When Angels Cry

by Melanie Nilles

  Padina followed the mental map she'd made back to the house, where she landed and shrank her wings. After making sure she left no feathers for Scott to find, she sneaked back into the house, holding her breath until she reached her room and changed shirts.

  No Shirukan. And the flying had been marvelous!

  That night Padina slept better than she had since before coming. Although she wished Jerantis was there, she didn't cry herself to sleep.

  The next two nights were just as wonderful, but she slept through the mornings and never heard Scott leave for his job. On the third night, the rain grounded her indoors to brood about losing the opportunity to fly; but the next night, she crept out of the house after the neighborhood quieted.

  Among the few clouds, Padina soared high above, thrilled to fly free. Soon, she could return home. A little more than a month in Earth time and her baby would survive the portal.

  The thought sobered her and steadied her flight through a fog of cloud that left droplets clinging to her skin.

  Thoughts of home, while soothing, touched her with a faint sense of foreignness. Strange how she'd adjusted to life on Earth with Scott. Earth had become home.

  The roar of an airplane's jet engines passed by in the distance. Humans had their method of flying, but it wasn't the same as flying with one's own wings. Scott had said he wished he could fly, but that didn't mean he would accept her.

  She lifted her braced hand. The bones were probably mended, so she could remove the brace for good. She'd been cautious about it, afraid of reinjuring her hand. The doctor had suggested eight weeks, but it had only been three. Humans took longer to heal than Inari, though, and it would be nice to use her hand without the obstruction again.

  That reminded her of Doctor Torres. She couldn't forget the mark on his hand, nor the new respect he showed before he exited the room. Next week, she would have her last injection, and she had requested Doctor Torres when Scott scheduled the appointment before leaving the clinic at her previous visit. She wanted to ask him what he knew; it couldn't be a simple coincidence. She had to know if he was a friend on this world.

  Something singed her feathers, upsetting her balance into a slight tumble before she recovered.

  A dark figure approached from the north, highlighted by the lights of the city below. Cold realization shivered down her spine. Shirukan!

  Her heart jumped from her chest. Padina folded her wings and dove as a shot flashed far to her right. He'd found her.

  His next shot came close with a moment of warmth past her left wing, while the ground rushed at her. He fired to injure, not to knock her unconscious with the neutralizer and fall to her death. He needed her alive to get home.

  She would never cooperate, and he'd be forced to stay on Earth.

  Padina spread her wings to catch the wind, arching on a strong updraft. She rode it until it faded and flapped to gain altitude with the Shirukan close behind. Crystal fire, he stayed with her.

  She couldn't escape without opening a portal, but she wouldn't risk her child, all that remained of Jerantis. She had to fight.

  She wasn't a fighter. She was a peacemaker, a negotiator.

  Where was he?

  A sudden clamp pinned her arms to her sides and his weight made staying airborne a challenge of flying.

  "Open a portal," he growled.

  "No!" She wiggled to free herself and pulled an arm away, but he gripped her neck so it pinched and something stung her shoulder where his fingers clasped tightly. Padina reached over her shoulders, intending to pry him off, but the awkward position and her lack of strength compared to his made it a futile effort.

  "Do it now. Take us home or I break your neck."

  "No!" From her determination and fear rose strength she didn't know she had. Padina twisted in the air and shook him off. She dove a ways and spread her wings to catch an updraft that lifted her high.

  A shot singed the feathers of her right wing. He'd catch her again at this rate.

  She had to defend herself. It was the only way to protect her child.

  No more! The fire of the resonance flared through her and ignited the Starburst marks on her hands in the glow of power. She folded her wings and twirled half a circle to open them again, facing the Shirukan.

  The power burned through her and released in a burst from her outstretched hands. A moment later, she shivered from the cold of the sudden disappearance of the fiery power and flapped to regain lost altitude.

