An Angel for Emily Read online

  Emily went back to the door and began pounding on it again, but she had hit it only once when it swung open. Cautiously, with her heart pounding, she stepped into the shadowy hall.

  No one was there. In fact, she couldn’t hear a sound anywhere in the house. Looking about, she nearly screamed when she almost backed into the swords that were stuck in the entrance hall floor. Exactly where Michael had been standing was what looked to be three cavalry swords, their tips buried two inches into the floor boards. They were still quivering.

  Reaching out, she touched the nearest sword. The man who had been hanged for murder had been a captain in the U.S. Cavalry.

  Emily didn’t think what she was doing—she just shouted, “Michael!” then started running up the stairs to the second floor of the house.

  Heedless of whoever or whatever had thrown those swords, Emily went tearing through the house at breakneck speed, throwing open doors to rooms and closets. Years ago she had obtained a copy of the house plans from the architectural firm in Philadelphia, still in business, that had originally designed the house. She had studied them until she could have walked about the house blindfolded.

  “Michael, where are you?” she shouted. Her voice echoed off the empty walls, making her feel less alone, less frightened of what she could feel all around her.

  It wasn’t until she was on the third floor, at the top of the house, that she realized that she was becoming hysterical. Had Michael disappeared as quickly and as easily as he had appeared in her life?

  When a strong hand shot out of nowhere and covered her mouth—with an arm wrapping around her midsection so tightly that she could hardly breathe—Emily started kicking and struggling with all her might.

  “Ow!” Michael hissed in her ear. “Stop that. Those shoes of yours hurt.”

  At that she bit his hand; he released her and she whirled on him in a fury. “Where have you been?” she demanded. “I’ve been searching for you all over this house. You could have answered me and—”

  Michael grabbed her hand and started running, pulling her along behind him. “Is there an upstairs? The top of this place? I don’t know the word.”

  “Attic. Yes, there. That room has a staircase hidden in a closet. Captain Madison was very private about his attic.”

  “Don’t mention his name to me,” Michael said grimly, still pulling her by the hand as he ran into the bedroom and flung open a door half-hidden by paneling. “Go!” he ordered, half-pushing her upward as he followed close behind her. “Am I right that there’s a way out of this room? I can feel that it isn’t a closed space.”

  “Yes,” she said. “The captain has a tunnel for escape but I don’t know how safe it is after all these years. This house is rotting.”

  “The mind of that man is rotting,” Michael said under his breath as they emerged up the stairs into the attic of the house.

  “Oh my,” Emily said, looking around. She’d never been up here before. It was full of trunks and old wardrobes and other things that she very much wanted to explore.

  “Don’t even think about it,” Michael said, grabbing her hand again. “Now, where is this exit? We have to get out of this place.”

  Emily had to concentrate. It was difficult, for against one wall was a glass case full of old books. What was in there? Rare editions? First editions signed by the authors? Maybe even the original manuscript of a classic novel. Maybe—

  “Emily!” Michael snapped. “Where is the exit?”

  She had to blink a couple of times to bring herself back to the present. “There, I think—under the eaves. But I really don’t think it’s safe. Maybe we should—” She glanced again at the books with longing.

  “Should what? Stay here and be skewered?”

  She stood back as he ran his hands along the wall in the eave trying to find a door or an opening. “Found it,” he said, then pried it open with his fingertips because he could find no latch. When he reached for Emily, she was within two feet of the glass cabinet and her hand was extended toward the doorknob.

  Michael grabbed her, shoved her toward the tiny door, then bent her to her knees. “I’m going first and, so help me, if you stop to look at any material object I’ll make you sorry,” he said, then disappeared into the darkness behind the little door.

  “Alice through the rabbit’s hole,” she said, taking a deep breath and beginning to crawl.

  There were sounds around them. Emily couldn’t tell if they were from the creaky old house or other things that she didn’t want to think of. “Would you mind telling me what’s going on? I thought you were friends with ghosts. Can’t you just talk to this man?”

  “Put your hand here,” he said, reaching out and guiding her. Emily could see nothing at all, not her own body or Michael’s, but he didn’t seem to distinguish between dark and light. “Good, now, come on. Slowly. Yes, that’s right. We’ll be out of here soon.”

  “Would you answer me?” she asked impatiently. She couldn’t bear the silence in the darkness; she wanted constant reassurance that he was still with her.

  “The spirit in this house wants to kill this body so my spirit will go back where it belongs. I’d prefer not to die until I’ve found out why I was sent here in the first place.”

  “I see,” she said. His words made her even more frightened, so she tried to replace her fear with anger. “You’re an annoying man,” she snapped. “Why aren’t you afraid?”

  “Afraid of what?”

  “Death! Everyone is afraid of death.”

  “Careful there! That board is rotten. Good. You’re doing well, Emily. People are afraid of death because they don’t know what comes after death. I do. And it’s pretty good.”

  “Someone’s trying to kill you and you’re talking spiritual philosophy?” she snapped.

  “You know of a better time than this to pray?” There was amusement in his voice.

  “Actually, no,” she said as she felt fear coursing through her. She hated this attic, hated crawling, hated—

  “Adrian, where are you?” Michael said rather loudly, as though he meant to distract her from her thoughts.

  “Who is Adrian?”

  “My boss.”

  “I thought Archangel Michael was your boss.” A cobweb hit her in the face and she started frantically brushing it away, but he turned and gently smoothed the sticky mass from her face.

  “No,” he said softly, his hands on her face. Emily could feel her fears calming. “Archangel Michael is about two hundred levels above Adrian, and I’m about ten levels below Adrian.”

  “Oh, I see,” she said, but she didn’t see. When Michael turned back around and started crawling again, she felt less frantic and much less frightened, but she still didn’t want to be in the dark in silence. “What you’re describing sounds more like a corporation than Heaven.” Before he could respond, she said, “And don’t you dare tell me corporations are based on Heaven. That I will not believe. They are based on the other place.”

  “Same basic structure. Satan steals ideas.”

  “What a surprise,” she said sarcastically.

  He chuckled. “Emily, I’m going to miss you.”

  “Do you think the person who takes you away will be dead or alive?” she whispered.

  Laughing, Michael stepped through an opening, and suddenly there was light. Reaching back, he took her hand. She was at last standing upright, no longer on her knees. And maybe it was seeing light or maybe it was Michael’s hand touching hers, but she no longer felt afraid.

  “He’s here,” Michael said. There was relief in his voice.

  “Who is?” she asked, and found that she was whispering. If her memory of the house plan was correct, they were now inside a tiny secret room inside the ground floor of Captain Madison’s study. The room was smaller than a modern walk-in closet and the door was so hidden that no one in the outside room could see it.

  “Adrian is here,” Michael said, grinning. “He has no body for this earthly spirit to threat