“Look,” Glitch said, squaring his shoulders, “are we gonna do this or what? I don’t have all night.”

I was so proud of him. A little worried, but proud.

Cameron raised his hands in mock surrender. “I certainly wouldn’t want to upset the Three Musketeers. Or was it the Three Blind Mice?”

Brooklyn’s jaw dropped. “You were there?”

He shrugged, feigning indifference.

“You’re a jackass.”

Cameron’s eyes glittered and he stepped closer to Brooklyn. She raised the gun farther, her hand shaking. But Glitch and I were right by her side, Glitch with his bravado and me with my fists. If she got clobbered, we all got clobbered.

“I’ve been called worse,” he said at last, gifting Brooke with a mixture of interest and empathy.

For the first time, I got a good look at him. He resembled Jared to a tee, scraped up, bruised, swollen. I shook my head. No way would I ever understand boys.

“Okay,” Glitch said impatiently, “I get you, Jared. Well, not really, but as much as humanly possible at this point. But I don’t get you.” His resentment toward Cameron was obvious. “Why are you so strong? How can you fight like that? It’s not any more human than Jared, or Azrael, or whatever his name is.”

Cameron’s attention shifted to Glitch but he didn’t respond. He retreated to his desk and parked himself upon it, rifle still in hand. And our lungs could work again, for the moment.

Jared finally answered for him. “He is of Jophiel.”

“He is of what?” Glitch asked.

“Jophiel, the messenger. Cameron is Nephilim. He is only part human, placed upon the earth to protect the prophet.”

“What prophet?” Glitch asked.

But Cameron interrupted him, his anger simmering as though he could scorch Jared from where he stood. “You don’t know anything about me.”

“On the contrary, when we realized a female descendent of Arabeth was to be born,” he continued, ignoring the vehemence in Cameron’s voice, “we … disregarded the laws of our father. We sent a messenger to the believer Hannah Noel.”

Cameron shot to his feet, stabbing Jared with a blistering hatred, and I realized whose name Jared had just spoken. His mother’s. Hannah Noel Lusk was Cameron’s mother.

“But her time came before she could instruct Cameron of Jophiel in his duties. And his earthly father refused the teachings of the believers.”

“How dare you even say her name,” Cameron said, livid with rage.

Brooklyn raised the gun again and Cameron shot her a look of utter contempt.

“So, who’s the prophet?” Glitch repeated, but I was too busy making connections in my head to worry about that.

I sucked in a soft whisp of air when Jared’s meaning hit me. “Messengers? You mean like angels? Are you guys angels?”

Jared’s brows drew together. “Cameron of Jophiel is Nephilim. But, yes, I am a messenger. I am Seraphim.”

How did I not pick up on that in my vision? An angel? An actual angelic being? Here in Riley’s Switch, New Mexico? The realization knocked the breath out of me.

Cameron turned away with an angry smirk, refusing to listen. But I noticed he didn’t argue. Did he know what he was? Had he always known?

I had so many questions, I could barely decide on which one to ask first. Turning back to Jared, I decided to ask the one that was causing me the most discomfort at that particular moment. “You said you weren’t supposed to be here, that you don’t want to be,” I began, the statement causing a sharp pang in my chest. “Are you in trouble? Because of me?”

Jared took a moment to consider my question. His jaw tightened in reluctance before he said, “I lied.”

“You lied?” I asked, confused. “You didn’t break a law?”

The corners of his mouth threatened to turn up. “No, I most definitely broke a law.”

I wondered what he must think of me. Of all humans. I suddenly felt minuscule, like my small life in my small town meant absolutely nothing in the grand scheme of things. Which kind of sucked.

“Wait,” Brooklyn said, turning to me in bewilderment. “Lorelei’s the prophet.”

“Finally,” Glitch said. “Wait, what?”

She blinked up at Jared. “Am I right? Is she the prophet Cameron was sent to protect?”

His head tilted knowingly. “She is.”

“What? No,” I said, rejecting the idea outright. “That’s … that’s not possible.”

While I stood shaking my head in disbelief, Glitch’s jaw dropped to the floor and Brooklyn laughed.

“Yes!” she said with an exuberance I found unsettling. “Oh, my god, that totally rocks!”

I could see her mind working a mile a minute, but she was wrong. They were all wrong.

“Can I just call a time-out?” I asked, shaping my hands into that very signal. “Seriously, it’s a nice thought and all, but you guys have the wrong girl.” I backed away, my shoes crunching as I stepped over decades of dirt and debris. “I’m not a prophet. I will never be a prophet. I don’t even know what a prophet does. I’m sorry, but you’ve made a terrible mistake.”

Jared placed his hands behind his back. “You are the last descendent of the prophet Arabeth. The gift of prophecy is in your blood.”

“Lor,” Brooklyn said, her excitement a tad annoying, “this is cool. You’ve always had visions—now we know why.”