  Ow! The brace. She'd forgotten about it. The blackened end that had been over her palm bubbled and dripped away, burning her skin. She pulled at the lace on the back, but it didn't come off fast enough. Ow. Ow. Ow. Padina hurried, pinching and twisting her hand to pull it out of the stiff, melted plastic.

  Finally, she freed her hand and tossed the brace over the open land below. Better. She'd have to be careful until she was sure the bones had healed.

  But where was her attacker?

  There, to her right. The Shirukan fell from the sky, what remained of his feathers on one wing trailing smoke along the path of his fall. Although his desperate flapping slowed his fall, it wouldn't be enough.

  She had killed him this time, by her own choice. What right did she have to take a life?

  TO SAVE LIFE. The meaning of the emotions from the entities translated clearly into words.

  She didn't care! The act made her no better than the Shirukan who killed Jerantis. The Starfire entities were not worth protecting if defending them meant killing. She had never wanted it. She had been forced—coerced—into accepting the responsibility. Why her?

  YOU KNOW.

  What did she know? Why couldn't they answer her clearly?

  COURAGE. STRENGTH. KINDNESS. WE SEE IN YOU.

  In a moment, she returned to the day they had chosen her, when the entities had promised understanding, not harm. It had been interesting, until the Shirukan came. No one had warned her that she might have to fight to defend the shard. She didn't like it. She wasn't a soldier.

  Her eyes burned. All she knew was that she wanted to go home, her Earth home, where Scott slept. He would hold her and make it all evaporate like the clouds she had passed.

  She wanted to trust him but wasn't ready.

  Going home meant facing more Shirukan, and she couldn't do that, but Earth might be just as dangerous, depending on whose side the doctor was on and whether or not she could trust Scott.

  Ow! He'd pinched her hard. Her shoulder still stung. She touched the spot and felt wetness. Pulling her fingers around to check revealed a red smear of blood. What had he done?

  Barely aware of the small backyard deck through the moisture in her eyes, she landed while dabbing her shoulder. Her tears chilled her cheeks until she entered the house and locked the sliding door behind her.

  * * *

  He ran up ever growing stairs until a door slammed in front of him.

  Scott jerked and rubbed his eyes. The quiet of the night in his bedroom surrounded him, chasing out the dream. Only a dream.

  Through the darkness, he caught the red glow of his alarm clock. Two oh five? Four more hours and the alarm would be going off. Go back to sleep. He let out a heavy sigh and sank into his pillow.

  The padding of footsteps in the hallway caught his attention. Padina must have gone to the bathroom. That's what woke him. No, there was more. She sniffed and choked on quiet sobs. The poor woman; he supposed the pain of losing a loved one never really left. He pitied her so young to have suffered so much. She was younger than him, probably Debbie's age, and his sister was in college.

  Padina… If only she would open up to him. He felt like she hid something important, and he wanted to help her.

  Through the partially open bedroom door, he caught movement in the wan light through the windows. Padina passed by.

  Something shifted on her back as she quietly pushed her door open. The outline resembled wings and feathers with white specks standing out against the darkness. It couldn't be. He must s
till be dreaming. That's all it was. She couldn't have wings.

  He closed his eyes and heard her door snick quietly. Wake up, Scott. He couldn't have seen what he thought he saw.

  And yet she had a fascination with the birds in the trees outside and tried to tell him about their wings and flying. Not to mention the figurines in the card stores and trinket shops when they went out sparked an interest in angels. He'd noticed her frustration with English and how much she tried to describe to him about how angels must fly and how wrong many of the figurines were—she was very particular about what she liked.

  But he never suspected this.

  No. He hadn't seen wings on her. He didn't have his glasses on.

  What about the feathers? She'd tried to hide the pile in the garbage that first day. And the feather he found when he came home last week…

  Dear God! His heart raced to wake him. Had he let in an angel?

  Go back to sleep. This wasn't real. He had imagined it. Besides, angels didn't get pregnant or bleed when attacked by a dog, or fracture their bones. Did they even have blood?

