Beloved Purgatory

(Fallen Angels, Book 2)

Katherine Pine

Published by Katherine Pine at Smashwords.

Copyright Katherine Pine 2011.

Copyright of excerpt material is held by the individual authors.

Email: katherinepineauthor(at)gmail.com

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This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously.
Please see the "Author's Note" for a more detailed description.

Chapter 1

I watched Oz drive in silence. Outside, the city lights illuminated the Hawthorne Bridge and bled into the Willamette River, outshining the stars. A
week ago I hadn't even known him. But now, after almost getting killed by a demon and readying myself to face my distraught mother, there was no
person I'd rather have by my side.

My temple knocked into the window as Forneus' car skidded into the curb. Oz's park job was probably going to leave a scratch, but something told
me he wouldn't feel too guilty about that.

He put his hand on my shoulder. His fingers brushed over my neck, and intense heat shot down my back. Then it disappeared, taking with it my
headache and the stiffness in my limbs from using his leather jacket as a pillow for the last two hours.

"This isn't my place," I murmured. We were in front of the house on the bluff with the fantastic view that was remodeled and resold every few years.

"I know." He squinted at the road ahead. "Let me go in with you."

I slid from the window, back into my seat. "That's not a good idea."

"You sure?" His hand still rested on my shoulder. Suddenly I didn't like it there. It felt itchy and too close.

I sighed. "I'm pretty sure it wouldn't look good to waltz in with a tattooed guy and be all 'Hey mom! I was just hanging out and lost track of time. By the
way, here's my boyfriend!' "

I swung my hand to the side, like a Broadway starlet introducing a new character in the middle of a musical number. Oz caught my wrist, midair.

I yanked my arm, trying to free it. His grip seemed too gentle to restrain me. I wondered why it did.

"Devi," he whispered.

A chill shot through my body. Still he wouldn't let go, so I let him hold me. "That's why you shouldn't come."

Oz didn't respond. Not even with something stupid, like I thought you liked my tattoos.

"I do like your tattoos, Oz," I stammered.

Then I stopped breathing. Did I just answer a voice in my head?

Oh God, I was having a nervous breakdown in front of him, and I didn't know if I could stop. I had to collect my thoughts. Had he noticed? Maybe it
wasn't too--

"Devi," he repeated, tipping up my chin.

I looked at him before I could tell myself not to.

My throat constricted as he leaned closer. I couldn't move when those green eyes looked at me. They really were a beautiful color--deep, lush and
distant. It was amazing he could pass as human. But then again, once I'd thought he was one too.

He bit his lip. He was about to say something. My name again, perhaps? I didn't want to hear it. "Please don't worry about me," I stammered.

He gave me a crooked smile. "You would say that."

"I'm serious. I'm fine. This is..." probably the worst night of my life. I had my stomach ripped open and my intestines pulled out. I was killed--or at
least almost killed--by your ex-lover. Then I was resurrected, and...

I swallowed the complaint. Why couldn't I put on a brave face for him, at least? He deserved it.

"I'm happy you're here," I finished.

He frowned. "Where else would I be?"

I could think of a lot of places, but I didn't share them. I bent over, until my head was between my knees. The floor smelled of coffee and seawater.
"Forneus' car is cleaner than yours," I muttered.

Thankfully, he didn't acknowledge how ridiculous I was being. Maybe he'd grown used to that sort of thing from me. "That doesn't surprise me," he
replied. "How's your head?"

He ran his fingers over the nape of my neck. I guess he still felt guilty about his less than smooth park job. "You healed it already, so it's fine. You
should worry about Forneus."

The seat creaked as he leaned back. "Forneus can rot in the trunk," he muttered under his breath.

I tried to suppress a giggle. The idea of a devil decomposing next to motor oil and a jumper cable shouldn't have made me laugh, but I guess my
sense of humor had gotten a little morbid after spending so much time with a demon. "That isn't a good plan. He'd just make the car reek."

I felt his fingers spread out over my back. "Yeah, you're right. Good thing it's not my car." He was smiling, or at least it seemed that way from the
sound of his voice.

Then I noticed I was smiling too.

I sucked in a breath and dug my fingernails into my shins. What was I doing? How could I even be a little bit happy at a time like this? "What am I
going to tell my mom, Oz?"

He rubbed my shoulder. "What you decided to tell her."

My knees squeezed my head, until it felt as if I'd been hanging upside down for five minutes. "It's not good enough."

A pause. "I think, in this case, it's better if I take the blame."

I hated the guilt in his voice. "That's not what I mean," I snapped. "My excuse doesn't make sense. You did something, and I ran off, and now..."

I shot up. His hand fell from my side. I watched his fingers curl around the stick shift. Mine were curling, too, into my palm.

"She's going to feel horrible," I said. Like it's all her fault.

He didn't say anything, and truthfully nothing he could have said would've made me feel better. It's not like I could tell her I was abducted by a demon.
So I had to pretend I'd been rebelling and just hope she wasn't going to take it personally, even though I'd never done anything like this before and
her skin was about as thick as mine was.

I felt something on the back of my neck--a light breeze, or the memory of a touch. "Devi."

My body froze. Oh, that's right. The angel was here too. It was so easy to forget about something so quiet, but no, that wasn't an excuse. Forgetting
him even for a moment should have been impossible.

He wound my hair around his fingertips. It tickled. "If you want, I can--"

"I don't want anything from you," I interrupted.

For a moment the air in the car was still. Then, the angel removed his hand. A chill swept through me, as if he'd dropped a shard of ice down my
back.

Oz put his left elbow on the wheel and rested his forehead in his palm. "I promised your mother I'd bring you home, so she knows you were out with
me," he continued, ignoring the angel. "Guess we shouldn't put this off any longer."

He turned the key in the ignition.

***

Less than five minutes later Oz pulled up to my house. He'd parked carefully this time, probably because my mom was watching.

Two lights were on--one in the kitchen, the other in my bedroom. I shut my eyes, but the afterimage was still burned in my mind. I'd promised myself
I'd never make her feel abandoned again, I'd promised that--

Bang!

My mom burst through the door, barefoot and in a baby blue t-shirt and the strawberry shorts I used to dance around in as a little girl. It was too cold
for her to be out like that, but she didn't seem to care.

Her wild eyes locked on me. My body went still, like an animal that had just realized it was being stalked. She sprinted forward, weaving and
slipping in the wet grass. Mud and grass clippings stuck to her ankles and calves.

She didn't try to open the door when she got to the car. Instead, she pressed her hand to the window, right above the smudges I'd left when I'd
knocked my head against it. White fog from my breath and hers fanned over the same space of glass. Then it dissipated in the cold air, as if being
devoured.

She pulled her lips back. "Devi."

The shrillness of her voice was muffled. I wanted to respond, but my throat felt raw, as if I'd swallowed a jar of sand. Go back inside. Stop doing this
to yourself. Don't care about me so much.

She pressed her other hand to the door and leaned in, until her nose was smashed against the window. Devi, she murmured, this time too softly for
me to hear.

The car rocked as Oz got out.

She turned away from me when Oz reached her. From this angle, I could see her black hair stuck to her sweaty cheeks. Her hands balled into small,

fragile fists and wiped her eyes, stretching her sallow skin. It looked like her bones would shatter instead of the object she hit if she used them.

She took a deep breath as if to steady herself and shut her eyes. Then she fell.

Her palm caught the window on the way down. It was just enough to keep her on her feet.

Oz darted forward and lifted her.

