TheAngelofSt.Thomasvs.TheGalacticGoodGuys

The Angel of St. Thomas vs. the Galactic Good Guys 
Peter Prellwitz
CARIBBEAN ANGEL SERIES: CARLITA
The Angel of St. Thomas
Vs. the Galactic Good Guys
By Rachel Ann Prellwitz
Karen Babcock, editor


Chapter One 
Midnight Angel 
A beautiful night. Starlit skies above, crystal waters below, showing their blue 
color beneath a full moon. A light breeze played across St. Thomas harbor, 
teasing the reflection of Charlotte Amalie's skyline into a late night dance. It 
should have been a night of romance, happiness and of bright colors and sounds. 
Not a night of sadness, fear and evil.
I was moving across the harbor at about twenty miles an hour, having come from 
the Havensight docks on the eastern side. My feet were less than two feet above 
the short waves, my head only three feet. Normally I “stood” when flying, but I 
didn't want the kidnapper to see me, so I flattened out.
Lieutenant Lewis’ bulletproof vest was bulky and hot. I wished he hadn't talked 
me into wearing it. Still, he wouldn't let me go in unless I wore it, so I 
adapted. I was still sleepy when the call came through and in my rush to get 
here, I'd forgotten to bring the one made for me. Next time I'd remember.
The comlink crackled.
"You're coming in fine, Carlita,” Lt. Lewis reassured me. Himself, more like, I 
smiled to myself. I'd been helping the police for ten years now—the last two as 
a member of the force—but he was still nervous when I went into action.
"Thanks, Lieutenant. I'm at the beach and turning west."
I reached the sharp white line of the shore waves and cut west, toward Trompeter 
Gade. The burglar had taken the little girl into Samson's Auto Repair around 
midnight. He hadn't intended on kidnapping her, just robbing her family's home. 
She happened to catch him in the act and things got out of hand. For a 
six-year-old girl, I could think of nothing scarier. I was going on eighteen and 
it scared me.
There'd been a determined but brief chase by the police down to the harbor 
before he fled here. He didn't have any demands; he just didn't know what to do. 
I was supposed to keep him from doing anything.
The second floor window was open, so I went up to it and quietly lifted it just 
enough to squeeze through.
"I'm entering at the second floor,” I whispered into the mic. “I'm going 
off-line now."
"Roger,” he replied. “We're outside and in position. Good luck, Carlita."
"Thanks. Over and out.” I clicked off the headset and stored it in the vest. I 
needed to look just right. Not for vanity, but for safety.
A storeroom. Good. Nice and quiet. I almost landed then, but decided not to. It 
was risky to stay in the air—especially if this guy knew anything about me. But 
if I landed, I wouldn't be able to go airborne again while in the building. 
Staying aloft offered more choices for me and more chances for the girl.
It was very dark. I increased the amount of sparkles that were a side effect of 
my flying. The room brightened, and I waited. Sooner or later one of us would 
make a sound, and I wanted it to be him.
It wasn't him. It was Liza, the little girl. I heard a stirring noise, followed 
by a small whimper of fear. The burn of anger flared inside me but I reined it 
in.
"Quiet down!” He had a hissing, desperate voice. This was bad. There was almost 
no chance of talking our way out of this. I continued listening, but floated 
slowly toward the door and into the hallway. The voices were coming from 
downstairs.
"Are you going to let me go?” she asked in a trembling voice that made me want 
to race down there and protect her. “Please!” she pleaded. “Let me go!” I 
located the stairs and drifted down them, into a neatly kept repair shop that 
smelled of oil and fresh tires.
"Shut up!” he growled. “You're not getting out of here unless I do. You better 
hope they let me go, too. Whatever happens to me, it'll be worse for you."
"There is nothing worse than what's going to happen to you,” I said in a 
haunting voice. I'd practiced that for a long time. I didn't have the voice to 
sound intimidating, so I tried to spook them. “Release her and you'll have 
mercy.” I flew into a shaft of moonlight coming from a window, flying upright 
about three feet above the floor and trailing a shower of sparkles.
"The Angel!” Liza gasped. She was in her jammies and was tightly clutching her 
doll. But her eyes lit up even in the dim garage when she saw me. I smiled 
gently at her.
"Hello, Liza,” I said in a voice very different than the one I'd just used. 
“Don't worry, little one. The police are outside and I'm here with you."
I glanced back at the kidnapper, giving him a very different kind of look, the 
kind that freezes the soul. He was of medium height but very thin. His emaciated 
looks told many stories about the drugs he used. Sad stories all, but no excuse 
for this.
"If you want to be a free man before you're an old man, let me have the girl 
now. I'll take her outside and tell the police you let her go. They'll be a lot 
nicer to you that way."
He had been staring at the space between my feet and the ground. He wasn't from 
the islands, or he'd know me. That could work for us or against us.
"Wh ... What are you?” he stuttered.
"She's the Angel of St. Thomas,” Liza told him in the matter-of-fact tone 
children have about what they believe in. Much of her fear was gone. “An’ you 
gotta do what she says or you'll be very very sad you didn't do it."
"I'm a messenger, come to give you one chance,” I said, keeping a ghostly lilt 
in my voice. It might still work without violence. “But one chance only."
"No!” he shouted, pulling a knife and yanking Liza in front of him. “This is 
some kind of a trick! You can't be flying! It's impossible!"
"Not for our angel!” Liza said, worried but still calm. “You gotta b'lieve her, 
mister, cause she always tells the truth! An’ even if you're a bad man, she can 
still help you! But she watches all us kids an’ you been bad, taking me away 
from my mom ‘n dad!"
"This is crazy!” He moved the knife to Liza's throat. Enough. I drifted in 
slowly. “Stay back! I'll kill her!"
I looked into his eyes. Fear. Desperation. Confusion. Evil.
"I believe you,” I told him gently. “But I can't let you."
"Get out of here! Now! Tell the cops if they want to see her alive again, then 
clear out!"
I smiled at Liza. Inside, my heart was racing.
"Do you trust me, Liza?"
"Course I do!” she said in a small voice. She must have been terrified of the 
knife at her throat, but her eyes were completely trusting. “You're the Angel!"
"Clear out or I'll kill her! Now!"
I looked up at him. My smile faded and I shook my head. “Didn't you hear me? I 
said I believed you."
I was tempted to move back a little, to ease his desperation. But to do so would 
only scare Liza. I raised my hands to my shoulders and moved them out. Fireflies 
of light danced around my hands, making a swath of gleaming sparkles in front of 
me.
"Stop it!"
I ignored him, instead looking at Liza. She was wide-eyed at the “magic” lights 
dancing about me. I was careful to keep them close. Any approach to this madman 
would start something very bad. For him. He didn't know that Liza was already 
safe.
Suddenly, he gave a wail and pulled the knife across Liza's throat. Nothing 
happened. It couldn't because I'd put an impenetrable gravity field between 
blade and flesh.
He went from desperate to maniacal and raised his knife to stab Liza. She was 
safe, but I wanted her to feel safe, too. I shifted movement of the forces that 
pulled on us from all over, and his grasping hand yanked free of her. I quickly 
put a pillow of sparkles under her and whisked her behind me.
"No!” he screamed. He shifted the grip on his knife and came at us. Liza gave a 
scream; I reacted harshly and quickly. I pointed my left hand at the floor of 
the garage, seized the air and pulled up, hard.
Concrete snapped and growled and shot up six feet toward the ceiling. Unable to 
stop, the man slammed into it full force, his knife flying free. He staggered 
back, but he was unconscious. One step, two, then he fell to the ground.
Liza grabbed me around the waist and squeezed hard.
"Thank you! Oh, thank you!” She was laughing and crying with relief. I was, too. 
We floated over so I could check on the kidnapper. He'd keep until they got him 
to the hospital. Too bad, I suppose, to have to be so violent with him. The 
loving hugs from Liza, though, told me I'd made the right decision.
I put my arm around her.
"How ‘bout we go out and see your mom and dad?"
"They're here?” she asked, happy and surprised.
"Of course they are, Liza. There's a whole bunch of people who wanted to see you 
safe.” I hugged her. “Including me.” I smiled and winked at her. “Why don't we 
fly out? Give them something really cool to see."
She gasped with a wide-open mouth and nodded vigorously. I couldn't erase 
tonight completely for her, but maybe I could make it tolerable.
I moved us toward the front door and called out.
"Hey, Lieutenant!"
"Carlita?” he called back. “Is everything okay in there?"
"Yep! Liza and I are coming out now."
"What about Williams?"
"Who?"
"The kidnapper."
"Oh. He's..."
"He's sleeping!” Liza yelled out, causing chuckles among the police, reporters 
and even her parents.
We came out then, showering lights and reflective rainbows. Much more than 
needed, but it was for Liza.
I delivered her to her parents, floating her into her father's arms. He was 
crying in relief and hugged her close. I gave them their privacy and floated 
over to Lieutenant Lewis, finally landing.
"Here you go, Lieutenant,” I said, handing him his vest. “Thanks, but that 
thing's scratchy! I need to remember mine next time."
He chuckled. “It would make all of us feel a little better, yes. I think there's 
enough money in the budget to have another one made for you, one we'll keep for 
when you're forgetful.
"Thanks, Lieutenant."
"It's the least we can do for our angel.” He waved his arm toward the building, 
and five officers entered the building to put Williams into custody. And 
probably traction.
"If I were a real angel,” I pointed out, “I wouldn't need a vest at all.” I made 
a face. “And I wouldn't have to fill out all those picky reports at the 
precinct."
"You're a different kind of angel,” he admitted. “Flesh and blood like us, but 
an angel nonetheless, even if you do have to fill out reports.” He nodded toward 
Liza and her family. “Try telling them different."
Liza saw us looking at them and she ran to me, her parents right behind her.
"Carlita!” she shouted, jumping into my arms and almost knocking me over. “Thank 
you for saving me! And for the really neat flying!” She hugged me again.
"Yes. Thank you so very much,” her mother said, also hugging me. “We were so 
worried about our Liza. I still can't believe she's safe!” She began weeping and 
took Liza.
"You're welcome,” I said simply. What else was there to say?
Liza gave me her doll.
"Miss Jenny is still a little scared. Could you watch her ‘til the bad man's in 
jail?"
I stroked the doll's hair gently, then handed Miss Jenny back to Liza.
"You don't have to worry about Miss Jenny, Liza. Your parents will keep you and 
her safe. You mom and dad are very good, very brave people."
Reassured, Liza hugged Miss Jenny, then me again.
A soft puff of wind broke passed by us, calling to me. Time to go. I backed up 
and waved.
"I'll see you at the precinct, Lieutenant. G'bye, Liza!"
I turned and ran into the breeze, laughing at its touch. I jumped into the air 
and felt it pulling me up. It caressed me once, then released me. I soared back 
out over the harbor until the small crowd of people looked like another small 
light that shone on the water.


Chapter Two 
Daylight Angel 
The phone rang. And rang. And rang. I rolled over in bed, refused to admit it 
was daylight, and let it ring. So it rang. And rang. And rang. Couldn't Francis 
get it for me? He knew I worked late last night. Beating up the bad guys.
It still rang. Would the caller give up? No, I decided six rings later, all the 
while wishing I had enough money for an answering machine. Defeated by the 
telephone, I opened my eyes and reached for it.
"Hello?” I said in groggy voice, just a little mad. The bright, hot sun poured 
in through my open window, and the chirping birds and street noise told me noon 
had arrived. Unless it was noon tomorrow, it was too early for me.
"Good morning, Carlita!” the cheerful voice answered. Robert Dobbins, my boss at 
the St. Thomas Construction company. He always woke me up, sometimes like this 
on the phone, sometimes at work with his smiles and laughter.
"Hey, Bobby Dobbie,” I said, losing my mad. “It's only noon! Don't you read the 
papers? Can you read?"
"I can read well enough to sign your paychecks,” he countered with a laugh. 
“Yeah, I saw the papers. Front page again. You okay?"
I yawned and stretched, then stood. My bed was a mat on the floor. It was the 
only way to sleep.
"Oh! Excuse me!” I said, finishing a loud yawn. I carried the cordless to the 
closet and selected a top and skirt for the day. And shorts. Always shorts. “I'm 
fine. Just a little tired. Rookie at the station kept me forever."
"Say no more,” he said, understanding. “Listen, I hate to call you after the 
night you had, but we need your help at the mansion site."
"I figured. Hang on a second.” I entered the bathroom and turned on the shower. 
Satisfied it was cool enough, I went to Francis’ room and pounded on the door. 
“Up and at ‘em, little bro'!” I put the phone to my ear. “Give me half an hour, 
Bobby?"
"Thanks, Carlita! See you in thirty! And make sure to go around the ball park 
this time, okay?” A click and the line went dead.
"Hey, little bro'!” I shouted, banging on his door again. “I have to go to work! 
Can you make me breakfast, please?"
The door opened slowly and my little brother stood there, rubbing sleepy eyes.
"Work?” he asked sleepily. He always stayed up when I was out late at night. “I 
left a message last night that you'd need today off."
"I know, but it's a special job. Out at the mansion site."
Francis walked to the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. “Did they say what?” 
he asked while pulling out eggs, cheese and vegetables.
"No, but you know the drill,” I said with a shrug. I waved at him and ducked 
into the bathroom. “Thanks!"
Twenty too fast minutes later, I was sorta clean and sorta dry and sorta 
dressed. I ran my brush through my long black hair, tied it back with Mom's 
bandana, put on my earrings, necklace and bracelets, then dashed to the kitchen. 
We had the upstairs apartment of a two-apartment building in the snug but 
friendly Staari section of Charlotte Amalie. It wasn't a big apartment, but 
there were only two of us.
"Omelet and juice!” he announced, placing the plate on the counter. I sniffed 
the wonderful aroma then dug in. Francis was only eleven, but he already had a 
cook's touch.
"Great omelet, runt!” I said between bites. I had to hurry. The mansion site was 
way out on Cabrita Hill, and twenty-five of my thirty minutes was gone.
"What time will you be home?” he yelled after me as I raced out the door, 
slinging my purse over my head and shoulder. I hated dropping my purse. 
Especially from several hundred feet.
"Hopefully in a couple of hours!” I shouted back. “Hit those books while I'm 
gone!"
He shouted a feeble protest. It was summer, and the salt was in the air. But if 
we were going to make something of ourselves, it would be through books and 
study and hard work.
And a little something special.
I jumped off the last couple steps and into the bustling street. Plenty of 
tourists today, which was unusual for a Tuesday. I would be forced to wait a few 
minutes. Bobby Dobbie understood, but if the client was from the States, well...
"Morning, Carlita!” Big Marie had the street cart with the brightest objects and 
tastiest fruits. She watched over the entire neighborhood, but especially 
Francis and me since we were orphaned years ago. Because of that, I called her 
Momma.
"Good morning, Momma! A nice breeze today!” She smiled and nodded. It was our 
little code. Reaching up, she began ringing an old, ornate bell hanging from her 
cart. It rang with the beauty of a nightingale and all the persistence of a 
telephone.
"Big Marie gots the best in town! All on sale! You got five minutes! Hurry up! 
All half off!” She kept ringing the bell.
Many of the tourists stopped and looked. When they saw the locals rushing to the 
cart, they followed, thinking they'd found a truly great chance to buy authentic 
Caribbean goods. Which was true. They just wouldn't have a lot of luck getting 
the half price; our neighbors knew the routine and were the first to gather 
round, “buying” things they would later return. We watched after our own in the 
Virgin Islands.
Seeing no one was looking at me, I picked up my pace, then jumped into the air. 
The gentle breeze caught me in its arms and lifted me up. Inside me awoke my 
special something. The breeze released me gently and I was flying.
Picking up speed slowly, I went higher. My wonderful home lay before me, 
mountains and sea and beautiful, beautiful forest. I turned and headed 
northeast, ascending as the mountains rose. I was leaning slightly forward, the 
normal way I flew. This was why I always wore shorts under my skirt.
Lee Hill crested beneath me, so I turned east, using Highway 40 as a guide. When 
I was twelve I discovered it was easier to remain “hidden” by flying directly 
over a busy road. Lee Hill was eight hundred feet above sea level, as was the 
mountain ridge highway, so I went up an extra thousand feet. I'd look pretty 
small from here. Besides, only we natives knew what to look for.
It was a quick and wonderful flight. Of my special abilities, flight was my 
favorite. I could fly pretty fast, limited only by the need to see and 
breathe—about sixty miles an hour. I suppose if I had the right goggles and 
goggles and breathing gear, there'd be no limit It was the same for altitude. I 
could fly as high as I wanted, until the cold or lack of air stopped me. 
Normally, I stayed under 5,000 feet. Though on really bright days when only a 
few puffy clouds dotted the sky, I'd play for hours at higher altitudes.
The neatest thing about flying is the view. And what a view! The sparkle of the 
water, the shine of the town at night, the motionless glide of birds flying 
above, beneath and around me. Stunning! Most hearts raced just thinking about 
it, and here I was doing it!
The ridge dropped off after Wintberg Peak and the highway turned north, but I 
kept a straight line. I was less than four miles from the mansion site and flew 
for it. I didn't go down, though. Not yet.
Tutu was almost beneath me. I waited until I reached the Garden Arts Center, 
then went south for a couple minutes before heading back toward the mansion 
site. This way the ballpark was way off to my left.
I descended slowly while still moving toward the mansion site. I could make out 
a group of people gathered in a small field on the north side of the site. As I 
looked, I saw Bobby glance into the sky and spot me. Hurriedly, he turned his 
back to me and took the arm of another man. Probably the client. I knew he was 
from the States, too, and so wasn't privy to St. Thomas’ long-kept secret. I 
stopped forward motion and looked for the right place to land. Bobby was walking 
the man toward the sea to the east, pointing at something, covering for me.
Most of the crew were working in the mansion. It was little more than a frame, 
so I made for the second floor. About ten feet up, I released my power and the 
breeze again cradled me. I...
"What in the world is that!” a woman suddenly shouted. Yipes! The client's wife 
was on the second floor and staring right at me!
My concentration broke and I fell the last two feet onto the flooring, giving 
out an “Uff!” Jeff Newton, our foreman, was helping me up even before I'd 
finished falling down.
"What was what?” Jeff asked her innocently.
"That ... that girl!” she accused, pointing at me. “I saw it! She just floated 
down from the sky and landed right there!"
"Huh?” Jeff looked at me, considering, then back to the lady. “This is Carlita, 
our office manager. She's a great office manager, but flying?” He stared at the 
woman in doubt.
"Sorry, ma'am,” I said, brushing off sawdust. “I tripped and fell."
"No, you didn't!” she exclaimed. “You were flying!"
"Hey, guys!” Jeff called out. Manny, Betts and Big Wally stopped working and 
looked at him. “Any of you see Carlita fly recently?"
"Oh, yeah!” Betts said with a laugh. “She's always flying around the island.” 
Betts snorted, making the woman blush. “If Carlita could fly, Jeff, d'you think 
she'd hang around here?” They all laughed and went back to work.
"Well ... maybe I was mistaken,” the woman admitted slowly.
"Doesn't bother me one way or the other, Mrs. Williams. You're the client, so 
you're always right.” She looked at him suspiciously, but Jeff was all honesty 
and friendliness. No act, either.
"I suppose I did see it wrong,” she decided at last. She looked at me. “Are you 
all right, young lady?"
"I'm fine, Mrs. Williams. Thanks for asking.” She went back to inspecting the 
work and Jeff led me downstairs.
"Close one!” he said, breathing out.
"Sorry. I thought it was clear."
"Not your fault, Carlita. I should have watched for you. I had no idea she was 
even up there with us.” We headed downstairs, the pleasant whir of saws and 
pounding of hammers filling the air. I loved my job!
"Do you know what Bobby wants?"
"Nah. Just that he'd sent for you."
"Okay. I saw him out on the field.” I snatched up a hard hat, having forgotten 
mine at home. “See ya!” I said and ran off.
"Are you here all day?” he yelled after me.
"Don't know. I'm still tired from last night!"
"Well, when you head home, just make sure you avoid..."
"The ballpark! I know! Thanks!” I ran to the construction trailer and snatched 
up my clipboard, the one with the punchlist for the mansion on the front and the 
angel wings painted on the back.
Bobby was with Mr. Williams, and they were standing back where I'd first seen 
them. Bobby saw me and waved me over.
"We have a special job, Carlita. Mr. and Mrs. Williams want a thirty foot berm 
between their mansion and the Zimmermans.” The Zimmermans were the closest 
homeowners, about a quarter-mile to the north.
I made a note on the punchlist, then gave them my doubtful look.
"I dunno, Bobby,” I said hesitantly. “When does it need to be done?"
"As soon as possible,” Mr. Williams replied crisply.
"Uhhh ... does that mean as soon as reasonably possible, Mr. Williams?” I asked. 
“Or as soon as absolutely possible?"
"What's the difference?” he replied.
"Reasonable means ... two weeks.” He started huffing some and I quickly added. 
“I can cut it to a week, but I'd have to pull most of the crew off the mansion."
"And the other option?"
I looked at Bobby, and he nodded. “I know someone who can get it done by 
tomorrow,” I offered slowly. “But their company is backed up with projects and 
would only do it as a favor for Bobby. And the fee would be very high."
"Fine. I'll pay the fee."
"But, Mr. Williams,” Bobby said. “Why? The Zimmermans are gone for the next 
month. There's no point in rushing..."
"Yes, there is, Mr. Dobbins,” he said sternly. “The point is that I want it 
done. By tomorrow."
"Bobby?” I asked. He looked back on me. His black eyes reflected the same 
feelings I'm sure my bright blue ones did. Mr. Williams was pushy. But he was 
willing to pay for being pushy.
"Can you see to it, Carlita?” he asked, knowing perfectly well I'd be seeing to 
it personally.
"Right away.” I made a couple more phony notations, then smiled at Mr. Williams. 
“You'll have your berm and invoice by tomorrow morning, Mr. Williams."
"Thank you, miss.” I started walking back to the trailer. I still heard Mr. 
Williams murmur to Bobby, “She seems young. Especially for her position."
"There's none better at detail and office work than our Carlita, Mr. Williams,” 
Bobby reassured him. “She's our own personal angel."


