Free Dead Angels by Tim O'Rourke

at me, but idly kicked at the pebbles on the sand.
    “So?” I asked, not knowing what to say.
    “So what?” she said back without looking up.
    “What do you want?”
    Then, tilting her head upwards and looking me straight in my eyes, she said, “I wanted to say I was sorry – you know, for what happened back in that alley.”
    “What have you got to be sorry for?” I asked, confused.
    “I was ungrateful,” she said. “You helped me pick up the beads from my necklace and I didn’t even say thank you.”
    “Forget it,” I shrugged. This was followed by an uneasy silence. Feeling uncomfortable, I added, “I’ve got to get home.” Then turning, I walked away.
    I’d only gone a short distance, when I glanced back over my shoulder to see if she was still standing where I’d left her. Holding my hand in front of my eyes to block out the light from the sunset, I could see that she was now sitting inches from where the water lapped against the shore. Her back was arched and she seemed to be concentrating on something which she had in her hands. Not wanting to leave her all alone, I made my way back up the shoreline towards her.
    “What are you doing?” I asked, although I could see she was trying to put the beads back onto the chain that donkey-boy had broken.
    “Trying to fix this,” Melody said without looking up. Although her hands were small and nimble-looking, I could see she was struggling to get the tiny beads back onto the chain. I sat down next to her on the sand and said, “Let me try.”
    As if handing over something precious, she handed me the chain and the beads.
    “Are these like, religious beads or something?” I asked her, threading the chain through the tiny holes.
    “They’re called rosary beads,” Melody told me, and I could sense she was watching me.
    “So you’re like, religious then?” I asked, having some knowledge of the humans’ belief in a God. As a child I had been told stories about a man called Jesus and how he had died on a cross. The chain that I was mending had a cross.
    “I guess,” she said back, not taking her eyes off me.
    Without looking up from the beads, I said, “You don’t sound too sure.’”
    “It’s not me,” she said, then added, “It’s my mum who believes in all that stuff.”
    “Why have you got this chain then?” I asked, turning to look at her, and it was then that I was struck at how blue her eyes actually were.
She continued to stare at me, so I looked away, feeling kinda uncomfortable.
    “My mum gave them to me,” she said, looking away, as if what she had to tell me was embarrassing. “She says the chain will protect me - keep evil away.”
    “What, like monsters and stuff?” I asked.
    “’The devil’ is what she says. My mum reckons that if I carry the rosary around with me, then no harm will ever come to me - I’ll be protected, that sorta thing,” she said.
    “Those others – the ones who broke your necklace – they obviously don’t realise the power of the beads then?” I said, half-smiling. Melody just stared back at me, and at first I wondered if I had offended her by what I’d said. Then a smile formed at the corners of her mouth and she laughed. And when she did, she didn’t look so plain after all; her face looked kind of pretty.
    “Maybe my mum should tell them,” she said.
    I fixed the last of the beads onto the chain and handed it back to her. Taking it carefully in her hands so as not to break it again, Melody placed it back into her pocket. Then, looking at me she said, “So what are you doing down here? I thought I was the only one that knew about this place.”
    “I stumbled across it by accident,” I told her.
    “Are you new in town?” she asked. “I haven’t seen you before. You don’t go to school in town.”
    “I haven’t been here very long,” I replied, knowing that was a massive understatement, but I couldn’t tell her the truth. “I moved into a house just outside of town a few