The man eyed the blades. “Fuck it.” He dropped the child. “She’s not worth it.” He leaped into the vehicle and screeched away in a blaze of burning rubber.
Tears ran down the little girl’s face, but she wiped them away and stared up at him.
“Are you all right?” He retracted the blades and folded his wings.
“You’re an angel!” Her eyes were wide. “My guardian angel. You saved me!”
Better she assumed he was an angel—whatever that was—than an Avian from ’Topia, so he didn’t enlighten her. He picked up a bright, shiny penny left behind and handed it to her. “What’s your name?”
“Izzy Mason.”
“My name is…Wynn.” The alias coming from his mouth sounded strange. “We’d better get you home.” He motioned with his head, and she fell into step beside him. He shortened his stride to accommodate her. She trusted too easily. She’d almost been abducted, and now she followed another stranger down the street? Why wasn’t she supervised? “How old are you?”
“Almost six! My birthday is on Saturday.”
“Where are your parents?”
She hunched her shoulders, and guilt washed across her cheeks. “Mom is taking a nap.”
What kind of mother slept the day away, leaving her defenseless child to fend for herself? Not my business. What these humans do has nothing to do with me. But his gut had already tightened into a knot.
You had to cherish what you had because life was unpredictable. One minute you were ignorantly happy, about to be mated, and in a flash, everyone you loved died, your home was destroyed, and you found yourself hiding on an alien planet. He glanced at the child. Freckles danced across her nose as she innocently skipped beside him. Her mother is sleeping? Sleeping?
“Mom was at the Whitetail until really late last night.”
The bar in Argent was called the Whitetail.
“She told me to stay in the house, but I heard the music. I used to get ice cream all the time in my old neighborhood but not here. Trucks never come by. I didn’t want to wake Mom, so I got some money out of her purse. I waved like you’re supposed to. I thought the truck would stop, but it kept going and going.”
Almost like it had been leading her away.
She peered up at him with a hopeful expression. “Do you know my daddy?”
“No, I’ve never met him.” Why would she think he had? And why didn’t the father keep an eye on her?
Her face fell. “Oh. I hoped you did. He went to heaven.”
“I’ve never been to heaven.” He didn’t know where that was. Since landing on Earth, he’d only been to Argent, Coeur d’Alene, and to Seattle once.
Her brows drew together over bright blue eyes. “But you’re an angel! Where do you come from if not from heaven?”
“Well, according to my ID card, Dakon,” he replied.
“Is that in Idaho?”
“No. Someplace far.”
“Washington?”
“Something like that.”
“Can you play a harp?”
“No.”
“Can you float on a cloud?”
“No.” He stopped and picked up the cape he’d dropped. He pulled his wings in closer and slung the garment over his shoulders.
She narrowed her eyes. “Are you sure you’re an angel?”
“You’re the one who called me an angel,” he said.
“Have you met God?”
The Xenos, who’d created life on many other worlds, considered themselves to be gods. His fellow castaway, Chameleon, was a Xeno. So, technically…“Yes.”
Her eyes widened. “Is he nice?”
“He’s all right. We’ve had our differences, but we get along now.” It had been hard to overlook Chameleon’s position on Xeno Consortium High Council, which had ordered the destruction of ’Topia because its people had refused to pay homage. Rare for a Xeno, Chameleon had a conscience and had fought to save the planet. Wingman owed him his life, so he kind of had to trust him, but letting his guard down had been hard.
“If you make God mad, you could end up in the belly of a whale or turned to a pillar of salt. He’ll make it rain and flood your house or even send you to Hell,” she said. “Then you burn forever and ever.”
Her god sounded a lot like a Xeno.
They reached her house, a small bungalow with a sagging porch and peeling paint. But the grass was neatly shorn, a welcoming wreath of colorful flowers hung on the front door, and white lacy curtains flapped in the faint breeze.
He opened the chain-link gate. “Go inside. Stay there until your mother awakens. No more running after ice cream vans.” The mother would never know how close she’d come to losing her child.
“All right. Bye, Mr. Angel.” She entered the yard, and he closed the gate, waiting to ensure sure she went in. She skipped to the front porch and then turned around. “Could you come to my birthday party Saturday?”
He shook his head. “It wouldn’t be appropriate—”
“Please? We just moved to Argent, and I don’t know anybody other than Mrs. Beckman, and she’s old. It would be nice to have a real angel at my party.”
“I’m old, too,” he said.
“Not as old as Mrs. Beckman!” Blue eyes beseeched.
Pity the male population when this one grew up. She was laying it on, but her plaintive expression tugged at his chest. “No, I can’t—”
“It’s at twelve o’clock in the afternoon, after Mom gets done sleeping.”
This was Thursday, and she already knew her mother would be napping in the middle of the day on Saturday? Maybe the mother should spend a little less time sleeping and more time taking care of her child. Maybe he ought to inform her what had almost happened while she’d slept.
“Twelve o’clock? Saturday? I’ll be here,” he said.
“Yay! I’ll tell my mom.” She entered the house and closed the door.
Chapter Two
Of all the nights! Although the Whitetail closed at 2 a.m., a couple of regular customers had nursed their last drinks until 2:45 when Marty nudged them out the door. Delia hadn’t gotten to bed until well after 3 a.m.
Blinking sleep out of her eyes, she forced a cheerful face. Nothing could be allowed to ruin this day. “Happy Birthday, sweetie!” She kissed the top of her daughter’s head as she sat at the kitchen table. “What would you like for breakfast? Pancakes? Waffles? Bacon and eggs?” She didn’t even suggest cereal, which Izzy ate most days. This morning was special.
“Waffles with strawberries. And whipped cream.”
“Good choice.” An easy choice, thank goodness. After pouring herself a cup of coffee, she dropped two frozen waffles into the toaster. She got her daughter a glass of milk and then sliced some strawberries.
“You excited about your party?” Guilt gnawed at her. The party would be attended by two people: Izzy and herself.
“Uh-huh.”
Having fled Pittsburgh the day after school ended for the summer, they’d only been in Argent three weeks, so Izzy hadn’t had a chance to meet other kids. Delia intended to compensate. She’d asked for extra hours at the Whitetail where she worked as a cocktail waitress so she could buy some nice presents, including a big surprise, which the sitter, who lived a couple of houses over, had picked up this morning and was keeping for her.