She gripped his shoulders and muttered something. He shot her a nervous smile. Her laughter as a response was just as uncomfortable.

Mother, how much did you drink tonight?

For a moment my vision blurred, as if I'd actually asked her that question. Then things became too clear--the lopsided position of her mouth, and the
puffy, dark rings under her bloodshot eyes.

That's it. I popped the door handle.

Outside a gust of air greeted me, cool as an angel's touch. I wrapped my arms around my chest. "Let's go inside."

My mom nodded absently as her eyes narrowed on Oz's dragon tattoo. Suddenly I saw him the way she must have--with hair too long, wearing only
a black t-shirt on a freezing night, and driving a car someone so young who 'dressed like that' shouldn't be able to afford.

I thought if I touched her, she'd stop staring. The two of us could then go inside, lock the door, and say the things we didn't mean without an
audience. But I couldn't bring myself to touch her. The scent of booze and sweat from her body overpowered the scent of damp pavement and soil.

My hand trembled as it dropped back down at my side. I couldn't even remember what my mom had smelled like before Kai left.

I cleared my throat. "I think we should--"

"Go ahead, Devi. I'll be a few minutes." She didn't sound as drunk as she looked. Maybe fatigue made her look so frail.

Such thoughts didn't make me feel better. "None of this is Oz's fault," I said. "I'm not going to leave you if you're just going to tell him--"

"No." My mom's chin dropped. "I just wanted to thank your friend for bringing you home."

When she spoke, it sounded as though an old, hidden wound was reopening. Something in me started to crumble. I'd seen too much blood in the
past few days. I remembered it spilling over my stomach and dripping from my fingertips onto the floor of the cave. I could still see Oz's tortured face
as he pushed his claw into Onoskelis, and the longing in her blood red eyes as he did it.

I reached out to my mom's hand instinctively. She almost pulled away at first, then squeezed until I heard my joints crack. I didn't let go of her, though
it hurt. I needed to keep that world from those I loved. Perhaps those things that haunted me would even cease to feel real, one day, if I were the only
one who remembered them.

"I'm sorry," Oz said. His voice cut through me, reminding me that it wasn't just my pain anymore. I wished I knew how to keep him from all of it, too.

I glanced at him, but he was looking at my mother, not me. It looked as if he saw something beautiful there, despite her stringy, straw-like hair and
sagging skin. His eyes were even glowing, though my mom didn't seem to notice and I doubted he did either. Oz really did love every small,
imperfect thing.

My mom sniffled. Her face seemed to fold in on itself, like a sheet of paper being crumpled. Her chest heaved. She was trying to speak. But every
time she opened her mouth she could only shudder.

"Thank you," she whispered, finally.

I looked down at our hands clutching one another--her long, brown fingers intertwined with mine. "Let's go," I said.

My mom glanced at Oz once more. Then she wrapped her arm around my waist and pulled me close.

Our knees knocked together as we weaved to the house. The angel was behind us, as soundless and ethereal as mist collecting over a field at
dusk. He followed my footsteps, casting no shadow.

I shivered as my mom pushed the front door open, and the two of us slipped inside.

The silence in the house unnerved me, which was strange. There were always few words between us. I saw three glasses--one by the phone, one
sideways on the floor by the couch and another, half-empty, on the counter.

She fluffed the pillows on the couch, but didn't sit. The light from the corner table made her skin glow a beautiful, rich color, like stained cherry wood
in the sun.

"Where did you go?" She finally asked.

A chill swept through my body, as if I didn't recognize the sound of her voice. I took a deep breath. "I don't want to talk about it."

"Did something..." She bit her lip as she looked down. Her hand clutched the top of the couch, as if she were falling and reaching for something to

hold on to. But she wasn't falling--everything about her except that hand was still.

My toes curled. She seemed as restless as me--biting her lip and brushing away nonexistent dust from the couch. She seemed reluctant to continue
this conversation also.

"Did something bad happen?" She finished.

My throat closed. "I don't want to talk about it."

It was the wrong thing to say.

My mom drew her brows together and cried out. "Devi, what happened to you? Please talk to me."

I stared at the floor. You're not making this any better. Say something, I demanded, but I couldn't move. My entire body pounded with my heartbeat.
My breathing was too quick. If I kept it up I was going to hyperventilate.

She stood. "I was so worried about you." My mind replaced her soft words with screaming: Where were you? Do you know how worried I was? Do
you know how much sleep I lost?

But my mother would never say such things. She took her pain and focused it inward, like a frog dissecting itself, or a butterfly tearing off its own
wings. She sat quietly in this room each night, drinking, drinking, drinking, cast in the indigo light from the TV until early morning. And then, instead
of falling asleep, she passed out and wept as she dreamed.

I want to tell you everything. I want to erase every painful memory from your mind. I bit my lip instead of saying those things. "Look, it happened
once. Most kids go out and maybe stay out a little too long somewhere all the time. You just aren't used to me doing it."

God, it sounded like a skit from some teenage melodrama on basic cable. All we needed were some minor chord progressions, and then each of
us would turn away from the camera and the scene would fade to black.

But the scene didn't fade. Nothing did. In real life--in that room--I saw every premature wrinkle on my mother's face. Her eyes were red with heavy,
unrepentant bags under them.

She shook her head. "What really happened?"

Her voice was like a candle in the dark. I held my breath as if the slightest disturbance in the air would cause her body to extinguish.

"Devi, you can tell me. I promise I won't be mad."

She was reaching out to me, and I wanted to answer. I couldn't even remember the last time we'd talked honestly. I missed it, even though I knew
that it was impossible to miss something I'd never had in the first place.

"I know how kids are," she added.

But you don't know how demons are. She didn't know about the blank expression in Onoskelis' red eyes as she gutted me, or Forneus' smug smile
when he told me that he wanted to watch her do it. How did you even begin to describe something like that to someone?

I already knew the answer--you didn't.

She pressed her palms to her eyes. "Anything you say is alright. I want to help. I want..."

I felt myself moving forward. The conversation couldn't keep going on this way. It looked like she would collapse at any moment.

Out of the corner of my eye, something shimmered. "She's hurting," the angel said, as if I'd somehow missed that. "If you want, I could relieve some
of it--"

"Don't touch her!" I snapped. "Don't touch anything of mine ever again!"

My mom raised her palms to her temples. "I'm so sorry. I didn't know."

"Mom, I wasn't talking to you. I didn't mean--" I stopped. What could I say? I wasn't yelling at you, but at an angel--the one who stole Kai and ruined
our lives.

My mom gripped her stomach and squealed--a sound both comical and blood curdling. I recognized it, for it was the same sound I'd made when
Onoskelis had ripped out my intestines. But no demon was here, hurting my mother. It was just me.

Devi, she mouthed, and might have even said something but I couldn't hear anything except the rapid thud, thud, thud of my heartbeat.

"Angel," I whispered.

He met my gaze unflinchingly. There wasn't anything in those eyes--certainly not pity nor resentment. For some reason, it was even harder for me to
look at that marble face than my mother's.

"Do what you were going to do. I don't want her to hurt anymore." Everything about me was shaking. Even my voice warbled. I hated asking this of
him--hated even more that I couldn't do it myself.

The angel's white hands started to glow. He shut his eyes and sighed. Four brilliant wings folded out from his back.

He advanced until he stood before her. My mother stared through him, but when he touched her cheek she trembled. Then, she swallowed and
leaned into his embrace.

