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showering, brushing our teeth, and combing our hair. We never had to think about such things in the Kingdom, where existence was maintenance free. Life as a physical entity meant so much more to remember.
    “Are you sure there’s a dress code for teachers?” Gabriel asked.
    “I think so,” Ivy replied, “but even if I’m wrong, do you really want to be taking a chance on the first day?’
    “What was wrong with what I had on?” he grumbled, rolling up his shirtsleeves in an attempt to liberate his arms. “It was comfortable, at least.”
    Ivy clicked her tongue at him and turned to check that I’d put on my uniform correctly.
    I had to admit that it was fairly stylish as far as uniforms went. The dress was a flattering pale blue with a pleated front and a white Peter Pan collar. With it we were required to wear knee-high cotton socks, brown buckle-up shoes, and a navy blazer with the school crest emblazoned in gold on the breast pocket. Ivy had bought me pale blue and white ribbons, which she now weaved deftly into my braids.
    “There,” she said with a satisfied smile. “From celestial ambassador to local school girl.”
    I wished she hadn’t used the word ambassador —it was unnerving. It carried so much weight, so many expectations. And not the sort of expectations humans had of their children to clean their rooms, babysit their siblings, or complete their homework. These were the kind of expectations that had to be met, and if they weren’t . . . well, I didn’t know what would happen. My knees felt as if they might buckle underneath me at any minute.
    “I’m not so sure about this, Gabe,” I said, even as I realized how erratic I must sound. “What if I’m not ready?”
    “That choice is not ours,” Gabriel replied with unfailing composure. “We have only one purpose: to fulfil our duties to the Creator.”
    “I want to do that, but this is high school. It’s one thing observing life from the sidelines, but we’re going to be thrown right in the thick of it.”
    “That’s the point,” Gabriel said. “We can’t be expected to make a difference from the sidelines.”
    “But what if something goes wrong?”
    “I’ll be there to make it right.”
    “It’s just that the earth seems like such a dangerous place for angels.”
    “That’s why I’m here.”
    The dangers I imagined weren’t merely physical. These we’d be well equipped to handle. What worried me was the seduction of all things human. I doubted myself, and I knew that could lead to losing sight of my higher purpose. After all, it had happened before with dire consequences—we’d all heard the dreadful legends of fallen angels, seduced by the indulgences of man, and we all knew what had become of them.
    Ivy and Gabriel observed the world around them with a trained eye, aware of the pitfalls, but for a novice like me the danger was enormous.

Venus Cove

    The Bryce Hamilton School was located on the outskirts of town, set high on the peak of an undulating slope. No matter where you were in the building, you looked out to see a view: either vineyards and verdant hills with the odd grazing cow, or the rugged cliffs of the Shipwreck Coast, so named for the many vessels that had sunk in its treacherous waters over the last century. The school, a limestone mansion complete with arched windows, sweeping lawns, and a bell tower, was one of the town’s original buildings. It had once served as a convent before it was converted to a school in the sixties.
    A flight of stone steps led to the double doors of the main entrance, which was shadowed by a vine-covered archway. Attached to the main building was a small stone chapel; the occasional service was still held there, we were told, but mostly it served as a place for students in need of refuge. A high stone wall surrounded the grounds, and spiked iron gates stood open to allow cars access to the gravel driveway.
    Despite its archaic exterior, Bryce Hamilton had a reputation for