Nyalla wiped her sweaty palms on her pants and glanced nervously around the beach. It was midnight and the tourists were either in bed, in the casinos, or in the bars. The moon was dipping toward the gulf, streaming paths of white along the waters. Catamarans rocked with the steady flow of small waves, the tide lapping easy as it rolled onto the sands. The only sound was the wind that never seemed to lessen on either side of the island.

Gabriel’s hand was suddenly warm on hers. “It will be fine. Relax.”

His deep voice in her ear, the nearness of him was not helping her relax. Nyalla looked down at her bracelet and felt something like static rush over her. He was different. He acted the same but something was different — in his eyes, in the feel of his skin against hers, in the firm set of his mouth.

He was regaining his grace, edging back toward being more angel and less human. She’d thought maybe she’d have a few months, or at least a few weeks with Gabe the human. Now it seemed she might only have a week or two at the maximum. Then he’d be an angel, an archangel. Her heart ached at the thought, then raced with a sense of urgency. Gripping his hand, she had the urge to make the most of whatever time she had with him before he had no time for her, before he was all about his vibration pattern and the governance of the angelic host.

“I know it will be fine. But I wish it was just you and me sitting here at this chickie by the water, enjoying the moonlight and the waves without worrying about some dangerous artifact or whether Snip is okay or not, or rebel angels.”

His hand squeezed hers. “Me too. Maybe when this is all over we’ll go somewhere and you can teach me that scuba diving. We’ll lay in the sand and let the sun heat our skin until the tide rolls in and hits our feet. We’ll go out on those jet skis again, maybe a sailboat.”

But time was slipping away from them and Nyalla wasn’t sure that they’d be able to do those things before it ran out. But it wasn’t that thought that broke the spell of a magic evening on the beach, it was the two demons stomping toward them, sand kicking up in their wake.

“I see you still do not have an angel to verify the artifact,” Nyalla said, her chin up and voice strong.

“No, we were unable to locate one with such short notice. The Iblis will just need to verify it once you get it back to her. If she has a problem with it, then it’s between her and the original owner.” The Gormand set a small box on the round wood table of the chickie. “Where’s your Noodle? She should be able to verify this to your satisfaction, even if you won’t take the word of Sirumel here.”

Nyalla waved a hand and Terrelle jogged over toward them from a nearby cabana. Gabe reached out and lifted the lid from the box, passing it to Terrelle. She stared at the contents intently, then lifted out a small bead, turning it over in her hand. It was roughly ten millimeters, oblong, nearly a teardrop shape. It’s glossy white color was accented with starbursts of rich brown at either end where the hole was. The ones on the rosaries were the same, the hole a natural occurrence from when the bead had been part of a plant. Some of the rosary Job’s Tears were more brown, some nearly solid white, but enough looked like the artifact to pass visually. She could only hope that Terrelle had done a good enough job that they’d pass other sensory scrutiny as well, at least long enough for them to get off the island.

“It’s real,” Terrelle said, wonderment in her voice.

Nyalla started. Real? Could it really be this easy? They dispose of this, then give Sam a fake as Gabe wanted to do, or explain the situation to her as Nyalla wanted to do. It would be wonderful not having to sneak around at the airport or try to steal the real artifact from a suspicious Gormand.

Or perhaps the illusion was so great that Terrelle couldn’t even detect it. Sirumel was an ancient, after all. An angel-turned-demon would hardly be inept at his specialty after millions and possibly billions of years of practice. Terrelle was good, but she wasn’t any match for an ancient.

“Here.” Nyalla reached into her bag and pulled out the collar, reluctantly handing it over. The Gormand took it, his lip curling as he gingerly put the circlet into a box. It was done. This whole thing better work because she hated the thought of handing over something so valuable, so useful, when she was getting a fake in return.

“We have something else of yours, too.” The Gormand waved a hand and Skinny demon appeared, dragging a plastic garbage bag across the sand. “I’ll let you have your friend back, but only when I have the tomatoes and the gambling ship tickets and chips in hand.”

Nyalla stared at the garbage bag, terrified. Was Snip chopped to bits inside? Was he dead? She’d grown to care for the little guy, and she knew that Sam valued him greatly. She’d be upset if he were dead.

“Here.” She shoved the tickets and bag of gambling chips at the Gormand. “The tomatoes are around behind the tiki bar over there. Two crates as we agreed upon.”

Skinny demon dropped the bag. Nyalla barely noticed the Gormand and Ancient rise from their stools, barely saw them walk toward the tiki bar she was so intent on trying to see if there was any movement at all from the bag. The moment they were out of sight, she jumped up and ran. Gabriel beat her there and was already untying the top when she reached them. Ignoring his protests, she dug her nails into the plastic and pulled, tearing a hole in the side big enough to reach in and grab the wet slimy mess inside.