  That she could be an angel defied all the logic his half-asleep brain could handle. Sure, he believed in God and angels and Satan, but he couldn't accept that one had come into his life, except figuratively speaking.

  And didn't angels speak in tongues? Obviously she didn't since she barely spoke English.

  There. That proved it. She wasn't an angel. She didn't have wings. He'd been dreaming, and probably still was.

  Go.To.Sleep! Two twenty-seven. Three and a half hours until morning and probably the longest Friday ever.

  Who was Shartrael Padina? Or what was she?

  She's human. It was only the light hitting her funny. Nothing more.

  Why was she really there?

  He pressed his face into his pillow and let out a low growl. Dammit! Now his brain worked on it and wouldn't settle down. There was one way to find out; he could knock on her door and ask.

  Idiot. Or he could just roll over, forget he saw anything, and think about getting through tomorrow's paperwork and cases.

  None of this made sense. And, besides, if she was an angel, who would be after her?

  No. No. No. No. No! There was only one answer to that, and he did not want to go there.

  Then go back to sleep.

  If only it was that easy. He rolled over and sighed. Padina, an angel. It couldn't be true, yet it was the only answer he could make fit.

  Somewhere between imagining her as one of the exquisite figurines she'd asked him to buy and his alarm going off, he slept. Morning came too soon. Everything else felt like a dream.

  Scott slapped the sleep button. A few more minutes wouldn't make him late.

  Strange dreams drifted through his head when the alarm insisted on him waking up again with its annoying high-pitched repeated blare. All right, he was up. Or at least his body was. He went through the motions of getting ready for work, his head in a fog. Friday had come, and he'd be late if he didn't wake up.

  Morning coffee never tasted so good. Although how he managed to clean up and dress, he couldn't recall. The kitchen felt empty, as it had all week. Padina had been sleeping in lately.

  Duh! She'd come home at two a.m.

  She wasn't out, just crying in the bathroom. And she didn't have wings! The clothes she'd worn home from the hospital had exposed her back, and there had been nothing there hinting of wings. He must have been dreaming, or seeing things.

  There was one way to check; he could peek in on her. But that would be rude.

  Then again, she was in his house. He had a right to know who his guest was, especially after three weeks.

  But it was Padina. He didn't want to believe she hid anything from him. She was beautiful and gentle, and mourning and pregnant. She needed his help, not his ridiculous suspicions.

  He wished she needed his help.

  If she was crying last night, he should be sure she would be all right alone today.

  Too true. He walked through the hall to her door and opened it slowly.

  She lay on her side in the thigh-length blue shirt she'd picked out as a night gown, her light brown hair splayed out around her head like a halo. She'd left the comforter shoved to the foot of the bed so the sheets draped over her curves. In her sleep, she looked so peaceful, even angelic—he wasn't going there. He longed to hold her, but she never gave him any signs of wanting to be close to him, except when she needed a shoulder to cry on, and then it might have been anyone.

  He cared for her, more than he ever expected. He didn't want her to leave his house. Her presence made it feel like a true home, not the empty place to sleep that it had been. He'd filled his life with stuff and never felt complete like he did spending time with her. She was all he needed.

  Dear God, he loved her. He wanted to do anything for her, to make her smile light up. It had been there from the first time he saw her in the hospital bed, a seed of something special; or he never would have suggested she stay with him. He'd been unsure of it, but something inside him had been relieved when she agreed to stay.

  The last three weeks had given him a purpose other than his job. Maybe she was an angel sent to show him something that he'd never seen before, what real fulfillment in life was. That was impossible.

  Not necessarily. Anything was possible, his grandma used to say. She would have loved the chance to meet Padina.

  He sat down on the edge of the queen bed. "Paddy," he whispered. What an irony to whisper when he wanted her to wake up; but he could have watched her sleep all day, her face relaxed and serene, not red with tears.

