PROLOGUE

The night was calm and quiet, despite the rain and the streetlights made the pavement shine with their light.  The sounds of cars were few and far between due to the late night hour and Monica couldn’t believe that she had an assignment starting now.  She was feeling slightly unsettled, though she knew that God was always with her, but the late hour and being alone was weighing heavily on her. 

She had been certain that she would be meeting up with Andrew and Tess someplace near here, but so far there had been no sign of them and she was getting worried.  Geography had never been her forte, and she was starting to wonder if she had come to the wrong place.  Tess was always punctual and Andrew was usually early in order for the two of them to steal a few moments together to catch up after an assignment had kept them apart.  He was her dearest friend and though it had only been a few days since she had last seen him, she was anxious to be with him again and to hear how his own assignments had gone. 

She looked up at the clock in the church tower and sighed.  Her friends were nearly half an hour late.  She must have the wrong address, which meant that wherever they were, they were worrying about her and Tess was probably already preparing the lecture.  This was not the way she wanted to begin an assignment.

After a moment of deliberation, she decided it was best to head back the way she had come, but her sense of direction was suddenly skewed.  She had been pacing and wandering for a few blocks and she had no idea of which way she should now go.  The rain was light, but her auburn hair was already fairly wet and she shivered slightly as she turned down the next street, deciding to hope for the best.

Halfway down the block, Monica began to regret her decision.  The street she had chosen was dimly lit and the houses on it were in shambles.  Broken windows, no landscaping and empty beer bottles cluttered the area and her foot brushed up against one, the sound of glass on concrete making an outburst in the still night.  She hesitated, debating whether or not to turn back, but before the decision could be made a rough hand was clamped over her mouth while another encircled her waist tightly.

The little angel’s eyes widened as she felt fear grip her heart, suddenly knowing she was in the wrong place and this was not her assignment. Her eyes wildly searched for Andrew or Tess…anyone for that matter, but the night remained quiet aside from the sound of her own rapidly beating heart and the hot breathe against her cheek.  He was dragging her from the sidewalk and she stumbled, trying to force out a scream, but she was unable to.

It seemed like an eternity before he threw her down to the ground in the mud and Monica struggled to get away.  A flash a metal and she felt a sharpness against her throat.

“Don’t say a word and I might let you live, bitch,” He growled at her, pinning her down with the weight of his body.

He smelled of alcohol and cigarettes and Monica tried to make out his face in the darkness, but she was unable to see past his eyes.  They were cold and cruel, lacking in conscience and she prayed to hear Andrew racing towards her, but her prayers seemed to be going unanswered.

“What do you want?” Her voice trembled, feeling the knife against her skin.

“Shut up, cunt,” Then he laughed and the sound chilled the angel to the bone.

Monica struggled, her terror overtaking her common sense and a blow to her face sent blinding white light searing through her line of vision.  A moment later, she felt a hand on her breast, his hand kneading and groping and she felt the pain from the roughness.  This couldn’t be happening to her!  This couldn’t be part of God’s plan.  She told herself this, knowing at any moment help would be on the way.

He soon became impatient and his hand grabbed her blouse and tore it away from her, the dainty buttons popping.  She couldn’t move beneath his weight and she watched in horror as he moved the knife from her throat and directed it at her chest.  Her breath caught in her throat, expecting to feel pain from him plunging it into her heart, but instead he cut her bra away from her breasts and his hand was on her once more.  He twisted her nipples violently, and more pain shot through her as his hands tainted flesh that had never before been touched.

“What if I cut off your tits and feed them to you, whore?” He whispered to her, enjoying the terror that was present in her dark eyes.

“Please…” Monica whimpered, closing her eyes as tears began to run down her pale face, “Please…”

“That’s it, baby.  Let me hear you beg for it.”

She began to sob quietly as she felt him inching up her skirt and a small cry escaped her as the knife seared her as he cut away her panties.  She kept her eyes closed tightly, pleading silently with God to stop this.  She had helped assignments in the past who had been raped.  She didn’t want to become one of them.

His hand was between her legs, the knife forcing her to inch them apart and he pressed it into her flesh enough to force her to comply.  He explored her roughly, each violent touch causing her heart to break a little more and her tears to come harder.  He inserted fingers into her body, grunting in pleasure and she could feel his arousal through the jeans he wore.  The sound of a snap and then a zipper caused Monica’s eyes to snap open and she tried once more to rid herself of this monster.

“Don’t do this, please…” She kicked out blindly and felt a small satisfaction at catching him in the gut with her foot.

He caught her chin in his hand so hard it hurt and laid the knife up against her cheek, “Don’t fuck with me you bitch.  A whore like you out street walking in the middle of night.  You asked for this and you will enjoy it.”

She felt his hardness against her thigh for a split second, before he forced himself into her, and she felt her tender flesh tear.  She bit her lip to hold back the cries of pain, humiliation and shame, until it bled as she felt him move within her.  He took her forcefully, slamming into her body again and again as he reached up to twist her breast once more in his hand.  The pain was nearly unbearable and it seemed to last forever.

“You’re a tight little cunt,” he uttered, grabbing at her hips to force himself deeper within her.  She was crying openly now and her tears only caused to excite him more.

Just when the little angel thought this violation would never be over, he shuddered and groaned and she felt a warmth fill her that caused her stomach to lurch.  She felt him withdraw and remove himself from her shaking body as she curled onto her side, drawing her knees up to her chest.

