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He named himself Levi Jonas, after the two lives he could remember the best. They had both died tragically, Adam Levi the victim of a hit-and-run and Frank Jonas stabbed by a spooked thief. From Adam, he got his soft heart, his gentle smile. From Frank, he gained unflinching bravery and a fierce sense of justice. He carried scars from both. 

Subconsciously he scrubbed a hand over the knife wound between his ribs. It was gone, now, a raised lash of tissue the only reminder of an agony so sudden and terrible that he still woke up some nights soaked with sweat. Other nights he saw headlights blazing toward him out of the dark, felt his bones snapping like twigs. 

Sleep was always difficult. 

Crouching on the corner of a snow-capped fire escape Levi squinted down into the alley. While it was fairly early in the evening, there was always someone in danger, somebody somewhere who needed help. Everything was quiet, the twilight closing in slow and tight around him. He tilted his head to listen closer. A stray cat meowed, a dog barked, a car horn blatted. Not unusual sounds, not in a city. Even the distant wail of sirens was normal. Unfortunately, that didn’t mean all was well. It often meant the opposite. 

Levi sucked in a breath, feeling the cold burn his lungs, and kicked off. The second his feet left solid ground, his wings burst from his coat, spreading and flaring so white it hurt the eyes. He swooped and began his climb, swiftly escaping the narrow avenue between the apartments, sailing at a comfortable altitude where he could still make out details on the streets below. He was focused on the people, looking for subtle signs of distress. If one of those walkers happened to look up, they would have seen a grey winter sky. He was hidden well. 

Angels could cloak themselves at will, which allowed them to move undetected through heavily populated areas. The cloak did not work on other angels or non-humans. Levi had never seen another angel, not since his birth, and had long ago made peace with being the last. 

He rode a warm air current higher as he banked toward the financial district; the lights of the buildings were too bright to look at directly and made surveillance problematic. He was eventually forced to lose height, landing lightly on the roof of a taxi cab. He fondly remembered being a cabbie, although he knew those memories were Frank’s and not his. Even so, Levi held a special place in his heart for the yellow ones. 

Still cloaked, he dropped to the hood and then into the street, careful to avoid any oncoming traffic. His—[i]Adam[/i]’s—memories of being run over were still very fresh. While he was invisible, he could still get hit. At the thought his stomach cramped, but he shook it off and bounded to the sidewalk. 

Still nothing. No sense of panic, no quickened pulse. His empathic powers were incredibly attuned, but they weren’t detecting anything in the area. The knot of tension between his shoulders eased and he relaxed. Levi ducked behind a newsstand and dropped his camouflage, stepping out from behind it into the flow of people.