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Gabriel stopped mid sentence as Aaron reached out to shut off the radio, plunging the car into silence.
 
Great,
 
he thought as he drove,
just what I needed.
 
Without the distraction of music, his wandering mindhad another opportunity to examine how completely insane his life had become.

Just over two weeks ago, on his eighteenth birthday, Aaron learned he was something called a Nephilim—the child of a human mother and an angel. Aaron never knew his biological parents, havingbeen in foster care all his life. So when he began to exhibit rather unique abilities, like being able to speakand understand foreign languages—human and animal—he thought that maybe he was losing his mind.

Which was exactly what he was going to do if he didn't stop thinking about this stuff. He glanced over atthe powerfully built man—
no, angel
—sitting in the passenger seat beside him. "So what kind of music doyou like?" he asked to break the silence.

Camael had once been the leader of an army—a Choir of angels, the Powers, whose purpose it was toeliminate all things offensive to God. After Lucifer's defeat in the Great War in Heaven, many of hisfollowers fled to Earth. Barred from Heaven, these angels began a life upon the world of man, some eventaking wives and having children. It was the job of the Powers to destroy these defectors and theirabominable offspring, the Nephilim.

"You are speaking to one who has heard the symphony of Creation," the angel said in a condescending

tone. "How can the sounds produced by the likes of your primitive species even compare?"

As Aaron knew, on one of his many missions to eradicate the enemies of Heaven, Camael had beenmade privy to a prophecy—a prophecy that described a creature, both human and angel, that wouldreestablish a bond between the fallen angels on Earth and God. This being—a Nephilim—would forgivethese angels their sins and allow their return to Heaven. After so much violence and death, Camaelthought this was truly a great thing, but his opinion was not shared by his second-in-command, a nastypiece of work that went by the name of Verchiel.

"So you don't like any of it?" Aaron asked, dumbfounded by the angel's broad dismissal of the entire musical spectrum. "You don't like classical or jazz—or rock or country? None of it? Everything gives you a headache?"

The angel looked at him, eyes burning with intensity. "I haven't had the time to sample all forms of yourmusic," he said. "As you are aware, I have been rather busy."

Camael left the Powers to follow the prophecy. For thousands of years he wandered the planet,attempting to save the lives of Nephilim—hoping that each might be the one of which the prophecyforetold. Now led byVerchiel, the Powers would do anything to eliminate the blight of half-breeds from God's world, making the prophecy but an ancient memory.

"But you've been here forever," Aaron said with a disbelieving grin. "I don't mean to be a pain in the ass,

but..."

"That's exactly what you are, boy," Camael said, looking back out the side window. "You are the

One—as well as a pain in the ass."

So besides being a Nephilim, which was bad enough, Aaron Corbet was also the subject of theprophecy. It wasn't something he had even been aware of—until the Powers, under Verchiel's command,attempted to kill him. The attacks resulted in the deaths of his psychiatrist, his foster parents and a fallenangel by the name of Zeke—who had helped him finally tap into his angelic abilities and save himself.

"I'm sorry," Aaron said, slowing down as a red sports car pulled up alongside him on the two-lane road, then sped up to pass. "It's just that you come on all holier-than-thou because you're an angel and everything—when in fact you really don't know what you're talking about."

"Though I no longer associate with their Choir, I am of the Powers," Camael said, "one of the first

created by God, and it is my right to have an opinion that disagrees with yours."

The abilities called to life with Zeke's urgings saved not only Aaron's life, but also the life of his dog, Gabriel. When theLabrador wasstruck by a car and mortally injured, Aaron called upon his latentpowers and healed the dog, as a result changing Gabriel into something more than just a dog.

"You can't have a real opinion unless you've actually listened to the stuff. It's like saying you don't like

broccoli when you've never even tasted it," he said, frustrated by the angel's attitude.

"I like broccoli,"Gabriel said suddenly.
 
"I wish
I had some right now. All that talk about Tasty Chow
 
has

made me very hungry."

Aaron glanced at the digital clock on the dashboard. It was a little before noon. They had been on theroad since the crack of dawn, and it had been a long time since breakfast.
Maybe we
should pull over andget something to eat,he  thought. Then he remembered Stevie and immediately felt guilty. Who knew whatwas happening to his foster brother?

When the Powers attacked his home, the angels took his seven-year-old foster brother. Stevie wasautistic, and according to Camael, angelic beings often used the handicapped as servants because of theirunique sensitivity to the supernatural. This was the main reason they were on the road, to rescue Stevie—that and to prevent the Powers from hurting anyone else Aaron might care about.

Aaron was distracted by the sound of something spattering and looked down near the emergency breakto see saliva pooling from Gabriel's mouth. "Gabriel," he scolded, reaching back to push the dog into hisseat, "you're drooling!"

"I told you I was hungry,"the Lab said, leaning back. "/
can't stop thinking about that Tasty Chow

commercial."

Aaron looked over at Camael, who was silent as he gazed stoically out the window. "So what do youthink?" he asked. "I'm getting kind of hungry myself. Should we stop and get some lunch?"

"It makes no difference to me," the angel said, not looking at him. "I have no need of food."

Aaron chuckled. "You know, that's right," he said, the realization sinking home. "I've never seen youeat."

"I love to eat,"said Gabriel from the back.

"How is that possible?" Aaron asked, finding himself interested in yet another aspect of the alien life-form known as angel. "Everything has to eat to survive—or is this some bizarre kind of supernatural nonsense that I won't understand?"

"We feed off the energies of life," Camael explained. "Everything that is alive radiates energy—we are

like plants to the sun, absorbing this energy to maintain life."

