This evening was quite the education. I was intending to spend a bit of time discussing my latest charges with Danit today, but as I was going there, Inca found me and asked if I would like to come with her on a task tonight. That is the word she used, task, not assignment or intervention, as I have heard other angels use. I would have immediately answered yes, but she was solemn, her aura warning me of the seriousness of her words.
“I know that you wish to learn more about my work,” she told me, “but there is only so much I can show you. And you should know that I have to face darkness in the world that would shock many of our siblings. My seniors wish you to know this and prepare yourself for it as much as you can.”
I answered in the affirmative, but to be honest, I was not entirely sure how to do as she advised. Is there any way to prepare oneself for things one has never experienced?
In the end, I was not prepared, and it was shocking, but I believe I did well, nevertheless.
Inca and I went to find her charge in a dirty neighborhood in Detroit, where a narrow, busy street filled the air with odors and noise. Small restaurants, closed stores, and convenience stores lined both sides of the street, and people walking along did not look at one another. There was an oppressive atmosphere, a lethargic emptiness edged with wariness.
I mentioned this to Inca, who nodded with a grim smile. “We get used to it, but it is heavy, isn’t it? This way—here she is.”
She led me to a young woman—really, a girl, no older than sixteen—walking down the street with her hands thrust deep into the pockets of her raincoat. She was tall and strong, though very thin, and there were deep shadows under her eyes. Her hair was dreadlocked, and despite the heat, a wool hat was pulled low around her ears.
Her name is Theo. According to Inca, she ran away from home a few months ago after an argument with her parents. Since then she has not spoken to them, instead moving around from place to place and surviving as she can. Inca has been with her since she first left home, protecting her from the worst of the dangers she might encounter.
I saw an example of one of these dangers only a few moments after we arrived. As Theo went down the street, eyes followed her, curious, calculating. People eyed her face, her body, her backpack, and I could feel the greed rising, ugly and sharp-edged in the air.
These thoughts did not seem to disturb Inca, somehow. Rather they seemed to strengthen her, and she began to radiate power. She walked calmly behind Theo, and with careful flicks of her wings, she turned the watching eyes and speculating thoughts away. It was done so well that those she touched did not even realize that they had been diverted. I am praised for my subtlety, but Inca is an artist.
There was one man, however, whose thoughts she did not divert. He was talking on his phone, but he paused as Theo walked by, watching her go. When Inca did not bother to turn his eyes away, I read his aura and saw a bright light in him, and that his thoughts were only filled with concern for the girl. That Inca could read him so quickly and easily was impressive to me.
I mentioned this to her, and she sighed. “In a crowd of cruel minds, a good one glows like the moon,” she told me.
I watched the girl, her shoulders hunched, her head down, as she walked, and my heart ached for her. “Have you never tried to convince her to go back home?”
“That is not my task,” she said simply. “It will be her choice to go where she will. It is my task to protect her. And that, I hope, I have done to the best of my ability.”
This was evident a few moments later when Theo arrived at her destination, a narrow alley between a dingy restaurant and a dry-cleaner. As she turned the corner, a dog began to bark, and Theo looked up, her face relaxing into a smile. She looked years younger as she bent to greet the mangy animal who ran up to her.
“Hey, don’t you rile him up.” A gray-haired woman got stiffly to her feet. She had dark skin and a motherly face, and her clothes and backpack were as shabby as Theo’s. “How’d you do today?”
Glancing over her shoulder, Theo came into the alley and tugged off her hat. Inside were several crumpled dollars, as well as two small cards. “Not much money, but I got a fifty-percent off coupon and a free meal at Micah’s.”
“Mm, we’ll save that for something special.” The older woman beckoned Theo down to a little nest she had been building, with a sleeping bag resting on several layers of newspaper, and handed her a small foam container. “I did better. Half a burger for you.”
Theo gasped and opened the box hurriedly. “Thanks, Cayce!” She picked up the cooled food and began eating so quickly that I was worried she would choke.
“Easy, it ain’t going nowhere. Down, Rudy,” Cayce added to the dog, who was still dancing around Theo. It lay down next to her, its tail thumping against Theo’s leg.
From the warmth that was growing in Theo’s heart, it became clear to me that she was not quite homeless after all. Her home is simply not made of four walls and a roof, but of the protection and companionship offered by Cayce and Rudy.
“You led them together?” I asked Inca.
