He glanced at the clock and left Anita talking to Gloria. The boy’s plane was scheduled to land soon. As he rushed down the hall, he wondered if his assignment was Anita’s boy.
When he got to the gate, he looked out the large window at the empty tarmac where the plane should have been. Instead, Jeremy, his best friend, stood on the tarmac. He was dressed impeccably, looking more like a model off the cover of a GQ magazine than the Archangel of Death. His golden hair, swept back off his face, glimmered under the Texas sun. Lash found it rather odd that he would care so much about his appearance, considering that he rarely appeared in his human form. Most people knew him only by his angel name, Jeremiel, and when he did appear to them, it was because they were dying. Jeremy, like Lash, had decided to modernize his name a few years ago. Too bad he hadn’t done the same with his clothes. Compared to Jeremy, Lash looked like the perpetual teenage rebel, favoring ripped jeans and fitted t-shirts.
Lash wondered why Jeremy hadn’t mentioned an assignment in Houston during last night’s poker game. For the first time since they’d started playing decades ago, Lash had been winning, and they were having a great time—smoking cigars and drinking whiskey. It wasn’t until Gabrielle had shown up and handed Lash the assignment that Jeremy had become unusually quiet. He’d appeared so uncharacteristically upset when he had asked Lash to accept an IOU on his winnings—although Lash couldn’t think of when he’d ever have a need to call him on it. Gabrielle seemed to have been in a foul mood, too. Maybe he should have reconsidered puffing smoke directly into her face. She probably didn’t like that.
Lash was about to join him on the tarmac when Gabrielle glided into view. She whispered something into Jeremy’s ear, and his ever-present smile froze. Whatever she’d told him, it couldn’t have been good.
He followed Jeremy’s gaze and looked at the cloudless sky. In the distance, he saw a tiny speck and instinctively knew it was Flight 1724. Lash glanced at Jeremy and wondered if his assignment involved someone on the same flight.
Jeremy gave Gabrielle a nod and instantly vanished. Dread hit the pit of Lash’s stomach as Gabrielle lifted her arms into the air and swirled her slender hands in circles. Trees surrounding the airport swayed as the wind picked up and dark clouds began to form.
Lash pressed his palms against the glass pane. What was she doing? He gritted his teeth, wondering if she was intentionally trying to make his job more difficult. He’d been told to watch over Javier and to make sure he returned safely to his mother. Gabrielle had conveniently forgotten to tell him that the boy would be in real danger—or that the danger would be Gabrielle herself.
Lash watched as she continued to manipulate the wind and clouds.
“Looks like a storm’s comin’,” said a woman sitting in the row of seats behind him.
“That’s Texas weather for you,” said the man next to her. “One minute, it’s a sunny day; you blink, and then all hell breaks loose.”
A loud bang of thunder caused the glass to vibrate under Lash’s hands. He stepped away as a stream of ice pellets slammed to the ground.
“Lord, have mercy,” the woman said as she pressed a hand to her chest. “That was a loud one.” She looked out the window. “I hope it passes soon. Wouldn’t want to be caught up there in this storm.”
It was then that Lash knew why Gabrielle and Jeremy were there and why he’d received this assignment. Not all the passengers of Flight 1724 were going to make it into Houston alive.
He closed his eyes and projected himself into the plane. When he opened them, he was standing in the aisle next to a pretty girl. Her pale blond hair was tucked behind her ears, highlighting her vibrant blue eyes. She couldn’t have been more than twelve, yet something about her made her appear wise beyond her years.
Lash gazed out the window at the fog of darkness that surrounded the plane. All around him, passengers muttered anxiously as they looked out. They were scared.
A whimpering sound from the seat behind the girl caught his attention, and he stepped toward it. Sitting in the seat was a small boy, his feet barely touching the floor. Javier.
“Mother, he’s scared,” the little girl said. “May I go sit with him?”
The woman, an older replica of the pretty girl, took a nervous gulp of her cocktail. “No, it’s not safe.” The plane gave a jolt, and she dropped her drink to the floor, the amber liquid splashing on her white linen suit. Color drained from her face as she clutched the armrest. “Oh my God.”
The girl leaned into the aisle and looked back at the little boy sitting behind her. “But, he’s all alone.”
“Do as I tell you, or I’ll have to tell your father when we get home,” the woman snapped as she dabbed her pants with a napkin. “The stewardess will tend to him.”