The tow truck slowed. I moved the latch as far down as it would go without connecting to the lock. Loud clanks and clunks signaled the car being released from the tow truck. An engine revved, and the truck sped away.

When I felt that I was alone, I released my death grip on the latch and opened the trunk a sliver. Bright, artificial light stabbed my eyes. I blinked away the watery tears and strained to hear voices. The impound lot appeared quiet and empty.

I stretched out my back, only to recoil quickly in pain. The ride had been rough, and my body protested every bump and tensed muscle. Pulling my legs over the lip of the trunk, I swung them back and forth. Pins and prickles danced along the pinched nerves.

As I'd hoped, the tow truck had taken me to the district police impound garage. Cars, most of them old and battered, stretched along the floor. Fluorescent bulbs snapped in the rafters. Somewhere up there a number of electronic cameras buzzed near the light like flies, sweeping the garage for activity.

I had to hide from them. Letting gravity do most of the work, I let myself stumble to the ground. Ignoring the pain, I shut the trunk and wedged myself under the car. Plascrete was rough and cool against my cheek. The thick, warm smell of old batteries mingled with the scent of rubber tires. I barely fit in the space between the tires and the electric rail connection, but tightness felt oddly comforting.

I shut my eyes and opened my connection to the armored suit cautiously. I ran a diagnostic and swept the area for any sign of Mouse. The LINK access door had been closed, and the uniform's interior appeared completely blank. As the search program completed, my avatar slid to a corner of the uniform. The search program illuminated the body of a mouse, lying flat on its stomach. I knelt to get a better look.

Closed, dark eyelashes stood out against the white fur. The little furry body was racked with deep, shallow breaths.

Page? I was certain Mouse would not leave an avatar behind inside the uniform. Since the LINK-door had been open when I off-lined, it would have been easy for Mouse to escape without being damaged. Besides, a non-AI avatar cut off from its host normally dissipated. Yet, Mouse had surprised me in the past, so I remained careful. Page? Is that you?

The little rodent shivered, and its eyes fluttered open. Dee?

It's me, Page. You're safe inside the uniform again. My hand stroked the fur on the image's back. I couldn't feel anything, as the action was virtual, but I hoped it gave the page comfort. It seemed to, as he stopped visibly shaking.

Mouse betrayed me completely, he said with a ragged breath.

You and me both, I assured him. You said the LINK-Michael is a killer. Who does Mouse want dead?

I ... I don't know.

Do you think it could be Grey?

I ... The page couldn't finish his thought; he was obviously strained. I felt bad for trying to pressure him.

I stood up. Rest here, Page. I'll figure it out. Just take care of yourself.

The page didn't respond, but I could see his breathing even out. With one last caress, I disconnected.

The next thing I heard was an urgent, hushed noise.

It took me a second to recognize the sound of my name. "Deidre."

I opened my eyes to see Michael crouched low, peering under the car. His hair was only slightly mussed, as if pulled askew by a slight breeze. On my body, I could smell the sweat and wet trunk. With a snort, I realized the worst aspect of keeping the company of angels: compared to them, you always looked like hell.

"You okay?" he asked.

"Why do I always have to ask: where were you? I thought you wanted to tag along to the meeting with Mouse to watch out for me. Instead, Satan came to my rescue."

Michael smiled. "I distinctly remember you saying you were tired of me rescuing you."

"Hmph. That's not much of an excuse." Even though I scraped painfully along the rough floor, I let Michael pull me upright.

"I'm sorry," Michael said. "I was on the roof. I saw the cops approach and was headed back toward you to warn you, when you came barreling down the road."

I smiled. Looking around, my eyes caught sight of a roving camera. "What about the security cameras?"

"We'll be all right."

"I thought miracles were too costly."

He smiled. "They are. I took care of things the old-fashioned way – I bribed someone."

We headed for the exit, and Michael held my hand. I shook my head, but gave him a smile. "My hero."

Michael squeezed my fingers tightly in response. Calluses I hadn't noticed before rubbed against my palm. There was something more solid in his grip, and I thought I felt sweat tickling between our entwined hands.

As we slipped through the gate, I caught a whiff of the smoldering smell of scorched metal. Someone, Michael I presumed, had cut the lock with a laser. The area where a guard normally stood just inside the doorway was conspicuously empty, and through the window I could see the blank screens of the video recorders. I wondered how Michael's friend would explain his absence and the destroyed chain.

"Where are we going?" Michael asked.

Pushing through the double doors, we entered an enclosed walkway. "To the Grey-Letourneau debate," I decided. "The page told me that Mouse is going to unleash your nemesis tonight at 0:00 GMT. That's when the debate is scheduled. Since the page told me that this Michael was a killer, my guess is he intends to assassinate Grey."

Checking his watch, Michael said, "It's after five o'clock now. That give us less than an hour."

I started to log on to the LINK to confirm, but, remembering the page, I stopped just in time.

"This is it then," Michael said quietly, sadness deepening his tone. Before I could ask him what he meant, Michael handed me a bundle of brown material he'd picked up when we passed the guard booth. "Put this on," he said.

Unraveling the cloth, I realized it was a trench coat. I shrugged into it, happy to be covering the stained and dirty uniform. One swish of the hem proved that the long material easily covered the bulky armor. "You've thought of everything haven't you?"

"Not everything. If we're going to save Grey from the LINK-angel, I'm going to have to contact the other archangels." Michael gave me another mysteriously sad smile as he pushed the button for the elevator.

"Okay," I said. "What's wrong?"

The door slid open with a ting. With a mock bow, Michael held the door for me. "It means I'll have to go back."

"Why?" I asked, stepping into the elevator.

"To assemble all of the archangels at once we need a miracle. If I go back, I can do that."

Cringing at the slight drop when Michael added his weight to the car, I held my breath as the doors swooshed shut. Michael pressed the button for the sixty-first floor, the public transportation level. From there we could catch a taxi, ride a bus, hop a bicycle, or take the El to Carnegie Hall, where the debate was scheduled.

"Can't you use another miracle without going back?"

"I could." Michael agreed, a sneer tightening his handsome face. "And become a dark one. I don't really think this is the best time for me to be switching sides, do you?"

"No." I watched Michael, who glanced patiently at the numbers scrolling on the display. The elevator slowed suddenly, and my knees buckled a little. "But, I don't get it. I thought your whole reason for being here was to stop this LINK-Michael. Why can't you use your powers to that end? Why does God make it so difficult to be good?"

"To make it worth it."

I rolled my eyes. We reached the sixty-first floor, and the door opened up to the public-transportation tube. The light was brighter here, augmented by fluorescent strips along the upper curve of the tunnel.