“Gabe,” he gasped raggedly, as said angel caught him by the shoulders. How out of place his angelic mentor looked, perched awkwardly between the rickety railing and window, hisneatly pressed slacks stained with rust where he had obviously clambered bodily up the ladder.
“Hey kid,” he grunted slightly as he heaved Foster further over the windowsill. “When did you get so heavy?”
“When I started lifting weights, probably.” Foster grinned, finding his balance and clambering out onto the metal structure.
Cwall shifted forms as he slid over the sill behind them, until he once more resembled a stocky European man and not a denizen of Hell. “Let’s blow this pop stand ‘afore it blowsup, yeah boys?”
“Indeed.” Gabe clapped sharply, and they found themselves safely on the ground. He looked at his hands with disgust, rubbing his thumbs over his palms to remove the faint orange stains. “I should have thought to do that thefirsttime.”
“I didn’t really need rescuing,” Foster pointed out. “Immortal bloodline and all that.”
“Well,” Gabe sniffed haughtily. “I was a bit distraught, wasn’t I? It’s not every day your pseudo-son goes running headlong into aburning building. What even possessed you to do something so reckless?”
Foster started violently. “Shit!”
“Beg pardon?” Gabe recoiled slightly.
“No, I mean—fuck.” He spun to face the building. “The Gospel!”
“Ah,” Gabe frowned. “It’s warded, so it’ll be fine. You can go back for itafterthe fire.”
“Wheneva that is,” Cwall muttered. “Should we do somethin’ Fos?”
“No,” Gabe said, waving him off. “There are too many mortals around to see. Why do you think I didn’t just portal in to get you? I’m sure the fire people are on their way already.”
As if on cue, the wail of sirens pierced the night and jolted Foster back to awareness.
“Besides,” the angel smiled, “everyone seems to have made it outside, so there’s no real danger.”
Foster turned, scanning the assembled residents he’d pushed aside in his panic. How careless of him, not to stop and check on their safety. He was immortal; the other tenants were decidedlynot.
It was controlled chaos, people huddled and terrified as they watched their home go up in smoke, and Foster tried to pick out individual faces.
There was Mr. Fernandez from D2, who made washing his old blue Nova a weekly ritual that put religious zealots to shame. Mr. and Mrs. Hem corralled their five sons, the youngest of whom wailed in his mother’s arms despite being almost ten years old. Miss Darcy clutched her spoiled pug, the poor thing’s bulging eyes darting frantically in its smushed-in face. With every face he counted, panic built in Foster’s chest. He swept the crowd once, twice, a third time.
Where was she?
“No,” he murmured, heart sinking. “No no no.”
“No what?” Gabe tilted his head to the side, eyeing him quizzically.
The fire crew pulled up and leaped from their truck, quickly assessing the scene. Foster started toward them, at the same time Mr. Fernandez spotted him and came running over.
“Foster!” He grabbed him by the elbow. “I can’t find Carmen!”
It was like his worst nightmare come true. After losing his mother, Señora Delgado had become the closest thing he had to a maternal figure. A cold sense of dread settled into his bones as he turned slowly back to face his building. The world blurred around him as the beat in his chest seemed to slow. Around him, life moved in the same sluggish pattern.
Firemen unwound hoses and shouted to each other, moving toward the blaze. Mr. Fernandez tugged on his arm insistently, lips moving in soundless shapes as Foster stared over his head at the horror unfolding. She lived on the fourth floor; she had a bad hip. He had runright past herto save a photo of a woman who would be ashamed of his selfishness.
Slowly,soslowly, Foster turned back to meet Gabe’s eyes. There was a flicker of something like regret, or maybe concern. He knew what Foster was about to do.
“I have to,” the younger man croaked.
Cwall jolted towards him from his place beside the angel. “Foster, no!”
But he had already shaken off his neighbor’s grip, and pulled the photo of his mother from his jeans. He tossed it to Gabe, who caught it easily. “Hold this for me.”
“Be careful,” Gabe frowned.
