“Oh yeah,” he said sarcastically, “the differences between a water pistol and a Glock are really subtle.”

“Okay, then why did you back down?”

He lowered his head and asked quietly, “Didn’t you want me to?”

Judging by the look on her face, the question stunned her. I know it stunned the heck out of me. She didn’t seem to know how to answer.

After a moment, her expression changed. “Tell you what,” she said, jumping down, “I’ll take the window seat, and you take the bed. I’m shorter.”

Ouch. That was a big sacrifice for Brooke. She loved that bed. But I totally agreed. Cameron needed to get some Z’s. He was grouchy enough without sleep deprivation adding to his moodiness.

He shook his head. “I can’t go to sleep.”

She walked to him and grabbed his shirt. “Come on, Rocky.”

He let her pull him over to the bed. With a reluctant sigh, he lay down. She tossed a blanket over him and giggled at his feet dangling over the edge. Twin beds and super-tall guys did not go well together at all.

“But I’m not sleepy,” he argued.

“I know, I know.” She took a blanket from a shelf and lay down on the window seat.

Personally, I gave him fifteen minutes tops, but his breaths were deep and rhythmic before Brooke even settled in.

She lifted her head and looked past Jared’s sleeping form at me. “Not sleepy, my left butt cheek,” she said.

I laughed.

* * *

“It’s her.”

Oh, no. Not again.

“The prophet,” came another hushed whisper. “I told you we would see her.”

For the love of carrot sticks, let me sleep.

The voice, a child’s, whispered again. “She looks like fire.”

I squinted into the darkness, confused by the soft voices, before looking over at Jared. He was awake, sitting against the wall beside me, one leg bent with an arm resting on his knee. What a heavenly vision.

“Do you feel them?” he asked in a hushed tone.

I glanced around. “What?”

“They’re coming.”

“Who?” I tried to sit up straight, but a sharp pain shot through me, causing my teeth to slam together in agony. My ribs hurt worse today than they had yesterday.

“They’re excited to see you.”

“Who’s excited?” I asked again.

He said nary a word, smiled and, without releasing my gaze, gestured to a point behind me.

I glanced back and started in alarm. A child was sitting on the wall just past my head, as though on a levitating bench. He giggled, turned to his friend beside him, and whispered into her ear. She looked at me and giggled too. They covered their mouths with tiny hands as their laughter sparkled and danced around us, illuminating the room, casting shadows on the walls.

Then the boy glanced at Jared and sobered instantly, tucking his chin and averting his eyes.

“Shhhh,” someone said in a faint whisper, and I looked toward Glitch’s sleeping form. A child stood beside him. He pointed up. “She’s coming.”

I scanned the room and counted a dozen children sitting here and there, all dressed in white linen like little angels-in-training. I half expected to see tiny wings and tarnished halos. A few were looking at me in absolute curiosity, but most were gawking at Jared, and I couldn’t help but see fear in their eyes, uncertainty. They watched him warily, huddled close to one another. Then I realized Cameron was awake. He looked on, his eyes wide, uncertain.

“Do it,” one of them said, egging his friend on. “Get closer.” The other one shook his head, so the boy said, “Fine. I’ll do it.”

He took a wary step toward Jared, then another, but the minute Jared focused on him, the boy scrambled back to the corner with his friend.

“You didn’t even get close.”

“I got closer than you,” he said defensively.

Jared shot me a conspiratorial look and winked. “I have a way with children.”

I was about to ask him what was going on, when a bright glow infused the room with a light so brilliant, it woke Brooklyn and Glitch too. They opened their eyes just in time to see a beautiful elderly woman materialize. Her skin was dark, her eyes golden, warm and magnificent. Her robe, thick like liquid pearl, flowed past her feet.

The children looked on adoringly, as if they couldn’t get their fill of her, as though each secretly hoped she would cast her attention their way.

She smiled at Jared. When she spoke, her voice was smooth, unhurried. “Azrael, the noble son, created from the resplendence of light and the void of darkness—”

Jared dipped his head in acknowledgment.

“—you have not been abandoned.” Her smile was like life itself: pure and bright, nurturing and intoxicating. The children echoed her words as she spoke, like whispers in an empty cavern. All except one. I’d noticed a boy, smaller than the rest, who’d tucked himself behind my dresser. He emerged from his haven to slowly creep toward the woman, all the while keeping an eye on Jared as though afraid he would jump up and bite him.

“You have more power, more freedom than any of your brethren,” she continued, a loving shimmer sparkling in her eyes, “and you used it to save her.”

Me? I jumped to attention.

“But I did so for selfish reasons,” Jared said.

“You are of light and darkness. Only you can decide where your true intentions lie.”