"It's alright," the angel said. "It's time to sleep, and to forget, and to heal."

Her eyes lost focus. As she fell, he lifted her into his arms. Then she pressed her lips to his shoulder and whispered: "Thank you."

I stumbled back, but couldn't look away. All of it was beautiful--the poise with which he held her body, the soft glow of his skin, the contemplative
stillness of his face. For my entire life I'd wanted to take away my mother's pain with a touch, as he'd just done. And so, even though I knew it was
petty and wrong, at that moment I couldn't have despised the angel more.

I turned my back to him out of fear my resentment showed on my face.

"She'll be fine now," the angel said.

Of course she will. She has you. You're perfect and beautiful. You're everything I'm not. You're--

Stop.

I was being so childish. I hated it, but my anger kept growing. I had to get out of there.

I sprinted down the hallway, or at least tried to. My shoulder kept hitting the wall, and my eyes were too bleary to see anything.

I fell into the bathroom opposite my bedroom and slammed the door behind me.

"Oh God," I whispered as I turned on the sink. Cold water ran down the drain. It would have felt good to splash some on my flushed cheeks and
neck, but my hands had gripped the counter again and wouldn't let go.

I glanced at my reflection in the mirror--red, splotchy cheeks, dark, sunken eyes, and greasy hair. It really was amazing Oz still hung out with me.
Then again, maybe he'd just wanted help dirtying up Forneus' car.

I froze.

The door didn't open. The air didn't move. Only my own face looked back at me in the mirror, but I knew the angel had just entered the room.

Ever since he'd saved me that day on the docks, my body reacted to him. I hated the way my heartbeat quickened, the feeling of bliss that pumped
through my veins as if I'd been drugged, the way every cell in my body unconsciously reached out to him.

I glared at a space above my head in the mirror--right where I thought he was. "You must think I'm helpless," I said without turning around.

Silence. Maybe it was just me, these white walls, and an overacting imagination. But no, I wasn't that lucky. Beside my ear, I heard his low, musical
voice. "I don't think that."

Was he really that close? I stopped myself from shooting straight back--I didn't want to end up in his arms. "Do you think anything?" I whispered. "I
hurt her. I knew I was going to hurt her, and I did it anyway. Does seeing that make you look at me any differently?"

No answer. For some reason, the fact that this indifferent being could comfort her better than I, the one who loved her so much, made it worse.

I spun around too fast, and my hip slammed against the edge of the bathroom counter. I cringed.

The angel reached forward but I swatted away his hand. "No," I groaned. I didn't want him to heal me.

He didn't appear to care whether he healed me or not. His face was as it always was--a calm mask.

"You can't lie to me, right?" My voice cracked.

He shook his head. His eyes were so blue under the florescent light. And the contours of his face, which should have appeared harsh and rigid,
merely seemed mysterious.

I clutched my wrist, and felt my pulse throbbing under my forefinger. "Please, tell me what's wrong wtih me. Do you know something about me that I
don't? Am I a horrible person?"

"You're not horrible. People often say or do things they regret."

"People," I parroted. My anxiety grew, like a cartoon thorny rosebush twisting around the princess' castle at hyper speed. "But angels don't say
things they regret, do they?"

He glanced at my hands. "You're squeezing too hard. You're going to bruise your skin."

I ignored his attempt to change the subject. "What would you have done if you were in my situation?"

He looked away. "That's not a fair question."

I grabbed the front of his shirt. "I don't care. Answer me. What would you have done?"

His cool eyes stared at me. Slowly, he brought his hands over mine and held them in a way that could have almost been described as tender. "I
would not have lied."

His touch felt intangible, like light sifting through a forest canopy. I let go of his shirt. He held onto me for a moment longer, but when I stepped back
he allowed my hands to slip from his grasp.

I turned and clung to the edge of the sink. "I didn't want to lie. I didn't want to hurt her," I whispered.

"I know." That same haunting voice.

I shut my eyes. "It doesn't matter what I wanted, though, does it? I still ended up doing it."

No response to that, but I hadn't expected one. The water was still running. I shut it off.

I turned around again. It was a stupid thing to do, but apparently I wanted to punish myself.

The angel stood next to the towel rack and a few feet from the toilet. The yellowing wallpaper around him glowed like a gilded aura around an icon.
All that wallpaper had ever done for me was make it look like I had jaundice.

Was true beauty ageless and stoic? Could it only be found in things that existed outside of nature? By his side, I felt like a shadow, sneaking out
whenever his back was turned, and retreating when he deigned to look at me.

I shook my head. What a strange thought. It was I who lived in the world and he who hung in its periphery, not even a ghost. If anything he was my
shadow--just more brilliant and lovely than me.

I snatched my toothbrush and looked at my reflection in the mirror. There, at least, I couldn't see him. "I need to get ready for bed. Do you mind
leaving?"

He lingered for a moment, and the hair on the back of my neck stood on end. "I'll be outside your door," he replied finally, then disappeared.

Chapter 2

The first thing I saw when I opened the door to my bedroom was Oz, sitting in the middle of my bed, holding the bloody Beauty and the Beast pillow
in his lap.

He glanced up and smiled. "Hey."

Immediately my troubling thoughts of my mother were replaced by panic--what would my mom do if she woke up and found me alone in here with
the guy I'd supposedly run away with?

I almost slammed my hand in the door. "How did you get in?"

His smile faltered as he set Beauty aside. Oz was pretty hot when he was nervous, but I didn't tell him that, or how happy I was to see him. Instead, I
let him squirm as I searched for something to prop in front of the door to keep my mom out.

The wooden child-sized chair in the corner would have to do. It sucked that I didn't have a lock on my door--something that hadn't bothered me until
my demon boyfriend started popping up unannounced in my room.

I rested my hands on my hips, admired my handiwork, and realized the angel was still in the hallway, which meant I'd slammed the door in his face
and barred his entry.

I started to giggle.

"What is it?" Oz asked.

I fell forward until I hit my head on the door. Damn, the laughter just wouldn't stop. I couldn't tell Oz how proud I was of how I'd left the angel in the
hallway. It wasn't like I'd gotten rid of him for good, but I still felt pretty awesome--

Something shimmered beside me.

I stifled a scream and flew back, tripping over the chair I'd wedged in front of the door. I kept falling. I was going to hit the floor.

Light flashed around me like a thousand crystals sparkling in the sun. I tried to breathe slowly. My head didn't hurt. My back didn't ache. And
something, with a touch too slight to be real, held me.

I looked up. The angel still wore a white shirt and jeans. His wings were hidden, and though he didn't glow, his skin possessed a luminescent sheen.
It reminded me of the surface of a pearl. I wanted to touch it to see if it was just as smooth.

Wait, what was I thinking? I didn't want to touch this thing. I didn't want it anywhere near me. I pounded the angel's chest. "Get off me!"

He lifted me effortlessly. As he stood, my lips brushed against his neck. His skin was just as smooth as a pearl--no, even smoother and cooler.

I shuddered as he set me on my feet.

"You were falling," the angel said.

No, really? I stepped back hesitantly. "Oz, is he really going to follow me everywhere?"

"Hey, why don't you sit by me?"

I spun around. Oz had the same cheesy, guilty smile painted on his face he'd worn when I first entered the room. "Don't try to change the subject," I
said.

He looked longingly at Beauty, then picked her up and folded her in his arms.

My stomach flipped. This couldn't be good. You had to be desperate to use a princess pillow as a shield. "I don't want to answer that question."

