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Lena Giorno had called him because she wanted to see an angel. She’d seen him. Over. Done. Ta dah. Frank Giorno had wanted him out of his daughter’s bedroom and in clothing. Both taken care of—with some unnecessary violence in Samuel’s opinion, but no one had asked him. Father Harris, a fellow servant of the light, didn’t need him, and, although he hadn’t said it out loud, had practically been screaming at him to go away.

He hadn’t gone far, but he’d gone.

So what now? He had to be here for a reason.

His sense of self had grown overnight, but he was still having a little trouble with the vague components of Lena’s initial parameters. The whole higher knowledge thing seemed a bit spotty and, so far, not very useful. He understood mobility; he only had to want to go somewhere to be there except that he didn’t know where he wanted to go. His hairwas great. No argument.

And apparently, he was supposed to have come with a message. If he had, he’d misplaced it. Oh sure, he could come up with a few off the top of his head—Love thy Neighbor, Cherish the Children, Reduce, Reuse, Recycle, Check Your Tire Pressure—but they were so commonplace—not to mention common sense—they seemed almost trite.

I don’t know what I’m doing here.

I don’t know how to rejoin the light.

And while I know where I am, I don’t know where I’m supposed to go.

If higher knowledge hadn’t informed him that he was wiser and more evolved, he’d have to say the whole situation sucked. Big time.

Okay. I deliver messages. I’m some kind of nonunion, spiritual postal guy. Samuel looked around at a village of empty streets and dark houses.So everything’ll be cool as soon as I can tell someone something.

Although why anyone would want things cooler, he had no idea, and he didn’t even want to guess how a situation could draw something in by creating a partial vacuum.

Unfortunately, the only people currently awake behind the barricades of drawn curtains were young children and the parents of young children. The kids were—well, he supposed hysterical was as accurate a description as any. As for their parents, they didn’t so much need him to pass on a spiritual message as they needed another three hours of sleep and the batteries that hadn’t been included.

He was giving some serious thought to returning to Lena’s room and having her fill in a few details when he heard a vehicle approaching. Turning, he watched the 5.2 liter, 230-horsepower, V-8 SUV come closer with no clear idea of why he suddenly found engine statistics so fascinating. He was wondering how it handled on curves when the surrounding cloud of desperation captured his attention. Someone in that vehicle was about to crack.

Was he supposed to fix cracks?

So now I’m doing spiritual plastering? Which wasn’t as funny as he’d hoped it would be. He took a deep breath and dried suddenly damp palms against his thighs, wondering why he seemed to be leaking.Still, a guy’s got to start somewhere…

And so far, this seemed to be the only game in town.

The vehicle was exactly twenty feet, seven and three-eighths inches away when he stepped in front of it. When it stopped, it was exactly three-eighths of an inch away. An exhausted looking man and an equally exhausted looking woman were sitting openmouthed in the front seats. Brian and Linda Pearson. He flashed them both an enthusiastic thumbs up figuring that, hey, it couldn’t hurt.

“Are you out of your mind?” Face flushed, Brian leaned out the driver’s window. “I could have killed you!”

He seemed a bit upset. Samuel smiled reassuringly. Never let the mortals sense insecurity. He wasn’t sure if that was higher knowledge, common sense, or some kind of basic survival instinct but he figured he’d go with it regardless. “I have a message for you.”

“Get the fuck out of my way!”

“No.”

“No?” His volume rose impressively.

“No. I need to tell you that no matter how it seems, your kids aren’t deliberately trying to drive you crazy. You just need more patience.” Smile slipping slightly, he added, “And a breath mint.”

“You’re insane!”

“Am not!” He felt his jaw jut out and his weight shift forward onto the balls of his feet. Where was that coming from? Lowering his voice, he fought the urge to challenge Brian Pearson to a fight, saying only a little belligerently, “I’m an angel.”

Exhaustion warring with denial, Brian’s bloodshot eyes widened as they were met and held. “Oh my G…”

Samuel raised a hand and cut him off, glancing around to be sure no one had overheard.“Don’t even suggest that. Didn’t you hear what happened to the last guy who tried to move up?” Whistling a descending scale, he pantomimed a fall from grace. The sound of an explosion at the end was purely extemporary but impossible to resist.

Dragging Brian back into the van, her gaze never leaving Samuel’s face, Linda whispered something in her husband’s ear.

He shook his head and glanced back over his shoulder.“We can’t.”

She whispered something else.

Unfortunately, higher knowledge didn’t seem to extend to eavesdropping.