Coming to terms with who you are can sometimes make you take desperate measures. The angel Zagzagel returns in this third entry to the series to help his charge choose love over murder.
Nick yanked on the bolt, dropped in the cartridge, shoved the bolt forward, and somehow managed to drop it into place. His finger trembled beside the trigger.
The man had matured into quite an idiot, sorry to say. Though in reality, I didn’t feel as sorry as I probably should have. None of this was my fault, you see, and that’s what irked me. Had I the freedom I needed to perform my duties without interference, without adhering to Big Papa’s guidelines to the letter, I wouldn’t be here watching Nick toy with making the worst mistake of his life.
Sadly, Nick appeared beyond toying at this point. If only I could have been there for him—really been there, and not just as a watchful guardian but as a friend, someone he could talk to, fall back on when needed. I swear Big Papa thrived on making my job as difficult as possible. Game playing is what this boiled down to, and I abhorred playing games. You’re not to interfere, Papa forever reminded me. I’ll not warn you again, Zag. Allow the humans to make their own choices. Right, the one time I heed His advice and look where the grandiose plan landed my charge. I added Big Papa’s wonderful idea—instilling these beings with the power to choose—to my arguing points as I struggled to adjust to this too-natural locale.
Other than the occasional train, which ran along a set of railroad tracks to the east, and the noises from the campus, which sat easily a hundred-plus yards past the field, silence shrouded us but for a random birdsong, the buzz of bees, or the near undetectable flutter of a butterfly. Give me the hustle of an urban environment any day. I scoffed at my surroundings as I turned to view Nick’s target—his roommate, and possibly more if my charge wasn’t so uptight about his sexuality. Moving about the far end of the otherwise lonely practice field, Cody volleyed a black-and-white ball from one side to the other with ease . . . . Those tight white shorts of his are easy on the eyes too. With a resigned sigh, I forced my attention back to Nick.