Aaron thought about that for a moment. "So, since you're sitting here with me and Gabe—you could sayyou're eating right now?"

The angel nodded. "You could say that."

"I'm not eating right now, although I wish Iwas,"the dog said irritably.

"Okay, okay," Aaron replied, preparing to take the next exit. "We'll find someplace for a quick bite, but then we have to get back on the road. I don't want Stevie with those murdering sons of bitches any longer than he has to be."

As he took the exit and merged right, onto a smaller, more secluded stretch of road, Aaron thoughtabout all he had left behind. Every stretch of highway, every exit, every back road took him farther andfarther away from the life he was used to. He already found himself missing school, something he hadn'tthought possible. It was senior year, after all, and in some perverse way he had been looking forward toall of the final papers and tests, the acceptances and rejections from colleges. But that was not to be;being born a Nephilim had seen to that.

Aaron caught sight of a roadside stand advertising fried clams, hamburgers, and hot dogs. There werepicnic tables set up in a shaded area nearby—perfect for Gabriel.

As he pulled into the dirt lot, an image of Vilma came to mind. Before his life collapsed, he had almostbelieved that he was going to go out with one of the prettiest girls he had ever seen. They never did havean opportunity for that lunch date, and now probably never would. Suddenly Aaron wasn't quite ashungry as he had been.

Vilma Santiago sat at the far end of the cafeteria atKennethCurtisHigh School and was glad to be alone. It was a beautiful spring day, and most of the student body had taken their lunches outside, so she'd hadno difficulty finding an empty table.

The elusive memory of the previous night's dream—
or was it a nightmare?
—teased her with itsslippery evasiveness. She hadn't slept well for days, and it was finally beginning to affect her. The girl felttired, irritable, with the hint of a headache, its pulsing pain just behind her eyes.

But most of all, she felt sad.

Vilma opened the paper sack that contained her lunch and removed a yogurt and a sandwich wrappedin plastic. She had been in such a state that morning, she couldn't even remember what kind of sandwichshe'd made. She hoped the lunches she'd prepared for her niece and nephew were at least edible, or shewould be hearing from her aunt when she got home.

Without bothering to check the contents of the sandwich, she placed it back inside the bag.
The yogurt'llbe plenty,
 
she thought as she removed the plastic lid and then realized that she didn't have a spoon.

It was no big deal, there were plenty of plastic spoons at the condiment table—but the intense, irrationaldisappointment of the moment made her want to cry.

Vilma had been feeling a bit emotional since

Aaron Corbet left school—left the state, for all she knew—a couple of weeks ago. She had no idea whyshe missed him so much. She had just barely gotten to know him.

She placed the lid back on the yogurt and pushed that away as well. She really didn't feel like eating,anyway.

There was something about Aaron, something she couldn't quite understand, but a kind of comfort andcalmness seemed to enwrap her whenever he was around. Though they had never been on a date—oreven held hands, for that matter—Vilma felt as though a very important part of her had been surgicallyremoved with Aaron's departure. She felt incomplete. She wanted to believe that it was a silly crush, ateenage infatuation that would eventually fade, but something inside her said it wasn't, and that just madeher all the more miserable.

Vilma sat back in her chair, looked out over the cafeteria, and unconsciously played with the angel thathung on a gold chain around her neck.

According to the news reports, Aaron's foster parents and little brother had died in a fire when theirhouse had been hit by lightning during a freak thunderstorm. He'd said he was leaving because there weretoo many sad memories. But she'd known he was holding something back—although she didn't know

how or why she knew this. Not for the first time she felt her eyes begin to burn with emotion.

There had been talk at school, silly hurtful whispers, that Aaron had been responsible for the fire thattook the lives of his family, but Vilma didn't believe it for a second. Sure, he was a foster kid who'd beenshifted around a lot. He was entitled to be angry. But, she knew in the depths of her soul that he wasn'tcapable of harming anyone. Still, the mystery of his abrupt departure continued to gnaw at her.

Vilma jumped as a voice suddenly addressed her. She had been so lost in her thoughts that she'd failedto notice the approach of one of the cafeteria staff.

"I'm sorry, hon," said the large woman with a smile. She was dressed in a light blue uniform, her

bleached blond hair tucked beneath a hairnet. "I didn't mean to scare you."

"That's all right," Vilma answered with an embarrassed laugh. "Just not paying attention, I guess."

"You done here?" the woman asked, gesturing to Vilma's discarded lunch.

"Yes, thank you," she replied as the woman swiped a damp cloth across the table and carried away her

trash.

Vilma continued to sit, gently stroking the golden angel at her throat.

Maybe that was why she hadn't been sleeping. Since Aaron left, her nights had been plagued with dimnightmares. She'd awaken in the early morning hours, panicked and coveredin sweat—the recollection ofwhat had caused such a reaction a nagging unknown.

That had to be it. Not only had Aaron made her sad by leaving, he was now keeping her awake withbad dreams. She wished he were here so she could give him a piece of her mind. And when she wasdone, she'd hold him tightly and they would kiss.

Vilma imagined what that would be like and felt her heart begin to race and her eyes well with tears.

"Vilma!" somebody called, the voice echoing around the low-ceilinged lunchroom.

She rubbed at her eyes quickly and looked around. From a door in the back corner, she saw her friend Tina heading toward her. The girl was wearing dark sunglasses and walked as if she were on the runwayat aParis fashion show. Vilma smiled and waved.

"What are you doing in here?" Tina asked in their native Portuguese.

Vilma shrugged. "I don't know," she answered sadly. "Just didn't feel like going out."

Tina pushed the sunglasses back onto her head and crossed her arms. "I bet you didn't even eat lunch,"she said, a look of disgust on her pretty face.