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"Hello?" Aaron asked. "What's the story? You see something?"

The angel glanced at him, scowling. "It's nothing," he said, but Aaron knew that something was ruffling

his feathers—
pardon the pun.

"Well, I'm going to ask one of the locals, then," Aaron said as he pulled over in front of a small hardware

store.

An older man wearing a soiled Red Sox cap, plaid shirt, and overalls came out of the store with a paperbag and stopped to put his change inside a rubber coin purse.

Aaron reached across Camael, rolled down the passenger window, and called out, "Excuse me!"

The man, his face deeply tanned and crisscrossed with the mileage of age, slipped the change purse intothe back pocket of his overalls and stooped slightly to look through the window. His eyes quickly passedsuspiciously over everyone in the car.

"Hi," Aaron said in his most friendly voice. He even waved. "I'm hoping you can help us."

The man said nothing, continuing to watch him stoically. Aaron had heard that people inMaine werecautious of strangers, but this was really taking things a bit too far.

Camael meanwhile remained perfectly still, and Aaron wondered if he was willing himself invisible again. Aaron had discovered that he did this from time to time, when he didn't feel like dealing with humans. Thelast time was two days ago, when they had stopped to walk the dog and were accosted by four elderlysisters who wanted to know everything about Gabriel andLabrador retrievers. Afterward, Aaron told Camael that he was being rude, and the angelresponded by saying that it was only because Aaroncouldn't yet do it himself.

"My dog was bitten by something in the woods, and I need to get him to a vet."

The old man looked at the dog, his gaze zeroing in on the bite. "What got 'im?" he asked in raspy voicewith a distinctlyMaine accent.

"Raccoon," Aaron said quickly. "Sure hope it wasn't rabid."

"Don't look like any 'coon bite I ever seen," the old-timer growled, studying the wound through the open

window. "Too wide."

"Well, I only saw it from the back as it ran away. I guess it could have been something else."

The old man glared at Aaron, adjusting the rim of his Red Sox cap. "It wasn't a raccoon—so I guess it
had
 
to be somethin' else."

Aaron smiled tightly, feeling his patience begin to slip. "Yeah, I guess you're right." He paused andcounted to ten. "So I was wondering if there's a vet around here?"

The man seemed to think about it for a minute or two, then slowly nodded his head. "Yep, there is." Hefell silent, continuing to stare.

Feeling his blood begin to boil, Aaron wondered how long it would be before Camael summoned asword and dispatched the annoying old man. "Do you think you could give me directions?" he asked, thestrained smile on his face beginning to ache.

Again, the old man thought for a minute, nodded his head slowly, and gave them complex directions toan office just a few miles away.

"That was a rather odd fellow," Camael said as Aaron pulled away from the curb, reviewing the

convoluted directions in his mind.

"First meeting with a Mainiac?" Aaron asked, taking a left ontoPortland Street , just before a large white

church.
 
"You go beyond that and you've gone too far,"
 
the old man had stressed.

"I've encountered many madmen in my long years on this planet."

"No, not maniac—
Mainiac,"
Aaron explained as he slowly drove downPortland . "People fromMaine ,

that's what they're called."

"Whatever the case, he certainly was odd."

"And you didn't even have to talk to him," Aaron said, on the lookout for a dirt road on the right. "Did

you will yourself invisible again?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about," the angel replied, refusing to look at him.

"I'm sure you don't," Aaron said with sarcasm, taking the turn onto a rutted stretch of winding road.

After half a mile, the dirt road opened up into a large, unpaved parking lot. A building to left of the lotlooked as if it had once been a country store with an apartment above. The apartment seemed to stillserve that function, but the storefront had been converted into a veterinarian's office. Two sports utilityvehicles were parked in the lot, one withMaine plates, the other fromIllinois .

"This is it," Aaron said. He parked as close to the building as he could. "Let's get you fixed up, Gabriel."

The dog lifted his head and looked around, his nose twitched and dribbled moisture as he scented theair.
 
"Where are we?"
 
he asked.

"The vet," Aaron answered as he got out of the car and opened the back passenger door.

"No we're not,"Gabriel said, continuing to sniff at the air.
"We're not inLynn ."

"This is another office," Aaron explained, leaning into the backseat to check out the wound.

"There's more than one?"Gabriel asked incredulously.

"Lots more than one," Aaron answered as he helped his friend to the ground.

"I never knew that,"the dog muttered. He leaned against Aaron for support, holding up his injured leg.

Aaron looked over the top of the car at Camael, who had gotten out and was also sniffing the air. "Areyou coming with me?" he asked, squatting down and lifting up the dog.

"No," the angel said succinctly, and turned back toward the dirt road.

"Well, I'm going to be in here for a while if you need me," Aaron said to the angel's back. Camael

continued on without responding. "All right then, Aaron," he muttered to himself as he carefully made his way up the four steps to the front door. A metal placard announcedkevinwessell, dvm."You take care of Gabriel, and I'll be out here looking around."

Aaron struggled to shift his burden so he could grab the doorknob and turn it. "Thanks for the help,

Camael," he said with mock cheeriness. "You certainly are one considerate angelic being."

"Camael's gone,"Gabriel reported.

"I know he's gone," Aaron grunted. He turned the knob and pushed the door open with his foot.

"Then why are you still talking to him?"

"Idon't know, Gabe," Aaron grumbled as he maneuvered into the small lobby. "These days I do a lot of

crazy things."

The place was old, not like the state-of-the art clinic where he had worked inLynn . The room was donein dark wood paneling, with framed pictures of hunting dogs hung sporadically on the walls. A few plasticseats placed against the wall and an old coffee table covered with magazines and children's books servedas the waiting area. The reception desk was straight ahead.