Chapter Three 
"Carlita Time! Carlita Time!" 
"Hey, sleepy head! Wake up!"
Bobby was shaking me gently by the shoulder. I was lying down on the cot in the 
trailer.
"Hey yourself, Bobby Dobbie,” I said with a sleepy grin. “What time is it?"
"About eight,” he said.
Eight! I promised myself I'd only take a one-hour nap, and set the alarm. That 
was at three. I sat up and rubbed my eyes.
"Why didn't you wake me earlier?"
"Two reasons. Here's one,” he replied and tossed a newspaper on my lap. It was 
the Virgin Islands Daily News. I hadn't seen today's edition yet, so I started 
flipping through it. Bobby kept talking while I looked for the article on me.
"The second reason is that our clients didn't leave until just now, so there 
wasn't anything you could do."
"How ‘bout my job?"
"Nah.” He waved a careless hand. “You put things in perfect order yesterday. 
Nothing for you to do today. Remember, we're used to your ... heh ... odd 
hours."
"Front page? Not!” I suddenly accused.
"Well, front page of the local section. You don't really want to be the front 
front page anyway, do you?"
"Not really,” I admitted. “Still, the idea sounded nice at the time. Whoa. Get a 
load of this:
"'Local youth stops kidnapper; Six-year-old hostage safe. So on and so on and so 
on ... Here ... Although the teen failed to identify herself ... ‘"
"Thank you, Daily News!” Bobby interrupted gratefully.
"Quiet, you,” I scolded and continued, “'The young hostage—whose name is being 
withheld due to age—was very happy and excited about being rescued and shared 
her doll's feelings as well. ‘Miss Jenny is glad the bad man is in jail', she 
said.’”
"Aww!” Bobby sighed with a stupid grin. I threw the paper at him and he caught 
it before it hit his face.
"I thought it was kinda nice,” I said defiantly. “Girls like to have friends who 
think like they do when things are scary, and Miss Jenny is her friend. Don't 
make fun, I'd be the same way. That guy was one nasty sicko."
"So what did you make him do?” he asked.
I shook my head. “That didn't work. It was too dark in the garage for him to 
clearly see my eyes and I didn't want to chance it. He kept Liza in front of..."
"Liza?"
"Yeah. The girl, dummy. He kept her in front of him. Too bad for him. I had to 
get rough."
I didn't say any more and Bobby didn't press. The whole gang at Tom Con—our 
company's nickname—had known all about me for years, since I was little. Pretty 
much everyone on St. Thomas, St. Croix and St. John knew about me. I was 
everyone's closely guarded open secret. It was hard to explain.
I grabbed my hard hat and followed Bobby out to the site where the berm was 
supposed to be. We spent the next hour working out design and exact location. 
There weren't any buried power or sewer lines, so that made it easy.
By now it was nine o'clock. The sun was down, but the sky still burned deep red 
over the mountains. Perfect light.
"Ready?” Bobby asked. I nodded, and he backed off about a hundred feet.
Kneeling on the ground, I put my hands on it and closed my eyes. I imagined 
peeling the ground apart, layer by layer, down two hundred feet. Three hundred. 
Drat. Still not the right base. I went deeper. Four hundred. Five. Eight layers 
down and at nearly six hundred feet, I found what I wanted. With a base, I 
started working my way up, examining each layer. This was good ground.
"Whoa,” Bobby said, adding a whistle. “You must have gone pretty deep this time. 
That's quite a show!"
Opening my eyes, I looked above me.
The air was sparkling with countless tiny bursts of colored light. This always 
happened whenever I used this power, but since I was moving a whole bunch of 
island, the light show was most excellent.
I felt my hands tingle, telling me I'd reached the surface. Other than the light 
show, which was sparking and glittering wildly now, there was still nothing 
different about the ground. Or so it seemed.
Stepping back to Bobby's side, I picked the right direction to make the oh-so 
perfect form, then turned off all movement and gravity inside my waterfall of 
lights.
A loud rumble came from underneath the ground in front of us, but there was no 
shaking. I'd gotten lots better in the past couple years.
The fireworks of light began swirling and popping. Thousands more appeared and 
slowly a berm formed, two hundred feet long and thirty feet high The surface of 
the berm rippled like a pond, harmlessly moving all the trees down on our side 
of the earthen wall. Finally, hard granite appeared along the ridge and I was 
finished. The lights faded and winked out, the rumble drifted away on the trade 
breeze, and then it was just Bobby, the berm and me in the gathering darkness.
I stretched my aching muscles. Moving that much that carefully always left my 
muscles tired and sore.
"Good enough?” I asked Bobby.
"Good enough! Payment to the Angel Fund as usual?” I nodded. It wasn't right to 
make money from my abilities, so the island government had set up a fund for 
anything I was paid. It was used for disaster relief, to aid destitute families 
and see to the healthcare of the Virgin Islands children.
"I can't wait to see the looks on the Williams’ faces tomorrow!” He laughed. “I 
love my job!"
"Me, too,” I said, and handed him my hard hat. “Tell me how they look. I'm 
heading home and crashing until Thursday."
"Today's Tuesday,” he corrected.
"Yes, it is.” I smiled and gave him a hug. “See ya’ Thursday, Bobby Dobbie!"
Out here on the edge of St. Thomas there was always a brisk wind. From the south 
right now. I ran three steps toward the berm and jumped into the wind's arms. 
Red, yellow, white and green sparkles danced on a gentle puff of air that 
swirled around my feet and ankles, then what was inside took over and I rose on 
my own power. Just for fun, I landed on the top of the berm and ran along its 
bank before again catching a breeze. I was super tired, but this was always fun. 
I went up a hundred or so feet and took off to the west. I waved back at Bobby, 
even though I couldn't see him, then picked up speed. My bed called for me, and 
that was one call I intended to answer.
It was a gorgeous night. A night for being alive. Five or so miles to the 
southwest, Charlotte Amalie was lit up like the exciting Caribbean port that it 
was. I couldn't actually hear the celebration, but I could imagine it well 
enough. I drifted slightly toward the lights, but decided against it. Francis 
would be looking for me. And I was really, really tired. Time to go home. I 
glanced straight down to orient myself.
I was over Tutu, and approaching the ball field, brightly lit for a Little 
League night game. Just as I looked, the batter swung at a pitch and sent the 
ball to deep cen...
A ball! A ball!
I dove at the ball, picking up speed. There was a boy trying to get the ball, 
too! I would beat him! I went even faster.
He got the ball and threw it. Wow! I chased after it, low enough to get the 
ball! I passed by the boy who'd thrown it, and flew straight at the boy who was 
waiting to catch it, his hand outstretched.
He saw me coming and yelled. He put his hands down, and the ball went past him, 
on to another boy. Laughing, I went after it.
"Carlita Time!” everyone was shouting. “Carlita Time!” A man in black was waving 
his arms. Did he want the ball? But it was my ball!
It bounced on the ground near a boy, but he didn't get it. Instead, he moved out 
of my way, laughing and shouting, “Carlita Time!"
I caught up to the ball and grabbed it, but it slipped out of my hands. It 
bounced on the grass and then it was on the dirt. I was going to get it! I was 
so happy!
The ball rolled past the man in black and bounced against a fence. I went into 
the fence fast, but the ball wasn't going to get away from me! Still in the air, 
I jumped off the fence and at the ball, which must have been tired, because it 
was rolling to a stop on a piece of plastic on the dirt. All around me, people 
were laughing and having fun. They wanted me to have the ball!
I landed on the ball, making sure it wouldn't slip out of my hands. I snatched 
it up, dirt flying everywhere. Mine! My ball! I...
A fog lifted from my mind and I looked around. I was on the Tutu baseball field? 
How did I get here? Everyone was laughing and smiling and shouting, “Carlita 
Time!"
In my hand was the culprit. A baseball. Embarrassed, I looked up at the umpire. 
He was laughing, but it wasn't a mean laugh. The shouts of “Carlita Time!” were 
fading as everyone realized I'd come to my senses. The umpire held out his hand, 
a huge grin on his face.
"Sorry,” I said weakly, handing it to him. Both teams were crowding around me, 
hats and gloves and pens sprouting from a sea of young, eager arms.
"Never apologize!” the umpire said. “You're always a welcome timeout, Carlita. 
We'll stop our play anytime for a visit from the Angel!” He, too, handed me a 
pen and booklet.
I spent the next half-hour signing gloves, hats, paper, and as always, the ball 
that brought me in. Then I spent another twenty minutes signing more autographs 
in the stands while the game restarted. And then I stayed another half hour to 
watch the rest of the game. When it ended I was more than ready to go. By now I 
was completely exhausted.
I walked out onto the field after the teams went to the sidelines. Shouts went 
up to not throw any balls.
The crowd went silent as they watched me. I'd gotten used to all the attention. 
Shoot, if I could watch a person fly, I would stare, too.
A steady breeze was still coming from the south, so I walked between first and 
second, then ran to the pitcher's mound, jumping when I reached it, trailing 
sparks of light as I went. Okay, I was showing off. But it was for the kids. 
Honest.
I soared up over the crowd and everyone shouted. I gave them a huge smile and 
waved.
My street was still filled with tourists, so I swung around to an alley that was 
deserted and landed there. Yawning, I stretched, then went out onto the street.
The party was going full steam. Tourists were our main income, and we were a 
friendly people, so street parties were always breaking out. I loved the 
festivity and was again tempted to enjoy the night. No, I said.
"No, what?” Big Marie was at her cart and looking at me while dealing with a 
customer.
"Did I say that out loud?” I asked her.
"Yep.” She glanced at my clothes. “Oh, girl,” she said with a shake of her large 
head. “You've been chasing balls again."
I smiled sheepishly and nodded.
"I didn't mean to,” was all I could say with tourists so close. “Especially 
today. Tonight.” I corrected myself. I gave her a hug and a kiss. “Well, I'm off 
to bed! G'nite, Momma!"
"Good night, Carlita,” she said gently, kissing me on the forehead. “Pleasant 
dreams."
I dashed up the stairs to our apartment. The wild and exciting noise didn't 
diminish much, but I'd gotten used to it. I'd sleep like a ... something. I was 
too sleepy for even that thought.
Francis was fast asleep on the living room floor, his math book doubling as a 
pillow. Like me, it took more than festival noise to wake him.
I went to our kitchen—really just a small dent in our living room—and checked to 
see if he'd made me dinner.
He had. Chicken breast with a sauce on it. Beside the plate was a note, telling 
me how to heat it in the microwave. I followed the instructions; there were 
three temperatures, times and positions, but I trusted him. A forkful of the 
chicken told me he'd made another masterpiece. I poured a glass of milk and sat 
at the counter.
I ate silently, appreciating by brother, my friends, my job, and my life. It was 
certainly an unusual life. And not without its challenges and hardships. But I 
would not trade it with anyone. About the only thing I lacked was a boyfriend. 
Maybe after school started in September.
I finished my meal and washed the dishes. Francis had cleaned everything else. 
As a little brother, he couldn't be beat.
By now, I was almost stumbling. So I woke up Francis enough to get him standing 
and helped him to bed, kissing him goodnight. Five minutes later, just long 
enough to crawl out of my day clothes and into my nightclothes, I was in bed and 
fast asleep.
All in all, a good day.


Chapter Four 
Mrs. Williams 
Wednesday started out far more normally. For us, that is. I was up first, 
dressed and out the door before Francis had stirred from his room. I let him 
sleep; he was the housekeeper and cook in our twosome and deserved any shuteye 
he could get.
I was the breadwinner, after a fashion. I made enough to keep the apartment, 
afford decent meals, and live our lives. We even saved a little, though not 
enough for college for either of us. And I was going to be a junior at the high 
school this year.
But it was far too nice a day to worry! Bright sun soaked my worries with joy 
and the brisk ocean breeze swept them away to sea. A perfect day to run errands. 
Today it was the market, the bank, and the police station.
Walking downhill to the market, I thought about my family.
For the last eleven generations, each child in our family had something special 
about him or her. Francis and I were the twelfth generation. The gifts were 
passed on by the oldest child, but all the children in a family had them. So 
Francis had gifts, but only my kids would carry on the family abilities.
We all had different gifts, and nobody knew what they would be until the age of 
six or so. I was lucky; my powers showed up when I was four. I was also lucky 
that I had multiple powers, especially flight. The last “Angel of St. Thomas” 
that could fly had been my great-grandmother, almost eighty years ago. My 
parents weren't so lucky, having to keep tabs on a four-year-old who could fly. 
The island as a family kept me safe until I'd grown a little and knew how to 
behave myself.
Without exception, all of us had a quirk or two. Almost like booby prizes. My 
mom's had been the need to eat something every time she stopped using a gift. My 
grandpa Samuel could only use his gift of invisibility within twenty feet of 
seawater He used to carry a glass of it with him, which worked fine except it 
always leaked. Auntie Mona had to sing when looking through objects or she'd go 
deaf for an hour.
According to Mom, my quirk was the weirdest. When flying, I had an 
uncontrollable urge to chase thrown or hit balls. Nothing else mattered except 
that I get the ball. If I wasn't flying, or if it was something other than a 
ball, there was no problem. That's why I could watch the baseball game last 
night. After I'd landed. But when I flew like a bird, I was something of a 
birdbrain when it came to balls. On a tropical island populated by an active, 
sports-loving people, I chased a lot of balls. So many, in fact, that “Carlita 
Time” was an official timeout, with the play going dead from the moment it was 
called. Soccer, baseball, volleyball, basketball, even golf; I was always a 
surprise moment at the wrong time.
To my people's credit, they took it all in stride and even enjoyed the 
“timeouts". My family had been serving them for 300 years, and they had taken 
care of us during that time. Everybody knew about us, but nobody talked. They 
protected our identities and privacy while we kept them safe.
Sometimes there was a price. Francis and I lost our parents in a hurricane while 
still young. Dad had been in the merchant marine. Mom had the ability to calm 
any waters she was in. She'd saved our harbor lots of times in the past. But 
this time she went far out to sea in order to save four ships caught in a 
hurricane when it took an unexpected turn. She'd saved three of them, but was 
lost trying to save the fourth. Dad had been on that fourth ship.
I missed them both. Ten years now. The sad was wiped away, leaving only my love 
for them. Mom had prepared me for this.
"Do not weep overly long for me, Carlita, if the time comes that I die saving my 
people,” she would say to me, especially after a time when she'd been hurt. “It 
is the risk our family has taken for generations. If it comes to me, I will have 
gladly done my duty to our people. And you will take my place."
I had prepared Francis, in the same way, for my death. He didn't remember Mom 
and Dad, but he heard the pride in my voice when I talked about them, and he 
listened seriously. Fortunately, death in the line of duty didn't visit often. 
Eleven in 300 years. But it did happen. Not that the danger would stop me. Or 
Francis.
I'd walked a half-mile lost in my thoughts; it took the hustle-bustle of the 
marketplace and all its delicious scents to bring me back to earth, as it were.
The market was a living thing, filled with people, produce, sundries, music, 
laughter and loud, cheerful talking. A wide street—almost a plaza—the 
marketplace was stuffed to overflowing with carts, booths and brightly colored 
ground blankets, all selling every fruit, candy or clothing imaginable. Tables 
of T-shirts and other touristy apparel. Fine paintings and etchings. Crafts so 
varied as to seem countless.
And food. Plenty of food. Bushels of rice, corn, barley and beans. Fruit by the 
bunch, bag or bushel. Fish from the morning's catch. Even a pen filled with live 
chickens, raised by Sir Hector, the Englishman, on his estate. He was my first 
stop.
"A good morn to you, Miss Carlita,” he said with a crisp bow. I laughed and 
curtsied. Sir Hector was always very formal, whether entertaining at his estate 
or selling chickens. He took enormous pride in being trusted with the Angel's 
Secret, as my identity was referred to.
"Good morning, Sir Hector!” I extended my hand, knowing he'd want to kiss it, 
which he did. Talk about feeling like royalty! “Would you perhaps have two hens 
for us this morning? And a dozen eggs?"
"Always, my dear!” He waved a hand at the large chicken wired corral. “Do you 
see any you'd prefer?"
I looked them over and found two plump ones. I pointed my hand, increasing the 
pull on each. They turned and trotted toward Sir Hector, going “downhill".
"You have my grateful thanks, Miss Carlita,” he said as he scooped up the 
chickens and tied their feet. “Remember, young lady, you always have a job with 
me if you want it."
"Thanks, Sir Hector, but I'm pretty busy. I do like helping you out when I can, 
though.” Sometimes, on slow days, I did come down and help him. “I just LOVE the 
market!” I twirled to soak it all in, then stopped halfway, almost stumbling in 
surprise.
Standing right behind me, less than three feet away, was a woman. She had 
platinum hair and a firm face. Beautiful, but under control. She wore a pants 
suit that clashed with the gaiety of the market, but somehow complemented her 
perfectly. Oddly, she wore sneakers instead of sandals or heeled shoes. She was 
staring at me, her hard eyes neither friendly nor angry.
It was Mrs. Williams, the lady who owned the mansion we were building.
"Uh, Mrs. Williams!” I said “G ... Good morning! I didn't see you behind me. Let 
me introduce you to Sir Hector of Covingdale."
"How did you do that?” she demanded of me, ignoring both the introduction and 
Sir Hector's bow.
"Do what?” I asked as innocently as I could. “The twirl? It's pretty easy, 
though I'm normally bet..."
"I meant the chickens,” she interrupted. “You motioned to them and they 
immediately came."
"I ... I ... don't know what you're talking about, Mrs. Williams, I didn't 
really—"
"Madam,” Sir Hector interrupted. I didn't mind. The less I said, the better. 
“Miss Carlita did nothing of the sort. She merely indicted that she'd like two 
chickens. I simply selected the two that were closest."
"I saw them come to you!” she insisted. There was something about her attitude 
and her certainty that worried me. She looked at me. Her eyes were still hard, 
but now they seemed a little angry. “I was sure I saw you flying into our home 
yesterday and now I clearly saw you control those animals!” Her hard blue eyes 
narrowed.
"Are you the Angel of St. Thomas?” she demanded to know, stepping even closer 
and making me back up to the chicken wire.
"The Angel is a myth, madam!” Sir Hector scoffed. “A fairy tale told to soothe 
frightened children. A very old fairy tale, I might add. The natives talk of the 
Angel as much as three centuries ago.
"Carlita is a pleasant young woman, Mrs. Williams,” he continued, putting his 
hands on my shoulders as he stood behind me. “I myself consider her an angel. 
But the Angel?” He laughed again. “Forgive my rudeness, madam, but balderdash! 
There is no Angel of St. Thomas, and there never has been."
"Please, Mrs. Williams,” I said in a small voice, trying to sound as powerless 
as possible, “I'm flattered that you think I could be the Angel. Honest. But if 
I were the Angel of St. Thomas, what would I be doing here, buying chickens? 
Wouldn't the Angel have enough money to afford servants for herself?"
"Don't you mean ‘he or she', Carlita? Unless the Angel is real and you know her 
to be a woman,” Mrs. Williams said with a nasty tone of victory. “Or young 
woman,” she added, her tone becoming more accusing.
"My mother told me stories of the Angel, and the Angel was always a woman,” I 
replied quickly, covering my slip.
She considered me for a long moment. I was able to stand a little straighter 
with Sir Hector backing me up, but it was hard.
Suddenly her face relaxed and she smiled.
"I'm sure you're right, Carlita,” she said. “And it does sound silly, thinking 
there really is an Angel of St. Thomas.” She stepped back. “Sorry to have 
bothered you,” she said, then turned and disappeared into the thickening crowd.
It was thirty seconds before Sir Hector let go of my shoulders, and sixty before 
my heart stopped beating so hard.
"That woman means you harm, Carlita,” Sir Hector said in a serious voice I'd 
never heard from him before. “You must be on your guard while she is on the 
island."
I nodded in agreement. There was something about her that made me nervous. She 
wasn't just curious. And she wasn't just suspicious. She was trying to find out.
"Unfortunately, Mrs. Williams and her husband are clients of ours. We're 
building a mansion for them over on the eastern shore. I don't think I can avoid 
her."
"Is that how she saw you flying?” he asked.
I nodded. “Normally, I'm very careful about being seen by off-islanders. And 
everyone protects me. But when I landed on the second floor, she saw me. The 
others didn't even know she was there. She seemed to appear from nowhere, 
looking for me. Or someone like me."
"Perhaps you would be best to curtail yourself for the duration of their stay,” 
he offered.
"I can't, Sir Hector,” I answered firmly. “It's my responsibility to protect the 
island and the people, no matter what the cost!” He put a hand back on my 
shoulder and I squeezed it with my hand.
"I understand, my dear,” he said softly. “We'll just have to be extra diligent 
in protecting our Angel. I'll spread the word."
"Thanks, Sir Hector."
"Pah!” he dismissed with a wave. “Our efforts, though done with all our hearts, 
are nothing compared to what you do for us.” He bowed. “I will always be your 
humble servant, m'lady."
I smiled and thanked him again, paid for the chickens and continued with my 
errands.
* * * *
It was deep evening when I was finally able to get home. My whole day had been 
slowed down, looking for Mrs. Williams. I saw her several times, too. Twice more 
in the market, once at the bank. Fortunately, I was able to slip off to the 
police station without her seeing me and give my report of the kidnapping. She'd 
been delayed by a sudden group of islanders who held her up to sing a series of 
ballads.
I absolutely couldn't let her see me at the station; I had good reason to be at 
market and the bank, but no excuse for being at the police station. If she saw 
me there, I'd never get rid of her.
The guys let me hang out in the restricted area until late, late afternoon, then 
snuck me out in a squad car at shift change. Officer Kent dropped me off a 
half-mile west of home and I walked the rest of the way, still looking for her.
Finally I reached the safety of my street. My friends were all there, carrying 
on as normal, but with a very watchful look in their eyes. I spoke to Big Marie, 
telling her of my day, then went up the stairs to home. I got to our porch and 
reached for the doorknob. A glimmer of something caught my eye.
On the porch, hovering in midair, was a black rectangle of nothing. Short 
tendrils of black splayed out from the edges, looking like they provided the 
grip allowing the apparition to defy gravity. Concerned, I went inside and 
closed the door.
Francis was waiting for me, a sketchbook in one hand and a pen in the other. He 
was sitting in the shadows, with the lights of the apartment turned off. What 
light there was from the street drew harsh lines on the wall that cut sharp 
angles and passed over Francis’ face. He was scared.
"I'm glad you're back, Sis,” he said in a voice not at all like him. “Mrs. 
Williams was here, looking for you. She asked a lot of questions that I didn't 
want to answer. Questions about us, our parents, and the Angel of St. Thomas. I 
think we're in trouble, Carlita."
He stepped to the front window and checked his rectangles, then looked at me.
"Bad trouble."


