Christmas in the City - Jill Barnett Page 0,2

so strong, so brilliant it made the sun dim. The walls of Jericho didn't hit the ground as quickly as Lilli and Florie tumbled onto the cloud floor, their arms over their heads.

All around them, icicles shattered like broken glass. A moment later, the entire cloud dissipated.

In unison, Lilli and Florida both uncovered their heads and looked up… right into the censorious and knowing eyes of Saint Peter.

Taller than the tree of life, he stood before them, glowering, his arms crossed and one gold-sandaled foot tapping impatiently.

Her lip between her teeth, Lilli raised one hand and waved her fingers. "Hello, sir."

He was rigidly silent.

"You know," she said, sitting up quickly, "I was just thinking about you ..."

His eyes narrowed.

"In fact, I had just said to Florie, 'Florie?' I said, 'I'll bet Saint Peter is looking for us, and he'll never find us.' Didn't I?" She jabbed Florie with an elbow, and a wide-eyed Florie nodded her head like a woodpecker.

Lilli raised her eyes to meet his. "How did you find us?"

Saint Peter held up a handful of her molting feathers and let them spill from his hand. He watched her from eyes too intelligent for comfort. "Someone has destroyed the gates to Heaven."

"You mean while we were in here, the Pearly Gates—your Pearly Gates, those precious Pearly Gates—were actually broken? How in the name of Heaven could that have happened? Stray lightning? Celestial phenomenon? The Big Bang theory?"

Saint Peter reached out and plucked something from her tangle of blond hair. He held it out in front of her.

It was a piece of pearl. She winced.

Saint Peter clasped his hands behind his back and began to pace. "You have been forbidden to attempt any more miracles." He turned quickly and pinned her with a dark and knowing stare. "I assume that is what you were doing when this latest fiasco happened?"

She nodded.

He paced again. "I thought as much. Angels are supposed to protect, guard, and educate the human race." He paused in front of her. "Not wipe it out of existence."

Lilli stared at her toes and whispered, "I didn't try to make it rain again. Not after all that lightning ..." She shuddered. "...And the fire in Rome." She slowly raised her face and looked him in the eye. "I promised I would never do that again."

He was silent for so long she almost couldn't bear it. She needed him to believe her. He had to believe her. She'd meant no harm. She never meant to do any harm. She stared at her bare toes again, feeling the tension vibrate in the air around them.

After eternal minutes, he took a deep breath.

She waited to hear her punishment.

"I'm afraid there is nothing I can do for you this time."

Lilli's head shot up. "Nothing? But I'm so sorry!"

"Nothing," he said.

"No!" Florie gasped.

All the archangels began to whisper and mutter. Lilli stood there, stunned, unable to move, unable to speak.

"Please sir," Florie begged. "She didn't mean to do it. She has a good soul. Please."

Saint Peter shook his head. "There's nothing I can do. The decision has been made."

The light of Heaven dimmed, and with it, her naive and foolish sense of invincibility. The clouds grew suddenly dark and gray. Lilli looked at the surrounding darkness and saw that she had no hope. No second, third, fourth, even an eleventh chance. She had an empty feeling in her heart and the shameful sting of tears filled her eyes.

Saint Peter stood up to his full height. "From this day forward…” He paused and looked at her. "Lillian is no longer welcome in Heaven."

Lilli slowly raised her head, tears dripping down her flushed cheeks. Everything before her was a painful blur.

She heard a clank. Her halo disappeared.

There was a loud and shrill whistle. Her wings were gone.

Saint Peter gave her a serious look, the most serious look she had even seen on his face. "You will return to Earth."

From somewhere, she could hear Florie sobbing.

He raised his right hand and placed it on her head. "To a time and place where angels fall."

All God’s angels come to us disguised

—James Russell Lowell

Chapter Two

New York City, December 1886

ALL HE HEARD WAS THE SCREAM.

"She ran right in front of the carriage, Mr. Stewart. I swear it."

D.L. Stewart stared at the crumpled woman lying so still in the middle of Madison Avenue. A second later he was kneeling on the icy street, feeling her neck for a pulse.

"One minute the street was empty, sir,” his driver said in a panic.