my god!”
Faye smiled. “Now look, honey, you better have a good reason for interrupting my song.”
Barb rushed around the bar, her body quivering with excitement. “I won! I won the lottery! Look!”
Faye eyed the ticket the woman held, her gaze narrowing. She glanced in the direction of the angel. “Well, good for you, Barb. No one deserves it more than you, honey. Hold on tight to that ticket now. I wouldn’t want your good fortune to evaporate. Fate has a way of turning on you, doesn’t it?”
Barb hurried off, still squealing with excitement.
“Well, this is turning out to be quite an evening. An old friend comes to call and a new friend wins the lottery. Vodka Sets are meant to be dreary ‘round here, but I’m just not feelin’ it tonight. Tonight feels more like a tequila night,” Faye said.
Laughter and scattered applause ran through the crowd.
“Okay, folks, give me five minutes to adjust the set list and I’ll be back.”
Faye made her way toward his table, nodding and smiling at the regulars who called out to her. The angel took a deep breath, surprised at how nervous he felt. Angels weren’t meant to feel emotions, but that had never been true of him. As she moved closer, she seemed to throw off the country girl persona that disguised the tough woman underneath. Maybe it was the green dress, the swish of the hips, or the way she held her chin–he could tell she would be difficult to win over tonight, and he needed to win her over. Everything depended on Faye.
“What the hell are you doing here, Azal?” she asked, losing the Texan drawl.
“Hell?” Azal said, sipping from his drink. “Must we bring hell into the conversation so soon?”
“I’ll bring whatever I want into the conversation. Answer the question.”
“Sit down.” He grinned good-naturedly when she remained standing. “All right, Faye. Stand. If you need to prove you don’t take orders from me, fine, but you’d probably be more comfortable sitting.”
“Why are you here, Azal? I know it’s not just to chat. You angels are too busy screwing things up to stop by and actually visit.”
Azal ran a finger over the rim of the glass and smiled at her. “Can I buy you a drink for old times’ sake?”
“Well, you could, but I think Barb just quit due to winning the lottery,” Faye said. “Since you are the angel of good fortune, I’m going to assume you had something to do with that.”
“I merely rectified a small error I made earlier.”
“Can’t say it’s not a good thing. Poor kid is broke.” She peered down at him. “I know you have a freakish obsession with Earth women and their boobs. Were you looking at her tits?”
“Maybe a little.”
Faye laughed and pulled out the chair. As she slid into it, her nails drummed on the table. He hated the way she always appraised him. No doubt her sharp mind had already catalogued the changes she read in his face.
“I liked the song,” he said when she didn’t speak. “Stay Gold. You haven’t lost your sense of humor.”
“Figured you’d appreciate it. You still towin’ the party line on that?”
Azal stared at the candle. Here was the moment, and yet he hesitated to bring it up.
“Don’t get lost in that amber glow,” Faye snapped. “I hate that transfixion shit.”
He kept his gaze on the candle, but smiled at her words. “Faye, you know me too well. It would be easy to slip into the rhythm of the flame and watch it bounce back and forth, a tiny unappreciated miracle. But that’s not the way of it tonight. Tonight I need to talk.”
Faye eyed him warily, then reached out to grasp his drink. She sipped carefully, her eyes never leaving his face. “So talk. This is your chance. You’re lucky I’m in a relatively good mood.”
“For now.”
“Cut the cryptic bullshit, Azal, and get to it. Why are you here?”
“I need your help. Or more to the point, God needs your help.”
“It’s always something with Him, isn’t it?”
“I’m serious.”
“I’m sure you are.”
“God has a job for you. An important job.”
“Then He can take care of it Himself. I quit the business a while back, as you may recall. I haven’t seen hide nor hair of God or His angels in seven years.”
“Only because you refuse to let us in. God is in everything. The wind. The rain. It’s all got His fingerprint on it–”
“You can stop right there!” She drummed her fingers on the table again, struggling to keep her anger in check. “Don’t give me that sanctimonious crap. I’ve heard the speech. It’s all a load of horseshit hidden by flowery words. Those flowery words let me down.”
“Faye, what happened to you was…unfortunate.”
“If you say it was all part of God’s plan, this conversation will end now.”
Azal sighed. How was he going to reach her? He tried again.
“We have a problem, Faye. We’ve got a rogue.”
“A rogue?”
“Yes. We have someone whose intentions might no longer be of a divine nature. We would like you to find out what he is up to and how far off the path he’s strayed.”
“No.”
“Faye–”
“I’m not helping you.”
He’d been afraid of this. Total resistance was not unexpected, and it wasn’t as if he could blame her. Seven years had not eased her bitterness. She’d lost everything, and no one, least of all him, had stopped it. Her eyes glittered in the candlelight and Azal opened his mind, trying to probe her thoughts.
She shook her head as if swatting away a fly.
“Stay out of my head. That path is closed to you.” She sat back and studied him a moment. “A rogue, huh?”
“He’s a symbolist. Works as a tattoo artist down the street at a place called Hell’s Leak.”
“Charming. What’s his story?”
“He brands people with his designs and then…well, odd things happen to them.”
“What kind of designs?”
“Symbols for the seven deadly sins.”
Faye grinned. “No, shit? I didn’t know
