Small Miracles, page 22
2 Lady Xian is also well known for bragging about all of the imperial gifts she has earned. After several centuries of cornered water-cooler conversations, most of the Celestial Bureaucracy can recite her possessions from memory.
3 +1 Point of Virtue (Ella Harker): A Heartfelt Apology.
4 +2 Points of Virtue (Ella Harker): Being the Bigger Person.
5 +2 Points of Virtue (Ella Harker): Being the Bigger Person.
EPILOGUE
CUMULATIVE SIN METRIC (HOLLY HARKER): -1013
CUMULATIVE SIN METRIC (ELLA HARKER): +22
It was five years later on a Sunday morning when the Chief of Guardian Angels walked into a neat little café near the foot of Montmartre in Paris.
As usual, Barachiel couldn’t help but stand out from the crowd, with her striking posture and her white linen suit. She had never been one for trying to blend in, of course—she rather believed that putting on a human guise was more than concession enough.
“Bonjour, madame,” greeted a waitresses. “Juste pour vous?”
“Ah, no table necessary,” Barachiel said with a smile. “I’m meeting someone here, thank you.” She headed past the waitress towards the back of the dining area, where the person she was searching for had already sat down.
Gadriel looked up as she approached, and her face lit up. “Aha!” she said. “Barachiel! Bienvenue à Paris!” As Barachiel came closer, however, Gadriel’s pleased expression melted into weary resignation. “Of course. You’re a woman. Again.”
Barachiel slid into the chair across from Gadriel with a rueful smile. “I’ll admit it,” she said. “I do it on purpose.”
Gadriel threw up her hands. “Of course you’re doing it on purpose!” she said. “I never doubted you were doing it on purpose. I’m just utterly perplexed as to why you do it.”
Barachiel leaned back in her chair. “I know it’s tacky,” she admitted, “but I rather like it when we match. It makes us feel more like siblings. You know—wearing the same thing.”
Gadriel groaned and covered her face. “This is exactly why I pretend I don’t know you sometimes,” she said.
“Oh, Barry! How lovely to see you!” Holly dropped by the table breathlessly, juggling a tray full of drinks. She was wearing a white button-down shirt and a black waistcoat today, with her hair pulled tightly back out of the way. “I didn’t even know you were in town,” she added, as she deposited a hot chocolate in front of Gadriel. “Are you staying for long?”
Barachiel shook her head. “I’m afraid I’m only here for a while,” she said. “There’s always plenty more work to be done.”
Gadriel stopped Holly before she could go too far, leaning out of her chair and snapping her arm around the other woman’s waist. “Je ne veux pas que tu partes,” Gadriel complained, “pas sans un baiser!”
Holly spun around with a wry smile. She leaned down to drop a brief kiss on Gadriel’s lips. “I have to work,” she reminded the fallen angel fondly. “I can’t spend all morning canoodling with you—much as I might want to.”
Gadriel sighed. “Oh, all right,” she said with a long-suffering sigh. “I want it known that I’ll be utterly inconsolable until you come back, though.”
Holly shook her head. “I’m sure Barry will keep you company until I’m off shift,” she said dryly. She glanced at Barachiel. “While I’m here—can I get you a coffee?”
Barachiel smiled broadly. “I’d like a hot chocolate, actually,” she said. “If that’s not too much trouble.”
Holly beamed at her. “I’ll get one out as soon as Gadriel stops detaining me,” she assured Barachiel.
Gadriel let go of Holly with a confused blink. She turned her gaze upon Barachiel as Holly took the opportunity to dart away. “A hot chocolate?” she repeated. “And I didn’t even tempt you. What is the world coming to, Barachiel?”
Barachiel crossed her arms over her chest, smiling with satisfaction. “You’d be shocked,” she said. “Actually—I came here to let you know the good news.”
Gadriel narrowed her eyes at Barachiel over her hot chocolate. “I’m definitely not interested in the Good News,” she warned. “And I’m never quite sure whether your regular ‘good news’ is actually good.”
Barachiel pressed a hand to her chest. “I’m wounded, Gadriel,” she said. “And after I went to so much trouble, as well.”
Gadriel frowned suspiciously. “Spit it out,” she said.
Barachiel leaned her elbows onto the table in front of her, resting her chin on her hands. “I sent off a memo after one of your chocolate tirades, about a hundred years ago,” she said. “I just got word back that it reached the right set of wheels and eyes. And—as it turns out—you were right. Chocolate isn’t meant to be a sin.”
Gadriel blinked. “What?” she said. “You can’t mean—”
“The Rules have been updated!” Barachiel said cheerfully. “Chocolate is no longer on the list of sins. Not inherently, in any case.”
Gadriel stared at Barachiel, utterly thunderstruck.
“Saint Peter is not happy with me, by the way,” Barachiel said. “He’s got to go back through his records and make millions of adjustments now.”
