“I have to be somewhere,” she said, shaking her head lightly as if it were an obvious conclusion. She was not an angel, not some ephemeral, winged creature that managed to be everywhere and yet nowhere, swooping into the bedrooms of the elderly or the wreckage of crashed cars to collect souls. She was human. She breathed, ate, and slept like all living creatures did. She aged. One day, she would die. Why she and her brother were called upon to live among humans, as humans, to occasionally use their power to take life or give it, she didn’t know. She did not have a gospel.