Inca smiled. “She needed more protection than I alone could offer. Cayce has been living on the streets for a long time. She has children Theo’s age, and though she’s estranged from them, she still loves them.”
I looked at the two, listening as they discussed their day spent apart and their plans for the following one, including finding a shelter to clean up and going to a dollar store[1] to get a few small items. It was clear to me that Inca had done a kindness for Cayce as well as for Theo—to have someone to look after and love gives Cayce protection from despair and nourishes her spirit.
As they were talking, the back door to the restaurant opened, and a server came out to smoke a cigarette. He did not seem to mind Theo and Cayce’s presence, although he warned them to keep out of sight of the front entrance. He chatted with them for the length of his cigarette and promised to bring them any leftovers that customers didn’t eat.
“There are good people even here,” I murmured.
“And very bad ones,” Inca replied. She was standing guard in the entrance of the alleyway, and I went to join her, watching and reading the people who walked by.
“What would you do, if one of them were to attack your charges?” I asked her. “You cannot intervene physically.”
“No, not at my level,” she says, shifting her wings, “and even if I could there are firm restrictions on when we can do that. But there are other ways. I know where the nearest policemen are in their cars—there is even one in that restaurant right now. I can also alert members of the community to call them. I am told it is much easier now that everyone has cell phones,” she added with a laugh. “And I can use tricks to foil the attacker or strengthen my charges. What humans usually call luck is often a Guardian’s intervention. Much of my strategy for this case in specific,” she added, glancing back at Theo, “is in preparation. I led her to Cayce, who while not being very strong is a second presence to deter attack, and Rudy is even more so. I make certain they eat and sleep well so they have their strength, and I guide them to safe places.”
I looked back at Theo. “How long will you be assigned to her?”
Inca looked at me with a wistful smile. “Until she is safe, or until I fail her.”
That was a chilling thought. It is true for my kind as well, of course—we either succeed and leave our charges happier than we found them, or their circumstances change and we are removed from their cases. Such failure is rare, however, and it certainly doesn’t mean anything as final as what Inca is implying.
“All of us rejoice when we bring a charge into safety,” Inca murmured. “And even then, they can still be hurt. None of our battling brothers or sisters are truly safe until they are saints in the Father’s court.”
We stayed with Theo and Cayce for another hour, and only once were Inca’s subtler methods insufficient. Three young men, full of food and drink, spotted the women in the alley and started towards them, laughing and calling rude things. They intended only mischief, but that was bad enough.
Inca spread her wings and radiated menace. “No,” she said simply. Even I was afraid for a moment.
It was fascinating to watch the effect this had on the men. They could not see Inca, but they could feel her presence. It manifested to them by making Rudy’s barking a bit louder, his silhouette seem larger. It manifested in weariness and disinterest, and even a quiet sense of guilt. Rolling their eyes, their laughter now edged with a nervousness not even they could hear, they left.
“You are brilliant,” I said to Inca.
She laughed and turned away, her usual self again. “You should see my seniors. They cannot help but be terrifying.”
This being done, Theo and Cayce bedded down to sleep—they would be up early tomorrow to get to the busier sections of the city in time for rush hour.[2] “We can go now,” Inca said, looking out into the street, which was growing quieter. “I have a Sentry who will watch while I am gone.”
I could sense that she needed to return to heaven to replenish her energy, but I was not yet weary. “May I stay a few moments? I don’t intend to interfere, of course—I just don’t want them to be alone any longer than they have to.”
Inca smiled. “Of course not. Stay as long as you like.”
I did not stay very long, after all. It was difficult to say it aloud, and if I offended by my actions, Inca, I apologize. But I wanted to do what I could to offer hope to both of them.
In their sleep, I bent over them and wrapped my wings around them. With all my strength, I radiated all the love I had ever seen—the sweet familiarity of home and comfort and people who know you and have all your life. I placed these feelings into their dreams and whispered that they were still loved, and more importantly, that they were still worthy of love.
When I left, both had tears and smiles together on their faces.
I am grateful to you, Inca, for showing me your work. I will not soon forget the feeling of the world you walk in, the shadows that you see where I work in the light. I am glad to know this part of the human experience, and I hope that it may bring wisdom to my own work as time goes by.
[1] This is a place where items can be purchased very cheaply—even some for a single dollar, which is a small unit of money in the region where I work.
[2] There are two such hours during the day, the times that the majority of people in a giving area are going to and leaving their workplaces. This often results in thick traffic and short tempers.