The angel stepped towards me. He raised his hand to my cheek and, for an agonizing second, I thought he would touch me. "Devi, I will never leave
your side."

I wanted to scream. "Is he serious?"

"Hey," Oz said again, and patted the space next to him on the bed as if calling over a cat.

Unlike a cat, I actually did what he asked and sat by his side. "It's true, isn't it?"

Oz rubbed my shoulders.

It was as I feared. He wouldn't even look me in the eyes. "I can't believe you. You're taking all of this way too well."

"And why is that?" Oz asked.

I snatched Beauty from him and wrung her in my hands. Her face twisted, and it looked like I was seeing her through a fun house mirror. It was kind

of creepy, so I handed her back to Oz. "Just think about it for a second! With him around all the time, how are we going to...you know..."

Oz squeezed Beauty, giving her dimples in her eyes and teeth. "How are we going to 'you know'?"

I crossed my legs. His voice was so low and quiet, and the way he'd unconsciously licked his lips before he spoke made his words seem dirty. But
then again, hadn't I meant it to be those things when I said it?

I glanced at the angel. He was staring at me. He'd probably been staring at me this entire time. Him even being in the room while we talked like this
was so wrong. Him watching was--ugh, I didn't even allow myself to think about it. "Oz, you know what I mean. I just don't feel comfortable."

He rested his hand on my lower back. I could feel his fingers spread over the area of skin my shirt didn't quite cover. He leaned in closer, eyes
almost black. "I didn't know you wanted to 'you know'," he whispered.

He gazed at the vein throbbing in my neck. I think I would have fallen over if his hand hadn't been holding me still. I curled my toes and looked down,
straight into a bloody cartoon smile.

That snapped me out of it. Thank God Beauty was between us. "It's not just 'you know' that I'm talking about, but all of those things, you know?"
Jesus, I'd said 'you know' again! My lips quirked and a high sound escaped my throat. I wasn't sure if I was laughing or crying. Why couldn't I think?
There were plenty of other euphemisms I could use that didn't make me sound like I was twelve.

So I decided to be mature and took the initiative. "Oz, let's not refer to it as 'you know' anymore."

He touched my hand lightly. Perhaps he was afraid, or just being respectful. "I'll stop once I know what 'you know' is, exactly."

"You know what it is!" I laughed. "Now you're just making fun of me."

He grinned. "I'm not making fun--just enjoying myself." He lowered his voice. "And I don't know, which makes it more thrilling, for some reason."

"All I'm trying to say is, how are we going to, you know--ugh!" I buried my head between my legs. "I can't believe I said it again."

Oz laughed and patted my back. I wondered how he could stand hanging around me. I mean, the angel didn't really have a say in the matter, but Oz
did.

I lifted my head slowly. His eyes were wide, dewy and tender, like I'd just done something unbelievably cute.

Well, I at least agreed with the 'unbelievable' part. I contemplated holding the Beauty pillow over my face like a mask and continuing the
conversation that way. "Alright, I am having a really hard time talking about this while that thing is here. I mean, how am I supposed to make out with
my boyfriend while an angel is standing there in the corner, watching us?"

The angel cleared his throat. Please, please don't share tips on how to make out with my boyfriend in front of you.

He didn't.

But unfortunately what he said was even worse.

"You're always being watched, Devi. Even if I wasn't here, God would be watching."

At that second, a little part of me died. All I wanted to do was close my eyes and never wake up; all I could do was stare at the angel as he stared
back.

Oz fell back on the bed, groaning as he rubbed his temples. "Camael, don't talk anymore."

"Did he just say what I think he said?" I asked, voice hoarse.

His lips curled into a demonic grin. My heart started pounding in my chest, but before I had time to dash away he pulled me down next to him. Then
he grabbed the blankets bunched up at the foot of the bed and threw them over us.

"You're not going to attack me, are you?" I asked.

He inched closer--so close, in fact, that I could feel his lips smiling as he laughed. It tickled a bit. "Not unless you want me to."

Did I? I twisted my hands together. Breathing was difficult. So was thinking. And Beauty wouldn't save me now. I couldn't see anything in the dark,
though I had no trouble feeling the heat from his body.

"Hold on, I need something." I threw off the blankets and breathed deeply. Even though I wasn't under the covers with him anymore, my nerves were
still acting up. Oz's soft fingers lingered over my hand, silently begging to caress it. And I wanted him to. I wanted--

I opened my eyes and saw the angel perched on the little wooden children's chair near the door.

He'd turned off the overhead light. Moonlight collected on his silhouette, making him glow and bleed into the silver-looking walls of my room. He did
not fit in with the mundane surroundings of my suburban home--thrift store clothes stored in heaping piles on the floor, cheap genre books with well-
worn spines, and scattered papers containing scribbled poems I'd abandoned half way through.

I felt some strange desire to offer him a blanket, even though he didn't look cold, and probably lacked the ability to even feel cold. Maybe it was just

due to the memory of his skin, cool as polished stone.

I reached down into the space next to the bedside table and grabbed my flashlight, then dashed under the sheets. "This is better," I stammered.
Then I glanced at Oz, and forgot all about the angel.

He looked like one of those unattainable bad boys in grungy clothes that designer companies photograph to sell expensive jeans and cologne.
Those models were usually on a beach at midnight, or on the floor of a hotel room in Paris, but this one was in my bed. And he was staring at me so
intensely that the only words that came to my mind were 'demon in the sack.'

"What are you smiling about?" He murmured.

I bit my lip. I just couldn't tell him. He'd enjoy it too much.

"I used to read with this when I was a kid." I held the flashlight under my chin. "My brother and I would hold it under our faces, just like this, and take
turns telling stories."

He raised his eyebrows, so I raised mine too. So what if I didn't exactly answer his question? I'd still told him something true. No way was I going to
utter the phrase 'demon in the sack' aloud to the demon in the...

He scooted closer. "Devi, what is it?"

I looked down. Not a smart move, since the light from the flashlight beamed straight into my eyes. I winced. "The angel is out there," I whispered.
And even though I know that, I can't stop thinking about things I shouldn't.

Oz lifted the flashlight out of my hands, placed it under his chin and smiled, destroying his sexy, demon-in-the-sack look and replacing it with the
creepy-bedtime-stories-from-a-demon by-the-campfire look.

"Hey!" I laughed, snatching it back. "Why did you take it?"

He wrapped his hand around mine and brought it towards his chest. For a moment I thought he was going to kiss me, but he was only interested in
positioning the flashlight under his chin. "I needed to light my face up before saying something. Isn't that how you said it worked?"

"That's just--"

He put a finger over my mouth, stopping me. "No, you can't say anything until you have the light."

I rolled my eyes. "Okay, though I think if we keep passing it back and forth like this I'm probably going to get a seizure."

He sighed and brushed my cheeks with his thumb. "Your eyes are tearing up a bit." Then, more softly: "Are you still thinking about the angel?"

"It's kind of hard not to," I grumbled, glaring at the blankets above us.

He smiled. "I know a place you can go where he can't follow."

"Really? Like The Church of Elvis?"

He chuckled. "That might actually work, but it's not what I had in mind." He ran a finger up my arm. "I was talking about Morrison's."

Images of sagging gutters and clogged drains waltzed through my mind. Oh yeah, and books, both good and bad...but mostly bad. Yeah, I could
see why an angel wouldn't want to hang out there.

"Forneus made a charm," Oz murmured.

I froze. "The poppet," I whispered.

He nodded.