Chapter Five 
An Angel's Fight 
"Carlita, are you sure you have to do this?"
Bobby Dobbie was worried. I'd called him up to talk about my plan to confront 
Mrs. Williams, and he was understandably nervous. I'd never been in this spot 
before.
"Yes, Bobby, I am. She knows where I live. She's seen me use my gifts twice now, 
and I'm positive she was sent here by someone to discover my identity."
"How do you know that?"
"I'm not sure, I just am.” Which was true. I didn't have any ability to divine 
the future, like great-great Uncle Paul. But the way she was acting—and 
reacting—made me positive. And her eyes. Her eyes convinced me. I told Bobby as 
much.
"Okay, then,” he said, committing to my decision. “We'll go with your plan. Just 
be careful, okay?"
I laughed, even though I didn't feel like it. “I always am, Bobby. If everything 
goes well, I'll see you at the mansion in an hour."
"And if it doesn't?"
"Bye, Bobby,” I replied, ignoring the question and its answer. “See you in an 
hour.” I hung up.
I left my room and walked to the living room. It was fully night now, but we 
still hadn't turned on our lights. Francis was standing by the window, peering 
out.
"Still there?” I asked.
"Uh-huh,” he replied. Murray O'Kiefe, our downstairs neighbor, stood at the 
cart, facing somewhat to the left, and talking to Big Marie. That was the tipoff 
as to where Mrs. Williams was.
"Okay.” I put my hand on the doorknob. “I suppose I'd better go."
"Carlita,” Francis said. He came and gave me a big hug. The kid was almost as 
strong as I was. He kissed me on the cheek and looked into my blue eyes, his own 
dark eyes misty. “Be careful, please, big sister."
"Hey, runt” I smiled, wiping his tears away. “This is probably nothing. Just a 
rude, nosey lady from the States. I'll get this straightened up and everything 
will be fine."
He wiped his own eyes. “Then how come..."
"Just in case,” I said, tapping his chest with my finger. “Just in case only. 
You got that, little bro'?” He nodded and smiled. He was a good kid. I kissed 
him on the forehead, then left.
The night's festival was in full swing, but anyone who'd been to festival could 
feel an undercurrent of tension in tonight's celebration. I wished my friends 
only good, and it was so reassuring to have them now.
I passed by Big Marie's cart, not saying a word. We'd talked about this earlier, 
before I went home. I'd take flight and lead Mrs. Williams away to a quiet spot 
where we could talk. Hopefully, that's all it would be. I hated using my 
abilities to harm or manipulate innocent people.
I'd walked about half a block when there came a series of loud pops. Murray had 
lit a dozen strings of firecrackers and the crowd was gathering around, led by 
the locals.
I jogged through the rushing people, and got free. That instant was the best, 
before anyone had a chance to think about anything except the firecrackers. The 
breeze was in my face. Behind me, smoke would be blowing into the eyes of those 
looking my way. Pops and snaps of light trailed at my feet and I jumped into the 
air.
Exhilaration washed over me as I became weightless. A moment only, or I would be 
blown backward. I wrested control from the puff of wind and rose into the air. 
But not too fast, nor too high. Tonight I had an audience. An audience of one.
I lifted to one hundred feet, continuing to let my trail sparkle slightly. 
Otherwise I'd be too difficult to see even at that low altitude.
Swinging northward, I faced the hills rearing up in front of me. I ascended 
them, carelessly neglecting to account for the rising ground. Within a minute, 
my altitude was a mere fifty feet.
Coming to a stop in midair, I acted as though I was lost or undecided as to 
where to go. Finally, I went back up to one hundred feet and flew quickly up the 
street I was positive Mrs. Williams was following me.
I flew quickly for a few seconds, then released myself to the breeze. Instantly, 
I became weightless and could change direction without having to slow down. I 
did an about face, took back my flight, and dove at the street.
And there she was.
I flew straight at her, but came out of my flat position and went back to my 
standing position. It was less threatening, I'd discovered. I didn't want to 
terrify Mrs. Williams, even though that's what she was doing to Francis and me. 
I just wanted to give her something long and hard to think about before she 
talked about this night to anyone.
Caught, she came to a stop and bent over. She'd been running uphill to stay with 
me, just like I'd planned. I closed in, less than two hundred feet from and 
fifty feet above her. She gave a couple more puffs, stood quickly, then raised 
her right arm, her palm facing toward me.
Instant knowledge flooded me and I swerved. A bright blue bolt of energy erupted 
from her hand and thundered past me!
I picked up speed and altitude, dodging as I went, not daring to look behind me. 
The sparkles that marked my flight path stopped, something I could do when 
concentrating. I'd always worried something like this would happen. For twelve 
generations my family had enjoyed our gifts. It seemed impossible we were the 
only ones to be so blessed. That everyone would use their abilities for good 
also seemed impossible.
I reached 500 feet, snapped north, and looked back at the ground. Just as I did, 
another bolt of blue shot up at me. I didn't even have to dodge. Apparently, 
Mrs. Williams didn't have night vision. And despite the nearly full moon, I was 
hard to see. That was the good news.
The bad news was that the next bolt she fired came from beneath me, and this one 
I did have to dodge. I'd come to a stop to locate her, but even still was a 
half-mile ahead of her. Now she'd caught up in two or three seconds. Such speed! 
And on the ground! I realized then that her huffing and puffing had been an act 
to lure me in. This was trouble. A great deal less confident than I'd been 
seconds earlier, I continued north.
We played this game of tag for another thirty minutes, with me working us toward 
the north shore. Less property to damage. And the trees blocked a lot of her 
shots. Once at the shore, I swung east. I could keep heading out to sea—I had no 
restrictions to the island or anything—but I didn't want to lose her. Tonight I 
wanted to find out more about her.
We worked our way east. I knew where I was going and hoped she didn't.
Sure enough. Twenty minutes later we reached the Zimmerman home, and Mrs. 
Williams still didn't seem oriented.
We were just south of the Zimmerman's. She ran to the top of a thirty-foot, 
rocky ridge, and started firing. A bolt passed by close enough to send tingles 
through me and I let out a burst of sparks. I dropped my power, but refused the 
wind's, and plummeted to the ground, directly east of her location, along the 
ridge.
As the ground rushed up, I suddenly surrendered to the breeze. My weight 
disappeared and the breeze pushed me upward. I went to flight and was skimming 
along the ridge, racing right at her, in less than two heartbeats.
She'd started moving toward where I'd “crashed” and but skidded to a halt. Now 
it was time to turn the tables. Rather, tip them over. For Mrs. Williams had no 
way of knowing that the ridge she now stood on had been built by me only 
yesterday.
Her hand came up, and I dropped the ridge ten feet. She waved her arms to gain 
balance and sent a bolt skyward, far away from me. I dropped the rock even 
lower, then arched a large piece over her head. She was now stuck in my freshly 
made crag, unable to use her speed. I floated over her, keeping the rock between 
us.
"The rock above your head, Mrs. Williams, is held in place by me. If I am killed 
or knocked unconscious, it will fall down on top of you. Do you understand?"
There came some quiet words—probably language inappropriate for a lady—and then 
she answered. “Yes” She sighed. “I understand. I won't attack you."
"Thanks. Can we talk?"
"Are you going to let me out of here?"
"No."
She sighed again. “All right. Let's talk. Can't you make it a little less tight, 
at any rate?"
I floated down beside her, just out of her reach, on the south side of the 
ridge, toward their half-built mansion.
"No."
"You know,” she accused, “you don't much act like an angel."
"I'm not your angel."
She chuckled.
"All right. I deserved that. But you are the Angel of St. Thomas, aren't you?"
I nodded slowly.
"I am. Who are you? And why are you on my island, threatening the peace of my 
people?"
"Your island? Your people?” she said sarcastically. “Kind of puffed up for a 
kid, aren't you?"
"It is my island to protect,” I replied. “They are my people to serve. As my 
family has for three centuries. Now answer my questions or I'll seal you up and 
fetch the police."
"All right! Sheez, you're pushy.” I said nothing, and she continued. “My name is 
Wanda Overton and I'm from the States. I wanted to talk to you, but not like 
this. Will you set me free?"
"No."
She nodded, a hard glint to her eye. “Okay, angel. We'll do this the hard way."
Her hand slipped into her jacket, then flipped out. A blue ball flew from her 
hand toward the house. It hit once...
A ball! I went straight down after the ball. It was happy to see me, ‘cause it 
bounced up high. I swooped at it with a laugh and snatched the ball out of 
midair. Still laughing, I soared into the sky, happy, happy, happy! I...
Something bright hit me hard in the body. It threw me at the house and I crashed 
into a second floor wall, the ball flying free. It was drywall and cracked when 
I hit it, saving me some pain. I fell to the floor, coughing and gasping for 
air. No act, this. When flying, I had some protection. And I could affect the 
gravities around me to form a shield whenever needed. But they'd hit me at the 
worst time; chasing a ball with my guard down.
They?
Even as I thought it, I knew it to be true. I stood up, too shaky to take 
flight, and looked at the ridge.
Mrs. Williams should have been crushed to death in the rock. But she wasn't. Mr. 
Williams was there, yanking large chunks loose and tossing them aside like beach 
balls. All the while, Mrs. Williams casually blasted more rock clear.
Eventually she was free, and they approached me, Mrs. Williams arriving in a 
blur while Mr. Williams flew over.
"Not bad for an untrained rookie,” she said, looking me over. “You played me 
pretty well, Carlita. But you should prepare for the unexpected. Of course, you 
weren't to know that Caesar here also had powers."
"No,” I admitted, coughing again. My breath was slowly coming back. “I didn't 
know that for sure. But you're wrong about a couple things."
"And what might those be, dear?” she smiled as she raised her hand toward me.
"I'm not a rookie.” I took another deep breath and bent over to cough again. 
This time I was faking it; I didn't want them to notice the black rectangles 
forming in the air behind them.
"No?"
"No. I've been on duty for ten years. Since I was seven."
"And the other thing, Carlita?” Mr. Williams asked. He was still hovering off 
the edge of the unwalled second floor.
"I did come prepared.” I jerked straight, and Francis released his rectangles.
Mrs. Williams fired at me, but the energy whipped back and was absorbed by the 
sheet of sheer black that enveloped her torso, pinning her arms to her side. I 
heard a heavy thump as Mr. Williams crashed to the ground. Apparently he 
couldn't stay aloft with ten gravities pressing down on him. Francis’ black 
force fields zoomed down and had him tied up like a market chicken in moments. 
He struggled briefly, then quieted. Francis stepped from the darkness, clutching 
his pen and sketchpad.
"Sorry I couldn't warn you, Sis,” he said. “Mrs. Williams, you'd better not 
fight it too much. My constructs have pretty sharp edges.” She took his advice 
and lay quiet as well.
"Mr. Williams showed up about twenty minutes ago,” he continued. “He figured out 
you two were coming, but not me."
"Or us,” came a voice from the stairs. A few grunts followed, then Bobby, Jeff 
and Betts carried Mr. Williams up the stairs. They plopped him beside Mrs. 
Williams. Betts turned on a work light and shone it on our two prisoners.
"Hey!” she said suddenly. “I know these guys!"
"Sure,” Bobby said. “Mr. and Mrs. Williams, our clients."
"No!” Betts said with excitement. “I mean, yeah. But I also recognize them from 
the States’ papers. They're Blue Lass and Strong Man, from that group, the 
Galactic Good Guys! They're both superheroes!"


Chapter Six 
Galactic Good Guys 
"No, we don't actually defend the entire galaxy,” Mr. Williams answered Francis 
after he'd released them. He smiled tolerantly, as though he'd heard the 
question many times before. “Just our corner of it."
"You mean, like the surrounding solar systems?” Francis asked excitedly. Being a 
person with special gifts—and a boy—he knew all about the Good Guys. “Is there 
alien life that close?"
"Umm...” Mr. Will—rather, Strong Man, hesitated. “I'm ... Not at liberty to say. 
You understand."
"Sure!” Francis said with a wink. “Probably a special code or something heroes 
have to know. Or maybe just corps members, huh?"
"Something like that,” Blue Lass said before turning to me. “The reason we're 
here, Carlita, is because of you."
"Me?” I said, surprised.
"Yes. We've decided to accept you into the Galactic Good Guys."
I blinked.
"You're kidding, right?"
"Not at all,” Strong Man said. “Blue Lass and I were sent here to test you and 
to see if you were truly the heroine the rumors had claimed you were."
"Yes,” Blue Lass continued with a smile. “And I'm happy to see that they were 
all true. The others will be pleased."
"Others?” I said weakly. “You mean more of you are coming?"
"Indeed,” Strong Man rumbled powerfully, “Stone Man, Wind Lass, Bumble Bee. 
They're all coming."
"Cool!” Francis exclaimed, a grin from ear to ear.
I could see that Bobby, Jeff and Betts didn't think it was cool. Neither did I. 
Time to put a stop to this.
"Listen, Blue Lass. Strong Man. I'm flattered. Really, I am. But my life is 
dedicated to keeping St. Thomas safe. I'm the twelfth generation of my family to 
have this trust. I travel to St. Croix and St. John's. I even keep an eye on the 
British Virgin Isles. But my home and duties are here. I can't leave."
"I don't understand,” Blue Lass said, her tone cooling. “Are you saying your 
powers are limited to here? Or just that you're afraid to leave the safety of 
the islands?"
"Oh, get real!” Bobby broke in. Blue Lass stared at him in surprise. “Don't you 
get it? There's been an Angel of St. Thomas for three centuries. Most of us know 
the stories, though we don't share them with outsiders. But we know there's 
nothing safe about these islands. Blackbeard had his home here. Bluebeard, too. 
We're the number one target for hurricanes every year. There's been slavery, 
smuggling, wars, and criminals aplenty on St. Thomas over the past three hundred 
years. And there's always been an Angel to protect the innocent and save those 
lost at sea.
"Carlita can no more leave us than we can live without her. Her mother died for 
us. Her great-aunt, too. Eleven, in all. Never question her resolve to fight for 
what's right!” Bobby squared off, as did Jeff, Betts and even Francis. I 
blushed, but stepped in front of them.
"I'm sorry you came all the way out here.” I waved at the mansion. “And I'm 
sorry you had to spend so much money as a way to get to me, only to have me turn 
you down. But I'm staying."
"We don't give up easily,” Blue Lass said. “Your superpowers over rock are a 
perfect component to add to our force. And while we don't know what your upper 
limits are, what you've shown so far is sufficient. So, too, your skill at 
flight."
"Please, Carlita,” Strong Man added. “Reconsider and join us."
"No."
"Hmmm ... This is going to be harder than I thought,” she admitted. “Once the 
others get here we'll discuss sweetening the job offer. In the meantime..."
"In the meantime, please leave us alone.” I was getting tired and a little 
annoyed at this.
"The Galactic Good Guys always reach their goals,” Strong Man declared. “You 
will join us, Carlita, and you will..."
I'd had enough of this. Stepping up, I looked Blue Lass square in the eye.
"What do you think you should do?” I asked her, looking deep beyond her eyes. 
Sparkles appeared around my own eyes. Her mouth opened, then closed. She blinked 
once, then stared back.
"I think I should find the best chocolate sundae on the island and eat it,” she 
finally mumbled, sounding surprised at her own conviction. “Good bye.” She 
turned and raced off, only a blue afterimage remaining.
"Blue Lass!” Strong Man called after her. “What's wrong?” He turned back at me, 
anger in his voice and eyes “What did you do to her? Where is she going?"
I stepped up to him, bright blue eyes sparkling.
"Where do you think, Strong Man?"
He frowned at me, then his face softened as he lost his train of thought. “To 
bowl 300 at the alley. I think I will, too. See ya!” He turned and flew off.
"That was sneaky,” Bobby accused. “But funny."
I giggled. Apparently, the Good Guys didn't know about all my abilities. And 
they'd made some poor guesses at others.
"Well, they were getting kinda pushy."
"I dunno, Sis,” Francis said. He sounded a little disappointed. “They're the 
Galactic Good Guys, after all..."
"Yeah,” Betts said. “And those two are going to be plenty upset when they finish 
doing their little errands."
"I don't think so, Betts,” I replied. “I've done this lots of times, and they 
all seem pretty happy after they've had their harmless fun.” I laughed. “Though 
it may take Strong Man a while to bowl three hundred!"
We talked a while longer, but the others soon left, leaving only Francis and me. 
We walked down to the rocky shore and sat on a large boulder.
"Are you sure you're doing the right thing, Carlita?” he asked wistfully. “I 
mean, the Galactic Good Guys! You might have a chance to go to other planets! At 
least you'd see the rest of the world! And just think what it would be like in 
their satellite headquarters? Or their New York base? Or the Los Angeles one?"
"It does sound exciting,” I said, and looked up at the night sky. “Sometimes I 
wish I could go to the stars."
"Will you ever try?” Francis asked. “After all, you've never found an upper 
limit to either your speed or altitude. With the right equipment..."
"No, thanks, little bro'!” I said emphatically. “The time may come when I'll 
have to try the upper limits. But why risk it when I don't need to? Besides, 
there's not a whole lot that's going to affect our islands from outer space."
"Maybe an alien race?” he offered, almost hopefully.
"Maybe,” I said with a shrug. “If that happens, I'll call the Good Guys,” I 
added with a wink and a grin.
"Well, they do protect this corner of the galaxy,” Francis agreed with a laugh.
We sat quietly for a time after that, enjoying the night and the company. I 
looked at my little brother as he leaned back on his hands, swinging his feet 
over the boulder and staring out at the sea.
What was he thinking? I wondered. Was he thinking about our parents? Mom and Dad 
had been lost at sea ten miles north of here, not quite in sight of Tobago 
Island. I remembered the day so well, but Francis was only a year old. Did he 
miss them the way I did?
Or was he thinking about the future? Most of the time, there were a number of my 
family serving the island. As a family we were collectively called “the Angel", 
regardless of how many “angels” were serving. And there were normally several of 
us at a time. In fact, over the past hundred years, there'd been only one Angel 
twice; Mom for three months after Uncle Johnny was killed, and me since she 
died. Maybe that was why the people took such good care of us. But even when 
Francis was old enough to start his duties, his gifts would be quieter, more 
defensive. Did he worry he'd be lost in my flashier abilities? A sudden thought 
came to me.
"You know, Francis, in a few years the Good Guys might be interested in you. Did 
you think about that?"
From his surprised look I could tell he hadn't. After a few moments, though, he 
shook his head.
"I don't think so, Carlita. I don't have the kind of abilities that are really 
useful in a group. Not like yours."
So he had been thinking about it.
"I think you're wrong, Francis,” I said, surprised at how much I believed it 
myself. “You're smart, stay calm under pressure, have great control over your 
rectangles, and you..."
"What about my teleporting? I'm lucky to survive every time I use it.” He shook 
his head in remembrance. “Like the last time. I ended up 150 feet in the air. If 
you hadn't been there...” He didn't finish.
"All right,” I agreed “Control over your teleport gift is flaky. And your 
clairvoyance is still sporadic. But so were your rectangles once. Just give it 
time. I'll bet by the time you're fifteen or sixteen, you'll be a top notch 
rookie for the Galactic Good Guys."
"Maybe,” he said. “But you know what, Sis? As excited as I am for you to think 
about joining them, I can't see myself leaving the island.” At my half smile, he 
grinned. “Okay, okay, I get the point. You're not ready to leave either."
"It's not so much as ‘ready to leave’ as it is, ‘want to stay'. I'm the Angel! 
How could a person want more? Except another Angel? And that's you, Francis, in 
a couple years."
He tossed a rock into the waves and watched it splash into the water. We didn't 
say anything more for a long time, and then it was time to go home. We got to 
our feet and brushed off.
I jumped into the breeze, caught flight, and went aloft. Circling around, I flew 
over Francis. He jumped up and grabbed my outstretched hands. I took away the 
Earth's pull on him and we rose into the air. By now, Blue Lass would be deep 
into her chocolate sundae and Strong Man would be bowling his head off. We could 
count on a safe and quiet trip home.
And so it was.


Chapter Seven 
Fire at the Unity Lodge 
With the mansion project suddenly canceled, there wasn't much need for me at the 
office. I went in, but spent only two hours calling our suppliers and 
subcontractors to let them know we were out of work for a while. They were 
disappointed but accepting; TomCon had collected our fees in advance from the 
“Williams", so everybody was paid up to date, including us. Good, because I 
needed the money. Bad, because I still hadn't saved up enough to see us through 
the school year, which was less than two months away. I hoped I wouldn't have to 
work full time when classes started. I didn't have my Aunt Beth's special gift 
of never needing sleep. On the other hand, neither did I have her quirk of 
having to be buried to the neck in sand every month.
So with nothing to do except my “other job"—the one that didn't pay—Francis and 
I showed up at the police station nice and early.
Officer Kent was on desk duty. The gang—there were only a dozen of them—all took 
turns at the desk. He gave us a big grin and friendly wave. It wasn't like he 
had anything to do; even the criminals on St. Thomas slept in late every 
morning.
"Good morning, Carlita!” he said with a huge smile. “Morning, Francis!"
"Morning, Officer Kent!” Francis said cheerfully. “Anything happen overnight?"
"Not much. We had four tourists come in complaining about a pickpocket. There 
was a trash fire over at the 99 Steps, but Bud and Jim had it out in just a 
couple minutes.” Bud was the Fire Chief for the island, and Jim the only full 
time firefighter. Everyone else was a volunteer, including me.
"Can I fix some breakfast for everyone?” Francis asked. I sometimes wondered if 
his cooking ability was a gift.
"Believe me, Francis,” Officer Kent said, “you never have to ask that!” He 
buzzed us through the security door.
Francis headed to the kitchen, while I walked over to the radio counter and 
swapped out my radio for a fresh one. Having an angel wasn't any good if you 
couldn't reach her, so I always carried a police radio.
"We just got in a new model, Carlita,” he said helpfully. “Look in the lower 
drawer. The Lieutenant wanted me to make sure you got one."
Curious, I opened the drawer and inspected the new ones. Nice. The earphone and 
mic clung to the cheek. Three of them matched the dark brown of my Carib skin. I 
raised one and looked questioningly at Officer Kent.
"Yep,” he said with a nod “Those were ordered special for you. We feel real 
uncomfortable when you shut off your radio."
"I have to,” I explained, “if I'm to have any chance of spooking the bad guy. If 
he saw the headset, he'd know I was just another person."
"Believe me, Carlita,” he said dryly, “you'll never be ‘just another person'."
"Well, maybe not". I laughed and tried it on. It used a wireless headset, so I 
could put the radio anywhere on me and not get caught up on the wire. I shoved 
it into the bottomless depths of my blue denim purse.
"How's this?” I asked Officer Kent.
He narrowed his eyes and inspected me from ten feet. He finally nodded.
"I think I can just see it. But I know to look for it. I think it'll work great, 
Carlita."
"Great! I don't mind telling you that I'm a little nervous turning off my radio. 
This'll make all of us feel better."
The door chimed as it opened. I looked to see who it was, then ducked down 
quickly when I saw it was an off-islander. There was nothing really unusual with 
somebody like me being behind the counter. But it was always better to avoid 
explanations when possible.
"Good morning, sir!” Officer Kent said cheerfully. “May I help you?"
"Yes, thank you.” He had a very thick States accent. Maybe Boston or someplace 
like that. “I'd like to speak to the Angel of St. Thomas. Could you contact her 
for me, please?"
"Sir?” Officer Kent had gotten this question before. They all had. And everyone 
had the perfect response.
"The Angel. I wish to speak to her."
"I'm sorry, sir,” he said slowly, “but there is no Angel of St. Thomas. It's an 
island legend that dates back..."
"Three hundred years. Yes, yes. I've heard all the surprised denials, all the 
colorful explanations. The people of St. Thomas seem quite determined to keep 
her reality their secret. But I know she exists. When you see Carlita, tell her 
that Benjamin Frost was looking for her. Understand, officer?"
"Sir, I'm not sure what to say. I ... Sir!” Another chime and the man was gone.
"Clear, Carlita,” he said in a low tone. “Who was that guy?"
"I don't know,” I said honestly. I pointed at the security monitor mounted 
beneath the desk. “May I see the tape?"
"Sure.” Officer Kent backed up the tape and played it.
Mr. Frost was an older man, maybe in his sixties. True to his name, he had black 
hair that seemed frozen in place by streaks of white. He was well built and had 
a craggy, handsome face, and walked with a slight limp. I'd never seen him 
before.
I shook my head. “I don't know him or his name. Wait.” I thought of something. 
Going to the kitchen doorway, I called out to Francis. He showed up holding a 
large pan and wearing an apron. I asked him about the strange man.
"Sure, I know who he is!” he said. I had a sinking feeling he might.
"Let me guess,” I said. “A Galactic Good Guy."
"The Icicle,” he said with a nod. “He's one of the founders. Does some pretty 
cool stuff with ice formations.” He grinned. “No pun intended."
"Wonderful,” I said, turning back to Officer Kent. “The Galactic Good Guys are 
trying to recruit me and they won't take no for an answer."
"How do they know you, Carlita?” he asked.
"The mansion project. Our ‘Mr. and Mrs. Williams’ were really Strong Man and 
Blue Lass. I don't know how they'd gotten suspicious to begin with, but I am a 
pretty open secret here."
"Maybe you need to change that,” he suggested. “Go more undercover."
I shook my head. “It would only make people more curious. Better to have 
thousands of people covering me than one mask. Besides,” I added to get the mood 
happier, “can you just imagine what a mask would do to my tan?"
He looked at me and chuckled. Like most people on the island, I was descended 
from Carib, African, and Dutch blood, so my complexion was pretty “tan” to begin 
with. Officer Kent was no different. If anything, his skin was darker than mine.
"You're right, Carlita. And just think how tan lines would ruin the whole 
‘Angel’ mystique.” We laughed.
The emergency line sounded right then, cutting off our conversation. Officer 
Kent picked up the line while I fished out my radio and clipped it to my jeans.
"St. Thomas 911,” he said crisply. “What is the location and nature of the 
emergency?"
He started scribbling in the logbook, then nodded at me. “A fire out of control 
at the Old Unity Lodge. Is everyone out?” He listened, then shook his head. 
“Three to six trapped inside? Please remain calm, Father. I'm sending the fire 
department right now.” A pause. “Yes, I think she'll be there first."
That's all I needed to hear. Shouting to Francis, I ran up the stairs to the 
second floor. Three off-duty officers were there, but they weren't bothered by 
my sudden appearance. In fact, they cheered me on. I ran up the stairs that took 
me to the roof. I did this a lot. Pushing the door open, I felt the breeze on my 
face. I caught flight and shot straight up to 1000 feet.
The Old Unity Lodge was northwest of the station, and I had no difficulty 
spotting it. Smoke poured from the windows and doors. There was a small knot of 
people outside at a safe distance, so I made for them. Behind me, I heard the 
fire sirens starting up.
I was spotted—probably looked for—as I swept to them. Rather than land, I 
hovered about five feet up.
"Do you know where they're trapped?” I asked no one in particular.
"Yes,” said one, a priest. “Down in the basement. We were working on the food 
drive when..."
"How many?” I interrupted. Seconds counted.
"At least three. Perhaps six. Most are elderly, but there were two or three 
young adults..."
I had what I needed and didn't wait for more. I'd been in most of the public 
buildings on the island, including the Lodge. It helped tremendously in the case 
of fire or late night crime.
I flew at the door and raised my gravity shields. They would keep me from 
getting burned too badly. I could also use the shields to protect the victims, 
provided I could find them. Since the door was already burned beyond redemption, 
I flew straight through it.
It was pure hell inside. Flames ate every surface, sparing nothing. I couldn't 
tell for sure, but it looked like it had been deliberately set. Not the time to 
worry about that, though. Once inside, I swung to my right and went down the 
stairs. I had maybe five minutes of air inside my shield. Less, once I included 
the people.
The stone staircase wound down, and I was in the basement. The fire had started 
here, without question. The heat was very intense, and the air was filled with 
smoke. The large room looked nothing like I remembered it. Then it was quaint. 
Now it was a nightmare.
I pushed on, looking everywhere. Seconds ticked away. Through the roar of the 
flames, I could hear the sirens approaching. I didn't want any of the 
firefighters to have to enter this inferno. I looked harder.
There were five of them, huddled together at the cellar door, either unconscious 
or dead. I couldn't take time to find out. Not that it mattered. I was bringing 
them all out.
That they were at the cellar door was good. Hovering over them, I carefully 
placed a skintight shield around them, one at a time, then expanded it out to 
join mine, giving them my relatively fresh air. Good. Now it was just a matter 
of blowing open the door and...
A loud crack broke through the roar, and the ceiling above our heads crashed 
down! I was caught completely off-guard, being intent on my charges. The beam 
hit me before I could remove all its weight, and I crashed to the floor, 
grounded.
The heat was beyond intense now, and I could feel it on my lungs. Someone 
started screaming, the shield's air having revived her. Rather than trying to 
quiet her, I instead focused on the burning beam and stonework we were trapped 
under.
I saw all the lines of gravity in our galaxy and how they pulled us. It was like 
looking through a vast web of glass strands. Some were thicker than others. The 
thickest was always Earth's. Everything had glass strands attached to them. The 
Good Guys had thought I controlled rock and had the ability to fly. I could fly, 
but I controlled a lot more than rock. What I did was control the forces of 
gravity, increasing and decreasing, eliminating, or even reversing whichever 
ones I wished.
No time for niceties. I removed the Earth's string and greatly enhanced the 
Sun's, which was in direct line of the cellar doors. No point in wasting good 
rubble, either. I also built a larger second shield to keep the floor above us 
from collapsing.
The stonework and beam rumbled, then slid off my inner shield. I hurled it at 
the cellar door as fast as I could. The mass slammed against the metal door and 
obliterated it. I immediately restored normal gravity and the rubble fell to the 
ground, fanning out as it hit.
"Everyone who's awake,” I yelled over the flames. “Grab an unconscious person!” 
I stooped and picked up an elderly woman, showing the others they weighed 
nothing. Literally. I saw some nods, and they followed my example. One trip 
only. Good. I led them out through the cellar.
Once outside, I lifted off and flew around to the waiting crowd. Already 
ambulances had arrived and the fire department was pumping water.
"There's another four wounded people on the other side!” I shouted, lowering my 
passenger onto a gurney. I pointed, and the paramedics ran around the inferno. I 
finally dropped my shields and almost passed out from fresh air that rushed into 
my lungs, giving me a coughing fit.
"Let's get you seen to,” the paramedic helping the elderly lady said to me. “The 
firefighters can handle it from here.” His gaze drifted to the right.
There were tourists! Here, at a fire! Three or four were looking at me. One was 
pointing. What business did they...
I cut off my mental tirade and nodded, still coughing.
"I'll be fine. But put me on a gurney,” I said in a low voice to the paramedic, 
“and take your time getting me to the ambulance, okay? I still have work to do.” 
And with that, I collapsed to the ground.
A clatter of equipment, and then I felt strong, confident hands move me to the 
gurney. A blanket went over my body, and an oxygen mask over my face. I opened 
my eyes and saw the paramedic drawing a needle. He winked at me.
"Just saline solution, Carlita,” he said quietly. “If we're going to have 
tourists, we may as well give them a show, hey, girl?” He flashed me a smile.
He put the needle in my arm, and injected me, then waved at another paramedic.
"I've got her sedated and stabilized, but we have to get her to the hospital, 
stat!"
The gurney rose up and they wheeled me around. I turned my head and looked at 
the Lodge. It would be impossible for the firefighters to save any of it, it was 
so out of control. That's why I was here. And why my family had always been 
here.
There were strings on the flames as well. The higher they reached, the cooler 
the flames became. I freed them from the Earth's pull and subjected them to the 
pull of a red giant some twenty lightyears away. Only I made the distance 
between the flame strings and the star only a million miles apart. Meanwhile, I 
coated the entire lodge in an invisible gravity shield that kept the air out, 
but let heat escape.
"Look!” someone shouted. Gasps and startled voices came from the gathering 
crowd.
The flames of the Lodge suddenly reached hundreds of feet into the bright blue 
Caribbean sky, then flashed out of existence with a “whoosh!"
The gurney clacked against the back of the ambulance and the wheels swung up as 
it and I slid into place. I kept the shields on the lodge for as long as 
possible. Without warning, sleepiness poured over me. The strings snapped back 
to normal, but the firefighters were in control. The paramedic who'd given me 
the injection got in beside me and smiled again. The doors banged shut and the 
ambulance moved off.
"You jerk,” I mumbled, half grateful and half angry. “That really was a 
sedative."
"Sorry, Carlita. I wanted to tell you, but knew you'd only fight it.” I nodded. 
“And you've some bad burns. At least, bad enough to need treatment. I was 
willing to wait an extra minute for you to put out the flames, but no more. You 
did a great job, Carlita, saving those people and what's left of the lodge. But 
now let us do our job and take care of you.
"You deserve it."


