Page 24 of Once an Angel
"Back in London you can't even see the sky for the soot." Justin tucked a blade of tussock grass
between his lips, the very picture of indolent ease.
From the hut a shrill squeal was followed by a string of colorful profanities. Clouds of dust billowed
from the windows. An ominous silence fell.
"But, sir ... what if she uses the rifle?" Penfeld's voice lowered to a horrified whisper. "Or stomps it
to death?"
Justin uncurled his fingers to reveal a handful of rifle shells. "Not loaded. Trust me. He'll outrun her.
I'd wager he'll outlive all of us." A smile teased his lips. "Why, it might even be snowing in London right now! Do you fancy snow, Penfeld? Doesn't that cloud over there to the left favor a giant snowflake?"
Sighing, Penfeld sank back into the sand. "No, I do believe it more resembles a giant teapot." Pottery crashed. He winced. "A broken teapot, sir."
* * *
Emily was chasing a dragon. She slammed the broom into the floor, wishing the horrid creature would sprout wings and fly out the window. With an insolent flick of its spiked tail it darted behind the nearest stack of books. She crept nearer, picking her way over toppled books and shattered earthenware, muttering under her breath. Sweat trickled down her brow.
She swung the broom in a whistling arc. It caught the books broadside and sent them crashing to the floor. Pepper shot up her nose; a chain of sneezes blinded her. As she stabbed wildly into the dust, she heard thethump-thumpof fleeing little monster feet behind her.
She threw herself after the sound and tripped over her own blankets. She swung the broom, swiping tin pots or the stove. They crashed to the floor in a ringing symphony Her coat caught on the edge of the stove, bringing her up short. She knuckled her eyes and peered into the misty gloom. The beast was
gone again, always one step ahead of her. Perhaps it wasn't a dragon. Perhaps it was a very clever alligator.
The swing of the tablecloth caught her eye. She felt a wicked grin curve her lips. Not so clever after all. Stupid enough to return to its original hiding place.
Lifting the broom, she inched toward the table.
"Come out, you darling little thing. Emily won't hurt you." Her ringers dug into the broom handle.
A beam of sunlight pierced the dust, caressing the porcelain beauty of Penfeld's tea service. It was the only thing in the hut left intact. Emily hesitated, formulating her plan. She would calmly coax the beast
out of hiding,thenobliterate it from the face of the earth.
The monster poked its head out from beneath the cloth, taunting her with a flick of its little red tongue.
Emily's control snapped. A fierce battle cry tore from her throat. She charged, swinging the broom like
an enraged samurai. The bristles whisked past the tea tray without so much as rattling a cup, then skimmed beneath the table. The broom handle caught in the hem of the linen cloth, jerking it askew.
The tray started to slide, but it was too late for Emily to stop the momentum of her swing. She could
only watch, horrified, as the tray teetered on the edge of the table for a timeless moment, then flipped. The crash seemed to echo forever. A single unbroken cup rolled across the floor, coming to rest against her toes.
Emily cringed. She gazed at the scattered carnage, then down at herself in the deafening silence.
Penfeld's coat was furred with dust. One tattered sleeve hung by a few threads. She blew a curl from
her eyes, her shoulders slumping in defeat.
Behind her someone cleared his throat.
She whirled around, dropping the broom.
Through a curtain of glittering dust motes she saw Justin leaning against the door frame, his arms crossed over his chest. Beneath the slanted brim of his hat his eyes crinkled in a lazy smile. He had never looked more handsome. Or more infuriating.