"So you were the one who hung up that doll decked out in pins and bloody feathers."

He bit his lip, I think to stop from laughing. "You say it like it's a bad thing."

"It is! It's totally creepy. I can't believe you have any customers...or maybe I can believe it, since most of them are old men with saltine crumbs in their
beards who walk around looking at their shoes."

"Don't forget the cute girls who spend hours shuffling through the 35 cent racks to unearth gems like Sweet Savage Sentiments."

My body burned. I wanted to throw off my sheets and take a deep breath of cool air, but couldn't because the angel was out there. Watching.
"Alright, that does it. You're no longer spending the night."

He sucked in a breath. "You were going to let me spend the night?"

My toes curled as his eyes went wide. "Maybe," I responded. "I mean, I was thinking about it before." I giggled, and it sounded a bit hysterical. "I
thought you couldn't talk without the flashlight."

He touched my shoulder. "Well, you did it once. I guess that was my free pass."

He leaned in closer to the light, and our faces were just inches away from each other. "You have to let me stay," he said. "Who else will to whisper
'sweet, savage dreams' in your ear before you fall asleep?"

I recoiled in horror. "That does it. You're not staying. Something like that would give me nightmares for weeks."

Oz tilted his head to the side. "Let me stay, Devi," he said, in a voice reverent and pleading. Blood rushed through me, making me giddy. Alright.
My lips fell open, ready to say it.

And then he flashed another sinful grin and ruined the moment. "I won't say anything more that's, you know, sweet or savage."

"Right." I tried to glare, but I couldn't stop myself from smiling. "I'm going to regret this in the morning."

Every part of his face relaxed except the center of his forehead, making him look serious and distant. "I hope not. I don't want you to ever regret
anything, especially the things you do with me."

Every cell in my body buzzed softly, like a hundred white butterflies trembling before taking flight, all because he was beside me. I placed my palm
on his chest, felt his heart race. My limbs ached. Each heartbeat in my own chest felt strained, as if it were held together by strings that were
snapping one by one. And my lips smiled until my cheeks hurt. He'd be here until--

I turned my head into the pillow.

"Are you still thinking about the angel?"

I sighed. "No, but thanks for reminding me."

"What is it, then?"

I don't want to tell you. I want us to stay like this, forever. I glanced at him--at his warm skin and beautiful, familiar green eyes--and unconsciously I
spoke the fears I'd hidden: "I don't think I'll ever be able to enjoy a simple moment with you again without thinking about--" How I am destined to kill
you because you love me.

"Everything worthwhile in this life dies," he interrupted softly. "Don't speak of it anymore."

His lips pressed against my forehead, and I twisted my hands in his shirt. "Oz, it's just so messed up." It's not good enough. You shouldn't accept it--
I can't accept it.

He brushed my hair behind my ear. It was a little damp, and so left a cool trail on my cheek. "We each have things we don't want to talk about," he
said. "Just remember that I don't regret anything."

I tried to swallow the lump in my throat. "I do, though."

"Please don't," he whispered. "For the first time in my life I feel fragile, and precious."

He felt fragile and precious to me, too--like a newly plucked leaf that would soon wither in my hand.

If the curse was real, I would kill him--because my heart had been enchanted by those deep, green eyes--because I loved him. He loved me too,
and somehow that just made it worse.

The flashlight fell between us. Long shadows from my arms spread over his skin like bars as I wrapped my arms around him and twisted my fingers
into his back. It must have been uncomfortable, but I didn't stop and he didn't push me away.

I'd stolen him, an action as innocent and heedless as a child picking a leaf, because he was so beautiful. And so it was by these innocent and
heedless hands he would die.

How much time did we have left? Days, years, decades? It didn't matter. Whatever the amount, it would never be long enough, because there is
never a good time to hurt the one you love.

***

I turned over and glared at the sunlight peeking through my blinds. What the hell? Now that it was fall, wasn't it supposed to stay dark until at least...

I glanced at the clock. 12:30. Alright, I guess that meant the sun wasn't coming out early just to spite me--and the fact that I thought the sun was even
interested (or capable) of screwing around with me proved that I hadn't gotten enough sleep last night.

I stretched out my arms and flopped to the side.

And hit Oz right in the face.

"Oh my God! I'm so sorry!"

He winced and pulled his hand away. An ugly, dark bruise covered the corner of his eye. "Devi, did you just give me a shiner?"

My stomach rushed into my throat. Then I remembered that demons healed almost instantaneously. "I can't believe you did that," I whispered, and
tossed Beauty in his face.

"Did what?"

"Don't pretend like you don't know. You made the bruise show up, didn't you? That's really, really mean."

He pried the pillow from his face. There wasn't a 'shiner' there anymore, of course. "Come on, I think it's cute."

"Yeah, me beating you up is hilarious."

"I wouldn't mind being woken up every morning like that--as long as I woke up next to you." He grinned. "By the way, you hog the bed way more than
Princess. And you steal the sheets."

"You're impossible." I shook my head and sat up.

And saw another guy in my room.

And screamed.

My voice echoed through the room like a banshee rising from hell. Instinct took over. My hands flew to the nearest weapon--the princess Beauty
pillow--and I threw it straight into the intruder's face.

Only it wasn't an intruder. It was the angel, which meant I'd just assaulted him with a pillow for the second time.

His glacial expression remained intact as the pillow bounced off of him. Those cool, unjudging eyes never left mine. And for some reason, that
frightened me more than anything else he could have done. "He's going to kill me."

Oz pulled me in into his arms. "Hush Devi. You're fine. It's just Camael."

But I threw something at him. Again. I'm going to be turned into salt. I'm going to feel my skin peel as I'm thrust into a pit of purifying fire. Oh God,
please don't smite me.

"I'm sorry," I whispered. I wasn't sure if I was directing my apology to the angel, Oz, or the Almighty...maybe it was all three.

"Devi," Oz murmured.

"I didn't mean it. I just looked up and saw--" I thrust my finger at the angel. He still hadn't moved. He still watched me. "I saw that."

Oz rested his chin on my shoulder. "I know, angels are pretty scary, but that's all he does. It's all he'll ever do."

I gulped. "What's all he'll ever do?"

"Watch you," Oz replied.

My hands balled into fists as I stifled another scream. "Are you suggesting that every morning, for the rest of my life, I'm going to wake up to that?"

I could hear Oz take a deep breath. Knots formed in my stomach. "I can't say for sure--"

"Did he stand there all night, staring at me?"

"Yes," Camael answered.

No. My whole body screamed it, but I couldn't speak. A shiver ripped through me. His voice had the same haunting, ethereal quality as a Gregorian
chant. I found it alluring even as it terrified me.

A sharp knock at the door interrupted my thoughts.

"Devi, are you alright? I thought I heard a scream."

Mom. My hand fisted Oz's shirt. Suddenly I was very aware that I had an angel by my door and a demon in my bed. And that that demon currently
looked exactly like the pierced, tattooed punk who'd driven me home last night after I'd disappeared for three days because 'something bad' had
happened on our date...

My mom's sharp voice made me jolt. "Devi!"

I cleared my throat. "Everything's fine. Just woke up."

"What was that scream?"

"Um..." Panic made my voice warble. Get a grip on yourself. You can do this. "It was a squirrel," I called out. No! Squirrels don't scream. "Wait, I
mean a cat."

"Devi, are you alright?" I could hear her hand jingle the doorknob.

This wasn't working. I threw the covers over Oz's head. "Mom, don't come in."