Chapter Eight 
Benjamin Frost 
I spent the next four days in the hospital, recovering from my burns. 
Fortunately, I was a quick healer. Not a gift, not in the way my abilities were, 
but something that had run in my family for generations. It was a blessing, 
seeing how often we stepped into places best avoided.
Francis was a constant visitor, bringing in meals for both me and the nurses in 
the wing. The firefighters had all chipped in some money so Francis could cook 
to his heart's content. Believe me, nobody complained!
By the second day, I was up and moving around, visiting people, talking to them 
and signing autographs. I did tricks for the kids, floating objects and 
showering sparkles. I even caught a breeze from an open window once and was able 
to fly around the children's ward. There were plenty of rods and tubes and 
things, and the ceiling was kinda low, so I went slowly. They loved it, though, 
and I was glad to have something to do.
One thing I was glad I didn't have to do was answer questions. Reporters always 
stayed away, respecting my privacy. Whenever one did want to interview me, he or 
she was polite, and never wrote anything that would give away my name. And 
nowhere did it ever say that there really was an Angel of St. Thomas. I knew 
that reporters from elsewhere were quite different. Privacy meant nothing to 
many of them, only the story. But on the Virgin Islands, blood and family ran 
far deeper than ink. Again, a blessing.
Neither was I bothered by anyone from the Good Guys. I don't know whether by 
choice, because they'd lost track of me, or because the hospital was good at 
covering up my presence. But it was a pleasant four days.
Yet all good things, as the saying goes, must come to an end. I was getting 
antsy, anyway. Francis and I made one more pass through the wing, saying our 
goodbyes, then left the hospital. I probably should have waited until nightfall, 
then flown home unseen, but I let my guard down. Maybe that was why the Good 
Guys had left me alone.
Sure enough, Benjamin Frost was outside the main doors, waiting for me. He was 
sitting on a bench, reading the VI Daily News. Beside him were a dozen more 
copies.
"Good morning, Carlita,” he said pleasantly, folding his paper closed. “Hello, 
Francis."
"Good morning,” I replied with a small smile, as if not recognizing him. “Nice 
day today, isn't it?"
"Very,” he answered, then gave me a small smile of his own. “Before I went into 
the police station last week, I was at the small cafe across the street. I saw 
both of you enter the station that morning, about ten minutes before I followed. 
The time of my entrance was not by chance. I even saw you hide near the radios, 
Carlita. Still, formal introductions are always proper.” He smiled again, stood, 
and gave a short bow with his head. “My name is Benjamin Frost, from Searsport, 
Maine, and I am requesting an audience with the Angel of St. Thomas and her 
brother, Francis."
What could I say? Denial was the automatic response. But it was pretty foolish 
to make a denial after I'd already admitted my abilities to his friends. A growl 
in my stomach told me the right course of action.
"Okay, Mr. Frost,” I said. “Buy us lunch and I'll talk."
"Thank you,” he said simply. “Shall we walk?"
To my relief, we went to the same cafe he'd watched the police station from. 
Nonetheless, I held Francis’ hand pretty tightly. This was an unexpected tactic. 
For whatever reason, I hadn't thought they'd use discussion to pursue me.
The waitress gave us a big smile and seated us right away in the half-filled 
restaurant. As we looked over our menus, he started conversation.
"I'm surprised, but very pleased, that you came with me.” He chuckled. “After 
the easy way you handled Wanda and Caesar, I thought I might have my hands 
full."
"What do you want from us, Mr. Frost?” I asked.
"A good question. Please, allow me time to give a good answer.” He set his menu 
down and motioned to the waitress. “But first, some lunch!"
* * * *
"I've been able to put together most of your family's history, Carlita,” Mr. 
Frost started again while we waited for dessert. “It wasn't easy. Fortunately, 
there are a number of islanders who know and trust me. They felt they could 
confide in me and know I'd keep their trust."
"And have you?"
"If by that you mean, have I kept my knowledge from others, then the answer is 
yes,” he said. “Not even the Good Guys have been told a single word."
"Why?” I asked, very curious. Francis, too, was listening closely.
"Tell me, Carlita,” he asked, seemingly ignoring my question. “How old were you 
when you realized you had extraordinary gifts?"
"I don't see how..."
"I was four,” he said. “I'm seventy-two years old now. I have known about my 
heat stealing abilities for sixty-eight years.
"I'll never forget the day I discovered them. My parents, older three sisters 
and I were coming to America from our eastern European homeland. We came by 
boat, since it was the only way my father could afford passage.
"The six of us were in steerage, crammed into one cabin. I slept on the floor so 
my sisters could have the top bunk, while my parents shared the lower bunk.” He 
drew a deep breath and let it out. “We were poor, but what an adventure! It was 
all a young boy like myself could hope for!"
His face drifted from happy to sad in the next heartbeats.
"The adventure ended three nights out. The ship caught fire. It was a nightmare! 
By the time I woke up, the cabin was filled with smoke and the cabin's wooden 
door was charred. I could see flames in the cracks where the door had warped."
Francis and I listened intently. I could feel the pain in his words, almost feel 
the heat of that awful night.
"I got up right away and tried to wake my parents and sisters” He broke for a 
moment and closed his eyes. “I couldn't. They were all dead. It was then I 
realized I'd been saved only because I'd slept on the floor, where smoke hadn't 
reached me.
"But my salvation seemed only temporary. The door was burning now, and I had no 
way to escape, since we had no porthole. I sat on the floor next to the bed and 
stared at the door, wishing more than anything the fire would go away. How I 
hated it!” He took a sip of his coffee.
"I passed out shortly afterwards and don't remember much more. I awoke the next 
day in a lifeboat, along with twenty or so other survivors. They stared at me 
and made me sit in the front of the boat. They all took turns watching me. No 
one spoke to me, and they only grudgingly gave me food and water. I was too 
young to ask why they were treating me that way. It wasn't until several months 
later, during the inquiry, that I found out I was the one blamed for the sinking 
of the ship."
"You?” Francis blurted out. “I don't believe it! How could you have done 
something horrible like that? They were liars!"
Mr. Frost smiled at him.
"Thank you, Francis, for your confidence.” Another sip of coffee. “I only wish 
it was true, that I hadn't sunk the ship.
"At first, I didn't believe it. Like you, Francis, I couldn't believe I was 
capable of such a deed. But for a different reason. You believe me unable to do 
such an act because of the ‘hero’ status I enjoy, don't you?” We both nodded. “I 
was no hero then. Just a scared little boy. How could I know if I were capable 
of evil or not?” He set down his coffee cup and folded his hands in front of his 
face. I could see how much it hurt him to go on. But I didn't stop him because I 
also felt how much he had to go on.
"My terror of the flames awoke my inner powers. Most people think that I have 
power over cold. Nonsense! There's no such thing as cold! It's all a question of 
molecular vibration that determines ‘heat’ or ‘cold'. The slower the molecules 
of an object vibrate, the ‘colder’ it is. Therein lies my ability I remove heat 
by slowing the rate at which molecules vibrate.” A flicker of a smile. “Still, 
it's simpler to be known as The Icicle than it is The Gentleman Who Steals Heat 
From Things, so I allow the inaccurate nomenclature to continue. But I digress.
"When the fire ripped through our cabin door and began eating at the bunks where 
my dead family lay, a burning sensation seized me. Thinking the heat was eating 
me as well, I gave up and surrendered to the flames.
"In doing so, I conquered them. The flames did indeed attack me. But they 
vanished even as they touched me! I could control heat! But I could not control 
the power."
"What happened?” I whispered.
He shrugged. “It was then that I passed out. But the cause of the ship's sinking 
was not fire. The witnesses maintained, the court of inquiry determined, and 
after years of personal research and soul-searching I must painfully admit, that 
the ship was pulled beneath the waves by the sheer weight of the ice that 
covered every square inch of the ship."
"But ice floats,” Francis objected. “It's less dense than water."
"True enough,” Mr. Frost agreed “But ice is far more dense than air A ship 
remains afloat because of the amount of water it displaces with air. When that 
air is in turn displaced by water or ice, the ship will sink. And while water is 
denser than ice, it also flows off. Ice does not. Accumulated ice is one of the 
greatest dangers to ships. And because of my lack of control, the ship my family 
and I—and hundreds of innocent travelers and sailors—was on, sank."
"But how could they know it was you, Mr. Frost?” I asked quietly. I had to blink 
away tears.
"I was saved by a brave man—a father from another family on our deck who risked 
his life to check all the cabins—who found me and carried me to safety.” He 
looked away briefly, and it was obvious his thoughts drifted back to that 
moment. “He saved my life, and I thanked him poorly. By the time he was able to 
get me onto the lifeboat, his hands, arms, and left side of his face, where he 
held me to protect me from breathing too much smoke, were badly frostbitten. And 
the three people on the boat who handled me before I awoke were also 
frostbitten, though thankfully all three could be treated without resorting 
to...” He paused, then finished. “Without resorting to amputation."
I couldn't think of anything to say. Neither could Francis. We simply sat there 
quietly with him, hoping he would tell us a happy ending, but knowing he 
couldn't.
"After the investigation and their conclusions, I was sent to an orphanage, and 
nothing was said about that night or my powers. Or so I was told. As the years 
drifted by and no one adopted me, it became apparent that was not the case. 
Those in charge of the orphanage had been told, and they dared not risk allowing 
me to ever leave.
"I did leave, when I turned sixteen. I'd been practicing my control over my heat 
stealing and had reached a point where I felt it was complete.” He smiled wryly. 
“It wasn't, but that's another story.
"Anyway, I joined the circus as ‘The Living Icicle’ I was in a freak show and 
made do for several years. It was there that I met two more ‘freaks’ like 
myself, Hank and Beth Winslow."
"Iron Works and Dream Catcher,” Francis said, nodding enthusiastically. “That 
was the beginning of Freedom Squad. You three, and Laser later on, were a great 
team!"
"Laser.” Mr. Frost chuckled with honest humor. I relaxed. He seemed to have come 
to a better time in his life. “Richard Gilmore. Did you know, Francis, that 
Richard hated the name Laser? Thought it was childish indulgence. He just wanted 
to be called Richard. It took us all our skills to convince him he needed a 
moniker with more ... persuasion."
"That's why my family has always used ‘The Angel of St. Thomas',” I volunteered. 
“Partly because that's what our people named us, but also because it both calms 
the innocent and makes the guilty feel weak.” I smiled. “Sometimes."
"Therein lies the challenge, yes?” he agreed. “To use as little force as needed 
to render justice. You and I, Carlita, are—and one day you, Francis, will 
be—vigilantes. Citizens who appear at the scene of a crime or disaster and try 
to make things right."
"Well,” I admitted, “I'm actually an official member of both the St. Thomas 
police and fire forces. My mom was, too. I also have some police training and 
firefighter certification. It helps a lot."
"You are a joy, young lady!” he said, laughing openly. “Never have I seen one so 
young with such a firm grasp of her purpose and place. Any reservations I had 
about you are swept away!"
"Thank you, Mr. Frost,” I said, sad our conversation had to come to an end. But 
I could see where this was leading. “I can honestly say it would be an honor 
serving with you. Both Francis and I would learn so much from you. But my place 
is here, on the island of St. Thomas. I cannot abandon my people, any more than 
you could leave your family. My soul is here, Mr. Frost. I speak for my brother 
as well. At least, at this stage in his life. Like I told the others, I must 
decline joining the Galactic Good Guys."
"The Galactic Good Guys?” He seemed genuinely surprised. “Dear girl, why in the 
world would I counsel you to join that bunch of puffed shirts and pompous 
peacocks? They are a group of short-sighted people unable to properly grasp what 
you and Francis so easily do: What your purpose is.
"Join them? I should say not! My purpose in coming to the island, Carlita, was 
to make sure you and Francis were prepared for the lives you have and to 
convince you both to stay here!"


Chapter Nine 
Trouble In Threes 
"Would you care for any more chicken, Mr. Frost?” We'd spent the afternoon with 
Mr. Frost, and had come back to our apartment for dinner. As always, Francis 
cooked. He'd prepared one of his best chicken meals, using fresh fruit, a splash 
of rum (never mind how we got it!), and one of the chickens I'd bought from Sir 
Hector.
"Why, yes, Francis, I believe I will,” Mr. Frost replied. Francis, beaming at 
serving his hero dinner, dished out another portion, then offered me a second 
helping.
"No thanks, little bro! If I eat anymore, I may not be able to fly!” I laughed.
"Tell me, Carlita,” Mr. Frost said between bites, “how do you balance your 
everyday life with your superhero life?"
"It's easier for me than it was for you, Mr. Frost,” I answered. “Which reminds 
me. I told the guys I'd be online tonight."
"'The guys'?” he asked.
"Uh-huh. The precinct and firehouse.” I pulled out my new radio and put it on, 
carefully laying the cling mike along my cheek. “There. How's that?"
"Looks good, Sis!"
"Very sophisticated, Carlita” Mr. Frost nodded. “That's a police radio, I take 
it?"
"Yup. When a crime or fire happens, I want to be there."
"Very commendable. And I'm sure the flying helps."
"Unless she sees a ball in play,” Francis said with a grin. I rolled my eyes and 
giggled.
"I'm sorry?” Mr. Frost said. “I don't understand."
I explained to him my weakness for chasing balls when I was in flight. Instead 
of laughing, though, he became very serious.
"Carlita, how many people know of this?"
"The island people,” I replied. “And I suppose all the Good Guys do now, too. 
Blue Lass used it against me when we fought last week."
"This can become a problem, Carlita,” he said. “You're going to need to..."
"Uh, gotta wait, Mr. Frost!” I interrupted suddenly, putting a hand to my ear. 
Habit. The radio reception was great. I listened for a moment, nodding my head.
"Got it! I'm on my way, Lieutenant!” I looked at them. “Just got a call. There's 
a maniac in a rental car, racing dangerously in town."
"May I come?” Mr. Frost asked, standing.
"Sure!” I yelled over my shoulder as I raced to the door. “I can't take you, 
though! Takes too long for first timers to get used to it! Catch up, okay?"
"I'll be along presently,” he called after me.
There was a friendly wind blowing across our porch and I didn't have any time, 
so I jumped off the top step and took flight, accelerating and ascending 
quickly. It was a small risk: off-islanders rarely looked up and anyway wouldn't 
believe their eyes.
"I'm airborne, Lieutenant,” I said in the mike. “What's his location?"
"Westbound on Main Street, at Guttets Gade, Carlita. He's gotta be doing at 
least sixty. Cars Two and Three were chasing him, but stopped after the suspect 
clipped several merchandise carts."
"Anyone hurt?” I picked up my speed, scanning the town below. There was a flash 
of sunlight off glass. It was the car. “I got him!"
"Roger. Nobody hurt yet, but it's only a matter of time."
"I know. Do you know anything about the driver? How many occupants? Why he's so 
reckless? Anything?"
"Sorry, but no. Our first indication was when he took out a vendor's cart on 
Hibiscus Alley."
"Okay. I guess we'll ... Wait! He's turning onto Highway 30, still heading 
west.” I thought a quick second, then decided. “Lieutenant, notify the airport 
I'm pushing the car over there. Less chance of damage and injury."
"Gotcha. Take care, Carlita. Lewis out."
I was directly over the car now, about fifty feet above it. Since I didn't want 
them to spot me, I was following the road. Time to stop this guy. I'd try the 
easy way first.
I concentrated, and the gravity lines appeared. Like a puppeteer, I only needed 
to pull the right ones and the car would come to a controlled stop. Tugging on 
the planet's strings that held the car to the road, I gently guided the vehicle 
slightly into the air. At the same time I increased the tug of gravity on the 
car's rear. The engine began straining, but the car slowed down to maybe thirty 
miles per hour. Good. I pulled up on the car some more. The engine went from 
straining to racing as the wheels left the ground. The driver quickly slowed the 
engine. So far, so good.
The driver's hand appeared, holding a ball! I immediately turned my head, 
looking north, to the mountains. A count of ten and I looked back down. The hand 
had withdrawn. Suddenly, a woman's head appeared from the passenger's side. Next 
her arms. She turned up toward me and began waving her arms.
A whap of a bullet, followed by the boom of a gun. The driver was firing at me! 
I pressed gravity on his gun hand, but he managed to pull it inside without 
dropping the gun. The woman, looking terrified, also slipped back into the car. 
I would have to assume she was a hostage, then.
"Lieutenant, the driver appears to have a hostage. A woman. He definitely has a 
gun; he fired it once at me. He also knows my weakness. I'm going to ... wait a 
sec.” The driver's hand reappeared, without the gun, and motioned to the ground. 
The threat was understood. “He wants me to release the car or he'll hurt her. 
Advise, please.” Inside, my stomach was churning.
"We've got another problem, Carlita,” came the Lieutenant's grim voice. “There's 
another crisis, two miles out and just called in. Pleasure craft on fire, three 
adults, six children on board without lifeboat or vests. Sinking imminent. You 
have to get to them!"
"Roger,” I said. I looked out over the harbor and saw smoke billowing up from a 
spot well beyond the breakwater.
Below was a car with a hostage. At sea, eight lives in danger of fire and 
drowning. Eight lives to one life, but how could I choose to abandon even the 
one?
"Carlita."
Not more!
"Yes, Lieutenant?"
"Trouble in threes. A small craft approaching King airport has called in a 
mayday. The pilot had a heart attack and none of the other three passengers can 
fly."
This was a nightmare, one in which there was no time to decide how to proceed. 
Whom did I save? I'd never had to deal with this much before.
"Okay,” I said, making my decisions. “Notify the airport fire services. Send a 
car out to where I am, and move some other ships to pick up the survivors of the 
boat. I'll slow down the boat, drop off the car, and go for the plane. Carlita 
out!"
No time for finesse. I seized the strings holding the car and ripped off the 
roof, tossing it beside the road. The gunman, his thoughts on me, pointed the 
gun up. I couldn't afford the time to dodge. Instead, I jerked him from the car 
and tossed him to the other side of the road, into some nasty looking bushes. I 
made sure the gun went further than he did.
"Turn the car off!” I shouted to the woman in the car while moving it and myself 
to the airport. Not paying attention to her, I looked out to sea, at the column 
of flame. This was going to be hard. It was a good three miles from where I was.
Reaching out, I worked at the strings surrounding the boat. I had to put out the 
fire, and keep the boat afloat. Releasing the Earth's string from the boat, I 
gave it sufficient buoyancy to stay afloat. Unfortunately, I couldn't do 
anything about the fire right now.
I turned my attention to the plane. It was coming in too low from the west. The 
plane was so canted that the starboard wing would hit the ground before even the 
landing gear had touched. That would put it into a tumble, I was sure.
I was over the airport now. I shouted to the woman to buckle up. She'd no sooner 
done so than I set the car down on a grassy patch of the runway. There were 
several jets on taxi, and support vehicles all over the place. So much for my 
identity staying a secret. I'd worry about that later.
Picking up speed, I raced to the oncoming plane. Someone on board was trying to 
line up the plane, which helped a little. Or so I hoped.
"Carlita!” came an excited voice over my radio.
"This is Carlita,” I replied, still making for the plane. It was going too slow 
and was now wobbling. “Who is this?"
"Jenkins, Air Control. That small plane is heading toward a departing jet!"
Great. I looked behind me. The jet was at the top of the runway. It wasn't 
moving, nor would it with an emergency. But if the small plane overshot the 
runway, they could collide on the ground.
I glanced one last time at the harbor, now four miles behind me and to my left. 
Smoke was still pouring out of the boat. I could keep it afloat, but only if it 
didn't burn to a crisp. I didn't even know what kind of fire it was. What to do?
My eyes were tearing up from frustration and I heard myself gasping, trying to 
hold myself together. Mother. How many times had she told me? “Carlita, you 
can't save every life. People are going to die. All we struggle to do is save 
those we can and not be destroyed by those we can't."
Okay. It was a foolish action, but it was all I had. I pushed a wave of water at 
the boat, while increasing the mass of the water around it. Anyone knocked 
overboard by the wave would...
The plane! The buzzing of the prop had become deafening, and I looked just in 
time to see it bearing down on me. Quickly, I dove under it, then swooped up and 
around the tail, coming to a landing on the overhead wing. No time to tell 
anyone anything. The ground was coming up fast.
The plane was near stalling speed, so I simply removed its weight. All of it. 
The plane pulled up sharply, and I applied gravity to the nose. Increasing the 
pull on the air going through the propellor, I was able to shut the engine down.
The wheels touched the runway and I braked it hard. I hope no one was hurt too 
badly, but the emergency vehicles were already approaching the plane. I waved at 
the firefighters, then took off, up and out to sea as fast as I could tolerate. 
Flying over the woman in the car, I could see she was safe. I glanced down the 
road for the man, but couldn't see him. There was a patrol car there, though.
I was approaching the boat when I saw a glorious sight. Mr. Frost had frozen the 
water around the boat, giving the people a safe place to run! He had joined 
them, having formed a walkway of ice across the harbor, and was keeping them 
calm. Relieved beyond words, I swept in and landed beside Mr. Frost.
"Thank you, Mr. Frost!” I started to say, but he held his hand up.
"Do you care to explain the reasons for your actions?” he demanded of the boat's 
occupants. It was only then that I looked at them.
It was Mr. and Mrs. Williams! Rather, Strong Man and Blue Lass. There was 
another man there, one I didn't recognize. The five children? Mannequins. Store 
dummies.
In a daze, I walked over to the dummies. I picked up a hand, then let it fall. 
Tricked. I should have been furious. I probably was. All I could feel, though, 
was a numbness wash over me. I turned to Blue Lass.
"Why?” was all I could say in a low voice.
"To demonstrate the power of teamwork, dear,” Blue Lass said sweetly. “Don't you 
see now, Carlita? Don't you see how much you need the Galactic Good Guys as 
teammates? Had these three events been real, people would have died."
Anger burned deep in me, a small, bright flame. I clenched my fists. I stared at 
each in turn.
"This was a test?” I asked quietly.
"Yes,” Strong Man said. “The two occupants in the car and Bumble Bee in the 
small plane are all Galactic Good Guys, here to see you perform."
"Perform,” I repeated. I took a step toward them.
"Carlita,” Mr. Frost cautioned me. “Don't. They may be bumbling fools, but 
they're powerful bumbling fools. And they are not evil. Just stupid."
"How dare you!” I shouted at them. “You risked the lives of my people, all for 
some test? How dare you!"
"We dare because we're the Galactic Good Guys,” Blue Lass replied smugly.


