IT WAS JUST AFTER my latest werewolf girlfriend opted for ex. Emotionally, I was a bit of a mess. That’s the only way I can explain why I took a job from an angel. Perhaps too that is why the memory of that day hasn’t faded one bit.
The city was buried in darkness and stifling heat. It was the end of a humid, boiling summer’s day and the electric-threat of a storm was palpable in the air. I was standing in a deserted park, back to the firm protection of an old oak tree whose gnarled bark dug into my skin, watching for the arrival of the mysterious client who’d texted me an hour earlier.
In the distance, the pitch clouds spiked forks of brilliant light that were slowly rolling closer. I wondered if it would rain and break the stranglehold of the heat for the night. It hadn’t rained yet. A week of roaring thunder and violent lightning had brought each sun-blasted day to an end without a drop for the parched ground to drink. Not even the darkened sky brought cool relief. I wiped a trickle of perspiration from my brow and glanced at my cell phone. I’d give the client another ten minutes, I decided, then I was out of here. I was daydreaming of a cold shower when I caught my first glimpse of the angel.
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