"What's going on?"

"Angel, under the bed," I hissed.

"She won't see the angel," Oz replied. His whisper sounded a bit muffled under all those sheets.

"Is there someone in there with you?" The doorknob turned and hit the chair. "Is there something in front of the door?" She began to beat the door
with her hip, and that ridiculous little chair rocked back and forth.

I turned to the heap of blankets that covered Oz. "Get under the bed!"

Too late. The door flew open. "Devi!"

My mom raced forward, straight through the angel. Camael's form quivered like a cheesy dissolve effect in a low budget movie, then reformed once
she'd passed.

She grabbed my shoulders. "Devi, talk to me. What's going on?"

But my eyes were entranced by the angel. She really hadn't seen him. Even his white t-shirt and jeans were immaterial.

She grabbed my chin and forced my head down. "Honey, what's wrong?"

I couldn't say anything except stare into her wide, wild eyes.

And then the blankets moved.

My mom yelped. "What is that?" She asked, pointing to the bundled heap beside me.

"Uh..." What could I say? I snatched her hands. "Don't look."

No, that wasn't suspicious at all. Great job, Devi. My mom frowned and shook her wrists, trying to free herself from my death grip. "I love you, mom,"
I said between grit teeth as I tried to hold on. She gasped and shook harder.

"Hi."

My mom stopped struggling. My grip on her wrists went lax. It was Jasmine's voice, but the body beside me, underneath the blankets, was very
much Oz's. What was he thinking? He couldn't show himself. My mom was going to flip--

The sheets rustled. Was he revealing himself, now? I watched my mom's eyes twitch. Her teeth sunk into her bottom lip. "Who are you?"

"I'm Jasmine."

My head whipped around. Jasmine held the sheets up to her chin. Long black hair spilled over her shoulders, sort of masking the fact they were a
little too broad for her delicate frame. Her sweet, red-cheeked face looked like a topping on an oversized cupcake.

My mom looked down. "Oh. Jasmine."

I frowned. Alright, finding a random girl in my bed was a lot better than finding the tattooed guy I'd supposedly run away with, but wasn't she taking
this a little too well? It was still weird. Maybe last night I'd taken all the fight out of her.

My mom wiped her hands on her floral skirt as she stood. "I guess you already know, then."

"Already know what?" I blurted out.

At that moment, I noticed what I should have seen the moment she opened the door. She was wearing her pair of low, red heels, and an ironed
dress shirt. She'd pulled her hair back in a low knot, and around her neck was a silver cross on a silver chain. My father had given it to her on their
honeymoon in Mexico, years before Kai and I were born.

The moment I thought of my father, my mother's hands moved to her throat, clutched the cross, and slowly ran it back and forth on the chain. "The
school called. I didn't really have time to tell you last night." She swallowed and squeezed her eyes shut. When she opened them she looked at the
covered window instead of me. "You, and Kim, and Jasmine are scheduled to go in at 1:30."

I felt like I'd been sucker punched. I heaved forward, my breath too shallow and my heartbeat too fast. Oz put his hand on my back. No, no, no.

James' parents had told the school. There could be no other explanation. It didn't matter that the football team routinely drew dicks on anything with
a flat surface--we'd used tampons and pads with wings.

I looked up. My mom still gazed lifelessly out the window, thank God. My eyes bugged out, my throat had closed, and I swear I could feel the blood
drain from my face.

My mom turned, took three steps, and rested her hand on the open door. "The principal said he wanted to talk with the three of you and some boy--
Jake, I think it was."

No, it's James, I corrected silently. Something pierced my heart--a shard of guilt I couldn't banish, no matter how many times I conjured the image of
his frosted tips or orange tan. Oz ran his fingers up my back. I shivered.

"Devi, do you want to talk?" My mom asked softly.

I could feel her eyes on me. I didn't want to know what she saw. The truth was I didn't care if I got caught. It's not like anything would change. My
grades were crappy and I didn't do any after school activities. But Kim was different. She had big dreams. She could lose her chance for a
scholarship because of this.

"It will be okay," my mom said. "I made pancakes."

A small smile played across my lips--completely inappropriate, but I was desperate for anything that could take my mind off of what would go down
at 1:30.

"Blueberry?" A sultry, feminine voice said from behind me.

My mom raised her eyebrows. "Of course."

"Thanks," I said, and my mother's entire face brightened. That hurt more than anything, I think--that such a small gesture from me could make her so
happy.

That look that stayed with me when she exited my room and shut the door.

***

The moment I couldn't hear her footsteps anymore, I tossed the covers off of me and Oz. "I knew it!" I whispered, pointing at him.

He still had Jasmine's signature pouty lips and her gorgeous eyes with thick, long lashes, but from the shoulders down he was Oz.

Jasmine's cheeks flashed red and she turned her face into the wall. "This isn't exactly a great moment for me," she stated in her wispy, girlie voice.
"Could you maybe look away while I change?"

I did my best to mimic Oz's infuriating demonic grin. "You mean I can't watch you?"

She looked up at me behind long strands of black hair matted to her face. "It feels weird."

I sat beside her, putting my arm on Oz's shoulder. Of course it was a little weird. That's why I wanted to see it. I wanted to know all about him. "What
if I said you could watch me change if I could watch you?"

She didn't even stop to think. "Alright, you can watch me."

My stomach fluttered. "You sure answered that fast."

Jasmine grinned, but it was Oz's grin--all dark and full of innuendos I didn't understand. "Are you really that surprised?"

My stomach tingled. "I just changed my mind. Neither of us will look at the other."

She put her 'man hand' on my wrist. "Oh Devi, come on!"

"I'm serious." I spun around and leaped off the bed.

Jasmine pouted and wrapped herself up in the sheets again. "Alright." Then she winked. "If you peek, I'm peeking too."

"That's not going to happen. I wouldn't even think of doing such a thing," I blurted out.

Jasmine chuckled "Okay, okay." I'd definitely considered taking a quick look until she'd threatened to do the same, and something about her tone
suggested she knew.

I picked up a t-shirt and pair of jeans from the top of the 'clean pile' in the middle of my room. "You're not watching me either, angel, though that
goes without saying."

The angel's cobalt eyes narrowed into slits. "Alright."

My shirt dropped from my trembling hands. Damn, what was wrong with me? No, what was wrong with him? His eyes were still fierce. I didn't
understand it.

So I looked at the floor and fumbled as I tried to pick up a different shirt.

"Devi." The angel's cool tone sliced through my thoughts.

Don't look at him, I chanted internally, but of course I did.

His face had relaxed back to normal, or at least what was normal for him--a distant gaze, thin, immobile lips, and a back as straight as a ballerina's.

He reached down, retrieved a blue shirt from the top of the pile, and offered it to me. I felt strange accepting it, for it was almost the same color as
his eyes.

"I don't like being away from you," he said. I guess that was the closest he would come to apologizing.

I balled up the shirt. "Well, it's inappropriate for you to watch me change."

"Why?" He asked softly, voice like a song carried by the breeze on a quiet winter morning. Then: "I have always watched you."

I stepped back. "What?" I spat, unable to keep the venom from my tone.

"I've watched you dress every morning and undress every night since you were--"

"Eew! Oh my God!" I stuffed the shirt in my mouth. Don't scream. Mom will come back in if you do.

"Devi, he's just an angel. He doesn't think that way," Jasmine called out. She'd wrapped all of my bedding around her body in a tight wad. It looked
like a cocoon. I would have found it funny if I hadn't just learned my 'angel' was a voyeur.