“He would have to, wouldn’t he?” Gadriel said dimly.
Barachiel chuckled. “It’s a good thing you aren’t in the temptation business anymore, isn’t it?” she said. “All of those hard-won half-points—just magically gone overnight.” She glanced idly around the café. “Speaking of your current job… have you got an eye on your other mortal charge?”
Gadriel blinked several times, trying to refocus. “I—oh, Ella?” she said. “She’s a late sleeper; she’ll be by in a bit. Her and Baby Bear in Paris went partying at a club last night. Er... don’t tell Holly.”
Barachiel smiled. “Your old job suits you, Gadriel,” she said softly. “You look… happy.”
Gadriel sipped thoughtfully at her hot chocolate. “I am happy,” she agreed. “It’s all right—you can say you told me so. I’ll let it pass just this once, given the change in chocolate policy.”
Barachiel raised her eyebrows. “I would never say something like that,” she assured Gadriel. “…not out loud, in any case.”
Gadriel scoffed.
Barachiel’s face softened. “I do worry… what you’ll do when this particular job is done,” she admitted.
Gadriel’s eyes went distant. “I haven’t the first idea what I’ll do when it’s over with this time,” she said. “I know it’ll be difficult. But…” She glanced towards Holly, who’d paused to take orders at another table. “I’m happy for now,” she said softly. “And just for now… I think this is my little slice of Heaven.”
Holly returned with another hot chocolate, setting it down in front of Barachiel. “You should come by for dinner, at least,” she said. “I have so many biscuits to get rid of, Barry, it’s ungodly. I have to practise a new recipe every time I get home from patisserie school.”
Barachiel smiled at Gadriel. “I suppose I can make time for biscuits,” she said.
Gadriel finished off her hot chocolate, setting the glass back down against the table with a soft rap. “My dear Barachiel,” she said, “what else is time for?”
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THE END
Thanks for reading Small Miracles! Gadriel’s story is finished—but you can read more satirical fantasy with the first book in the Regency Faerie Tales, Half a Soul.
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If you enjoyed Small Miracles, I would be greatly obliged if you left a review. I promise—I read them all.
AFTERWORD
I first had the idea for Small Miracles when I was sitting in a hospital, trying not to think about pending test results. For those who are fortunate enough never to have been in a hospital, it involves an awful lot of waiting, and I’ve always naturally filled such waiting time by making up new stories. This time, I ended up thinking a lot about all of the people who had rushed to support me while I dealt with my emergencies and about how much their presence meant to me. Having supportive friends and family can really make the difference when everything else is unstable—and I was fortunate enough to have many of these people at my side.
Obviously, Small Miracles draws a bit of inspiration from Good Omens—and I have added a sprinkling of hints and homages towards that book throughout the story. But at the end of the day, I wanted Small Miracles to be a story about tiny, personal disasters, rather than about giant, world-ending ones.
The test results that day were fine. Someday, they may not be fine—but if that day comes, I know that I will have several people sitting next to me until dawn, ready with a joke or a card game to help ease my mind. And when we are all too weary to talk, they will simply sit there with me, letting me know that I am not alone. I’m not certain that there is anything more precious that I could ever ask for.
My husband always helps inordinately with my books, but I owe him a special thanks this time for providing several groan worthy puns. My alpha readers Laura Elizabeth and Julie Golick remained on guard against plot holes for this book, while Sophie Ricard continued her French nitpicking and Tamlin Thomas assisted with the genderfluid characters. Emma and my fantastic agent Christabel McKinley came through with several last-minute Londoner nitpicks when my usual go-to had to cut out, for which I am inordinately grateful. Ridiculous mathematical definitions were provided by Timmeh Chan (did I use them correctly, Tim, or have I now shamed you forever?). Lastly, several brave souls at my agency who shall not be named gamely provided embarrassing stories about their experiences in secondary school. You know who you are, and yes—you are the real MVPs.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Olivia Atwater writes whimsical fantasy with a hint of satire. She lives in Montreal, Quebec with her fantastic, prose-inspiring husband and her two cats. When she told her second-grade history teacher that she wanted to work with history someday, she is fairly certain this isn't what either party had in mind. She has been, at various times, a historical re-enactor, a professional witch at a metaphysical supply store, a web developer, and a vending machine repairperson.
Want more biting comedy? I send out writing updates and neat historical facts in the Atwater Scandal Sheets. Subscribers also get early access to chapters from each book, before anyone else!
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https://oliviaatwater.com
info@oliviaatwater.com
ALSO BY OLIVIA ATWATER
REGENCY FAERIE TALES
Half a Soul
Ten Thousand Stitches
Longshadow
TALES OF THE IRON ROSE
Echoes of the Imperium (Forthcoming — 2022)
STANDALONE
Small Miracles
NONFICTION
Better Blurb Writing for Authors
Olivia Atwater, Small Miracles
