Max leaned on the railing at the ship's bow, watching the way the water curled up and away from the leading edge. A sword, pulled across flesh, created a similar result.

The man had been hunting, trying to feed his family. No more than that, but the sword of the conquistador laid open his innards anyway.

Why?

Death came for each and every one of them soon enough anyway? Why did they feel the need to hasten its arrival? What right did they have to dole it out to others?

He pushed his hair back from his face, wiping away the thin film of saltwater and turned to lean his back against the rail.

A high, girlish giggle came from the stack of crates in front of him.

Max frowned and squinted toward the boxes.

A thump and another giggle.

"What in God's name?" He stepped closer and the hinged top of the largest crate in front popped open an inch.

A curse and it slammed shut again for an instant. Then, slowly, it opened again. Daniel lifted the lid and rose up to his knees laughing so hard tears ran down his face. "Max! Bloody earth, mate! You scared me!"

"What are you doing?" Max asked, incredulous, but in the next moment his question was answered when a stunning young woman sat up. The giggle that had given them away tripped from her pink lips and danced upward to play among the stars. Wild red curls tumbled from the mass piled high on her head and the laces on the front of her dress showed a good deal more of her milky white bosom than any proper lady would deem appropriate.

"Really, Daniel? Here? Now? What are you thinking?"

Daniel, grinning wider than ever, managed to extract himself from the tight space and stand upright on the deck. He extended a hand to the lady who took it and climbed out in a frothy foam of bright green skirts and lace. "There is no thinking when a girl this pretty is involved," Daniel answered. He leaned forward and whispered something in the girl's ear that brought forth a deep rose blush from the scandalously low collar of her dress all the way to the roots of her fiery hair.

She caught her bottom lip between her teeth and ran off toward the hatch leading to the passenger's quarters. Her twinkling eyes peeked back one last time before she disappeared down the ladder.

Daniel stood, hands on his hips, watching her go. His shirttail hung loose. His hair looked like nothing so much as the feathers of a Polish rooster in a windstorm.

Max rolled his eyes. "Your trousers are unbuttoned," he said.

The angel tucked his shirt in and buttoned his pants while Max waited, facing the sea once more.

"You're not mad," Daniel said.

"I'm not mad," Max agreed. "I think you're a fool, but I'm not mad."

"Love is foolish," the angel sighed.

Max watched him from the corner of his eye. "You love her?"

"I love them all, mate. Every last luscious daughter of Eve."

Max shook his head. "You're hopeless."

"You're boring."

"I'm dedicated."

Daniel pressed a hand to his heart as though wounded. "Oi. And I'm not? I'm here aren't I?"

Max faced him fully. "Why is that?"

"How can you know Heaven and ask why I'm dedicated?"

"Why are you here, watcher?"

Daniel patted the place where his pockets should have been, frowned, retrieved his coat from the crate and put it on. He withdrew a flask and took a drink of some foul brew so strong Max could smell it from where he stood. "Your dad sent me."

Max's gaze roamed the sky as if he expected his father to be literally looking down on him from above.

"He thought you might be struggling."

"How kind of him to consider my feelings."

Every man, woman, and child had been cut down. Not a soul had been spared. The soldiers lined them up and killed them like so many cattle.

And for what?

Land?

Untamed wilderness stretched in every direction. Land enough for all existed with most of the planet left to spare.

For power?

What power came from the destruction of a nation?

The history, the stories, the wisdom, the love of an entire nation had been cut down on the edge of a sword.

For what?

"I'm fine," Max said.

"Yeah. And I'm the Archangel, Gabriel."

"Did I not reap every one of them? Alone, did I not carry each of those souls across and then go back and face my own death without a word of complaint?"

Daniel took another drink from the flask. "That you did, mate."

A school of dolphins came alongside the ship, leaping from the water in graceful silver arcs. Max wondered how much they understood about the world in which they dwelt. More than most humans gave them credit for, no doubt.

"How much do you remember, Max?"

The reaper shrugged. "You know how it is. Bits and pieces. A name. A moment."

"And that's all."

Max smacked the wooden railing so hard the shock rattled in his shoulder. "Why do you push, Watcher?" He shouted. As quickly as it had come the anger drained away. His shoulders slumped. "God, Daniel. I remember practically everything. It's like it happened last week. I remember feeling like I had friends among the humans, real friends who knew me and loved me for the first time in how many millennia? I remember the sound of the laughter and the strength of their hands. I remember the way they faced certain slaughter with the same quiet dignity that ruled every day of their lives."

"Bloody earth, mate. Most of the time you can't even remember where you were in your last life."

Max rubbed at the stubble on his jaw. "I have prayed to forget. The answer I got was a summons to join the land robbers."

Daniel pushed his hands deep into his pockets. "Max, the people on this ship--they had nothing to do with all that. It was three hundred years ago. Not even the grandparents of their grandparents remember those days."

"I know," Max said, not knowing or caring if his voice could be heard above the wind and water. "No one remembers them but me."

They stood, side by side, sailing toward the setting sun in silence. Matter melted into light and the angel shown in his full glory. He extended his wings over Max and the pure white love of Heaven flooded into his cells. For the first time since the dawn of man, the reaper wept in mourning for the human race. Not just for the friends he had lost, but for a race who had so far separated themselves from this pure light that they often forgot that it burned white hot within their own core.

Daniel drew back to himself and clapped a hand to his friend's shoulder. "That's your job, mate. It's why they need you. You help them find their True Selves."