“Thanks for the lay, slut,” He whispered into her ear and a moment later, she heard his footsteps fade away.  The angel of God lay on the cold ground, trembling and crying, the shaking seeming to have infected every part of her body.  It was many long moments later that she struggled to smooth down her skirt and pull her ruined blouse around her and crept into the shadows.  Her mind refused to comprehend what it was she should do.  She wanted to run, lest he return, but her legs would barely support her.  Finding a shed a matter of yards away, she crept inside and sank back to the ground in silence.

“I’m telling you, Tess, she’s here!” Andrew felt an unnatural anger growing in his chest and he struggled to keep from shouting at the angel he normally thought of as his mentor.

It was nearly four am and the two angels had been wandering the deserted streets for close to an hour. What had started out as drizzle had turned into a steady rain, plastering Andrew’s hair to his head, and soaking through his shirt. He looked over at Tess, who was sheltered beneath a large umbrella but was still wet enough to look completely miserable not to mention annoyed.

“Andrew, what on earth would she be doing here? You know how she is. She probably got lost and called the Father to bring her Home… which is where we should be right now!” Her own impatience was at an all time high, and she wanted to be somewhere warm, dry, and preferably divine.

The angel of death ignored the look directed his way, and instead peered down the seventh road they had crossed since beginning their search. A light mist was rising up from the sewer to cover the ground, and the darkness pressed around him. Maybe Tess was right. Maybe he was imagining things. But he didn’t think so. He took a few steps down the street.

“Where are you going, Mr. Halo?” Tess asked, refusing to move from her spot on the corner. “She certainly isn’t down there.”

The run-down street with its trash-littered sidewalks and dilapidated triple-deckers was deserted looking and Tess was right. It didn’t look like anyplace the Irish angel would voluntarily visit. Andrew kept walking anyway, and he felt his heart thud against the inside of his chest when God spoke silently to him. She was here, and he had to find her. He kicked a bottle and heard it shatter as it struck a fire hydrant. His eyes lingered on the broken pieces. She had touched that bottle. He slowed his steps and strained to see everything. Rumpled newspapers in the gutter, a stack of empty boxes next to a chain link fence, and then a glint of silver in the mud.

The narrow alley contained more trash and a rat scurried across it, running from one dented aluminum can to the next. Andrew knelt down and reached out his hand. It was a button, and as his frantic eyes scanned around he saw more. Then, looking up almost fearfully, he saw the shed. He ran to the door but then couldn’t bring himself to touch the handle.

“Father, please let her be all right,” he prayed, eyes tightly shut, then slowly opened the door.

The light from a flickering street lamp didn’t allow the angel to see much, but he still saw more than he wanted to.

“Oh, God, please…” he didn’t know what he was begging for when he saw her small body curled on the ground. He knew she was hurt, and hurt so badly that it had taken hold of his own heart. “Monica?” he whispered her name. Her eyes were open and staring into space. He wasn’t even sure if she saw him. “Monica, answer me,” he begged as he reached out to touch her shoulder.

That one touch was all it took. She let out the most blood-curdling scream he had ever heard and started punching and kicking and scratching as if her life depended on it. Her blouse hung open in tatters as she fought and Andrew felt his entire existence boil down to that one moment in time.

“Tess!” His shout was almost as loud as Monica’s as he wrapped his arms around the terrified angel and sank to the floor with her still struggling in his arms. “TESS!”

Monica continued to kick out and fight against the angel of death. She sent a tower of empty paint cans rattling to the ground with one foot, and her screams shot right to Andrew’s heart. He was afraid he was only making things worse but he was even more afraid to let her go.

“Monica… please… oh Father, please let her hear me… Please, Monica… it’s me… I’m not going to hurt you.”

The change wasn’t instantaneous, but her struggles lessened until she was lying breathless in his arms. He had her face pillowed against his chest, tucked under his chin. He was afraid to look into her eyes; afraid to see the truth written there.

“Andrew,” she finally said hoarsely. “Andrew…” she kept repeating his name senselessly, but then, as she seemed to realize that he was actually holding her, she began struggling again. She had been praying for him to find her, and imagining how wonderful it would feel to have him hold her tight and make everything else fade away. Now the reality was not what she imagined. Her skin seemed to burn and she had to get away.

He had loosened his hold on her and she was able to twist away and collapse to her hands and knees. Monica couldn’t remember eating but her stomach clenched and then there was acid in the back of her throat and she was throwing up while Andrew stood helplessly behind her. She retreated to the corner, trembling hands spastically tugging on her blouse, fresh tears tracking down her face.

“Monica…” he moved to her side and knelt next to her, then gently touched her arm, almost knowing that she would flinch.

What light there was suddenly halved and Andrew looked up and saw Tess standing in the doorway. The expression on her face was sadder than he had ever seen it and she slowly entered.

“Tess, I don’t know what…” it was a lie he was still able to tell and claim ignorance.

The older angel crouched and let one hand cup her little angel girl’s bruised face. Monica whimpered, her eyes filled with shame and embarrassment. Why did her friends have to see her like this? Why couldn’t she just disappear? Why couldn’t she die? The last thought startled her but she wanted to go Home so desperately and at the moment death seemed the only option, as God had ignored all of her pleas.

“We need to get her to the hospital,” Tess stated.

Andrew clenched his jaw and forced down his building rage. “Monica… I’m sorry, angel,” he whispered as he lifted her suddenly stiff body into his arms. He tried to hold her as tenderly as possible. Although she let her head fall to his shoulder, it was more to hide her eyes than out of any sense of security, and involuntary shivers ran through her body, not allowing her to even take comfort in her dearest friend’s embrace.