I quickly wrap both wings, not fretting too much about whether the feathers are being broken. I consider leaving one of the wings here on the street to distract the gangs and encourage them to fight amongst each other instead of chasing me. But I need the wings too much if I am to entice the angel into giving me information. I grab the sword, which is amazingly as light as the feathers, and stick it unceremoniously in the seat pocket of the wheelchair.

I take off at a dead run down the street, pushing him as fast as I can into the night.

CHAPTER 6

The angel is dying.

Lying on the sofa with bandages enveloping his torso, he looks exactly like a human. Beads of sweat cluster around his brows. He is fever-warm to the touch, as though his body is working overtime.

We’re in an office building, one of countless buildings housing tech startups in Silicon Valley. The one I picked is in a business park full of identical blocks. My hope is that if someone decides to raid an office building today, he’ll pick one of the others that look just like this one.

To encourage others to pick another building, mine has a dead body in the foyer. He was there when we got here, cold but not yet rotting. At the time, the building still smelled of paper and toner, wood and polish, with only a hint of dead guy. My first instinct was to move on to another place. In fact, I was on my way out when it occurred to me that leaving would be almost everyone’s instinct.

The front doors are glass and you can see the corpse from the outside. Two steps inside the glass doors, the dead man lies face up with his legs akimbo and his mouth gaping. So I picked this building as home sweet home for awhile. It’s been cold enough in here to keep him from smelling too badly, although I expect we’ll have to move soon.

The angel is on the leather couch in what must have been some CEO’s corner office. The walls are decorated with framed black-and-white photos of Yosemite, while the desk and shelves sport photos of a woman and two toddlers in matching outfits.

I picked a single-story building, something low-key and not fancy. It’s a plain building with a company sign that says “Zygotronics.” The chairs and couches in the lobby are oversized and playful, favoring fuzzy purples and overly bright yellows. There’s a seven-foot, blow-up dinosaur by the cubicles. Very retro Silicon Valley. I think I might have enjoyed working in a place like this if I could have graduated from school.

There’s a small kitchen. I just about broke down in tears when I saw the pantry stacked full of snacks. Energy bars, nuts, fun-sized chocolates, and even a case of instant noodles, the kind that come in their own cups. Why hadn’t I thought to look in offices before? Probably because I’d never worked in one.