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Fourteen: Jophiel

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CHRIS AND I ARE BACK in our Chevy Impala, having entered Anna's dreams for a third and final time. As much as I would like to extend this mission, I know it must end today, even if it's the last time she'll ever see me.

We're parked in front of her house, having arrived just moments ago. When I catch a glimpse of her in the window, everything stands still, and nothing else matters. Every other concern, large and small, melts away at the sight of her lovely face.

Before I attempt to get her attention, I need to go over the plan with Chris. “Stay out of sight,” I tell him. “I'll ask her to dance, and when the moment seems right, fire up a song on the LightTab.”

“What song?” he asks.

“I don't know. Choose something appropriate for the time period. I trust your judgment.”

Chris exits the car and crouches behind a row of bushes. I suppose that's an adequate hiding place.  Familiar nerves pluck at my insides when I bang the Impala's horn, honking to get her attention. A curtain flutters as Anna peeks outside.

I hop out of the car and wave to her, hoping she won't be put off by my sudden arrival. I half-expect a dream version of Anna's father to burst through the front door and chase me away from his daughter. Fortunately, that doesn't happen. Only Anna emerges from the house, and she looks as stunning as ever.

“Hello there,” I greet her. “You look lovely. But you always look lovely, don't you?”

Anna chuckles and shakes her head. “That's not even close to true.”

“But it is!” I insist.

“Nobody looks good when they first wake up,” Anna says. “My face is usually puffy, my eyes are half-sealed, and my hair looks like it got caught in a hurricane. What happens to hair when you sleep? Why does it get so messy?”

“Haven't you heard of the hair monster?” I offer her an arm, and when she accepts, I lead her to the backyard. It's prettier back there, I just hope we can still hear Chris' music when it starts.

Anna's eyebrow raises in doubt. “The hair monster?”

“Oh, absolutely. I thought everyone knew about the hair monster,” I tease. “He's an otherworldly spirit, obsessed with human hair... especially the hair of young ladies. He turns perfectly good coifs into absolute disasters.”

Anna's smiling, so I hope she's amused by my nonsense. “Oh, really? And how does he do that?”

“Wind magic, mostly,” I continue. “You weren't too far off when you said something about a hurricane. The hair monster makes tiny tornadoes and unleashes them on ladies' locks.”

“You know, I almost believe you.” Anna gives me a playful elbow jab. “Almost... but not quite.”

“I can enter your dreams, Miss Donaldson. Isn't that strange to you? Why would you deny my knowledge of otherworldly spirits?” I fear I might be taking the hair monster silliness too far, so I clear my throat and change the subject. “We've been blessed with a good night. The sky is brimming with stars.”

“So it is.” Anna nods.

“It seems like a good night for a... dance, perhaps?” I cock my head and try to disarm her with a grin. I don't think I've met a woman who hasn't fallen for that grin.

“You want to dance with me?”

“I do.”

“Like... a real dance?”

“No. A fake dance,” I tease her. “Have you ever heard of fake dancing?  You waggle your arm, like so.”

As soon as I start wiggling my arm, she swats it. “I'm just surprised that you asked!” Anna exclaims. “I've never danced with anyone before. I'm usually in a wheelchair, you know.”

“I know. But this is a dream. Anything is possible here.” I put a hand on her waist and draw her toward me. Technically, she hasn't agreed to a dance, but I'm feeling pretty confident, and even more so when the music starts playing. Chris chose Earth Angel. It's such a perfect song choice, I should give him extra credit.

Anna starts swaying to the music, having succumbed to my pleading gaze. “Well... we seem to be dancing,” she notes.

“So we are.” I hold her close—close enough to feel the frantic beat of her heart. Even in a dream, her pulse is racing.

“Where's that music coming from?” she asks.

“It's magic.” Anna looks dubious, so I give her a proper answer. “It's my friend, Chris, hiding in the bushes.”

“Oh.”

When she wraps her arms around me, I feel a sudden urge to scream. This dance is the only moment we'll have. How is that fair? This lovely, perfect, charming, beautiful woman will only be in my arms for one night. It feels like a tragedy.

“You're very kind, you know,” Anna says. “And funny.”

If she really knew me, I doubt she would be thinking such complimentary thoughts. I wish I was those things. Then, perhaps, I might feel worthy of her.

I never thought I could fall for anyone—not truly fall—but when she rests her cheek on my chest, I feel tested. I feel protective of her, more than a spirit guide should. Without thinking, I expand my wings and wrap them around her. The sight of them makes her gasp, but our dance continues.

“You really are an Earth angel?” she asks.

“Something like that.” I know the song is nearing its end, which is regrettable. If not for the perfect lyrics, I might have chastised Chris for choosing such a short one.

“Your wings are beautiful,” Anna whispers. “And... warm.”

“Do you like them?” When she nods, my wings clutch her a bit tighter. “Anna, there... there's something I should tell you.”

“Alright. Go ahead.” As soon as the song ends, she steps out of my encompassing arms and wings. “After all of this, nothing you say could possibly surprise me.”

I hesitate to say anything that could ruin this moment, but she needs to know the truth. “I won't be back again.” I break it to her bluntly, perhaps a bit harshly, and the disappointment in her eyes reflects how I feel.

“Why?” she asks.

“Because it wouldn't be right.” As much as I would like to return, I shouldn't. There are rules in place to discourage spirits from falling for their charges. Those rules apply even more to angels and Archangels. “But before I go, I want you to promise me something.”

The disappointment is still lingering in her eyes, and the pout on her lips is testing my restraint. I would love to kiss her right now, but I know it would make the situation worse.

Sighing, she asks, “What is it?”

“Don't settle,” I beg her. “Someday, another man will come into your life. You deserve the very best, so... please don't settle for anything less.” In other words, she deserves a man who is far superior to me.

Anna shrugs at my request. “I doubt anyone else will come along. I haven't had much luck so far.”

“You're wrong, though. You're too pretty and perfect to be overlooked forever.”

“I'm not perfect.” When Anna shakes her head, her ponytail sways. Like everything else about her, it's adorable. “And I really don't think anyone else will come along. Nobody wants a girl in a wheelchair.”

“If a man has a problem with that, he's not worthy of you.” I raise her hand to my mouth, indulging my lips in the faintest brush with her knuckles. “I want you to be happy, Anna. Always.”

“If you're so invested in me, why are you leaving? Why would you dance with me and kiss my hand and say nice things and never return?”

She's looking a bit cross with me now. If only I had a better explanation for her.

“I'm sorry.” I take a step backward, sighing as I go. There's some part of me that hopes she wakes up and forgets this dream. I don't want her to remember I disappointed her.

I head back to Chris before Anna's frown convinces me to stay. When we meet near the bushes, he asks, “Well, what did you think of my song choice?”

“It was perfect. Damnably perfect,” I growl. “You chose a little too well.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“It means we accomplished our mission, Pho.” I grab his arm and drag him back to the Impala. “Now... let's go before you ask any more questions.”