The clock ticked past midnight and Sara paced the marble
floor of the heavenly library. She was a dark shadow among
the gently glowing texts.
Urgency fought with common sense. She had a plan. Just
because her heart beat
hurry-hurry, hurry-hurry was
no reason to lose her nerve and plunge headlong to Earth.
She had to wait.
But all her angel instincts demanded action. Good had to
triumph. Hope had to shine. She would risk her reputation
and career to kick back the shadows and save an innocent
life. Tonight, she would break into the human world.
She glanced around at her world, at the light texts,
familiar and reassuring on their fine spider-web shelves.
Recent advances in quantum laser scanning meant improved
long-term storage of ancient texts.
As a senior archivist, it was her job to ensure the survival
of knowledge from across the universe. However, the
Archivist Guild had strict rules that no text could be
acquired until the nanosecond when the author species would
have lost it to fire, flood, earthquake or comet strike. In
other words, the text could only come to heaven when it died.
Sara intended to stretch that rule. Again. If she was
caught—
Anthea will cut the laser budget. The Guild President
had made the threat after the bstemmi affair, and Anthea
knew where to hurt. Quantum laser scanning was Sara's
project. She felt immense satisfaction in its efficient
storage, retrieval and display of knowledge.
To be useful, knowledge had to be accessible. Sara believed
that passionately. She thought of herself as an knowledge
explorer, an Indiana Jones of data archaeology bringing back
treasures. Unfortunately, Guild rules frowned on adventurous
archivists. They wanted steady, reliable angels with
impeccably shiny halos. Angels who stayed safely in the
heavenly library.
"Ivory tower dwellers. Angels divorced from their hearts.
Cowards."
Sara never wanted to look in the mirror and see someone who
shut her eyes to suffering and buried herself in old texts.
For all that she lived and worked in the heavenly library,
she was part of the world.
"'Every man's death diminishes me,'" she quoted Donne. "And
a child's death diminishes me most of all." She tilted her
chin. No matter what punishment she faced, she couldn't turn
aside now. Even if she lost the quantum laser project and
ended up on recording duties.
She checked the clock on the far wall, seeing it through the
shimmering distortion of the light texts. It showed the time
anywhere in the universe. Currently it was set on Sydney
time. She would have to reset it when she returned. Sydney
time would be a dead giveaway if Michael came sniffing
around. Although she didn't think he was suspicious—yet.
One o'clock was her witching hour. It was a heartbeat away.
She'd dressed carefully for the occasion in a ribbed silk
top above ink-dark tights. Her red hair was wound in a flat
coil, pinned securely and covered by a black beret. On her
feet she wore black sneakers for a fast, silent getaway.
Strictly speaking, the cat burglar suit wasn't necessary. As
an angel she could materialise and dematerialise in a
second. No human or human technology could hold her. But the
dark clothes gave her confidence. If she was going to break
the rules, she'd do it in style.
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