Surveying the room, I saw Glitch’s parents as well.

He spotted them at the same time and looked back and forth between the two in shock. “Dad, what’s going on?”

“Cameron.”

We all turned to see that even Cameron’s dad was there. In that moment, Cameron’s expression turned from cocky to almost embarrassment. “Dad, you shouldn’t be here.”

“Why?” he asked, stepping toward his son.

Cameron towered over him, as he did everyone else in the room except for Jared, the boys like two sides of the same coin, one dark and one light.

“Don’t you think I’ve stayed away long enough?” he asked.

Cameron tensed as though suddenly annoyed. “Why now?” he asked under his breath. “You’ve never believed before. Why now?”

Mr. Lusk placed a supportive hand on his arm. “Son, I’ve always believed. Deep down, I’ve always known what you are. Pastor Bill called me and, well, clearly there are bigger things at stake than what even your mother could’ve imagined. It’s time I got in the game instead of sitting on the sidelines.” His mouth thinned into a solid line of regret. “I just wanted you to know I’m here for you.” He glanced around. “For all you kids.”

Cameron shoved his hands into his jeans pockets in discomfort. “Thanks, Dad.”

I’d been so caught up in their discussion, I didn’t realize until that moment that everyone in the room was gawking at Jared. Including my grandparents.

My grandfather snapped to attention. He offered Jared a smile and held out his hand. “We’re the Order of Sanctity, or, as we like to call ourselves now, the Sanctuary, and we’re here to help in any way we can.”

I blinked in confusion. The Sanctuary was the name of our church and most of these people attended on a regular basis. “Grandpa, what’s going on?” But he continued to stare at the supreme being standing before him, his hand held in limbo. Did he actually know what Jared was? What he could do?

Jared scanned the room, stopping for a split second on each face before returning his attention to Grandpa. After sizing him up, he asked, “Do you know what I am?”

My grandmother’s face lit up. She took Grandpa’s outstretched hand and said, “You’re a messenger. An angel.”

Jared sighed as though disappointed, then raised one sleeve of his T-shirt, displaying the band of symbols tattooed around his biceps. “Archangel,” he corrected.

My grandfather lifted the glasses dangling around his neck and stepped closer to examine the tattoo. He stilled. For a long moment he stood there, his face turning ashen in disbelief before taking a wary step back.

“You’re—”

“I am Azrael,” Jared said, matter-of-fact.

A uniform gasp echoed off the walls as every single face in the room froze. People started inching back, including my grandma’s best friend, Betty Jo, putting as much distance between them and Jared as they possibly could. A few looked panic stricken. And two ran, the Mortons, a young couple who’d only recently moved to Riley’s Switch. And they actually ran. They stumbled over themselves trying to get to the side door. Just as they were about to cross the threshold, every door in the house slammed shut in one thunderous clap. The couple stopped and looked back at Jared, their eyes so wide with fear I felt sorry for them, even as a shiver of fear rushed down my own spine.

The sheriff went for his gun in reflex. He caught himself, left the gun in the holster but kept his hand close.

Grandpa lifted his chin, steeled himself as though accepting his fate. “We ask you, Prince Azrael, to spare us.”

“You’re a prince?” Glitch asked, oblivious of the reaction of the room.

Jared ignored him, inspecting the sheriff for an uncomfortable moment, then answered my grandfather. “If you have to ask, then you know nothing of me.”

“We know that you have as many names as your fallen brother Lucifer,” Grandpa said, “some misconceptions created through superstition and ignorance, but most hard-earned.” He inched closer. “We know that you’ve been absent from Heaven for so long, many of the beings there, the same ones that celebrate your conquests, also fear your return.” Another step. “We know that you are the only celestial being ever created, ever, with the autonomy to take human life. None of your brethren, not even the other archangels, have that power. It is why you were created and it is yours alone.” He took another step to emphasize his next statement. “And we know what you’re here to do.”

“We’re not your enemies, Your Grace,” Grandma said, her voice quivering almost as much as her hands. “We’re your servants.”

I hurried to her side and wrapped my arm around her waist, trying to assure her Jared would not hurt them, any of them. She hugged me to her before returning her attention to Jared.

He looked down at us, and I could see for the first time the nobility in his stance, the absolute power in the set of his shoulders. He took stock of me for what seemed like forever before asking Grandpa, “Why does she not know?”

The question surprised Grandpa. I could tell. But it surprised me as well. I raised my brows at my grandfather, growing tired of the riddles and the half truths that seemed to have permeated every corner of my life. Why did I not know what? What was all this about? Why was everyone here, and how did they know about Jared?

“We were going to tell her,” Grandpa said, pinching the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger, “everything, when she turned eighteen. But things have … accelerated.”