Lace could feel the angel’s heart beating on her back. It was strong and reminded her of a scene in a film she’d watched where some Greek hero, or was it a Roman, had been wrongfully imprisoned and sentenced to a lifetime as an oarsman on a galley. The heartbeat sounded like the drummer that sets the pace for the oarsmen.
Boom, boom, boom, boom.
Boom, boom, boom, boom.It made her feel safe, rather than reach for an oar, thankfully. They had been travelling for about an hour and a half and Angel Dave was flying in a relatively straight line now. They had followed the car through the East End of London and had been forced to turn sharply, again and again, as the car below took evasive action so as not to be followed. As soon as they had left London, the swerving became less and less errati