Chapter Ten 
Down Time 
The tableau remained as frozen as the ice floe we stood on. Blue Lass continued 
staring at me, as if to challenge. Strong Man was by her side, with the third 
man behind them. Mr. Frost was at my left.
"Carlita,” he said in a low tone, “let it go for now. We don't want to start a 
fight out here in the bay. There are too many innocents.” He motioned around the 
bay, where people were looking at us. Some in boats were approaching us.
"What's the matter, Frost?” the third man said. His voice reminded me of a 
snake. “Your little girl can't take it?"
"Oh, she can handle it, Victor. Just ask Wanda and Caesar. They underestimated 
her the first time, and now they've done so a second."
"This time I am with them,” Victor hissed ominously.
"And I am with her. Do you recall the last time we had a disagreement, Victor?"
It was clear from Victor's face he did recall, and it wasn't a pleasant memory.
"There will be another day,” Victor said. With that, he dove into the water and 
disappeared.
"You did well today, Carlita,” Strong Man said, trying to diffuse the mood. I 
guess he really was a good guy. I nodded, taking the out. There were now craft 
less than two hundred yards away, some with tourists. I needed to be gone.
"Don't give me anymore tests. I'm not joining.” I jumped lightly and caught the 
trades, rising to twenty feet or so. “Please. Leave St. Thomas. All of you."
I began pushing the ice underwater to give them a hint. They got it all right. 
Strong Man took to the air, and Blue Lass jumped up to him to be carried.
Satisfied they were withdrawing, Mr. Frost began working his way back to shore, 
creating ice ramps on the water that he slid down. They melted behind him, 
making for an easier cleanup. I pushed the boat to the bottom of the harbor with 
the rest of the ice. The ice would soon melt, and I could recover the boat at 
night sometime.
Flying home was not a fun thing. I had to explain to Lieutenant Lewis that these 
were all bogus emergencies. He already knew. When the “kidnapper” had been 
arrested by the police, he'd flashed his Good Guy identity card and they were 
forced to release him.
"What? Why?” I said, loud enough that a few people looked up from the ground, 
even though I was a few hundred feet up.
"The team has immunity to traffic and safety laws,” he replied tersely. “That's 
why we can't bring a single charge against them."
"Can we at least bill them for the expense of emergency services?"
"Yes, and we will. But we both know they're quite wealthy. To them, throwing 
cash at problems is standard practice. Face it, Carlita, you and I are small 
fish in the world scheme of crime fighting."
"Tell that to the lady and three children you pulled out of the house fire last 
year, Lieutenant Lewis. Or any of the hundreds of people you've helped over the 
years."
"Oh, I didn't mean that in a negative sense. Just in a political sense."
"In that case,” I said, “that's how I want it. Look, Mr. Frost is not one of 
them. He's staying around me for a few days. Give him the benefit of the doubt, 
okay?"
"Will do,” he said. “Are you sure that's wise?"
"Yes,” I answered, almost sure. “He's said the right things so far, and done the 
right things. Even got rid of the ice he used out in the harbor."
"Well, that's more than the Good Guys did. We're stuck with cleanup of a wrecked 
plane, a wrecked car, and a sunken boat. They didn't even offer. It's probably 
beneath them."
"I'll help out with the boat,” I offered. “After all, I'm the one who sank it. I 
wrecked the plane and car, too."
"Only because of the Good Guys’ actions. All right, we'll make plans to get the 
boat when this thing is over, okay?"
"Sounds good. Well, I'm landing at home now. I'll keep the radio on full time 
until these jerks are off our island."
"Do you think they'll really leave?” he asked, totally unconvinced.
"Oh, they'll leave. By themselves or when I throw them off. Carlita out."
I touched down on our back porch and went straight to my room. Closing the door, 
I lay down on my bed. My whole body was trembling.
Everything pent up inside me came gushing out and I started to cry. Why did they 
have to come? Why couldn't they just leave me and my island alone? I sobbed into 
my pillow, feeling anger, sorrow, frustration, and helplessness. This wasn't 
fair! I was only seventeen! Couldn't I have just a sliver of a normal life? Not 
while they were here.
At some point I drifted to sleep, and was finally free of my worries. At least 
for a little while.
* * * *
When I woke up, evening was coming on. From my bedroom window came the glow of 
colorful festival lights. So, too, the sounds and smells of the nightly 
excitement that touched the island when the sun went down. I could hear Francis 
talking to someone in our living room. It sounded like Mr. Frost.
I sat up, feeling much better. I stretched, gave a loud yawn. The talking 
stopped, and I heard movement. There came a quiet rap on my door.
"Sis?"
I stood and opened the door. Francis looked both worried and relieved. He gave 
me a hug, the kind a big brother would, even though I was still taller than him.
"Are you all right?” he asked me, concern in his voice. “You got home and went 
straight to bed. Mr. Frost said to leave you alone, but I wasn't sure...” His 
voice trailed off.
"Thanks for letting me sleep, Francis. And thank Mr. Frost. I'm feeling a lot 
more sane right now.” I ruffled his hair and was rewarded with a smile. “How 
‘bout I get cleaned up and we take Mr. Frost out? I'm all superheroed out for 
tonight."
He nodded and went back to the living room. I grabbed a towel and headed for the 
bathroom.
Forty-five minutes later, I felt like a normal girl. I'd put on my flowered, 
knee-length wrap skirt, with matching blouse that showed off my middle. I'd put 
on some makeup, did all my nails in red, and spritzed on my favorite tangerine 
body spray. Yummy! Next came my silver cross earrings and bangles for my wrists 
and right ankle. Finally, I tied my hair back with a bright red scarf and 
slipped on my sandals. I looked myself over in my full-length mirror, twirling 
Human again! I shoved the police radio into my large handbag, slung it over my 
shoulder and headed to the living room.
"Good night! And now, introducing Carlita!!” I exclaimed as I stepped into the 
living room, throwing my arms out and posing. “Regular girl, ready for a night 
on the town! Thank you! Thank you!"
Francis whistled and clapped. Benjamin smiled warmly and bowed. Both had dressed 
nicely, though I didn't know where Benjamin had gotten his clothes: faded jeans 
with a long-sleeved, pressed white shirt and soft dress shoes. He looked very 
distinguished.
"Shall we enjoy the evening's pleasant lure and kindly distractions?” he asked, 
offering me an arm.
"Absolutely!” I said, taking his arm while Francis got the door. “I want to have 
uninterrupted fun tonight!"
He led me out, my arm under his, and the three of us went downstairs to the 
street.
Big Marie was at her cart, selling and talking and laughing. Pedro and Scott, 
two of her “street urchins” were hanging around, eating some fried bread and 
chatting away. I pointed her out, and Mr. Frost—Benjamin—took us over. Marie's 
eyes lit up when she saw us. She shooed her customers away and held out her 
massive, strong arms for Francis and me. We raced for them, Francis only just 
beating me.
"Good night. My, my! Our Carlita has a gentleman caller this evening!” She 
laughed. I blushed but introduced them. Benjamin kissed her hand and she laughed 
again. “And such fine manners. You will take care of our favorite daughter, no?"
"Momma!” I scolded. “It's not like that! Mr. Frost and I are friends through..."
"Mutual acquaintances,” he finished for me. “It is true. I know the Williams, 
whom Carlita's construction company was building a mansion for. As for how we 
met specifically..."
"Benjamin, she knows,” I said softly. “Just about everyone on St. Thomas knows."
"Indeed?” Benjamin raised an eyebrow.
"Most certainly,” Marie said, while Pedro and Scott nodded vigorously. “The 
Angel is our dearest secret.” Her eyes sparkled as she smiled at me. “And our 
dearest treasure."
"That's right!” Pedro said. “You gotta go through us to bother the Angel."
"All of us!” Scott agreed.
"Now, get along, you two! Lead some tourists Big Marie's way, and she'll make 
sure you've money for breakfast! Go!” They laughed and ran off into the crowd.
"They are homeless children?” Benjamin asked. Big Marie looked surprised, then 
laughed loudly.
"Oh, no! They have good families! In the summer, though, I pay them to be 
urchins. Tourists come more easily when led by innocent children!” She laughed 
again.
"An impressive woman,” he said after we'd walked off. “Is it wise to have so 
many people know who you are?"
"It doesn't really matter,” I answered, motioning to one of the vendors to send 
over to sugar canes. “Ever have one?"
"Sugar? Straight from the cane? No, I haven't."
"It's a real treat. Here you go,” I said, handing the boy some money, then 
waving him off. He cracked a huge grin at the tip, then returned to the cart.
"The identity of the Angel has been known by the islanders since the beginning. 
It is our belief that there will always be an Angel, and we are to cherish each 
Angel and the Angel will protect us. With their lives, if need be."
He nodded, and we continued on. Francis excused himself to join up with a group 
of friends, so I had Benjamin all to myself. I sighed contentedly.
"I hope that sigh was for me, Carlita,” he said.
"Yes, it was, Benjamin. May I call you that?"
"I would be honored if you did. It's been somewhat ... uncomfortable for you to 
call me Mr. Frost while I call you Carlita. To my embarrassment, I do not even 
know your surname."
"Francis and I don't have one,” I replied, shaking my head. “The Angel's family 
never has a surname. If a woman marries into an Angel's family, she drops her 
last name completely. Even though she's not an Angel. Likewise, if ... when ... 
I marry, my husband will drop his name. When an Angel passes from a family—dies, 
I mean—the last name is restored."
We came to a small restaurant, tucked into a small alley. “C'mon, let's eat 
here. I ate here on my last birthday. You'll love it!"
"Only if you will allow me to pay,” he countered.
"Of course!” I said. “That sugar cane was my whole night's allowance!"
We were seated quickly, with a couple gladly surrendering their table to us. I 
thanked them quietly and let Benjamin seat me.
"You expect people to treat you as special?” he asked, somewhat surprised.
"Yes, Benjamin, I do. I'm the Angel of St. Thomas."
"Forgive me, but that seems a trifle ... overbearing. And outside your lovely 
personality."
"Does it?” I looked at Benjamin, considering. I didn't really know him. And I 
didn't have the gift of reading character, like my great grand uncle Hannibal 
did. Fortunately, I didn't have his weakness of needing to have bare feet his 
whole life, either. But I just felt ... right about this man. I returned to my 
menu, having made my decision for the evening's conversation. A waiter came to 
our table.
"Good night,” he said, the common greeting on the island after sunset. “Are you 
ready to order, Carlita? Sir?"
I looked up from my menu and smiled at our waiter. “May I have the ravo-asado, 
please?"
"And to drink?” the waiter asked.
"Ice water, please. Extra lemon, please?"
"Yes, ma'am. And you, sir?"
"I'll have the same as Carlita. Only white wine, please."
"Yes, sir.” He gathered the menus and left. I leaned forward.
"Benjamin? Would you like to hear a story?"
"Certainly."
"Only islanders and the most trusted off-islanders, like Sir Hector, know this 
story,” I prefaced. “No one tells it to outsiders except an Angel. It is true, 
it is tragic, it is exciting, and it is very secret. It is the story of my 
family."
"I am honored.” He bowed his head.
"Then let's eat our dinner, and I'll tell you the tale of the Angel."


Chapter Eleven 
An Angel's Tale 
"St. Thomas has a history reaching back countless centuries,” I began. “But the 
history of the Angel begins in 1493. That was the year the first European landed 
on our island."
"Christopher Columbus."
"Yes. Before he landed, St. Thomas—not our island's real name—was a paradise. 
After he landed, it was the devil's paradise. Disease was the worst. My people, 
the Carib, were not prepared for European plagues and sicknesses. We quickly 
died off, and within two centuries, we were all but gone. There are no 
full-blooded native Carib on the islands today.
"Worse than this was the mistreatment by the whites. Disease and plague were 
inadvertent demons. Forced labor was not. They drove us, they beat us, they 
killed us. More so, they attempted to kill our spirit.
"Yet in a way, they helped us. They helped us prepare for the horrors to follow.
"We found solace from our tormentors after a while, for they left. And for 
nearly two centuries, the old ways returned and we were again the people. But 
then came the next wave of ‘explorers’ in the 1670s. Only these people came to 
stay. They were the Dutch. The Dutch are also my people. That's why my eyes are 
bright blue instead of black."
We ate our dinner quietly. The tables around us had emptied, and I noticed 
several groups of tourists had been turned away at the door. As they should be 
at times like this. I took a drink of ice water and continued.
"With the Dutch rule came the pirates. It was..."
"Don't you mean, despite the Dutch rule?” Benjamin softly interrupted. I shook 
my head.
"No, I mean ‘with'. Piracy was a way of life in the Caribbean and coasts of 
America. The Dutch governors of that period decided that piracy would help the 
local economy. Their local economy, not ours. And so it did. Charlotte Amalie 
became a haven and business place for pirates, scum, and low-lifes. The people 
of St. Thomas suffered again.
"Finally came the greatest injustice of all: Slavery. Our Dutch masters would 
abolish slavery in the mid-nineteenth century, but until then, we were bought 
and sold like so much grain, sugar or rum."
"We?” he asked.
"Yes,” I replied. “My Carib ancestors, but also my African ancestors. They are 
my people, too. Even French, though they did not suffer slavery."
"This then, was the climate into which the island's people were forced at the 
beginning of the eighteenth century Not just the Caribs, but the Dutch and 
African people as well. If ever there was a people who needed an Angel, it was 
the inhabitants of this devil's paradise."
"And one was provided,” he said.
"And one was provided,” I repeated. “The first Angel was my grandfather of ten 
generations, Rupert. He was a pirate who sailed under Black Sam Ballamy and Ben 
Hornigold on the sloop Mary Anne in the early 1700's. Rupert was of Carib, Dutch 
and African descent, yet pillaged the very people he was descended from.
"One night, as the Mary Anne lay in anchor at Charlotte Amalie, Rupert was 
involved in a fight over a child's possession: a small necklace of little worth. 
Rupert lost the fight, but won the prize. Stabbed eight times in the chest, neck 
and head, he fell overboard, still clutching the necklace.
"He should have drowned that night. Or bled to death. But he didn't. He awoke 
the next morning on the beach, a small girl standing over him. She pointed at 
the necklace.
"'Mine', was all she said. Not a plead, not a demand. Just a statement. Without 
a moment's thought, though the sand was turning red from his blood, he handed 
the girl the necklace. She took it and kissed him on the forehead, then ran away 
into the trees. Again, he passed out and should have died.
"But again, he awoke. This time, he was in a small village of Carib people. At 
first he was terrified: Caribs were known to be cannibals. He then realized that 
he was not the night's dinner but rather, the night's honored guest. Even more 
incredible, his wounds were healed and he himself felt as never before. Rupert 
had about him a clarity of mind and insight he'd never had.
"As the days passed, he was amazed to discover that he spoke Carib. Also Dutch, 
English, German, French, and several other tribal tongues, including ancient 
Ciboney and Arawak. In addition to this, he felt the language, understood the 
peoples, and desired to protect them. Finally, to aid him with his new purpose, 
he now had great strength and nearly instant healing ability. As the price for 
his past wickedness, however, Rupert could never again touch salt water without 
extreme pain.
"Rupert was a wise man, though he had not known it. Now, somehow, he'd been made 
to understand, and he didn't waste this blessing. He immediately used his gifts 
to better the lives of the peoples whose blood flowed in his veins."
"And what of the girl?” Benjamin asked. “Was she an island goddess who 
disappeared? Did she bestow the powers on your grandfather?"
"No. There seemed nothing special about the girl. In fact, they married years 
later, when she had fully grown. Their first child, Amanda, also had abilities. 
She was the first of us able to fly. She could also start or extinguish fires at 
will. However, the curse of her father followed her. Amanda was unable to stay 
awake once the sun had set.
"And so it has been for nearly three hundred years. Every child born of an Angel 
is themselves an Angel, though only the oldest child can carry the line. And 
while every Angel has abilities, we also each have a weakness. Mine you know. I 
leave it to Francis to reveal his, if he chooses."
"Have all Angels protected the island?"
"Islands, really. We watch over St. John, St. Croix and Water Islands as well, 
though our home has always been St. Thomas. I've assisted the police and fire 
departments on the British Virgin Islands two or three times, too.
"But the answer is, yes, since Rupert there has always been an Angel of St. 
Thomas. Sometimes several, though we're referred to in the singular. Right now, 
I'm the only one."
"Your parents?"
"My mother died at sea, as did my father, ten years ago. My mother was the 
Angel, my father, merchant marine out of St. John's."
"I am so sorry,” he said in sincere sympathy. “How many Angels have died because 
of their calling?"
"Eleven, starting with Rupert himself. Shortly after their second son was born, 
Rupert was overpowered by twenty men, bound in hundreds of pounds of chains, and 
thrown into the harbor. He broke the chains, but the agony of the seawater 
overwhelmed him and he drowned. His body was found the next morning on the 
beach. Amanda was eight when she took over."
"And you, Carlita?"
"I was seven."
"So young,” he said, his eyes moist.
"There must always be an Angel, Benjamin,” I replied. “Always. When Mom died, it 
fell to me. If I die, it falls to Francis. Then, as the oldest surviving Angel, 
he will be able to continue the line, though while I live he cannot."
"May I ask, Carlita, what are your abilities?"
"I have the gift to control all gravity everywhere, including Earth, Sun, Moon, 
all the planets in our solar system, and any star I wish. I can increase, 
decrease, remove or even reverse it. Mom said I am probably the most powerful 
Angel ever."
"Incredible!” He was clearly shocked. “I take it your power of flight comes from 
this control?"
"No,” I said with a slight shake of my head. “Though I can use gravity to 
simulate flight, it is an entirely separate gift. I do need a slight breeze, 
provided by nature, to go aloft, however. I'm also capable of igniting a 
person's desire for harmless activity. It causes no damage, but they are unable 
to do anything other than fulfill that desire.” I giggled. “You wouldn't believe 
how many arrests are made at restaurants. A lot of people, including criminals, 
love a good meal. The police just follow the bad guy to the restaurant, then 
arrest him after he's eaten. The police pay the bill because of the trouble it 
saves."
Benjamin stared at me, then laughed, the first time he'd been so relaxed. His 
laugh warmed me deep inside.
"I'm glad I stopped you this morning, then. I had been worried that the three of 
them might have been too much, even with me assisting. I see now that I saved 
them deep embarrassment and a sound thrashing.” He laughed again.
"No. You saved their lives,” I said seriously. “There's one more ability I 
have.” I hesitated, and Benjamin touched my hand.
"If you don't want to talk about, my dear..."
"No.” I shook my head. “I mean, yes. I don't want to talk about it, but I 
should. I promised you the whole story.” I took a deep breath. This was always 
the hardest.
"Every Angel has three things in common. We all have abilities and we all have 
one weakness. And ... we all have one special gift. A dark, horrible, wonderful 
gift.
"In moments of extreme crises, the Angel can reach deep and awaken this gift. It 
is a warping of their other abilities into an overwhelming, destructive force."
"Is it controllable?"
"Yes. And no. The Angel has control over everything except potency. That is 
always at full power."
"Why would an Angel use such a gift?"
"My mother did the day she died. Because of it, three ships and hundreds of 
people were saved."
"I understand” He nodded. “A type of supreme effort, taken to a dangerous 
level."
"Not really. But sorta."
"Have you used your gift? Do you know what it is?"
I took a sip of water. “I know what it is, but I haven't used it. I hope I never 
do. While using that gift, the Angel is no longer the Angel of St. Thomas."
He didn't press and I didn't offer. Our talk drifted to lighter things and my 
mood improved.
We ordered dessert. Since my story was over, some of the islanders approached 
us, looking for my autograph, which I gladly gave them. A newlywed couple were 
quite excited about meeting me, so after I signed their book, I removed the 
weight on her blouse. It began sparkling, trailing small blossoms of light.
"That'll last a couple hours,” I told them. “Congratulations and have a happy 
honeymoon!” They thanked me again, then left, hand in hand, ready for a night on 
the town. Benjamin looked at them and nodded his head.
"I understand now,” he said warmly as our dessert was served. “That's why you 
expect to be recognized and respected as the Angel. It's the way people express 
their devotion and thanks to you. Carlita, you allow them this as yet another 
way to serve them!"
I nodded shyly. “Remember, Benjamin, I may be the Angel of St. Thomas, but I'm 
also one of the people of St. Thomas. I've been saved a few times by my 
relatives and by my friends. I know what a gift it is to both be and have the 
Angel. I will do nothing to detract from my heritage and duty and will do 
anything to protect my island and my people."
We finished dessert and walked down to the harbor. It was such a wonderful 
evening. I felt so calm, so happy. I snuggled up to his arm and sighed.
"That's the second time I've heard you sigh, Carlita,” Benjamin said quietly. 
“What is it, if I may ask?"
"It's just...” I paused, looking for the words. “It's just that, well, 
sometimes, I'm lonely. I know I have my brother. And I love Francis as a 
brother. But I'm also responsible for him."
"As you are responsible for your people?"
I nodded. My eyes were teary. Why were they teary?
"And with me, you know you can let your guard down. You can feel and be a normal 
young woman, no?"
Again I nodded.
"I have lots of friends, Benjamin. Big Marie, Sir Hector, my schoolmates. But 
I've never had a boyfriend. Sometimes, I feel like I can't. I'm..."
"The Angel,” he finished for me. I nodded again and started sobbing. He held me 
close and let me cry. He stroked my hair.
"Go ahead and cry, Carlita. I understand the terrible loneliness that comes with 
terrible power. I have lived with it my entire life, as well. But I am certain 
you will not be one to have that burden forever."
I looked up from his chest and into his eyes.
"You ... you ... mean it?"
"My dear young woman,” he scolded gently. “I am far too old and my days far too 
priceless to waste on empty reassurances. Of course you'll find a fine man! And 
he will be strong, and loving, and he will see you as the angel that you are, 
and not just the Angel of your people.” He kissed me on the forehead. “And 
whoever does choose to court you will speak to me first."
"Benjamin?” I said, stunned. He smiled and stepped back. With a flourish, he 
gave a deep bow.
"If you will have me, Carlita, I wish to give my life to you. As Benjamin Frost 
when possible, as The Icicle when required. It is time, I think, to add a new 
chapter to the story of the Angel of St. Thomas. From this day on, I am, and 
will always be, your dedicated servant and friend."