She couldn’t hold back her sobs when the plastic fell away and she saw the Low. He was naked and soaked in blood, his hair ripped out in clumps. One foot was missing all of its toes and one hand all of its fingers. One ear was a mangled mess, as if something had nearly chewed it off. Where his hair had been pulled in clumps from his head there was bone of his skull showing through. His chest moved with shallow breaths, and she could feel his heart beating. As she wiped the blood from his face, the demon’s eyes popped open.

“Oh Snip. Snip. Can you fix yourself? Are you going to be able to fix all of this?”

The Low opened his mouth, but nothing came out except a gargling sound and a stream of thick blood. That’s when Nyalla realized they’d cut the little guy’s tongue out.

“Low’s don’t repair themselves well,” Terrelle said, her voice just as choked with tears as Nyalla’s was. “He’s badly damaged. I don’t know if he’s going to be able to fix himself fast enough to survive this. We need the Iblis, or an angel. I don’t even know if an elf can help at this point.”

Nyalla could hold back her grief no longer. She cradled Snip to her chest, rocking the Low back and forth as she sobbed. “We’ll never get him back in time. We can’t take him on the plane like this. Oh Snip, please fix yourself. Please.”

The Low reached out and squeezed Nyalla’s boob, which just made her cry even harder. Dear perverted little Snip was still trying to cop a feel, even as horribly injured as he was.

“Nyalla.” Gabe’s hand rubbed her back. “Nyalla, don’t cry. It hurts me so badly when you cry like this. We’ll take him to the human doctors. Maybe they can help him. From what I’ve read in the last few days, they seem to be quite skilled at healing. Nyalla, please don’t cry.”

Snip’s hand fell limply by his side as he slumped against Nyalla. She let out a little scream and pushed the demon onto his back, frantically trying to perform mouth-to-mouth.

“Nyalla. Nyalla stop. Please stop.” Gabe’s voice choked. His hand suddenly felt white-hot on her back. She jerked away on reflex and glanced over, the angel looking blurry and distorted through her tears.

Wait, that wasn’t her tears. He was blurry, with a white light around his hands. He reached out and touched her face. One of her tears fell to splash onto Snip’s body. And everything changed. Light shot around the Low like a shroud, his bones shining clear through his skin. White turned silver then gold and when it faded, Nyalla saw Snip’s chest rise and fall with his breath. He was still missing fingers and toes, was still naked and covered in blood, but he was alive, and the eyes that opened to look into hers were focused and alert.

Nyalla gasped, then she spun around and grabbed Gabe, hugging him tight.

“I love you.” It just came out, spontaneous and ringing with the emotion and truth behind the words. And if that wasn’t bad enough, she was unable to keep herself from lifting her face and kissing him.

She held back enough to stop a full-out, tongue-against-tongue passionate kiss, but it was far from chaste. And instead of pulling away, revolted that someone who had blood on her mouth was kissing him, Gabe wrapped his arms around her, gently kissing her back. His lips were soft, affectionate, and hinted at a barely restrained passion. He still wanted her. He was becoming more an angel by the hour, but he still wanted her. When she pulled away, his lips clung to hers, his eyes shining silver.

“I’m sorry. I’m covered in Snip’s blood–”

“There’s nothing to be sorry for.” His hands caressed her shoulders, skimming down her arms. His silvery gray eyes met hers, and she saw something in their depths that took her breath away. Maybe angels didn’t have the same exact same emotions that humans did, but he clearly continued to care for her, to love her even as his humanity faded away. It was such a relief.

“Thank you. Thank you for caring enough about Snip, about a Low demon, to heal him.”

“I wish I could do more,” he said, his eyes intent on her face. “And I didn’t do it for him, I did it for you. I can’t stand to see you cry. Your emotional pain felt like someone stabbing me. I needed you not to cry. I needed you not to be sad. I’ve got no idea how I managed to heal him when I still feel like a human inside, but I’m glad that enough of my angel-self returned to help your friend.”

“I’m still missing my fingers and toes,” Snip complained.

“Oh shut up and be grateful, you stupid Low.” Terrelle kicked his foot, the one with all the toes. “It’s better than dead, isn’t it?”

The Low smiled up at Gabriel. “Yes, it’s better than dead. Let’s go back to the hotel, because now that I’m not dead and I have a tongue, I have things to tell you.”

Terrelle helped him up and covered the Low’s lower half with her swimsuit wrap. And as they walked down the sand toward the hotel, Nyalla could have sworn she heard Gabriel speak, his words barely there before the wind carried them away.

She could have sworn he said “I love you, too.”