“I sound crazy, don’t I..?” Theodore asked her. 

She stared at him, remembering she was in America and not the Philippines. “No..” She snapped back into reality. “No, you don’t.” 

“So you believe me?”

“I do.” 

Theodore paused and looked out into the park again, his expression a mix of relief and tension. “I know it’s a lot to ask.. But there’s no one else I can turn to..” His voice started to tremble. “The police gave up searching a while ago, and right after Hugh and Ruth gave up too.. Caitlin’s the only one who’s still looking, and I’m gonna be breaking her heart all over again soon..” 

Amilah winced. “How soon..?” 

“A week.. Maybe two.. I barely had enough time to learn how to draw the sigil between treatments..”

“Which was impressive, by the way.”

Theodore smiled weakly. “I was a professor of archaeology at the local university. I have connections, and too much time to study since my early retirement..” 

That in itself was a miracle, Amilah thought. She always thought it was amazing, the way human beings could find a reason to smile even under the worst possible circumstances. She met his eyes again, but this time it was hers holding his. “I’ll do it.” she said.

He blinked. “Really?”

She nodded. “I’ll find them. If there was a demon involved, I have an obligation to send it back where it came from, and even if there wasn’t, I still have a responsibility to help when I’m called upon.” She paused and looked into Theodore’s pleading eyes, steadying herself. “But I need you to understand that this might not fix your family’s relationships.. It could make them worse depending on the truth of what happened.”

“I understand.. The truth is more important anyway. I just hope it brings them some kind of peace..” 

Amilah didn’t respond, as much as she wanted to. There were too many times she had reassured people with promises she couldn’t keep. She didn’t even know what the word meant anymore. Peace. She used to think it was something she could give to people. That was the point of an angel, wasn’t it? That’s what she was told. She and her siblings at the monastery were told that was their gift to the world. She could still see the elders smiling proudly as they regaled them with the long history of their kind. 

“You know, I used to look after my students..” Theodore said longingly. “They used to come to me with their problems and I’d always try to give them good advice. But when it came to my own family I never noticed.. Until it was too late..”

“You can’t blame yourself,” Amilah said softly. “Take it from me. There’s only so much one person can do, even when you can see all the signs.”

Theodore nodded slowly, his eyes told her he understood even though the words weren’t enough to comfort him. He leaned forward and stretched his hand out to the bag at his feet. His shaky fingers struggled to maintain a grip as he untangled the plastic. He took out a can of hard cider and held it out to her. 

“Are you allowed to have these?” she asked, taking it. 

“Nope.” He pulled out his own can and grinned. “Are you?”

“Nope.” She grinned back.

They drank together quietly, taking small slips until the sunlight bled out from the gray above them. The park gradually fell asleep, birdsongs and footsteps fading into a tranquil silence around them. 

Theodore took a final swig and tossed the can into the recycling bin next to him. “Well.. I should head back,” he said, nodding to the hospital building peeking through the trees in front of them. Warm light trickled out from its small windows like spots of gold on a black stone. “The nurse is gonna be pissed, but she’ll let it slide.”

Amilah helped him stand. “That’s it, then? There’s nothing else you want to ask me?”

He didn’t answer at first. The thoughtful look on his face had her preparing several different explanations of the nature of life and death, but all he asked was, “What’s your name?”

“Amilah,” she replied.

“Amilah,” he repeated, “will I ever see you again?”

“I…don’t know.” She thought about the odds of running into him in the vastness of Heaven, and how little time she actually spent there amongst the people. “I don’t think so..”

“Well then,” he said, turning, “I wish you all the best. And tell my nieces I love them.” He shuffled away onto the footpath and off into the distance between the trees.

Amilah watched him closely until he was completely gone from view. She had considered walking with him all the way back to the hospital, but something in his eyes told her he would be fine. She sipped the last of her hard cider and threw away the can. The taste of apple lingered as she made her way out of the park in the opposite direction.

It was a ten minute walk from there to her next destination. The town of Little Veil felt safe, even empty and late into the night. Small local shops lined both sides of the road, all with simple and unassuming storefronts, and all of them closed for the day. Not a single light was on in any of the buildings Amilah passed, which was probably for the best. She didn’t feel like explaining her appearance to some half awake pedestrian. 

The town laundromat on her left had wide glass windows, rows of massive, old washing machines visible inside through the shadows. On her right was the bank, a comparably tiny building with an ATM jutting out from its red brick facade, wedged between a newer looking ramen restaurant and a dated looking pawn shop. The street she knew was still there, but bits of it had been chipped away and overtaken. She sighed. She knew better, that so much was bound to have changed in the decades she was absent, but she couldn’t help but feel like she had been left behind. 

She passed the last of the storefronts and reached a traffic light where the main road intersected with one solitary parking lot, then continued on into a stretch of woods and countryside. She turned right and crossed into the parking lot to her destination–the Wood Haven Inn. It was one of the few landmarks in Little Veil that hadn’t been changed, at least from the outside. Wood Haven was built in 1840, originally a manor home to several different wealthy families and plantation owners, until it was converted into an inn at the end of the Civil War. The charming southern gothic architecture had persisted through economic and environmental catastrophes alike, spots of chipped paint the only visible signs of damage. 

Amilah approached the front porch, white railings and columns holding up gray shingles, but she didn’t go in. She went around the left side of the building through dry grass and brush, surrounded by the conversations of nearby crickets. She ran her fingers along the wall, following the grooves of the wood as she walked. The glow of the streetlights behind her faded away until she could barely see in front of her. At the very edge of the light she found what she was looking for and stopped at a spot in the center of the building. 