My eyes watered. "Look, don't ever say anything creepy like that to me again, alright? You're not allowed to watch me when I change." And then an
even more horrific thought crept into my mind. "Wait, you don't watch me when I'm in the shower, do you?"

The angle tilted his head. "I'm confused. You said I shouldn't answer those questions."

"Good response, Camael," Jasmine grit out.

The angel looked down and flexed his empty hands. "I just don't understand. Why would you ask me something if you didn't want to know the
answer?"

I opened my mouth, closed it. "You really don't get humans even though you've watched us for so long, do you?" I sighed when he didn't answer. "It's
alright. Just don't do it again. I'm going in the closet. The two of you can do...whatever you were going to do."

Jasmine writhed as she poked her red-cheeked face out of the cocoon. "You sure you don't want to see me change, Devi?"

I glanced at Oz. No, Jasmine. No, whatever, and smiled. "I'm pretty sure."

I locked myself in the closet and changed in the dark.

Chapter 3

I turned off the sink and glanced at my face in the mirror. Beads of water slid down my cheeks and neck, turning the blue collar of my dressiest shirt
black. It looked like I was crying--well, either that or I was a baggy-eyed monster that had crawled out of the drain. I shivered. The thought of anything
creeping up the pipes in this greasy, old bathroom was just too depressing. Hell, even just the thought of anyone hanging out in here was.

So what are you doing here, then?

Silence, except my uneven breath and the drip, drip, drip of the faucet that had leaked since my freshman year.

I pushed myself away from the double sinks. "I'm going in now," I said.

"Alright."

I looked in the mirror once more. I couldn't see his reflection and made no sound, but I knew he was there. Watching.

Suddenly, my grand idea of hiding in the bathroom instead of walking into the principal's office with my mom and Jasmine didn't seem so grand. I'd
have to go in alone, now, and everyone would be looking at me.

"I thought you were leaving," the angel said.

Why did his voice sound so calculating? He seemed worried. More likely he just didn't want to witness a breakdown.

"Right," I muttered. My words came out a little harsher than I'd intended. So to make myself feel better I kicked open the bathroom door.

I got halfway down the hall before hearing his annoying voice again. "You shouldn't go in there like that."

I shivered. It was creepy how he could move right next to me without making a sound. "Like what?" I answered, past caring how childish I sounded.

"Like you're about to cry."

"I'm not going to cry." I refused to look at him, even when he brushed his thumbs underneath my eyes. His skin was too soft--like feathers, almost.

"You're lonely, aren't you?" He whispered though we were alone and, even if we weren't, no one else would've been able to hear him. "Why then did
you make the others go in ahead of you? Why don't you talk to anyone--"

"Why do you care?" It came out shriller than I'd intended.

He stepped back. I really couldn't look at him now. I didn't want to see his hurt face. But no, angels couldn't get hurt by something like me, because
they didn't care about anything on this earth.

I walked faster. "Sometimes I forget that you don't feel anything, and I start treating you like you do. It's kind of pathetic, isn't it?"

The angel caught my wrist. "Is that really what you think of me?"

My heartbeat throbbed in my throat. It felt like it would bruise if I spoke. How could an ethereal being make me ache like this?

"What am I supposed to think of you?" I was out of breath. My body itched, wanting to rush forward, but he still gripped me.

It wasn't tight. I could slip out of it if I wanted. But for some reason I couldn't move. "You follow me everywhere," I whispered. "You've watched me for
my entire life, but you've never comforted me when I was sad or hurt. I don't understand you. I hope I never do."

He let go. I rubbed my wrist. It felt warm. I'd forgotten how cold his hands were.

Then I continued to the principal's office. He didn't say anything more until we got to the door. "Are you sure you don't want me to come with you?"

Was he really surprised? Really? My hand clutched the doorknob, but I didn't turn it. "Yes."

I think he sighed. "I'll be here if you need me."

What did he expect me to do--bust down the door and call out his name in the middle of the meeting? The thought was so ridiculous and, because
of that, so like him. I tipped down my chin to hide my smile, even though he couldn't see it.

"I'll remember," I said, and pushed on the door.

It swung open, right into the edge of James' mom's chair. Her thin, red-painted lips slanted into a tight smile, and she raised her left hand to pat my
shoulder. "It's alright," she said.

I rubbed my hands against my jeans. Alright, she seemed pretty understanding. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad.

Then I looked past her smiling face and saw a 6'3" man glaring at me as if I were a gigantic wad of moist bubblegum on the sole of his shoe.

Never mind, I thought, this is Hell.

The principal's office looked like a set from a low-budget, early 90's High School flick. It had windows on one side of the room looking out at the
parking lot, and on the other two shelves containing all the books he'd been assigned in college. The principal himself looked like a blanched
Wallace Shawn, and sat in a comically large leather chair in front of a wall of university certificates and achievement awards.

I sidestepped to the seat between Kim and Jasmine. The room was too narrow for this many people, so the chairs had been lined up against the
walls. The set-up reminded me of an overly chaperoned Jr. High dance--boys on one side, girls on the other, both groups giggling as they waited for
someone to make the first move.

Only we weren't giggling.

The principal leaned back. "I suppose you know why you're here."

"They know," James' dad cut in.

Us 'ladies' didn't answer. The principal cleared his throat. "I received a call two days ago informing me James' car had been vandalized. Such
behavior is unacceptable." His eyes narrowed in on Kim's slumped form. "I never would have expected it from you."

Kim kicked her left heel against the floor, then tucked it under her seat. I couldn't move my eyes from the space her foot had occupied. Kim shouldn't
be here, I thought as I dug my fingernails into the palm of my hand. Why did I let her go along with it? Why did I suggest bringing along Siracha? And
why did we use pads with wings?

I bit my lip. At this point it probably didn't matter whether or not we'd used wings.

"Is there anything the three of you wish to say?" The principal asked.

The muscles between my shoulder blades tightened. Why were we here? People played pranks on each other all the time--especially people on the
football team. This hadn't even happened on school property, so instead of the principal they should have called the cops.

Okay, maybe it was better that they'd gotten the school rather than the police involved.

Well, it was probably because James' father was a generous donor and his son was the Quarterback. I don't know. Truthfully, it was a little hard to
focus on my anger on the boy. James had a Yankee baseball cap pulled over his face and refused to look away from the floor. I think he knew he
was going to be called 'Pad Boy' for the rest of his life.

The door squeaked as it swung open. Forneus. "I apologize for my tardiness."

Every hair stood on end as that seductive drawl crept across my skin. The devil leaned in the doorway with his arms folded across his chest.
Dressed to the nines in the most expensive suit I'd ever seen in my life, he looked more like the leading man from an old time movie. He had the
intelligent clip of Cary Grant's speech. Jimmy Stewart's boyish, saccharine smile. Humphrey Bogart's...

Alright, he didn't look anything like Humphrey Bogart. Come to think of it, he wasn't even as charming as Jimmy Stewart--he, at least, wouldn't have
considered opening the door without flashing a smile and saying: Sorry I'm late.

But this particular devil wasn't sorry, so he merely apologized.

I wasn't impressed. Surely, the other women in the room would also think--

I glanced over at Kim's suddenly very pouty, very red lips. Her eyes were glassy, as if she were watching Heaven's pearly gates open in front of her.
And her mother had the same expression on her face, only she was also drooling.