Chapter Twelve 
Bumble Bee 
Benjamin spent the night at our place, making do on the futon in our living 
room. He had a first-rate hotel room, but preferred staying close until this 
Good Guys thing was over. Frankly, I was only too happy to have him.
Morning came too early, as it always does. Fortunately, I had the night off and 
there were no emergencies. I called Lieutenant Lewis about eight that morning 
and let him know I was back on duty and that I'd be around town. Next was a call 
to Bobby Dobbie to see if they needed me. Nope, he said. Tom Con was on a 
two-week vacation while our lawyers settled up the paperwork with the Galactic 
Good Guys. I was glad to hear it, since I got paid either way. I said goodbye 
and got ready.
Francis was serving Benjamin a morning baked pie of his own creation. He had a 
grin from ear to ear the whole time and the two were talking back and forth like 
lifelong friends.
"G'morning!"
Benjamin looked up at my voice and stood. He pulled out a chair for me, then 
reseated himself.
"Did you see that, Francis? That's what a perfect gentlemen does for a lady” I 
tossed my head and gave a superior grin.
"I do that,” Francis said defensively. “Only you're not a lady, Carlita. You're 
my sister.” He laughed and gave me breakfast.
"So, what's on the agenda for today, Carlita?"
"Thanks, Francis! Pretty much open, Benjamin. Normally, I'd head over to the 
other islands to see if there's anything they need. But until the Good Guys 
leave, or I throw them off, I'm staying close to town so I can keep an eye on 
them."
He nodded. “Wise. Well, in that case, perhaps you'd like to join me while I find 
a suitable home to purchase."
"So you're really going to stay then, Mr. Frost?” Francis still couldn't believe 
it.
"Indeed, Francis. I am not so old that I don't hear the voice of adventure and 
justice calling me, but I am at a point where settling down and letting 
adventure come to me has great appeal. Besides...” He winked at Francis. “I'm 
looking forward to new friendships.” Francis beamed.
We were on the streets an hour later. I introduced Benjamin to more of my 
people, including Sir Hector, who was most impressed with him. Benjamin seemed 
to be as impressed with Sir Hector. It wasn't difficult to see them becoming 
drinking buddies before too long.
Our first stop was the police department. Officer Dan Kent was on desk duty 
again. As always, he had a smile for us.
"Good morning, Carlita! Hiya, Francis! Hello, Mr. Frost."
"So you remember me?” Benjamin asked, extending his hand. “I'm honored.” He gave 
a small smile. “I think."
Danny chuckled. “Don't worry, sir. You've got the Angel's blessing, so you're 
right with us. I'm glad—now—that you found her."
"As am I, Officer. As am I."
"Benjamin's going to be moving here, Danny. How ‘bout that?"
Danny smiled again, but it was a weaker one.
"Umm ... It will be nice to have you, Mr. Frost,” he finally said, with no 
enthusiasm whatsoever.
"Danny!” I scolded. “That's no way to greet a new islander!"
"But it is the way to greet another potential source of trouble, isn't it, 
Officer?” Benjamin said.
"Trouble?” I asked. “How could you possibly..."
"Be a cause of anguish for St. Thomas’ finest?” Benjamin finished. “Officer Kent 
is no doubt thinking of my past years as a vigilante—albeit sanctioned by the 
United Nations—and the considerable Rogue's Gallery I've built over the years."
"Yes, sir,” Danny replied. “That's one reason, though not a big one. I know most 
of those who opposed you are either in jail or retired."
"Then my association with the Galactic Good Guys?” Benjamin guessed. At Danny's 
nod, Benjamin said, “Please do not concern yourself, Officer. While I have a 
legal attachment to them, it is nothing more than a paper relationship. When it 
became evident twenty years ago that this—how shall I put it?—breed of hero was 
radically different in how they pursued their careers, the Freedom Squad broke 
all ties with the Good Guys. We remained on their rolls only at the request of 
the United Nations. In the event of a planet-wide calamity or some such, they 
want to be able to call on all of us. So, no, Officer. I have as little love for 
them as you do."
Danny seemed much relieved and gave us a tour of the station. He introduced the 
guys to Benjamin, and they had several tips about where to buy a home. Patti 
Clearwater had the best suggestion.
"You know, the McFarley home is vacant now,” she pointed out. “It's tucked back 
up against the ridge in Agnes Fancy. It's just off the highway, but has plenty 
of privacy in the back for ... unusual guests.” She winked at me. “My sister's a 
real estate agent. She could show it to you today, if you want."
Everyone thought that a good idea, so Patti went off to make the call. Now that 
the misunderstanding about Benjamin's connection with the Good Guys had been 
cleared up, my friends quickly warmed to him. I took that moment to pull Francis 
aside.
"What's up?” he asked.
"I'm concerned about the Good Guys. They haven't left, and I've got a bad 
feeling they're going to be ‘testing’ me some more. Testing my patience, more 
like,” I added somewhat nastily. I shook my head to chase away my anger. “Sorry. 
Anyway, I think you and I should guard the other until they're gone."
"You're afraid they might use me against you?” he said, sounding a little angry 
himself. “Carlita, I may not have your abilities, but I don't have to be 
baby-sat either."
"Huh?” I said, genuinely surprised. “I'm sorry, Francis. That didn't come out 
right. I meant that since we didn't know when they were going to do something, I 
was going to say it's time you took on the mantle of Angel. At least while these 
goons are here."
His face took on a whole different look. In that split second of time, I 
actually saw him shed his ‘little brother’ identity and become the Angel of St. 
Thomas. The moment passed and he was Francis again, but there was something 
different about him. Or something different in how I saw him.
"All right,” he agreed, nodding his head. A little smile went across his face.
"What?"
"Nothing,” he said. “It's just ... the moment finally comes and it's not as 
exciting as I thought it would be. It's even a little ... I don't know..."
"Scary?” I finished for him. He nodded again. “I know the feeling. I remember 
when Mom died, and I became the Angel. It all happened so fast that I was numb 
for a month. Numb from our parents’ deaths, from becoming the Angel, from having 
to be your ‘mom'. Even after the numbness wore off, it was over a year before I 
could start thinking about myself again. Hopefully, it'll be easier for you".
Patti came back in the room and announced that her sister could show the home 
and would be right over to pick us up. Benjamin seemed pleased. And very 
relaxed. I thought island life was going to suit him well.
"If you don't mind, Mr. Frost,” Francis said, “I'm going to stay behind. I need 
to talk to Lieutenant Lewis."
"Very well, Francis We shall see you back at the apartment for dinner, yes?” He 
took my arm. I could get used to that very quickly. “Carlita and I will return 
about five."
Five minutes later Benjamin and I were getting into Denise Gonzales’ car, and 
twenty minutes later we were getting out at the house.
"The owner moved out over six months ago,” Denise explained, opening the front 
door. “Mr. McFarley was transferred back to the mainland, and Mrs. McFarley 
couldn't wait.” Denise gave a knowing wink. “I think she had a bad case of 
island fever."
She gave us a tour of the two-story home, which was lovely. It even had two 
porches: one in the back, against the mountain, and the other in the front and 
looking out to the harbor. It was on the front porch that I gave a sudden yelp.
"What is it?” Benjamin asked, startled.
"I don't know,” I said, rubbing my right arm. “It felt like a bug bite, but a 
really hard one. It was like ... Ouch!” I jumped again and spun around, looking 
for the stupid bug. Nothing.
"Ow!” Another, on the back of my neck. “Aahhh!” Another on my cheek.
"Get inside! Ouch!” I said, looking around the street. “Ow! I think I'm under 
attack! Ouch!"
"Bumble Bee,” Benjamin said, taking Denise by the arm. “Another ‘test', no 
doubt. Be careful, Carlita."
"I—ow!—will be, Benjamin. Keep an eye on Denise. Ouch!” He went inside and I 
took to the air. Running to the end of the porch, I—
Ow!
My concentration broken, I fell over the edge instead of taking off. The 
driveway came up fast. I'd have hurt myself if Bumble Bee had chosen to follow 
up his attack. But he must have thought I needed more control to take off. I 
seized the split second of respite to get airborne. Skimming along the driveway, 
I gave out a loud scream and hovered behind the car. With luck, my trap would 
work and I'd draw him out.
My trap did work, but luck had nothing to do with it. After five minutes, I saw 
him cautiously appear from the trees across the street. He couldn't see behind 
the car where I was hiding, but he had enough control of his power to affect 
even unseen things. I felt vicious stings on my leg, and it was all I could do 
to stifle my yells to moans.
Confident he'd bested me, he walked toward me. Once he was in the middle of the 
street, where there was no place to hide, I shot into the air quickly and 
approached him. I was plenty mad.
"Just what the he—ow!” He'd started in on me again. “Stop it! I—ow!—just 
wan—aah! Ouch!—to talk! Ow!” I instinctively slapped at unseen stingers. Welts 
were beginning to show on my skin.
"Stop it!” I yelled again. He merely smiled and continued, stinging me multiple 
times now.
The pain was getting to the intolerable point. I could see he wanted to ground 
me, but my flying was inborn. I couldn't be grounded unless I wished it or was 
forced down.
He could, however, do sufficient damage to my body that I'd be out of service 
for a day or two. That I couldn't allow.
"Last—ow!—chance, Bumble Bee!” I was twisting and jerking to the stinging, and 
was becoming lightheaded.
Forget last chance. If I didn't so something fast, this ‘test’ would endanger my 
people by incapacitating me. I ignored the pain long enough to increase 
Jupiter's gravity to Bumble Bee and slack off Earth's. Maybe I was sloppy. Maybe 
I was distracted. Either way, instead of easing him off the ground, he rocketed 
into the sky. The attack stopped immediately and I took off after him. Maybe I 
was just major ticked off.
I let him continue until he was way above the clouds. Ducking into the mist of a 
nearby cloud, I abruptly reversed the gravities on him. I looked at the red 
welts on my arms and legs. Time for a little payback.
He plummeted down, even faster than normal, since Jupiter was also pushing him. 
He zinged past me, fear in his eyes, and disappeared into the cloud. I counted a 
slow five, then reversed the gravities again. I brought him to a stop in the 
cloud, then lowered myself into it.
"You and I are at about 10,000 feet, Bumble Bee,” I said into the cloud. I heard 
his gasping, but he made no attack. “My flight capabilities are so natural to me 
that even if you managed to sting me unconscious, I'd continue to float. My 
gravity powers however...” I gave him a quick drop and pick up “...don't work 
the same way. You'd hit the ground so hard, they'd have to vacuum you into a 
bag.
"So I think that ends this ‘test'. Or should we go up to the next level of 
clouds and try again?"
"NO!” he shouted in desperation. “You've convinced me! Put me on the ground! 
Please!"
"Why, of course,” I answered sweetly. “I live to serve. I know! Let's make a 
real impressive landing, okay?"
"NO!” he screamed again. Oops, too late. He was already heading to the ground as 
though fired from a cannon. I dropped down at a more leisurely pace.
When he was about 1,000 feet from the ground, I angled his descent toward town. 
He screamed all the way. Again, I followed quietly.
In front of the police station, I left him just above the sidewalk, spinning 
slowly in front of the station window. Within moments, three officers rushed 
out. They talked to him for another moment, then one—it was Danny—looked up into 
the sky for me. I waved when he spotted me, then let Bumble Bee thump to the 
ground. They'd find something to keep him busy for a day or two. Or not busy, if 
they just tossed him into a cell.
Satisfied, I swung around and flew back to Benjamin's new home. He and Denise 
were out on the driveway.
"All taken care of?” he asked as I landed.
"All taken care of,” I said. Denise appeared relieved. And happy, for Benjamin 
had bought the house.
"It's nice and quiet here,” he said with a chuckle “I doubt anything happens in 
this neighborhood."


Chapter Thirteen 
Wind Lass 
A quiet evening. I'd spent the afternoon showing Benjamin around the island, 
introducing him to some more friends of mine and letting the word out that he 
was to be considered a “local” My people are very friendly to off-islanders, but 
the loyalty and affection we have for each other goes far deeper.
Francis had another terrific dinner waiting for us. We decided afterwards to 
walk to the beach and do some swimming. Benjamin came along, but chose to sit on 
the sand and read.
We had a great time. How my Grampa Rupert could stand living on an island yet 
not be able to touch seawater was beyond me. All Angels have a weakness, but 
maybe mine wasn't as bad as others.
I had duty in a couple hours, so I was enjoying my time now. I think I also had 
a certain amount of anonymity on the beach. I looked like every other native 
girl in a one-piece swimsuit. The Good Guys couldn't test me if they couldn't 
find me. Did I say test? I meant bother. Hopefully they wouldn't pull another 
one of their ‘emergency’ stunts.
They didn't. We passed a wonderful two hours on the beach, then made for home 
Behind us, the sun was setting into a burning ocean of pink and orange and 
yellow. The soft trade breeze blew across us, making me appreciate again what a 
joyful life it was on a tropical island.
Benjamin would spend the night again, it was decided. I didn't mind, not while 
the Good Guys were on the island. Which made me wonder about something. I sat 
down on our futon after a shower and change and dried my hair.
"Benjamin, what exactly is your association with the Galactic Good Guys? I can't 
understand why you would join them."
"It wasn't so much a case of my joining them as it was of them joining me. Us, 
rather."
"You mean the Freedom Squad."
"That's correct, Francis. At first, the Freedom Squad gave no thought to 
expanding our ranks. The Winslows and I did quite well for ourselves and, in 
modest honesty, for society. Even after Hank and Beth started a family, there 
was no pressure to expand our ranks. Neither was there anybody to join. It 
seemed there were no others on the whole planet with special abilities.” He 
smiled at me. “Of course, we weren't to know that the Angels of St. Thomas had 
been around over two centuries before the Freedom Squad.
"As I said, we were content with our ranks. We did add Richard later, but he fit 
so well into our group that it seemed quite impossible to not add him. Four 
seemed the best number.
"Then Richard was killed in England during the hostage situation on the 
Liverpool Express train. We'd finally come up against a unique villain, one who 
had powers. Suddenly, our distinct advantage over evil was not so distinct.
"Moreover, the years were catching up to us. Our powers and control of them had 
greatly increased from use and time, but our bodies did not respond as well. 
Also, Beth was a mother of four now, and remained home for most missions, though 
her abilities to capture thoughts remained useful even from a distance. But on 
the lines, it was just Hank and myself. And two wasn't enough.
"It was then that Caesar approached us, hoping to join the Freedom Squad. He had 
phenomenal strength plus the ability to fly, but was untrained and, forgive me, 
not highly intelligent."
Benjamin sighed.
"We took him in, hoping to be able to train him properly before throwing him 
into the fray. Unfortunately, Hank lost his right arm a few months afterward, 
destroyed by yet another powered criminal. The Freedom Squad was essentially no 
more.
"Over the next few years, I continued training Caesar. He, in the meantime, was 
anxious to join in the fight. Despite my protests, he eventually did, and 
managed himself well. I was surprised and pleased. Perhaps the Freedom Squad 
could continue.
"Caesar came to me one day, having made contact with another gifted person, 
Wanda, who was petitioning to join Freedom Squad. Probably still optimistic from 
Caesar's early success, I agreed.
"From there, the door was swung wide open. Using their majority, Caesar and 
Wanda began accepting more applicants. I became overwhelmed and left the Squad. 
Almost immediately they renamed themselves the Galactic Good Guys."
"So you're a kind of mentor, then?” Francis asked. Benjamin smiled sadly.
"Perhaps at one point, Francis. Now, I am nothing more than a link to the past 
for them. I am also a convenience, for the immunities and authorities granted 
the Freedom Squad were transferred to the Good Guys."
"And what about Alchemist?” Francis asked.
"Who?” I interrupted.
"The third man at the boat site yesterday, Carlita,” Benjamin answered. “Victor 
Spekvin, known as Alchemist. Victor, children, is someone to be avoided. His 
abilities approach yours, Carlita, in force. But you use your powers strictly 
for the preservation of life for other. Victor...” He paused, choosing his 
words. “At times, Victor does not cleanly fall on the side of good. I do not 
trust the man."
* * * *
The wind off Botany Bay was fierce. The island meteorologist had contacted me 
and requested I investigate a high wind on the western end of the island that 
was localized but close to the airport. If it shifted south, the wind sheer for 
aircraft would be highly dangerous and King airport would have to be shut down.
I cleared the mountains and moved out over the bay, following the terrain at 200 
feet. It was around one in the morning. I yawned for the twentieth time. Night 
shifts were nice, but threw my schedule out of whack.
The wind abruptly increased in power, pushing me off course. Better go higher, I 
thought. See if I can get above it.
At about 300 feet, I was bowled over. A gale-force wind! I spun head over heels 
toward the island. I was over Botany Point before I raised my gravity shield 
enough to regain control. How in the world could a wind like this exist?
The answer hit me a second later. Literally. Another blast careened off my right 
side, sending me into another tumble. Another test! I wish I had Aunt Mildred's 
weakness for cursing. She had to swear constantly whenever she passed through 
solid objects, and had built an impressive vocabulary of bad language.
I didn't, though, so I did the next best thing: I looked around for a Good Guy 
to vent my anger on.
Calming my flight, I started looking around for her. I was certain it was Wind 
Lass. Francis and Benjamin had briefed me that evening on the Good Guys’ powers 
and abilities. I don't know why I hadn't asked before; it made perfect sense to 
understand what I was up against. Well, better late than never.
For the next five minutes, she kept hitting me with powerful blasts of wind. And 
I still couldn't find her. I decided to try the same trick I used to examine the 
strata of the ground when creating the berm.
I visualized the gravity lines. Then I went the next step and began visualizing 
internal gravity lines. This was a lot more difficult and caused a virtual 
downpour of popping lights and trailing sparkles from me. I looked fast, because 
I was now a sitting duck.
Sure enough, I got hit again. This time from above. It shoved me toward the 
ground. I was tempted to cushion my fall and fake being knocked out. But I'd 
done that to Bumble Bee only this morning, and they might have talked. Instead, 
I pulled free of the downdraft and shot up and back out to the bay. My “rock 
trick” had worked; I had her pegged now.
Windlass could fly, which meant there was no up-down move to use on her.
Surprisingly, she let me get close to her. In the moonlight, I could even see a 
smile on her face.
"Wind Lass, right?” I asked.
"Yes. And you, Carlita, are the Angel of St. Thomas."
"Was that you in the car the other day? The ‘hostage'?"
"Yes. Stone Man was my ‘kidnapper'."
"Uh-huh. Is he here now?"
Wind Lass laughed. “Of course not! You passed the multiple location scenario. 
This is the one-on-one test. You'll find I'm much more formidable than Gary."
"Gary?"
"Bumble Bee."
"Oh. Okay,” I said agreeably. “I don't want this test. I don't want to join. And 
I don't want you people on my island. I do want to get back to my real life, 
however, so I'm ending the test. Now.” I increased her weight a hundred fold. 
Maybe a bath in the bay would cool her down.
Nothing happened. I increased her weight to a thousand, then ten thousand. 
Nothing. She moved in closer, her eyes bright.
"So you've found out my other power. I can cancel out others’ abilities. What 
are you going to do now, Carlita? You're now a normal person fighting a 
super-powered one.” And with that she hit me with another wind gust. This one 
shot me high in the sky.
Again I worked my way free and reached for the water beneath her. A column of 
sea-water could also end this fight.
Nothing. Getting a little desperate, I zipped ahead of her next blast, and made 
for shore. Maybe the trees.
Again, nothing. How could she negate my abilities? Weren't they a part of me?
I heard her laughing over the howling wind. I turned back at her and flew in 
close. It was too dark to use my suggestion gift, but maybe I could startle her.
No go. She knocked me off course before I'd gone a hundred yards. She hit me 
again. And again. I used all my flying skill to avoid her blasts, but it was 
impossible to dodge something invisible. And her control of the wind far 
outstripped my flying. Without my abilities, I was helpless.
Another gust. She was pushing me to the ground, and not slowly. Four or five 
more and I'd hit the sand and be stuck. I didn't want to take this test, but I 
didn't want to fail it even more. But without my gifts...
Wait! I was still flying. Did that mean she could only negate some of a person's 
powers? Maybe so. I decided to try something else. Another shaft of wind. I took 
it full on, but didn't mind. I had her.
Glancing over the gravity lines, I reversed them. But only the ones surrounding 
Wind Lass. She hit me again, but I kept working. Another blast, but I was done. 
There were no lines of gravity attached to Wind Lass. Since she had the ability 
to fly, it wouldn't seem to affect her.
She hit me again, but this time the force was much less. I squirmed free of the 
column of air and took back control of my flying, using a similar stunt on 
myself. Just in time. The ground was less than thirty feet below me.
I soared up quickly, making myself a target. She obliged by hitting me, but this 
time there was no effect. I'd finally figured out that I could use the air as 
well. Sighting her, I approached her at an easy pace. Over and over again, she 
fired at me, all to no effect. It was my turn to smile.
"I think this test is at an end."
She was sweating and breathing hard, but shook her head. “Not yet! I've only 
used my gale-force winds. It's time to bring out my real power!"
"Um, I wouldn't do that,” I offered.
"And why not?"
"Because I've found the hole in your powers, Wind Lass. You can cancel out some 
of my powers, but not all. And what you've left me is more than enough to defeat 
you."
She was gasping now, like a fish out of water. Which she was.
"What ... What have you done to me?"
I smiled, but shook a finger.
"Ah, ah!” I said. “I can't tell you that. If I did, you might try to take that 
gift away."
"But we've ... we've analyzed all your ... your pow ... powers.” She was 
fighting to stay conscious, and was losing. The winds were dying down quickly.
"Really?” I asked innocently. “Well I guess I just ‘grew’ a new one.” I took a 
deep breath. “My! Isn't it a great night? Such a refreshing breeze!"
She gave me a dirty look, then passed out. The last of the wind died away, and 
Wind Lass started falling. Apparently her flight wasn't as inborn as mine. I 
grabbed her with my restored gravity powers and lifted her up. I looked 
carefully at the gravity strings around her and decided that I could keep her 
unconscious but alive until I got her to the police station. As I took us back 
to Charlotte Amalie, I had a funny thought.
The jail for bad guys was getting full of Good Guys.