The lobby was deserted, but Aaron could hear the sounds of paper shuffling and a sigh of exasperationcoming from behind the desk. He approached and saw a girl surrounded by stacks of paper and medicalfolders. Her hair was an unusually dark shade of red, and she wore it pulled back in a tight ponytail. Obviously she hadn't heard his entrance, so he cleared histhroat and watched as she jumped, startled byhis sudden appearance.

"You scared me," she said with a nervous laugh. She moved a stray red hair from her forehead.

"Sorry," Aaron said with a grunt, trying to shift Gabriel's weight in his arms. "Do you think we could see

the vet?" he asked.

"Sure," she answered, moving one stack of folders to an even larger one that teetered dangerously. "Just

give me a second here and we'll see what we can do."

"I'm ... I'm not feeling so good, Aaron,"Gabriel whined in his arms.

The dog shivered and Aaron guessed that a fever was brewing. He felt his temper spike. He'd alreadywasted enough time with the Mainiac in the Red Sox cap; he wasn't about to let his dog suffer anymore. "Look," he said rather forcefully, "I'll fill out all the forms you have, but could you please get the doctorout here? I think he's got a pretty nasty infection, and I want to get some antibiotics into him as soon aspossible...."

"All right, all right," the redhead said as she stood and moved around the counter. "Let's take him in back

and I'll give him a look." She motioned for them to follow.

"You're not Dr. Wessell," Aaron said, taken aback.

"No," she responded. "But I almost was. I'mjust plain Katie McGovern right now." She laughed. "But

not to worry, I'm also a licensed veterinarian."

Aaron laughed self-consciously as he carried Gabriel toward the examination room. "I'm sorry, I didn'tmean to come off like a jerk, it's just that it's been a really long day and I thought you were—"

"The receptionist?" she asked. She opened the door to the exam room and stepped back for him to

enter.

"Yeah," he answered. "You don't look old enough to—"

"I'm twenty-seven," she said, closing the door. "The product of fine Irish genes. I can show you my diploma from the University of Illinois College of Veterinary Medicine," she added as she helped him lay Gabriel on the metal table. "How you doing, buddy?" she asked the dog, stroking his head and rubbing his ears.

"My name's not Buddy,"Gabriel growled.
 
"It's Gabriel."

"His name is Gabriel," Aaron told her.

"Hello there, Gabriel," Katie said as she slipped on a pair of rubber gloves. "Let's take a look and see what we can do about fixing you up." She examined the wound in his leg, gently prodding the seeping injury. "What did you say bit him?" she asked.

"I think it was a raccoon," Aaron answered lamely.

"A raccoon?" she questioned, looking up from the oozing bite. "If that's a raccoon bite, I'm a teenage

receptionist."

Camael could feel it on the breeze—one of many strange things he could sense ever since he finallyarrived in the town ofBlithe .

He walked slowly downPortland Street , taking a right as he left the stretch of dirt road. Something inthe atmosphere told him that he belonged here, that he was welcome—but there was also something else,something he couldn't identify. It was an odd sensation hidden beneath layers of other, far more pleasantimpulses.

The angel widened his perceptions as he turned ontoAcadia Street . It was as quiet as death here, voidof life, the only sounds the gentle hiss of the warm presummer breeze and the pounding of the surf far offin the distance. Offices lined both sides of the short street: Johnson's Realtors, McNulty Certified Public Accountants, Dr. Charles Speegal, Optometrist, and the largest building belonging to the Carroll Funeral Home, taking up almost one whole side of the street.

Everything about this town said that he was supposed to be here. It disarmed him, made him think aboutand feel things he had not experienced in thousands of years. There was an unwarranted contentmenthere, and the angel wondered if he and Aaron had indeed stumbled across the haventhat was Aerie. Hecrossed the street to stand before the white, two-story building that was the Carroll Funeral Home, andlooked around carefully.
But then, where are the others?

Again came that wave of sensation he could not immediately identify, like a great beast of the seabreaking the surface for air before diving again beneath the dark, murky depths. But this time there wassomething in it that he finally recognized: the scent of an ethereal presence trying very hard to hidebeneath sensations of serenity. Now that he had the scent, he had to be careful not to lose it. It was old,very, very old—a whiff of chaos that had not been breathed since the days of creation.

Camael heard the sound of a door opening and turned back to face the funeral home, willing himselfinvisible. An old man, dressed in a dark suit and tie, was standing on the top step, looking down at him. Camael was perplexed; it was as if he were able to see the angel—but of course, that was impossible.

The feelings of tranquility tripled, bombarding Camael with sensations meant to keep him complacent,but he held on to the ancient scent. No matter how hard it tried to hide beneath the oceans of serenityradiating from the town, he knew that at the core of Blithe there was chaos.

The man continued to stare at him with eyes black and deep, and Camael knew that the man in the suitcould see him. "How is this possible?" Camael asked.

The old man's head cocked to one side strangely, and he smiled. Then he blinked slowly, and Camaelnoticed a milky, membranous covering over his eyes. Not something that he had ever perceived on thehuman anatomy before. Sensing that he might be in danger, Camael was about to summon a weapon offire when the old man leaned forward, his bones creaking painfully, and coughed. Tiny projectiles, aboutthe size of a cherry, and barbed, were expelled from his mouth to stick in Camael's face and neck.

The angel scowled angrily, reaching up to pluck the offensive matter from his flesh when he felt his bodygrowing numb. "Poison," he grumbled, tearing one of the barbed projectiles from his face and staring at it. It was brown and pulsed with an organic life of its own. It was the second time that day that someprimitive form of life had attempted to vanquish him using toxins.