  He caressed her cheek, but she made no move. Scott slid his hand to her shoulder and nudged her gently. "Paddy."

  That worked. She rolled to her back and stretched. Both hands clenched into fists on stiff arms and bumped the headboard.

  Both hands and no brace. She never took it off, except to shower. Shouldn't she still wear it?

  "How's your hand?"

  She blinked. "Hand?"

  "You took your brace off."

  She pulled her left hand down and examined it, clenching and flexing her fingers so the strange marks stretched tight and shrank repeatedly. Her eyes glazed and her lips quivered.

  Not again. What had he said?

  She pressed her eyes closed, squeezing out tears, which ran back into her hair.

  "I'm sorry." That sounded weak, but what else could he say? He had no idea what made her cry. He wished he could take away all the pain, but all he could do was wipe away the trail of moisture on both sides of her face and wonder if it wasn't the face of an angel.

  She held his hand to her face and stared at him through the tears rebuilding in her eyes. "Stay." The word barely choked out in a whisper.

  "What?"

  "Not leaving." Her fingers tightened around his, her eyes pleading.

  He should be leaving for work, but he couldn’t turn away from her. "I can't…"

  Her face contorted with sobs. She sat up and wrapped her arms around his body, pressing her wet face into his shirt.

  "No go." She sniffed and pulled herself closer to him. He'd be damned if this was a game of manipulation. She pulled out all the stops.

  Still, she'd never insisted on him staying with her other mornings. What made this one different?

  "Hold…me…Make bad…pictures gone."

  "Bad pictures? What?"

  She lifted her face inches from his and trembled with a breath. With one hand she pointed to her head. "Remembering bad events forever."

  Remember bad events forever?

  An eidetic memory?

  He sucked in a sharp breath. That's how she learned so quickly, and why little things could set her to tears. He couldn't imagine the suffering of bad memories staying clear forever; she needed him to distract her. It made sense now.

  Scott brushed away the hair stuck to her face. A moment later, she pressed her face into his shirt again. So much for the crisp shirt and tie, but it
didn't matter. She was more important. He held her close, rubbing her back in the hopes that it might calm her, and just to be sure—no wings.

  "I'm sorry. I never knew. Do you really want me to stay home?"

  Her head rubbed against his shoulder. "Y—Yes."

  All right. She won. She always would. "Let me call the office. I'll stay home today. It's Friday anyway." He rarely called in sick. Besides, he could use a three-day weekend, especially when it meant spending time with her.

  She loosened her hold, and he reached for the phone on the stand next to her bed. After leaving a message on his supervisor's voice mail, he convinced her to let go long enough for him to change out of his work clothes.

  When he emerged from his bedroom, Scott found her on the sofa in a tee shirt and jogging pants, a pillow tucked between her knees and her chest. The tears had lessened but not quit, the moisture trails shimmering from her cheeks. The moment he sat down, she curled up against his side. She never objected to his arm around her, but sometime during the movie they watched that morning, she laid down and fell asleep with her feet on his lap.

  Was she an angel? He'd felt nothing on her back. He must have imagined the wings last night.

  How could he explain the feathers?

  What was she hiding?

  9

  In the quiet halls of the building with its various displays of ancient human cultures, Taren pretended to study a glass case of swords.

  Damn the Crystal Keeper! She made flying for a while impossible. While one dark brown wing was healthy and full, the other wing had most of its feathers removed. He had to after she attacked him and burned most of them off. Landing had been difficult, and he had landed a long ways from the hotel where he stayed.

  He was lucky he'd dived when she spun with her hands glowing. Part of his mind had said she wouldn't attack but his better judgment cautioned him to move.

  Fortunately, his landing had placed him close to where she must have been staying. He was able to track her to where she stopped for the night. In his flightless state, however, he'd been hesitant to continue the fight. When his wings were fully feathered again, he'd finish the task.