Chapter Fourteen 
Stone Man 
"So what did you do, Carlita?” Benjamin asked me as we shopped for furniture, 
dishes and whatnots for his new home.
"That's easy, Mr. Frost!” Francis chimed in. “Since she couldn't use her 
abilities to increase gravity, she instead used them to reverse the gravity 
around Wind Lass."
"Yes?” he prompted. “I'm afraid I don't understand."
"I cut off her air, Benjamin,” I explained. “Earth has air only because of 
gravity. No gravity, no air. I created a small vacuum around her. She had only 
the air in her lungs to exhale and inhale. It didn't take long for her to pass 
out."
"And your neutralizing of her winds?” he asked. “The same, but applied to 
yourself?"
"Uh-huh. Though I did let in some air,” I added. “After all, I didn't want to 
pass out. But yes, it was the same. I merely created a vacuum around myself. 
Anything she threw at me would only ‘bounce off’ the vacuum sphere, pulled away 
by a lack of gravity."
"Excellent!” He clapped his hands. “Though I don't know if you are helping or 
hurting your cause by beating them. They may be put off, having been bested 
repeatedly by a young woman. Or they may try even harder to get you."
"Keep your friends close,” Francis said sagely, “and your enemies even closer."
"Something like that, Francis Though I should hope the Good Guys are not so 
obsessed with you, Carlita, that they would step beyond all reason."
"I hope not, too,” I agreed. “But they're getting close."
We continued shopping, going to a department store first. Benjamin bought 
furniture and furnishings, then took us out for a late lunch. Over burgers and 
milkshakes, Francis had an idea.
"Hey, I know! Carlita, how ‘bout after lunch we show Mr. Frost our schools?"
It sounded like fun, and Benjamin was interested, so we finished up and headed 
over there. First was Francis’ school, then mine. Benjamin was amazed and 
pleased that we could live normal lives. Well, sorta normal lives.
"How can the both of you cope in school, with every student knowing who you 
are?"
"Not all of them know, Mr. Frost,” Francis piped in. We had just reached my 
locker and I was fiddling with the knob.
"No?” he asked, perplexed. “I thought all the islanders knew about the Angel. 
Angels, rather."
"There's two of us, Benjamin,” I reminded him, “but only one Angel. It's always 
been that way.
"And that's why we can live like kids, too,” I continued. My locker opened. The 
darn dial was still sticking, though. “Rats. I'll have to bring some oil next 
time."
"What Sis was saying, Mr. Frost, is that we're such a part of the island, we're 
treated like it. So we have friends, a few jerks, and a whole bunch of kids that 
don't pay us much attention. We don't use our gifts at school, so we fit right 
in."
"Francis’ right,” I agreed. “And there are students who don't know about the 
Angel. A few teachers, too. The ones from off-island. A person has to live here 
a long, long time before someone who was ‘bahn here’ will tell them the truth. 
Even Sir Hector was here for ten years before being told".
"All that you say makes perfect sense,” he said with a shake of his head. “Yet 
don't you fear your secret—St. Thomas’ secret, that is—will get out, and you'll 
both be exposed?"
"A little,” I admitted. We were walking toward the track and soccer field now. 
“But everyone has worries. Ours are just a little different. They're also the 
same, too."
"How so, Carlita?"
"Worries become very thin and easily seen through when shared with your friends. 
And we've got every islander as a friend when it comes to being the Angel. Even 
the ones that don't really like us as people."
We walked out from under the palms of the school walkway and out onto the field.
"I take it neither of you play school sports?” he asked.
"I do,” Francis said. “Soccer, though I don't practice as much as I should. 
Carlita makes me work too hard on my studies."
"That's right, little bro'!” I said with a laugh. “You and I both know there's 
no future for you in sports."
"Why not?” Benjamin asked, then chuckled. “Of course. The ‘away’ games would 
remove you from your duties."
"Uh-huh,” Francis grudgingly admitted. “We're on St. Thomas for life, except for 
short trips. It's not too bad a price to pay, though."
"And they let you compete with your powers?"
"Huh?” Francis asked. “Why would I want to use my gifts, Mr. Frost? That 
wouldn't be fair."
"Children, you are a delight!” Benjamin sighed and looked to the sky. “Your 
honesty and sense of fairness keeps my cold heart warm!"
We walked along the track and soaked up the afternoon sun. The soft breeze was 
kicking up, promising rain before evening.
We'd just made the turn around one end when Francis suddenly stopped.
"What is it, Francis?"
Francis didn't say anything, but I knew what it meant. I put my face close to 
Benjamin's.
"Francis can occasionally sense when an extraordinary event is going to happen,” 
I whispered. “He doesn't get them all the time, but when he does, he's always 
right."
"A gift?” Benjamin whispered back.
I nodded. “His abilities aren't as refined or as fancy as mine, but they're 
quite powerful."
"There,” Francis said suddenly, pointing toward the far end of the field, at the 
locker rooms. “Carlita! Get airborne! Now!"
"Head for the bleachers, you two,” I said, taking to the air. At Benjamin's 
hesitation, I added, “Please, Benjamin. This is probably another Good Guy 
‘test', and I'm just about fed up with them. But if you or Francis help me, they 
might consider it ‘cheating’ and test me again.” Movement came from the locker 
room. “Go!"
They went. I flew slowly out to the middle of the field.
The movement turned into a shape, which turned into a man. He was huge, as 
though made out of granite. Just his size made me shiver, and he hadn't done 
anything. He approached to within thirty feet, then stopped and looked up. His 
eyes were under deep brows and seemed to burn. His hair, as black as mine, had 
slashes of white at the temples.
"Carlita,” he said with a voice like gravel. “It's my turn now."
"And you are?"
"William Ridder. Stone Man. I was the driver of the car the other day. You threw 
me out of it.” I nodded.
"Can I please ask you to not test me, Mr. Ridder?” I asked, coming down, almost 
to the ground. “I'm really getting tired of this.” I smiled hopefully. “Please?"
"Maybe you're getting tired because you haven't been challenged enough. Sorry, 
kid.” He raised a hand.
My whole body tightened. Going aloft, I tried to get out of his range. But my 
muscles refused to budge. I could only just gain altitude. He smiled and took 
out a ball.
"This is going to be easier than I thought,” he said and drew back his arm to 
throw the ball. Somehow I knew that if I touched the ground, his power would 
overwhelm me. And if he threw that ball, I'd be grounded.
Quickly, I visualized the strings to the ball. Not wasting an instant, I 
increased the Earth's hold on it five thousand times, bringing its weight to 
over six hundred pounds.
"Uh!” Stone Man grunted, dropping the ball. Since he didn't throw it, I was 
unaffected. He went to pick it up, but I'd increased the weight by half a 
million. Weighing over thirty tons, it sank into the ground. Stone Man turned 
and looked at me.
"So, you don't need to gesture. Shows you have command. That's good. But how 
much constriction can you take?” He waved and my body tightened further. I 
remembered what Benjamin had told me. Stone Man could ‘petrify’ opponents as 
though turning them to stone.
It was getting difficult to breathe. I needed to gain more altitude. Then even 
if I passed out, he couldn't reach me.
I made several more feet, but that was it. The tightening was making my legs and 
arms cramp up now. I began bending over as my stomach muscles seized up. Time to 
try something else.
The lines appeared, and I reversed gravity on him. I'd done this to Bumble Bee 
yesterday, but it should still work.
It didn't. Stone Man was now using his other ability: immovability. I increased 
the pull on him, joining in several other stars. Nothing. I risked even more, 
and the ground started to rumble, my gravity field warping nearby objects.
"Ahhhhh!!” I cried out. Looking toward the bleachers with pain-filled eyes, I 
saw Francis standing, his fists clenched. If I didn't end this soon, he—and 
probably Benjamin—would join in.
Abruptly, I reversed gravity on Stone Man, and I tried pushing him into the 
ground. Nothing. Immovable really meant immovable.
"Give it up, girl,” he said in a quiet tone. “We were interested in you mainly 
because we thought your power was over rock, and would complement mine. But it's 
over gravity, I see, and no amount of force can move me."
"If I give up?” I choked out. “You'll leave me alone?"
"Of course not!” he said. “Failing means we'll petition the United Nations to 
have you removed from your role as protector of this island. You'd be considered 
too weak."
"No!” I yelled. “You can't do that! My family has been here for three hundred 
years!"
"And it'll end with you.” He clenched his hand, and I felt a stabbing pain in my 
bones. “Just surrender and I'll let you go."
"You would reveal my identity to the world?” I gasped. “And then what? Who will 
protect my people?"
"The Good Guys, of course,” he said. “And when your brother became old enough, 
we'd train and test him to see if he could continue where you failed."
"I hate you!” I screamed, and ripped the ground out from under him. A canyon 
forty feet wide, 200 feet long and at least 100 feet deep opened up and Stone 
Man fell in. Immovable didn't apply in thin air.
His concentration broken, his hold on me vanished. I'd like to say I made a 
miraculous comeback, but if anything, I felt worse. All my compressed muscles 
relaxed suddenly, the blood rushed into my arms and legs, and I blacked out.
It must have been for a moment only, because when I came to, Stone Man was still 
at the bottom of the ditch. Francis and Benjamin were underneath me, yelling at 
me to wake up.
I righted myself in the air and shook my head. Dizzy, I drifted closer to the 
crevasse. Peering down, I saw nothing but black.
"Can you see anything, Sis?” Francis shouted. They'd backed off to the track in 
case the fight resumed.
"No,” I gasped out, still recovering. “If he's alive, he's unconscious or some—"
The crushing grip was back on me. But now I had no interest in playing. This was 
for keeps. Without a moment's hesitation, I slammed the ground shut, trapping 
Stone Man a hundred feet down.
"What have you done?” Benjamin shouted, running toward me.
"Just wait,” I croaked, holding out a hand. Stone Man still had me in his grip.
Slowly over the next minute, his grip eased. Finally, it stopped altogether. 
That was my cue to open the ground. Lifting the bottom of the crevasse up, I 
soon had a mound of rock and dirt where the rent had been. A dirt-encrusted 
Stone Man lay on top of it, gasping for breath. I went close to him, but kept my 
advantage in the air.
"We can do this over and over,” I said, my throat raw and painful. “Sooner or 
later you'll either give up or be buried alive. Which is it?” I moved the ground 
slightly, and the pile of dirt dropped three feet.
"Enough,” he wheezed out. “You pass the test. I suppose ... I suppose you're 
going to throw me in jail, too?"
"I thought about it,” I said in agreement. “But after what you told me, I want 
you to deliver a message for me. Tell your partners that the Good Guys have gone 
from being a pain in my butt to being a dangerous enemy for St. Thomas. I may 
have to try something very different next time."
"You'd be willing to kill?” he asked, not really believing it. “You'd step 
outside the law to protect your position?"
"You still don't get it, do you? The Angel is above the law. I am by birthright 
what your group is by United Nations’ approval. Kill? If it is to save my 
people, yes, I would kill."
"You're a monster,” he said with an ugly, flat tone.
"To those who threaten my people, I'm worse than any monster,” I replied. 
“Remember that the next time you want to test me. I may decide it's a final 
exam."


Chapter Fifteen 
Ultimatum 
I managed to hold out until Stone Man left the school, looking at him sternly 
the whole way. As soon as he was out of sight, though, I went straight to the 
ground and lay down. I hurt all over. Francis and Benjamin were at my side at 
once.
"Are you okay, Sis?” Francis asked anxiously. He started checking me for broken 
bones while Benjamin held my hand. I winced at a few places Francis touched, 
especially my ribs, but he finally he shook his head, relieved.
Benjamin was equally relieved.
"You are quite fortunate, and very resilient, Carlita, to have withstood his 
attack and not have any bones broken. Not many can say that."
"I don't feel very fortunate,” I replied, trying to sit up. I made it on the 
third try with their help.
"You sounded seriously pissed,” Francis said. “I thought you were going to kill 
him."
"Nonsense, Francis! It is outside the code of ethics for a hero to kill. No 
matter what the circumstances."
"We're not heroes,” Francis said simply.
"Francis!"
"He's right, Benjamin. We're not heroes. We're protectors. If it was absolutely 
required, both of us would kill. Most Angels have. I fully expect to myself one 
day."
Benjamin stood up, looking at us with disapproving eyes.
"How can you say that, Carlita? Don't you realize that all life is sacred?"
"Of course it is, Benjamin,” I replied. “But life stops being sacred when it is 
misused to the point of threatening others’ lives. Then it becomes an evil 
thing."
"I don't believe it,” he said, shaking his head. “Everything I've seen, done, 
everything, has shown me you two are incapable of killing."
"If that's true,” Francis said, “then neither of us should be an Angel. If I 
have to choose between my people and someone who's going to kill them, I'll kill 
the bad guy.” He looked away. “Even if I have to summon the Carib Angel."
"The Carib Angel?"
"Uh-huh. That one gift that every Angel has. When we call it, we stop being the 
Angel of St. Thomas and become the Carib Angel."
"This is nonsense,” Benjamin said, growing angry. “Dangerous nonsense. I wonder 
if you should have the privilege to be guardians of this island."
"It is a privilege. But it is also a right,” I said, getting a little angry. 
“And as a right, it is something that nobody; not our people, not the 
government, not even the United Nations, has control over. We are the Angel, as 
natural as the island itself."
"No!"
"Please, Benjamin! You have to understand! We're not the Good Guys. We're not 
the Freedom Squad. We're beyond that."
"Beyond what? Justice? Freedom? Respect of human life?” He shook his head. “I 
cannot be party to such a misguided sense of duty."
"Benjamin!"
He snapped straight and bowed at the waist.
"I'm sorry. I felt I had found kindred spirits in the two of you. I see now that 
I was mistaken. Take care of yourselves. Good-bye, Francis. Farewell, Carlita."
With that, he straightened from his bow, turned his back on us, and walked away.
* * * *
"There! All finished!"
Doctor Grant tugged at the wrapping around my ribs one last time, and stepped 
back. “You're going to be sore for a few days, Carlita, but I can give you some 
pain medication for that."
"Will it slow me down?” I asked, carefully pulling my top back on.
"The bandages, probably not too much. The medication, somewhat."
"Then no medication. Not until I've gotten the Good Guys off St. Thomas for 
good."
"We have total faith in you, Carlita,” he said without hesitancy. “I'm the sixth 
generation of my family bahn here, and the Angel has never let us down."
I nodded my thanks for his support and left. One benefit Francis and I had was 
free medical. Good thing, too. The bills I accumulated as the Angel were many 
times higher than my income.
Once outside, I caught a breeze and went airborne. Much better! I thought to 
myself. I'd also cut down my own weight by two-thirds on doctor's orders. It 
took a big burden off my bruised but unbroken bones.
The trip home was thankfully uneventful. Landing on my back porch, I went into 
the living room and carefully lay down on the futon. Francis was at market, 
getting our daily bread. I had the place to myself for the first time in days. 
Rolling to my back, I reviewed the past week. Was that all it had been?
The Galactic Good Guys wanted me in their ranks. I didn't want to join. They 
began testing me, fooling or forcing me to get involved. I passed every test and 
none of my people had been harmed. I'd made a good friend in Benjamin Frost, 
then lost him. Looking back on it, things hadn't really changed. Except for two 
things. I had badly bruised ribs, and the Good Guys were going to bring 
political force against me and expose the truth and identity of the Angel of St. 
Thomas. The ribs would heal, but what could be done about the other?
Needing a break, I pulled out my history book for next year and began studying. 
Our teachers gave Francis and me our books and assignments in advance, knowing 
our “excused absences” were naturally much higher than other students'.
The next few hours passed quietly and pleasantly. I finished four chapters, did 
the essays, and answered the questions. Somewhere along the line, during the 
French Revolution, I drifted off to sleep.
When I woke up, it was night. The lights were on, and Francis was lying on the 
floor beside me, doing math problems. Dinner had been prepared and smelled 
wonderful. Francis looked at me, and I smiled back.
"Good night, little bro',” I said, stretching ... Ow! I forgot. My ribs reminded 
me.
"Good night, Sis,” he answered, stretching as well. “Up for a little dinner?"
"Am I ever!” I sniffed appreciatively. “Fish! Yummy!"
It was a nice dinner, for both of us. I was sorry that Benjamin had deserted us, 
and I missed him terribly. But it was also comfortable just being a family of 
two again. Francis felt the same, I think.
"Do you think they've finally left?” he asked.
"I wish. Pass the lemon, please. Thanks. No, this isn't going to end until they 
are convinced I'm not going to join them."
"What about Stone Man's threat to tell the world about us and get the UN to go 
after us?"
"I don't know” I shrugged. I.nside, I was very worried. But I didn't want to 
betray that to Francis. He needed reassurance now. “I've been thinking it over. 
If they tell the world who we are, it might be hard for a while, but really, how 
different would it be?"
"For one thing, we'd be megastars, the way the Good Guys are.” He made a face. 
“I thought that might have been neat, but now I don't. They'd never leave us 
alone."
"Not only that, but off-island newspapers and magazines wouldn't care about 
protecting us, the way Virgin Island Daily News and the other papers do. It'd be 
awful."
"And what about the UN?"
"Francis, I just don't know!” I snapped, then was immediately sorry. He read my 
thoughts, figuratively if not literally.
"You're holding back on me again, aren't you, Sis?” he asked softly. I nodded. 
“Trying to protect me as always, right?” I nodded again and wiped away a tear. 
He came over and stood behind me. He was growing up. He put his hands on my 
shoulders.
"Thanks. I know you're my sister, but you've also been my mother. It's gotta be 
tough on you. I really like the feeling I get when I know my big sister—the 
Angel—is watching over me.
"But no, thanks, Carlita. Remember, I'm the Angel, too. And the Good Guys are 
attacking us I like being protected, but I have a duty to my people, and to my 
island. You gotta tell me how we're going to fix this."
I sniffed and gave him a small smile.
"You're right, Francis. I'm sorry."
"Good!” he said and took his seat. “Now, tell me what we should do, and I'll 
help out."
So I told him.
* * * *
Thankfully, the next few days passed along quietly. I spent two of the days at 
Tom Con, getting the next job set up and catching up on all the office work. It 
was so good to just forget myself that I worked late both days.
The evenings and nights were equally routine. I spent one night on regular 
patrol and a second one walking the docks at Havensight, cutting down on the 
pickpockets and purse-snatchers. I only caught about five—tripping them up by 
making one of their legs much heavier than the other—but that was because word 
got around the under-community I was there and they avoided the area. Hey, as 
long as crime was stopped and my people safe—even the tourists were my people 
when on my island—I was happy.
Like I said, it was a much-needed break from the Good Guys, who remained unseen 
and unheard from. Francis and I even spent a day on St. Croix, compliments of 
Air Carlita. Flying had its perks.
After the fourth day of worry-free living, I was finally beginning to relax. I 
probably should have put out word that I wanted to find the Good Guys. I'd know 
within the hour where they were staying. But I chose not to. Francis, my ribs, 
and I needed the time off. Let it lie, I told myself. Maybe they'd lick their 
wounds and leave. The only thing I missed was Benjamin's company. He'd given me 
the feeling of safety that I tried to give Francis.
We were home the evening of the fourth day, slaving over our homework, when a 
knock came at the door. Assuming it was the Chinese dinner that we'd ordered, I 
jumped to my feet and answered the door.
It was Victor Spekvin. The Alchemist. The one who hadn't tested me. The one 
Benjamin had warned us about.
I reacted immediately by slamming him to the porch. He lifted his head slightly, 
so I increased the pull.
He looked at me briefly.
"Not bad,” he said. “Good reflexes. But the wrong action."
The floor underneath him suddenly disappeared, and he slipped through. The porch 
reappeared behind him.
Racing down the stairs, I saw him standing on the street, his hands held out. I 
reached the bottom step and approached him slowly. All around us, the street 
festivities jarred to a stop; a large open space developed around us as the 
people gave me room.
"No, this is not a test, Carlita,” he said, smiling an evil smile.
"Good,” I said. “I'm tired of your tests. But then why are you here, Mr. 
Spekvin? Have the Good Guys finally decided to leave me alone?"
"Unfortunately, no,” he replied, lowering his hands. I didn't like him. “Rather, 
we have made a decision to report your actions and attitudes to the United 
Nations. The next time you see us, it will be as protectors of these islands and 
to relieve you of that responsibility."
"Or?” I asked. “There's always an ‘or’ Otherwise you would have not bothered 
telling me. You'd have just carried out your threat."
"Very clever, girl,” he hissed. “There is an alternative. Join us. We will then 
be able to train you correctly while taking responsibility for your actions."
"You mean guard me."
He shrugged.
"That's what I would do,” he said truthfully. “But I do not make the final 
decisions. Strong Man and Wanda do."
He slipped back toward the people, the street shifting and flowing under his 
feet.
"I have delivered my message. Deliver your answer tomorrow, at the mansion site, 
at noon. Do not make us come after you.” He gave a last smile. “And do not force 
us to make you come after us.” He slid from sight, causing a ripple of panic in 
the crowd.
I stood there, looking after him. I knew a veiled threat when I heard one. Make 
me come after them. They'd crossed the line and were willing to put innocent 
lives at stake to achieve their goal of my joining them.
And I'd use all my power to prevent it.
All of it.


Chapter Sixteen 
Showdown 
"You're sure then, Judge?” I sat in Judge Winslow's private office. Whenever I 
had a question about law, I went to him.
"I'm sorry, Carlita” He sighed, hanging up the phone. “My contact at the UN just 
confirmed what I feared: as a legal entity, we have absolutely no jurisdiction 
over the Galactic Good Guys. The freedoms granted them by the World Court are 
alarmingly expansive. They even include the peculiar clause of non-sovereign 
intervention."
"What does that mean?"
"It means that individual nations cannot negate the Good Guys’ freedom of 
movement and action. Technically, we were breaking the law by detaining two of 
them in our jail."
"So you're saying we can't do anything until they actually break the law?"
"In fact, we may not even be able to intervene then. They can justify any and 
all damage as ‘necessary to maintain global justice'. It's much the same as 
wartime powers. A nation is not held liable for collateral damage that occurs 
during an attack. The Good Guys have that same type of immunity."
"What about lives?"
He shook his head. “I'm sorry."
"You're saying innocent lives could be lost—that they could be murdered by the 
Good Guys—and we cannot prevent it?” He nodded, and I stood.
"I cannot allow that. I will not allow that. Thank you, Judge. I was hoping we 
could prevent this. I see now that we can't."
"Carlita, if there was something I could do, you know I would.” I nodded. He 
walked me to the door. “I wish to avoid bloodshed as much as you. But 
unfortunately, it only takes one to make war."
"Not on my island, Judge. Not on my people. Not while I live."
He smiled. “You are your mother, Carlita. The same burning dedication, the same 
unshakable resolve. I know I speak for all the people of St. Thomas when I say 
we trust you completely. Be careful, Carlita, and go with our love.” He hugged 
me.
Taking to the air, I swung around toward the east, where the mansion was. It was 
ten in the morning. Two hours until their deadline. Perhaps I should get there 
early and...
And what? I saw only one option, and I did not like it. Not at all. And I did 
not like that I would use it. But what else was there? I'd never come across 
something so potentially devastating and yet so vague. Storms, hurricanes, even 
earthquakes, all had a way that they acted, a pattern to their destruction. But 
they were mercifully short. What the Good Guys were planning would harm my 
people and my family for countless years. It was like the diseases and slavery 
of the Europeans and the cruelty of the pirates were all coming at once upon us.
My path was clear, but unbearable. I had told Benjamin I could and would kill. 
I'd told Stone Man as well. I thought I could. I ... I knew I could kill. That 
did not make it any easier. The damage to my soul would be irreparable. Once 
done, there would be no going back.
Mother understood and tried to explain it to me. I was five when she came back 
from duty, crying. It was several days before she talked to me about it. She'd 
been forced to kill a smuggler who was going to kill several Coast Guard seamen.
"It hurt more than I thought it could, Carlita,” she said. “But I need to share 
it with you, because you'll face it one day yourself. I still hurt on the 
inside, but I have to go on. The Angel isn't allowed to stop being the 
protector. I—I can't! The Angel is what I am—what you will be—above everything 
else. And while it is our birthright to act as we need to protect our island and 
our people, it was to them I turned for comfort. It is our island. They are our 
people. Go to them when the day comes that you must take a life."
And today was the day. Certainty so complete, it had to be a gift. I made up my 
mind. Agnes Fancy was coming up on my left. I swung north and started to 
descend.
* * * *
"Benjamin, I need your help."
I stood at his front door, my hands folded in front of me. He towered over me, a 
look in his eyes that made me turn my head.
"I'm sorry, Carlita. I cannot help you."
I looked at him, angry, heartbroken, terrified and helpless. With tears in my 
eyes, I glared and took a deep breath.
"Can't? Or won't?” I accused.
"You may choose whichever. I will not be a party to your kind of justice.” He 
closed the door.
"Benjamin! Please!” Sobbing, I pounded on the door. “Don't you understand? I 
need your help to save lives! I've been forced into having to choose who lives 
and who dies! Please! I don't want to kill anyone! And I hate myself knowing 
that I will!” Crying uncontrollably now, I sank to the ground.
There came a quiet click, and the door opened again. I looked up and saw 
Benjamin looking down at me. His own eyes were moist. He gave me a slow smile.
"Carlita. Child. Please come in and share a cup of tea with an old, foolish 
man."
* * * *
"So I have no other choice.” I finished my story and my tea. I glanced at the 
kitchen clock. Ten-thirty. Ninety minutes.
"And I have no solution, Carlita.” Benjamin stood up from the table and gathered 
my cup and his. “I have been thinking over the past days about the unique 
relationship the Angel has with her people. I failed to understand just how deep 
the love went. Love both ways. You hover over your people as so many other 
Angels have, and you know them; you are a part of them; you love all of them and 
each of them as a mother does her children. What you do affects all of them. No 
other super-powered hero—and I call you a hero—has such ultimate responsibility, 
love, and commitment. I ... I see now that the justice, the protection, you 
bring these islanders is total. That you are willing to do even the unthinkable 
in order to save them. I was a fool to think you less of a hero when you spoke 
of taking life. It is because you are more of a hero that you are capable of 
anything, because you place their needs above yours, their lives above yours. 
Please, forgive me."
Crying, I nodded my head and went into his arms. The safety he had provided me 
before rushed back and I was calm.
In the end, that was all I needed. We talked a little longer, but he'd done more 
than I could ever dream. He'd given me a reason to trust in myself. To make the 
hard decision. I still hoped it wouldn't come to it, but if it did, I would be 
ready.
* * * *
"Right on time.” Blue Lass, predictably, was the first one to speak. I had just 
landed in front of them at the mansion site. It stood like an unfinished sphinx 
behind them, almost eerie in its silence.
"Have you arrived at a decision?” Power Man asked, wasting no time.
"I have,” I replied. Taking my time, I looked each of them in the eye, letting 
them see the anger in mine. I noticed Stone Man was not among them. Probably 
still recovering.
"I will join the Good Guys under two conditions."
"It doesn't work that way,” Victor said. He was in the back of the group and was 
prepared for a fight. Maybe hoping for a fight.
"It does for me,” I said. “You will not allow me to refuse the invitation. Not 
without consequences that will harm my people. Therefore, I get to choose the 
conditions under which I will join."
"I'm not saying we will accept your conditions,” Blue Lass said, “but what are 
they?"
"First: Regardless of what happens, you will leave St. Thomas and the Virgin 
Islands. You will never return or interfere with them again."
"Easy enough,” she replied. “We don't come here anyway. Nor would we. These 
islands are not politically significant, and the people here too few. What's the 
second condition?"
I felt my soul freeze at their callousness, but I continued.
"That you defeat me, as a group. There is a small island west of here named 
Dutchcap Cay. It is uninhabited but of sufficient size to allow freedom of 
movement. Meet me there at sundown."
"Why not now?"
"Because, Blue Lass, while you may not place value on my people's lives, I do. I 
want the area to be completely clear of civilians and all air traffic diverted. 
If I lose, I will join the Galactic Good Guys. But if I win, you will guard my 
secrets and never bother me again."
She nodded. “Agreed. You run your little errands, and we'll meet you on the 
island."
She raised an arm and the Galactic Good Guys prepared to leave. She gave me a 
small, superior smile. The kind I hated.
"Be sure that you are there on time, Carlita.” She closed her hand, and the 
group moved off. Within ten seconds, the last one was gone.
* * * *
I returned home late in the afternoon. I'd told Benjamin what had gone on at the 
meeting, then flown over to the police station and airport to arrange for 
Dutchcap Cay to be isolated from all air and sea traffic. Before three o'clock, 
the whole island knew the Angel would be in the fight of her life. Perhaps their 
lives, too.
When I reached Staari, I landed and walked the last few blocks home, trying to 
clear my thoughts.
Was I doing the right thing? Could I defeat them as a group? Individually, each 
of them had been beatable. But how about as a team? The only team-up I'd seen so 
far was Strong Man and Blue Lass, and I'd won that round only with help from 
Francis, Bobby Dobbie and the gang at Tom Con. This time, I was going alone, 
because I couldn't risk their lives, knowing what I was up against, and knowing 
what the Galactic Good Guys thought of my people.
And what happened if I lost? I didn't like that thought. Not one tiny bit. I'd 
do as promised. I would give up being the Angel, leave St. Thomas, and join the 
Good Guys. Francis would be the only Angel left, a hard thing to be, I knew from 
experience.
And I would never come back. How could I, after abandoning my people and 
rejecting my Angel duties? The answer was easy and stark: I couldn't come back. 
To look into the eyes of those I'd betrayed would kill my soul. I must not fail!
I stopped at the corner store and bought a soda. Mr. Graines, the owner, quietly 
accepted my money and wished me well. I thanked him and left. His were the eyes 
I would have to look into if I failed. I opened my soda and continued home.
Victor. Of them all, Victor was the one I feared the most. I'd only seen his 
power once, and it had caught me off guard. He was called the Alchemist for good 
reason. He was able to alter any inorganic material into whatever element he 
wished. Benjamin had told me that while Victor couldn't make complex things, 
that inability had angered and frustrated him to the point that he used the 
ability he had with ruthlessness. It was a chilling thought.
I turned up my street and almost immediately saw there was something wrong. 
People stood around Marie's cart, but I couldn't see the cart. And instead of 
laughter, I heard crying. Dropping my soda, I ran up to them.
Pushing my way through, I saw the destroyed remains of Big Marie's cart, with 
Marie herself wailing and inconsolable. I turned to one of my neighbors, Amelia.
"Get the tourists out of here,” I said in a low tone. “They don't belong here 
right now.” She nodded and passed the word. I knelt beside Marie and hugged her.
"Marie?” I said quietly. She kept crying. “Momma? What happened? Who did this?"
She couldn't answer so someone else did.
"It was one of those stupid Good Guys, Carlita,” he said with anger and 
frustration. “He went up to Big Marie and wrecked everything, shouting, ‘Where's 
your Angel now?’ over and over."
I kept hugging her. Amelia came back and said all the tourists were off our 
Gade. I nodded calmly, but inside was the burning feel of hatred. Hatred for the 
Good Guys. And I might end up being one.
"Momma! I'm so sorry! I wish I could have been here to help you!” She pushed me 
off and took me by the arms.
"I do not blame you, Carlita,” she said, trying to get control of herself. “I 
blame myself. I cry for me."
"Don't worry, Momma,” I said. “We'll build you a better cart, and make you new 
things to sell. It will take—"
"No!” she exclaimed “My cart is nothing! Some wood and paint. Knickknacks and 
baubles to sell to off-islanders. What is my fault is that I have failed you, 
Carlita! I have failed the Angel of St. Thomas!"
"Don't say that, Momma!” I said, getting scared. “You've taken care of Francis 
and me for years. We love you as our mother! You could never..."
"But I did, sweet child,” she mourned. “That hideous creature that destroyed my 
cart did so only to lure Francis out. And when Francis came to save me, that ... 
that ... criminal! Waved his hand and the boy went into a seizure.” Marie broke 
down into sobs again.
The burning hatred went ice cold as my soul froze.
"Where is he?” I asked, my voice wavering. “Where's my brother?"
"We don't know, Carlita,” came the quiet reply from somewhere in the crowd. 
“After he attacked Francis, he took him."