She took a deep breath and pressed her hand into the wall, feeling the air beneath the boards begin to shift. Blue light leaked out between her fingers and traveled out in thin lines. It circled around her hand and curled into smaller shapes, humming and lighting the field around her as it settled. Lines of runes took form, and then the whole sigil came together in front of her. She moved her hand away, and the light of the sigil spread out in the shape of a narrow doorway. The shape pressed inward, cutting into the wood, and the blue glow and its noise faded. 

Amilah’s chest tightened as she pushed the door open. The room brought back a flood of memories from a life that barely felt like it was hers anymore. In 1846 she helped a young man cross the border from Virginia into Philadelphia to escape slavery. In 1918 a nurse in Odessa thanked her for volunteering when she was overwhelmed by patients sick with the flu. In 1937 she escorted a family fleeing Guernica before it was bombed. And then of course there was the boy in the Philippines crushed by his own church.

 She pulled the door closed behind her and looked around the tiny room. A single bare lightbulb hung from the center of the ceiling. Wooden shelves stood against the brick walls, filled with small cans and cardboard boxes of various sizes, and in between them in the middle of the room was a full body mirror. Each box and can had a label, a strip of beige tape written on with black marker, but the words were worn down and faded from time. She hoisted a large box off a shelf with what looked like the word “clothes” scrawled on the side and dropped it on the ground. It hit the floor with a heavy thud, and she took a long pause before ripping it open. She breathed a sigh of relief when she looked inside at a sticky note peeling off of a light brown, wool sweater. Written in small, neat handwriting was, New clothes are at the top of the pile. New IDs and bank cards are in the small box, top shelf, far left corner, and there’s a smartphone next to it with basic instructions (I’m sure you’ll figure it out). Try not to get into too much trouble. - Sami

“Thanks again, old friend,” she whispered back. She grew up with Samiel at the monastery, both of them having been born the only children in their families, and they loved each other like brother and sister. She watched him go from tailor’s apprentice to master of the craft in just forty years–half the time it took apprentices to graduate on average. From then on he was her loyal supplier and informant, and he never asked for anything in return other than the promise that she would do her best to stay safe. She smiled warmly at his message, swearing in her head to keep that promise again. 

She changed out of her robes into the light brown sweater and a pair of dark blue jeans. Her heart skipped a beat as she turned and saw herself in the mirror. This was one of the few parts of her work that always excited her, seeing how fashion changed through time and different cultures, and getting to be a part of it all. “Not bad,” she said to the girl in the reflection. 

She traded her thin moccasins for a sturdy pair of brown work boots sitting higher on the shelf, then made her way back to the small box in the corner. It was a vintage tin lunch box, a black and white image on the front depicting a grizzled detective in a fedora and a long trench coat walking through a rainy city street. The words “LONG NIGHT” hung over the man in chunky, white cursive. “Stupid,” she laughed. She loved old noir movies, and she spent most of her time watching them with Sami after she stopped working. 

She popped open the box and found the fake ID Sami had mentioned, along with a dozen other older ones piled under and around it. It wasn’t the first badge Amilah had ever used, but she had always tried to avoid being law enforcement. So much more went into fabricating an officer’s credentials and experience, and every time Sami created a new identity for her he had to bend reality for everything to really work. He made false documents and false memories for just enough people in the community she was inserting herself into for her to blend in, and if there was ever a snag somewhere he always left contingencies. If she needed to plug a hole in someone’s memory, or make another fake document, there were sigils scattered throughout the area she was staying in that she could call on to instantly create the alterations. She very rarely ever had to use them though, and looking at the detail on the badge and the cards in the wallet that came with it, she could tell this time would be no different. 

She clipped the badge to one of her belt loops and stuffed the wallet into her pocket. The weight on her hip made her shudder. Even though she wasn’t carrying a gun this time around, putting herself in a position of authority always felt wrong. She shook off the unease and pushed the lunchbox aside. Sami had picked out an iPhone eight for her. Or maybe it was a nine. She knew next to nothing about technology in the twenty-first century. Its white case was blinding in the dimly lit room, thin and sleek like a layer of snow. Attached to it was another sticky note with a concise walkthrough of how to use it. She skimmed it and turned the phone on, the lock screen appearing with a photo of her from the monastery library when she was small, draped in senior robes meant for someone much older and struggling to hold a large book twice the size of her head. She rolled her eyes and switched it back off. Sami was back with a vengeance.

She tucked the phone into her other pocket and shut the lunchbox. The box of clothing was still open on the ground behind her, and something inside caught her eye as she bent down to pick it up. Between the mess of fabrics was the sleeve of a caramel colored faux leather jacket, one of the last things she wore the last time she was on Earth. She dug it out of the box and slipped it on. Still a perfect fit. She smiled and heaved the box back up onto the shelf and pushed it back into place. 

Back outside a cold breeze caught her as she stepped into the grass. She closed the door and gave it one light knock, and the sigil glowed again for the final time. The light died, and the door disappeared back into the wall. She took a deep breath and turned back towards the front of the building. “Shit,” she whispered to the night. Her body, dressed in the new clothes, didn’t feel like hers. She was watching herself looking out into the brush, out into a town she used to know, and out into a world she didn’t. There was no going back now. 

The hotel rooms hadn't changed much since the last time Amilah stayed, save for new appliances and electronics on top of the old furniture. The old flowery wallpaper, and the faded upholstery and bedsheets brought her some much needed comfort. She sunk into the freshly made bed and stared up at the ceiling. She wasn’t ready for this, not really. She told Sami as much after making her last minute supply order. “You weren’t ready for the other jobs either,” he reminded her. “Doesn’t mean you can’t do this one.” 

A smile snuck up on her as she turned over onto her side, the pillow under her melting into warmth against her cheek. “I can do this,” she told herself. She closed her eyes and breathed. “I can do this.”