Vengeance was his life. At this moment, he wished to wield his sword of flame and smite down the terror that had dared to menace this innocent woman.

  "Do you believe me?" she asked. "I mean, it doesn't make logical sense. I'm not familiar with chloroform, but I regularly need to sedate or tranquilize the animals, so I know something about drugs. I can hardly believe that I was drugged and don't feel any aftereffect."

  He reined in his temper, focusing upon her question, engaging his mind. "Think of this, Jenna. We're dealing with a person who is clever enough to create a chemical virus. This individual might also have developed a new type of anesthetic."

  "But why?" she said. "Why would they bother with me? I don't know anything. And if I was a threat, why wouldn't they just kill me? Why bother with anesthetic?"

  "I don't know."

  "Rafe, is somebody after me?"

  "Let's assume that they are."

  "Why?"

  "You were with Eddy when he died. He might have told you something or given you a piece of evidence that you don't realize is important. Perhaps last night when you were drugged, the murderer was searching for a clue that you might have in your possession."

  "I don't have anything."

  "The killer doesn't know that," he reminded her.

  "Today on the soundstage, you announced to everyone that Eddy had spoken to you before he died."

  She groaned. "I can't believe I did that."

  "Out of curiosity," Rafe said, "what were Eddy Benson's dying words?"

  "It was a strange thing to say, but I'm sure I heard him correctly." She looked up at him. "Before he died, Eddy said one word. 'Francis.'"

  A smile twitched the corners of Rafe's mouth. He knew exactly what Eddy was talking about. "Makes perfect sense to me."

  "Is it a clue?"

  "Eddy Benson spoke the single word that brought me to you," Rafe said. "When I was given this case, I was told that the assignment had come from the highest authority. With his dying breath, Eddy called upon Saint Francis of Assisi, patron saint of animals."

  Chapter Six

  When they returned to the soundstage, the Alien Age cameras were rolling. Both the on-set visit of Hugh Montclair and Detective Metz's investigation had solidified Alex Hill's loose inspirations more quickly than red wine stains silk. The director had finally taken charge.

  There were no long discussions of motivation or script changes while Alex put the lovely Dinah and handsome Jason through their paces. In their revealing bodysuits, the two stars frolicked in the Garden of Eden. Jenna plunged into work immediately, helping her mother set up a shot with cockatoos, a peacock and both llamas.

  With filming under way, Kate backed off the set. Her shoulders sagged wearily. In these few hours, she'd engaged in more social interaction than she had in the past three years.

  "Are you okay, Mom?"

  "Very well." But her determined optimism sounded weak.

  "Did you talk to Detective Metz?"

  "Just for a moment. I really had nothing to add."

  "And Hugh?"

  "It's always pleasant to see old friends. We're going out to dinner tonight."

  That revelation worried Jenna on a couple of different levels. She didn't want her mother to be overtired. And she wasn't sure how much she trusted Hugh Montclair. The pig substitution and the fact that Eddy had visited him at his home gave her cause for concern. "Are you sure that you should go out tonight?"

  "Hey, who's the mother here, anyway?" Kate smiled. "Actually, I'd rather stay here and get to bed early, but I felt so sorry for Hugh. The death of his friend, Pao
lo Vincenzo, was terribly hard on him."

  Jenna gave her a little hug. "Hugh's a big boy. He can take care of himself."

  "I know that, honey. It's been a long time since I thought about anyone but myself. It feels good."

  "You're not tired?" Jenna asked. "It's not necessary to make up for three years in one day."

  "Don't worry about me. I can keep up."

  And the pace Alex set definitely kept them busy. Jenna's wrangling work was complicated by the fact that Rafe had decided to protect her. Every time she turned around, he was there, hovering. The concept of having an angel on her shoulder was far more pleasant than the reality of a tall, husky angel who was behaving more like a Secret Service bodyguard for the U.S. President than a motion picture stuntman.

  After she and the artistic director arranged the branches of a fig tree to hide the cockatoo's perch, she stepped back out of the shot and bumped into Rafe. Exasperated, Jenna said, "Would you please give me some room?"

  He scanned in both directions. Without moving his lips, he seemed to speak to her. "We can't be too careful. One of these people could be a murderer."

  "How do you do that?" she asked. "I can hear you talking, but you aren't really saying anything out loud."

  "It's like a thought bubble," he explained without making a sound. "I think the words and send them to you. By the way, you're the only one who can hear what I'm saying."

  Teasing, she whispered, "So, you could be talking dirty, and nobody would know."

  "I never talk dirty."

  In spite of his rigid morality, he was undeniably, amazingly sexy. From the wide span of his shoulders to his narrow hips, his body was perfectly proportioned. She liked the firm line of his jaw and the enticing bit of chest hair revealed at the unbuttoned collar of his blue Oxford cloth shirt. Even his protective manner was endearing.

  She grinned up at him. "Much as I enjoy having your protection, isn't it counterproductive?"

  "What do you mean?" he asked directly, not in thought bubble.

  "Whoever killed Eddy isn't likely to approach me while you're standing guard."

  He scoffed. "If you're offering yourself as a decoy to draw out the murderer, forget it. I'm a professional, Jenna. And I don't put civilians in danger while I'm doing my job."