Chapter Seventeen 
An Angel Departs 
The red buoy just off Rupert Rock, where I lay, flashed over and over, an 
ever-vigilant watchman, warning ships that there was danger nearby. Warning them 
to follow the lights and be safe.
Rupert Rock was very small, unable to hold a dozen people, and bare. Yet I would 
come here at times to be alone and think my thoughts. The story was that the 
Rock had been named for Prince Rupert, who'd lived the life of a buccaneer 
centuries ago. The truth was that it had been named for my ancestor, Rupert, 
also a buccaneer, but who'd been given another chance and a special charge: to 
be the Angel of St. Thomas.
Less than a quarter-mile away were the Havensight docks. A cruise ship was 
passing by, heading out to sea, full of carefree tourists and vigilant crew, 
devoted to the happiness and safety of those passengers. A number of them waved 
at me, surprised, I think, to see me there. I was in no mood to wave back. 
Undoubtedly, someone would notify the Captain and he would assure them that all 
was well; that I was a frequent visitor to the rock. Why? he would be asked. 
He'd shrug his shoulders and say that knowing the mind of an islander was not 
possible. I would be forgotten, nothing more than a photograph, and then they'd 
turn away and look forward to the next island of their lovely tour. And wasn't 
St. Thomas a nice little island? So carefree! How lucky the natives were to live 
there, free from danger and worry and things unfortunate.
Sunset. It was time. I stood and looked toward Charlotte Amalie. The lights were 
on now, from Frenchtown to Havensight. The harbor itself was alight, a nightly 
celebration of life and joy and peace and fellowship.
One of the lights was a small boat making its way toward me. There was still 
plenty of daylight left, more than enough to see it was a police launch, piloted 
by Lt. Lewis.
He pulled up close to Rupert Rock and expertly threw the launch into reverse, 
then idle, leaving it motionless in the water. He didn't get out—nobody went on 
Rupert Rock except Angels—and gave me a grim smile.
"Time,” he said. I nodded.
"The area is cordoned off. You'll have free reign tonight, Carlita.” I nodded 
again. Lt. Lewis sighed and leaned on the wheel, looking at the sunset.
"I was a sergeant the day your mom last went to sea ten years ago. I'll never 
forget that day. We were taking a pounding from the storm, despite your mother's 
constant efforts. It's often overlooked when the story is told that Constance 
had saved hundreds of lives here, on the island, before she went after the four 
ships."
I watched him and listened.
"The distress calls started coming in at noon. Four in two hours. As soon as she 
heard, even though she was exhausted after two nonstop days of using her gifts, 
Constance radioed in and said she was off to save them. Able to glide on water 
and calming it around her, she was the only hope they had. So she went out. 
After three hours, the first came into harbor. She went out again. This time it 
was five hours before she returned, with two ships. She went out again, even 
though it was almost dark.” He paused.
"We never knew for certain whether she had known the fourth ship was the one 
your father was on. Did she put that one off for last, putting the needs of 
others above hers? Even above her children's? Or did she wait to save it because 
it had the fewest lives on board? Or did she even know that?
"It didn't matter to us, Carlita. All we knew was that hundreds—thousands—of 
people were alive, and the Angel was gone. The Angel and her husband. We grieved 
for them and for you as a family grieves. Constance was our own."
He turned back at me and smiled. The grimness was gone, replaced by a more 
relaxed look.
"And I remember the very next day when you, seven years old, hair in pigtails 
and your eyes still red from crying, showed up at the police station and 
announced that you were now our Angel.
"Ten years since then. Ten years of joy, despite those who would force their 
evil on us. What I'm saying, Carlita, is that regardless of what happens 
tonight, I will always be proud and grateful that I know you. Come back safe, 
Carlita. Come back to your people, Angel of St. Thomas."
I nodded again and spread my arms. Sparkles of lights poured from them.
"Thank you, Lieut ... thank you, Eric.” I caught the breeze and lifted off. 
“I'll not let you down."
Rising to several hundred feet, I kept my arms wide and lit the twilight with a 
blanket of sparkles. Trailing a carpet of white, blue, green and red, I moved 
off northwest over Charlotte Amalie. Looking behind me, I could still see the 
lieutenant below, looking up after me.
I swung my gaze ahead and gasped.
There, standing on rooftops, on ship decks, and crowded in the streets, were my 
people, all looking up in silence. They had come out to wish me well, to tell me 
they would always trust and be with me. I felt a lump in my throat. To be 
protector of a people like this ... I would not fail!
I maintained the light display all the way to the tip of St. Thomas and beyond. 
Two miles out, past Salt and West cays, was Dutchcap Cay. From my altitude, now 
over a thousand feet, I could just see the tip of the sunset.
Descending to just over a hundred feet, I flew in toward the cay. The Galactic 
Good Guys were waiting for me. With them, still held stiff by Stone Man's power, 
was Francis. I looked at Blue Lass, their true leader.
"Release my brother."
"We won't harm him, Carlita. But we're going keep him a little longer, just to 
make sure you haven't brought others with you."
"Others?” I laughed at them. “Why would I need others? I've beaten you all once, 
I can beat you again. But release my brother first."
She shook her head.
"All right” I sighed. “Francis, I need you to get out of here when I say, okay?"
Bumble Bee laughed. “Didn't you hear Blue Lass, Carlita? We decide when he goes 
free!"
"Always the cur to your Mistress's feet, eh, Bumble Bee?” came a voice behind 
them. “And never a very intelligent one, either."
The Good Guys swung around and saw Benjamin standing there. Behind him, a path 
of ice covered the sea.
"Benjamin!” Power Man exclaimed. Benjamin shook his head.
"I'm sorry, Walter. You do not get to use my name. I am Benjamin to my friends. 
To the Galactic Good Guys, I'm The Icicle."
"But you're a Good Guy!” Wind Lass said. She hovered over the group, looking at 
Benjamin nervously. I had a sudden knowledge that she, like Victor, had come out 
second best in a fight with him.
"I was never more than a convenience to you,” he countered. “A Good Guy in name 
only. I have severed even that tie.” He looked at Blue Lass. “I have contacted 
the UN and reported to them what I have witnessed these past weeks here. Even as 
we speak, the council is meeting to seriously reconsider the immunities the 
Galactic Good Guys have used and abused over the years. The Hague has also been 
made aware."
They were flabbergasted. Caught off-guard, it was the perfect time to make a 
move.
"Now!” I shouted, drawing attention to me. Benjamin ran to Francis and held on 
tight. Instantly, they disappeared. I made a small prayer, hoping Francis’ 
teleport went safely.
I pulled off my radio and tossed it aside. Blue Lass stared at it for a moment, 
then gave me a dirty look.
"You planned this all."
"That's right,” I said. “Though Benjamin helped out considerably.” I went aloft. 
“He's done his job and rescued my brother. Now it's time for me to do my job."
At my beckoning, rock shot up in their midst and I increased its gravity a 
billion-fold. They jerked like puppets and slammed into the rock as though 
magnetized.
Stings—much more powerful than before—shot all over my skin, breaking my 
concentration. At the same time, a blast of wind slammed me from above, forcing 
me down and into Strong Man's arms. He seized me and laughed.
"That was easy,” he bragged. “Hit her now, Blue Lass! I can hold her—wha?” His 
feet kicked in mid air as I lifted us. He grunted as Blue Lass's bolt, intended 
for me, nailed him in the back. He released me and took to the air himself. For 
a moment only, though. I increased the Earth's pull and he descended.
Another gust hit me again, and I quickly raised my gravity shield. It would be 
impossible for her...
Stings! All over my body! Again my concentration broke and again the wind pushed 
me where it would. Only this time it was toward the rock I'd raised up.
Instead of resisting, I allowed it to take me. Just before hitting it, I sent 
the rock back into the ground and continued on to a surprised Stone Man. I 
increased my weight and slammed into him.
Big mistake. He'd already gone immovable. I struck him and bounced off, again 
hitting the ground. He laughed.
"Got you!” he shouted.
Instantly my insides seized up. I'd been right; being in the air was far better 
than fighting him on the ground. His power was far more effective there.
Unable to move, I could not prevent Bumble Bee hitting me again. Stings all over 
my body, and I couldn't get to them!
A breeze went across my face, and I went airborne.
"Fool!” came a nasty hiss.
It was the Alchemist. He was holding a ball. Giving an evil smile, he tossed it.
A ball! I had to get the ball! I was stiff, but now I wasn't. Happy! Get the 
ball!
It bounced and bounced and bounced, playing with all the rocks. I almost got to 
it, but a wind blew it some more, making it more fun to catch. Fun! I was having 
fun!
The ball moved again from the wind. Laughing, I went after it! This was great!
There were people on the rocks, too. Maybe it was their ball. No! My ball! It 
was my ball! I went after it some more!
A big wind came and slammed me into the ground, breaking the spell. The rock 
changed to steel and wrapped itself around me, holding me on my back, 
spread-eagled. Stings hit me again, and my insides were on fire as my muscles 
tightened. Grounded and unable to concentrate from the constant stinging, they 
had me.
They gathered around, grim and victorious. Blue Lass knelt beside me.
"That's it then, Carlita,” she said with deep satisfaction. “You are now a 
Galactic Good Guy. The first thing you'll do is convince Frost to recant his 
testimony so we can keep our immune status. After that, you'll leave St. Thomas 
and join us at our base in New York, to begin your proper training."
"No."
"No?” She fired a bolt into me, a hundred times worse than Bumble Bee's 
continuous stinging. “Get a clue, Carlita! You've lost!” Her voice was becoming 
mean as she fired another bolt into me. “We own you."
"I'm sorry,” I said, my eyes filling with tears. Tears of pain and of sorrow. 
Sorrow for them.
"Sorry for what?” she asked.
"Sorry I'm forced to do this,” I answered. My body started burning, but not from 
the attacks. It was burning with power. Looking her straight in the eye, I said, 
“I did everything I could to convince you to leave. Now it's too late."
The pain subsided. I continued to stare at Blue Lass.
"I've lost my hold on her!” Stone Man shouted.
"My stings aren't working, either!"
Blue Lass stood quickly and backed up. My steel shackles disintegrated. The 
power had nearly consumed me. I now wanted it to. Mostly. Slowly, I stood. Wind 
Lass hit me with a gust of wind, to no effect.
"What is this?” Blue Lass shouted. “Everyone, prepare for full assault!” She 
turned to me. “I see the Angel of St. Thomas has another power."
"I am not the Angel of St. Thomas,” I boomed in a voice not my own. I had no 
control now. “There is no Angel of St. Thomas. I am your death. I am your 
everlasting agony. You are looking now upon the instrument of your despair!
"I am the Carib Angel."


Chapter Eighteen 
The Carib Angel 
They would not escape. A simple gesture. Raising my arms, I called the waters to 
rise up. Instantly, a wall of seawater, hundreds of feet high and a hundred feet 
thick, surrounded the cay. The walls glowed a greenish white from 
bioluminescence, casting an eerie light over the startled group of humans.
"You have threatened my people,” I rumbled. The words were not spoken by me, but 
came from my soul and were spoken by another inside me. Beside me. With me. A 
part of me. “You have forced your will upon my Angel of St. Thomas and I will 
not forgive that!"
"But ... but you're the Angel of St. Thomas,” Strong Man stammered.
"Off-islander!” I spat out at him. “Outsider! You know nothing! She who I live 
in, and who I have chosen to be, is the Angel of St. Thomas. Who you speak to 
now is the Carib Angel! The Nameless Dread! The Spirit of the People! I have 
lived for countless millennia and have counseled my peoples, given them life, 
and brought them death. I chose the first Angel, and I shall choose the last. 
This beloved child is not the last. Nor her children. Nor theirs, for many 
generations yet to come."
"But she needs training!” Wind Lass said. “We can offer her training."
"Your lies are worthless to me,” I replied. “This girl and I can see through 
them as a ray of sunlight on shallow tide pools. You do not intend to train her. 
You intend to control her, and use her power—my power!—for your own, loathsome 
purposes."
"We defeated your precious Angel,” Blue Lass said, raising her hand at me. “And 
we can defeat you, monster! You occupy Carlita's body. That makes you 
vulnerable! Destroy her and we destroy you!"
"Are you still blind, mortal? I have spoken! Life is mine to give and take! I 
have taken eleven Angels. One day I will take my hundredth. And each of them is 
worth far more than all of you!"
Mother! As the Carib Angel, had I killed my own mother?
No, came the soothing, rumbling answer inside me. This is beyond you, beloved 
child, Loving Angel. We are one. We are together. But it is I who declares what 
is right and when. One day, you shall understand. For today, what I have said is 
enough.
Yes, I answered. It was enough. My soul went calm and I heard myself speaking 
again.
"This, then, is the power you so foolishly tried to contain!” I opened my arms 
again.
"Look!” Stone Man shouted. “The ground underneath her!"
My sparkles had turned into stabs of black. They rained to the ground, forming a 
veil of void, a beautiful pair of wings that took everything in and let nothing 
out. Even over the roar of the water walls it was possible to hear the crackling 
of the rock as it was obliterated.
"Strong Man!” Blue Lass barked. She fired into my body, but I merely absorbed 
it. Ignoring her, I spread my veil across the cay, from water wall to water 
wall.
A whooshing sound made me look up calmly. Strong Man had pulled a boulder from 
the ground and thrown it into the air. Wind Lass seized the boulder with her 
winds and fired it at me. Just before it hit, Alchemist changed it into iron. 
The iron projectile, three times my size, slammed into me.
And ceased to be.
Tiny little pricks, less than goose bumps, touched my arms, legs, face and body. 
I looked down at Bumble Bee and laughed.
"An insect!” I sneered. “For you, an insect's punishment!"
I picked him up with my gravity, then slammed him to the ground, knocking him 
unconscious. I jerked up a huge boulder and hovered it over him, intent on 
crushing him to a lifeless smear.
No! I shouted. You should not kill! You must not!
Do not command me, Angel, came the reply, patient and gentle. I can end anything 
that I wish.
But you mustn't, I pleaded. Not when it is not required! My people are safe! 
These off-islanders are defeated! What will killing them accomplish?
I care not what it will accomplish. It is what I have decided. 
No! I repeated. You will not! If you do, I ... I will give up being the Angel. I 
wanted to cry, saying that, but I had to hold true to what I knew was right.
The Carib Angel should have been angry with me. I was defying the very nature of 
the source of my gifts. Yet he remained loving and understanding.
You are truly your mother, Angel. You have her foolishness. She thought she 
defied me, too, just as you do now. You cannot defy me, child. You are me. Nor 
can you surrender your gift. It is impossible. 
The moment is passed and you have not failed me. You have learned the first 
lesson of many. You know yourself, and in doing so, begin to know me. Their 
lives will be spared. 
Overjoyed, I took the boulder hovering over a now conscious and terrified Bumble 
Bee and tossed it into the water wall. It crumbled instantly into gravel and was 
swept to the bottom of the sea.
Despite my inward struggles, only a moment had gone by. Good. It was time to end 
this. I moved slowly toward them. My wings of oblivion had now become a 
backdrop, spreading upwards into the night sky, beyond sight. As I moved, the 
water hissed and scarred wherever the tip of my veil touched.
"Do not test me further.” This time it was not just the Carib Angel speaking, it 
was also me. Our voices swirled around each other, adding an eerie, non-human 
echo.
"My beloved child has chosen life for you, and I will grant her desire. You will 
leave now, and never return.” This time it was the Carib Angel alone speaking.
"We will tell everyone who she is!” Alchemist yelled.
"Then you will die,” came our answer.
With just my own voice, I spoke to Blue Lass. “Blue Lass. Wanda. Please. This is 
over. If you push it any further, lives will be lost."
"No!” she screamed. “Destroy it!"
They assaulted me again, and I wailed.
"I am the Carib Angel!” I shouted in double voice above the roar of water. “You 
have known my mercy. Now feel my wrath!"
I swept toward them and released my water walls. They crashed down from dizzying 
heights onto the cay. Only one wall, the wall protecting my island and my people 
to the east, remained up.
As quickly as the attack started, it ended. All of them pulled back and yelled 
for help as the waters crashed into them.
All except Blue Lass and Alchemist. With an abandon born of evil, they charged 
me, Alchemist turning the waters into air, and Blue Lass firing bolt after bolt 
into my body.
There would be no mercy.
* * * *
The peak of Dutchcap, almost 300 feet in altitude, showed first. Seething, 
sated, hissing waters poured down the slope. To the east, the final wall of 
water melted gently into the sea, revealing a newly risen moon gently lighting 
the Salt Cay Passage.
A shout from below and I looked down, smiling. Encased in a gravity bubble that 
the receding waters slowly uncovered were the Galactic Good Guys. A more 
terrified and subdued bunch of people I'd never seen.
"You ... you saved us!” Wind Lass, her hair matted down like so much seaweed, 
exclaimed in wonder.
"Of course I did, silly,” I replied in my own voice. In just my own voice. The 
Carib Angel was gone. Or rather, returned to watching. “I give mercy to anyone 
who asks for it. As well as to anyone who doesn't ask for it."
"Wanda!” Strong Man yelled. I'd forgotten he and Blue Lass were married. 
“Where's my wife?"
"I'm sorry, Mr. Overton, but she and Mr. Spekvin rejected the mercy I'd offered 
them, choosing instead to be eaten alive by their hatred and evil."
"Where is she?” he yelled again.
"She's dead, Mr. Overton. She ran into my veil and ceased to be. In time, both 
she and Mr. Spekvin will be forgotten; unknown faces in faded pictures. They 
will have never existed. I'm sorry."
He slumped to his knees in the bubble, sobbing.
"What's to become of us?” Stone Man asked. He was much humbler than before. It 
was a pleasant change.
"That's not really up to me, Mr. Ridder. My guess is that your immunity to 
prosecution has been revoked, though, meaning we can try, convict and imprison 
all of you.” They exchanged nervous looks. Now that they were to be responsible 
for their actions, a cool wind of caution prevailed. Good.
"I will speak on your behalf, however,” I added. “You have caused me nothing but 
grief, but Benjamin was right about you. The Good Guys are not evil, just 
stupid. Maybe today has made you all a little wiser. I will petition that you 
take your wisdom and leave my island.” I looked each one in the eye. “Forever."
They nodded in agreement.
"May I ask one question?” Strong Man asked. Already I could see the pain of his 
wife's loss fading. I think he, too, knew she'd had an evil soul.
"Of course,” I replied.
"From the very beginning you had no interest in becoming part of our group. What 
was it about the Galactic Good Guys that made you reject us?"
"As a group? Nothing, really. My brother has told me quite a bit about you, and 
I think you've the makings of a force for good. Most superheroes would be proud 
to join your ranks."
They straightened slightly. I was glad. After all, I didn't want to destroy them 
as a group. Especially now that the bad had been weeded out.
"But?” Stone Man prompted.
"But you need to understand the difference between you and me. I do not live a 
double life. I do not pick and choose my fights, worry about politics or wonder 
what it is like to defend people I do not know and care about. My home, my 
family, my duty, my very life—everything that comes together to make me the 
person I am—all are the same thing.
"We are two very different kinds of beings. You fight for justice. For what is 
right. That is what a good superhero will do. I'm not a superhero. I don't fight 
for such things. Not in the way you think of them. In fact, I don't fight at 
all. I live. I live for the safety of my people. I live for the peace of my 
islands. I live to protect them all—the guilty as well as the innocent—from 
those who would attack us.
"I am the holder of the soul of the people. I am the wall against which men's 
evil and nature's wrath must crash if they wish to harm my people. I am the one 
chosen to give her life to their safety. And, if called upon, I am the one 
chosen to surrender her life so all is not lost.
"I am the Angel of St. Thomas."


Epilogue 
An End to the Beginning 
It all ended on a Tuesday. I don't know why I remember that. Maybe because it 
had all started on a Tuesday. Though I didn't know why I remembered that, 
either.
The private jet accelerated down the runway and went airborne. It waggled its 
wings in salute, then banked to the north, toward New York. The Galactic Good 
Guys were gone.
"Finally!” Francis said.
"What, little bro'?” I said, mussing his hair as we walked away from the 
terminal. Benjamin was beside us. I think he would always be beside us. “I 
thought you had an incurable case of hero worship."
"I kinda got over it, Sis,” he said, dodging my hair rub. “They're a pretty neat 
bunch, but they're not what I thought they were."
"A deep truth for all of us, Francis,” Benjamin said. “I think the Good Guys 
also learned they were not who they thought they were. Reason now tempers their 
eagerness for combat."
"That's a little weak, Mr. Frost!” Francis accused. “We both saw they way 
Carlita mopped the floor with them.” He laughed. “I mean, the whole cay!"
"Francis!” I scolded. Unknown to me at the time, Francis’ rectangles had taken 
on another aspect shortly after teleporting himself and Benjamin to Salt Cay. He 
could now observe things through the black portals. They had seen—and 
heard—everything that happened that night inside the walls of water.
"It's true, Carlita. You have demonstrated beyond doubt that the Angel is far 
stronger than them. And much purer of heart."
I blushed and changed the subject.
"Well, you can still join them later, bro',” I teased. “Explore the galaxy. At 
least a corner of it."
"Nah. Strong Man told me the truth. They've never left the planet. They just 
thought adding the word ‘Galactic’ made them sound more powerful."
I laughed.
"Well, hopefully they've learned something."
"They learned, Carlita,” Benjamin assured me as we got into his car, a classic, 
bright blue—ice blue?—convertible.
"And they will be a long time forgetting the lesson."
Benjamin started the car up with a roar and we left the airport. I took out my 
bandana and let my hair blow in the wind.
It was a glorious day!
END