“Why am I here?” he asked, suddenly angry.

“Why should I answer what you already know?”

“I’m … not human.” He shook his head in frustration. “I can’t be here.”

“And yet you are.”

“Is He angry?” he asked, regret thickening his voice.

Her expression changed to one of sympathy. “With you? You know He isn’t.”

“Then—”

“He is pleased, Azrael.”

Her words seemed to jar him. He sat up straighter, tightened his jaw in thought, his eyes wide, uncertain.

“Sometimes,” she said, seeming to sense his confusion, “we must swim against the current to find our true purpose. You have proved yourself beyond anything we could have hoped for. Because you have a singular power, one that transcends any of your brethren’s, you alone are best suited to carry out this mission. You know what is to come, and now you are charged with its success.”

His head whipped up in disbelief. “There’s no way to succeed, no way to win. It is written.” He shot to his feet, his fists clenched. “You have sent me to fail.”

She stepped forward, her movements like a soft breeze, as the little boy peeked around her skirts to view Jared. With her nearness, Jared sank onto one knee in reverence. “It was also written that the last prophet of Arabeth would be crushed and would drown in her own blood.”

Jared glanced at me when I made a sound of alarm.

She turned toward me for only an instant, then placed her fingers under his chin and lifted his face to hers. “Perhaps it is time to rewrite what is to be.”

Jared sat back on his heel and frowned, as though trying to make sense of it all.

“You said it yourself: Only humans can change history.”

He focused on her again, a dawning creeping into his eyes before the little boy caught his attention.

Peeking from behind her skirts, the boy smiled at him and held out his hand. Jared’s head tilted in curiosity; then he held out his own hand, palm up.

“Silas, no,” the other children warned, but the boy slid his shaking hand forward. “Silas,” they repeated, but when the boy’s fingers brushed against Jared’s, they all inhaled in disbelief. He had done what they’d been afraid to do. All eyes turned toward the boy in awe, and I realized that these spirits, these supernatural beings, were terrified of Jared.

“But we have sent you help,” the woman said as she surveyed the room, taking in each of our awed faces one by one. Then she turned to Cameron. “Cameron of Jophiel, you have been charged with a great responsibility. It is why you were chosen, why you were created. Do you accept?”

“Yes,” he said without hesitation, completely mesmerized by her, as though he knew exactly what that responsibility might be.

With a mischievous glint in her eyes, she looked from me to Brooklyn then to Glitch and crossed her arms in thought.

“Uh-oh,” one of the children said. “Someone’s in trouble.”

“And you three.” She frowned with feigned severity. “I have waited a long time to meet you. I am honored to be in your presence.”

She was honored? I sat there, staring in awe at the most magnificent being I had ever seen—so bright, I could hardly look at her; so loving, I thought my heart would burst—and she was honored?

She leaned toward me. “You, the last prophet of Arabeth, are of fire, an element that can also bring light or darkness, that can do good or cause harm, that can tip the scales or bring balance. Combined with the powers of Azrael, the possibilities are limitless. You may even, given the right circumstances, save the world. You must decide now. Do you accept?”

“Yes.” I answered even faster than Cameron had.

“Lorelei.”

“Yes. Yes, I do.”

“Lorelei.”

I bunched my face up, confused again.

“For heaven’s sake, young lady.” Grandma’s voice broke into my dream. “It’s time to get up. You’re going to be late for school.”

I awoke with a start and took in my surroundings. Everyone else was just waking as well. I looked at Jared. He flashed a sleepy, boyishly gorgeous smile at me and I almost seized with the jolt of pleasure that shot through me.

“My heavens. You kids must have been working for hours.” Grandma stood in a flannel button-down and loose slacks, otherwise known as her cleaning duds, her soft blue eyes concerned as she surveyed the room. Glitch was on the floor, Brooklyn on the window seat, and Cameron in Brooklyn’s bed. Rumpled clothes and bed-heads gave us each that much-sought-after, all-night-kegger look. And as amazingly healed as both Jared and Cameron were, their appearance still had a certain bar-brawl quality to it.

Grandma took it all in, pausing a long, long moment on Jared, then looked back at me. “I’ll make some breakfast while you kids get ready for school.”

“Oh, no, Grandma, you don’t need to do that,” I said, trying to sit up without cringing outwardly. Freaking ribs.

“Lorelei Elizabeth McAlister,” she scolded, “you never let me make you breakfast. It’ll just take me a minute.”

I acquiesced. “Thank you, Grandma.”

“I get the first shower!”

Before I could argue, Glitch jumped toward the bathroom. He glanced back, eyeing Cameron, his expression hard, before he locked the door.

“So much for hot water,” Brooklyn said, oblivious.