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In the end, it was the female who spoke first.

“You are lost,” she said to the man, not without pity. “You want company in the purgatory you’ve created for yourself. But the path has never been closed to you and never will be. It was you who elected to turn away from it. Like this child, you can choose to come with us. There is a place for you, Martin, as there is for all. But if you’re not yet ready to accept it, don’t lead her astray out of malice. You were a shepherd once, when that collar still meant something to you.”

The man addressed as Martin tilted his head, like one listening to a melody formerly familiar but now bygone.

“It’s been a while since I’ve heard that name spoken aloud,” he said. “I’d almost forgotten it was mine. And you’re not far off quoting Matthew 7:7 to me, which I regard as a cliché that should be beneath you. Next, you’ll tell me that Matthew himself is somewhere over the rainbow, ready to give me a personal performance backed by an orchestra of harpists and a choir of cherubim.”

The male angel extended a hand.

“Let it end, Martin. Show the child that she has nothing to fear. All you have to do is reach out.”

But Martin kept his hands fixed in his pockets.

“You heard what she said. She doesn’t want to go with you. She’s waiting for her father. If you’re worried about her being alone, which is a credit to your tenderness, let your minds be at rest. I’ll keep an eye on her, because I don’t want to go with you either.”

The male let his hand drop. Nothing more was said by him or the female, and then they were gone.

Jennifer looked to Martin.

“Will they be back?” she asked.

“That depends. They can’t compel you to go with them, but they’ll try to wear you down, so eventually you might be tempted to give in just to shut them up. Those two are bureaucrats, divine box-checkers. The Vatican was full of fuckers like them. Your presence here is an irritant. You’re a child who refuses to line up with the other kids at school and risks setting a bad example. They’ll stew over the problem and try to devise a different approach. They may even decide it’s in their best interests to say nothing more about it and pretend they never noticed you. But if that doesn’t work—”

His expression became apprehensive.

“Well,” he continued, “others might be summoned, and it would be best for you to avoid some of them.”

“Why?”

“Because they could pick up on what the first two missed: that you’re different, and if that’s true, the one you’re waiting for may also be different, which is when the real probing will commence. You’ll have to watch your step from now on. Like the poet said, the woods are lovely, dark, and deep. I’d consider keeping to them, if I were you. Out of sight, out of mind.”

Jennifer stared into the trees.

“I don’t like the woods,” she said. “They scare me.”

Martin laughed. It was a great, booming sound, and Jennifer saw the drowning dead react with confusion to this alien outburst of joy.

“Let me tell you this,” he said. “Anything in there is more scared of you than you could ever be of them. You move between worlds, with agency in each, which makes you very special and very dangerous. Even the ones who don’t actively fear you will keep their distance. They certainly won’t try to hurt you. It’s not in their interests. They’ve decided that whatever you’re up to, it can’t make their position any worse.”

“And what about you?” Jennifer asked. “Are you frightened of me?”

The laughter had left behind a smile. Jennifer watched it die.

“Oh yes,” Martin replied, “very much so, because I have an inkling of what you plan to do when your father finally arrives. You see, I knew him many years ago, when your half sister was just an infant. We were looking for a statue, a statue of an angel. He found it. I died. I thought he was an unusual man then, but I was wrong: he’s so much more than that. Now he’s the only thing that frightens me more than you do.”

“Will you try to stop us?”

“Stop you? I doubt that I could, even if I wanted to—which I don’t. Like you, I’ve had an opportunity to reflect. Pain will do that to a man. I can remember my death, the agony of it. I’m just glad I no longer have cause to sleep, or else I imagine I’d be revisiting that moment in my nightmares, which would be like dying all over again. Things are bad enough as they are.”

He pointed to the dead.

“How many of them remember their passing, do you think? How many went easy? Fewer than went hard, I’d wager. So you and I, we’ll wait together: for your father and for the reckoning to come. If you need me, call my name. You know it now. I’ll never be far away.”

He made as if to leave, but she called out to him.

“Stay.” She realized her tone made it sound like an order, and sherecalled what Martin had said about being scared of her. “If you’d like to,” she added.

She saw from his face that he might be about to weep for gratitude. His loneliness was like a fog that surrounded him.