CHAPTER 1

For an Angel of Death, the hours before the dawn could be filled with dread. When your job was to escort humans to the other side of life, an angel quickly learned that rarely did good things happen to human beings during the darkest part of the night.

Andrew had taken hundreds, or rather, thousands of people Home to the Father in the centuries since his creation and though some of his assignments had left him feeling sad due to a life ending too soon, generally it was all forgotten the moment that human was face to face with his or her Creator. Seeing the love and joy that radiated from someone's eyes was all it took for Andrew to remember why he loved his work as much as he did.

But no matter how much joy was present when any human ran into the open arms of God the Father, Andrew could rarely shake the sadness that filled his soul over the murder of a child such as the one he was facing now. It had been hard to come from his honeymoon to go back to work but he knew it was his job and it was one he was honored to have, but coming from such a joyous time to hold a little boy with his life ebbing from him felt intolerable.

Andrew knew how cruel God's creation could be to each other; he had experienced it more times than he cared to recall, and no matter how terrible it was, as an angel, he loved them anyway, despite their imperfections and their emotions that could cause them to do the unthinkable. But when someone inflicted pain upon a child, it filled him with a combination of rage and deep despair that he could feel with every fiber of his being. He knew he should feel guilty about his anger, but yet he couldn't bring himself to.

"Hurts…" The child was scarcely six years old and the blood was seemingly everywhere. The weapon that had been used was irrelevant to Andrew; that fact that a weapon had been used at all was not.

"I know," Andrew whispered, cradling his near lifeless body in his arms as a soft glow surrounded them both, "But it's over now." Great relief filled Andrew's green eyes as he watched the pain fade from the child's expression as the soul was released from the small body.

"Where are we going?" the boy's eyes were cocoa brown and filled with great innocence, reminding Andrew so much of Monica that it was physically painful to look into them right now. Instead, he mentally thanked the Father that this job did not belong to her; she loved them too much to see them suffer so needlessly.

"Home. Someone is waiting for you." Lifting the child into his arms, Andrew walked to the light, but not even the joy in the child's eyes could erase the pain in his own soul.

X

Later, the Angel of Death wandered aimlessly and unseen through the little town as the sun rose in the east. His heart was too tormented to return to the cabin to see if Monica was still there; she would instantly sense his pain and to share it with her would only bring tears to her beautiful eyes.

He had watched as the child's body had been discovered with the rising of the sun and he had heard them discuss that this was the third murder of this nature. Three children. Three families that would never be the same and for what? It sickened him.

Lifting tormented eyes to the sky, Andrew did something he rarely did. It was not really in his nature to question, but something about the last few weeks seemed to make something so senseless more difficult than usual to bear.

"Father, please. I don't know if I can bear to take another one Home at so tender an age. If you can use me to help stop it, here or somewhere else, please allow me that privilege. A family is broken at the dawn of a new day that should be filled with endless possibilities, but instead will forever be marked with grief. If you can use me to change the outcome for someone else, I promise you to do everything in my power to change it for good."

Images of the boy flashed before his mind's eye and Andrew had to blink to clear his vision; no one should have to suffer such pain, especially one so innocent.

"You know He hears you."

The lilted voice behind him caused Andrew to close his eyes, wanting to spare her from his pain, even though he knew their Father had sent Monica to be with him now when his very soul was hurting.

She approached him slowly, wishing he would turn to face her, but knowing why he wasn't. She knew him so well and she had heard his prayer; enough to know that his assignment had been young. The thought made her own heart ache and she had not seen the details.

Reaching out, her small hands gripped his arm. She longed to see his eyes, knowing that one look would allow her to see the reason she was sent to him. Andrew's emerald eyes were a mirror to his soul and she could read him better than anyone else. In those eyes she had witnessed every possible emotion he had ever felt; some that brought her amazing joy and some that made her want to weep.

"I can feel your pain as if it is my own and it is, because our souls are one. You can't shut me out of it, Andrew, even if you want to. I won't allow it. No matter what you are feeling and how terrible it is, I need to share it with you."

"Not this..." He murmured. He wasn't even sure why he didn't want to tell her and then he remembered the boy's eyes, so much like Monica's, the same innocence. Neither of them should ever have to be touched by such horrors. He hadn't been able to spare the boy, but he wanted to spare Monica.

With infinite patience she had learned from him, Monica gently turned him to face her and then she took his hands into her own, "Especially this," She whispered fiercely to him, noting how he kept his eyes downcast, "What hurts you, hurts me, but you never have to be alone in the pain, Andrew, not when I want so much to share it with you," Reaching up, she laid her hand against his jaw, her touch feather-like, "Please? I love you so much…please allow me to be there."

When his shoulders sagged, she knew he would allow her into his grief and standing on tiptoe, her arms encircled his neck to hold him close, relieved when his arms wrapped around her waist. They remained that way for several long moments before she spoke softly, lips against his ear.

"Tell me."

"The details aren't important. He was young and someone brutally took his life." His voice held great remorse and he held her a fraction tighter.

"I'm so sorry, Andrew. I hate this part of your job; the part of it that hurts you so," Monica pulled away, finally able to look into his eyes, "Was he happy to be Home?"

"Yes," His hand reached to caress her cheek, skin silky and smooth beneath his hand, "And I know he will never feel pain again…but he never should have had to feel pain like that to begin with. He should be waking up in his bed at home right now to share breakfast with his parents, but someone decided that would never happen again."

"They can be so cruel," She murmured with a sad shake of her head, "It's bad enough when they hurt those they love, but for anyone to harm a child? I'll never understand it, not for as long as I exist."

"Nor I." Andrew sighed and then took her into his arms once more, "I'm glad you found me, Angel. I needed to see you."

"I know. I felt it," and she had. His grief had nearly taken her breath away with its intensity, "How much time do you have?"

"Enough. Have you been assigned yet?"

"Soon. This afternoon." Monica replied, hearing words spoken to her heart.

Pulling back again, Andrew took her face into his hands and brushed his lips against hers, "Walk with me?"

"Always."

As his larger hand took hers into its own, Monica silently added her prayer to the one Andrew had already prayed, asking their loving Father to spare her beloved husband anymore pain of this nature, for she knew that though Andrew seemed more relaxed now, the pain in his heart was still echoing within her own.