I held my nauseous stomach. Straight across from me, James' mom flexed her feet, crossed her legs, and began to squirm, rocking her hips as her
ankles twisted and...

Gross!

"Mom," James whined, lips drawn back in horror. She took a deep breath, nodded, and continued doing what she'd been doing. My eyebrows
scrunched together. Poor James. I wouldn't be able to take it if my mother started wiggling in her chair. At least she--

Oh no. Oh dear God no.

My mom was making doe eyes at him, and she'd unconsciously unbuttoned the top three buttons of her blouse--or at least I hoped she'd done so
unconsciously.

"Oh, there is an empty seat by me," mom stammered breathlessly. She shot up from her seat, almost knocking over her chair.

"I'm sorry," she murmured as she raised her hand to her neck and clutched her cross.

Yes, mom. Touch it. Thrust it in his face and make him burst into flames. Think of God, not whatever disgusting things you're thinking of right now.

"That's a lovely cross." Forneus ran his fingers down the silver chain until they rested on top of hers. The world fell silent, except a distinct ringing
echoing in my ears. Forneus looked over his shoulder, at me, and smiled.

"Oh, it's old," my mother giggled.

"It's an antique," Forneus corrected. Then, still looking at me, he leaned closer and murmured in her ear: "Keep it close."

Jasmine put her hand on my thigh. "He's just playing, Devi. Don't let him get to you."

I grit my teeth. I wanted to take my chair and hurl it at his face so everyone could see what that purple freak really looked like.

Instead, I gripped Jasmine's hand and tried to breathe steadily as Forneus and my mother set their chairs up next to each other. I wasn't the only
one in the room having a difficult time with it, either. Every woman (with the exception of Jasmine, of course), sneered at her.

But none of their pointed glances were as frightening as my death stare.

Forneus winked. Did he think pissing me off was funny?

"Now, Mr. Lowell is it?" Forneus began. "Please recount the crime those little girls committed."

Principal Lowell nodded, his chin retreating into the flappy folds of his neck like a bull frog. "They vandalized the boy's car."

Forneus wet his lips. "What, exactly, did they do to the car?"

James dad snorted. "Ask your little brat what happened."

"My little brat," Forneus repeated tenderly, as if it were an endearment. "I hope it was worth it, sweetheart. I had to get out of bed a full five hours
early--not that you care." He returned his attention to the principal. "Go on."

Mr. Lowell coughed. "They pasted feminine products on the car."

Forneus' eyebrows scrunched up. "Feminine products?"

My mom coughed, then brought the corner of her jacket up to her mouth. She swallowed, chocked on air, and coughed again. "Sorr--" She couldn't
finish.

Then, to my horror, I realized why. She was snickering.

And, for some reason, I thought that was the most hilarious thing ever.

My eyes started to water. I bit the inside of my cheeks. Don't. Don't. This is serious, Devi. Seriously serious. Seriously...

I couldn't stop. I rested my eyes on my fists, started to count to ten, then realized how funny the number four was.

Above my gasping, I heard Forneus' voice. "I see," he said, completely ignoring my mother and me. "And what is the punishment for such an
offense?"

Kim tapped my thigh.

I glanced up, but she wasn't looking at me. Her eyes were focused straight ahead. All the color had left her skin, and her full, perfect lips were
chapped. No, I realized, they weren't chapped. They were rough and stringy because she'd chewed on them--she was chewing on them still.

I sat on my hands to keep myself from reaching for her.

I had to act dignified. This was her future on the line. She couldn't afford a black mark on her record. I straightened my back, took a deep breath,
and looked forward, straight into James' dad's eyes.

A vein in the middle of his head pulsated as if dancing to the beat of the Numa Numa song. His cheeks were red. The look he gave me made it
excruciatingly clear he wanted to kick over his chair, leap across the narrow passage between us, and strangle me.

And that made me laugh harder.

Stop, stop, stop, I repeated. But each time I said the word, I'd start giggling again. What was wrong with me?

I felt something on my shoulder--a soothing touch to my right.

I glanced up with bleary vision. Even then, staring at Jasmine's beautiful face, I couldn't stop the giggles from cascading through me. Sorry, I
mouthed. She shook her head and smiled. "That's my line," she whispered.

Jasmine cleared her throat and stood. "I need to say something before this goes any further." Her musical, clear voice made the hairs on the back
of my neck stand on end. "I was the one who padded James' car, and I acted alone."

Then she ran to Forneus and hugged his arm. "I'm sorry, dear uncle, but he deserved it."

"Enough!" James' father erupted. "We already know that Kim girl was involved. She admitted it."

"No." Jasmine's voice shook. "She was just trying to protect me because I've never gone to school before. I don't know how to act around other
people. I just wanted to help."

James dad looked to the principal. "Are you buying this? How did she know where my son's house was? That his car would be outside?"

My temples pounded from grinding my teeth. I didn't like anyone talking to Jasmine that way. "She knew because I told her," I said.

"Stop," Jasmine warned.

I refused to listen. Oz had reassured me everything would be fine. However, if he thought I'd accept this as fine, he was even more deluded than I'd
thought.

James father scowled. "So the two of you were involved?"

"No. Just me. James did a rotten thing to Kim, and I wanted him to own up to it. Kim didn't do anything, though." I turned to my friend. "Right?"

Kim hid her face in her hands. Her mother rubbed her shoulder, murmuring something in Vietnamese. It sounded like an apology.

"Devi." Jasmine's voice sounded somewhat threatening. If I didn't love her so much, then I would have backed down. Her green eyes narrowed, and
I glared right back.

"This isn't how you make friends," I said.

The air was still for a moment after those words, save for James' father's heavy panting, and Kim's muffled sobs.

The principal groaned. His chair creaked as he leaned back, and for a moment he looked longingly at the parking lot. I guess this wasn't a very
good day for him, either. "Devi and Jasmine, do you take full responsibility?"

Before I could answer, white light began to grow in the corner of the room. The darkness broke apart, scurrying behind the bookcases and door like
frightened shadow puppets made by children's hands.

I should have hidden, too. There was nothing for me in that light, and no compassion in that sacrosanct man's eyes. But it called to my blood like the
haunting wail of a siren. I, too, would dive into the sea and accept certain death for a second glimpse of that beauty, even though I hated it--perhaps
especially because I did.

I felt myself rise from my seat and step forward into that heatless, shimmering fire.

The angel didn't try to touch me. He'd learned that much, at least. "Devi, I know you feel responsible, but you don't have to do this. Azazel will be
fine."

I tried to mirror the angel's dead gaze. "Responsibility?"

The angel took a step back. I almost did, too. Nothing I'd done had ever elicited such an obvious response from him.

"Devi," Jasmine called quietly from across the room. Out of the corner of my eye, I watched Forneus' bony fingers wrap around her wrist.

I ignored it. This wasn't about them, but about me and the angel. 'My' angel. I gasped and pressed my palms to my eyes. "What do you know of
responsibility? You always do as you're told. You don't know anything of love or friendship, or trying to protect someone when you can't..."

I grabbed his shirt and fell forward into his chest, too tired to beat my fists against him. Not that it would have mattered. Nothing you did to this
creature mattered. "All you do is steal things--even if it's the thing they love most, you'll take it--and when you do it your face doesn't even change.
You don't feel anything for anyone--not the people you hurt, and not the people who love them."

Something pressed into my shoulders. I looked down to see two caramel colored arms wrapping around my stomach. Jasmine, I thought, warmth
flowing through me as her fingers entwined.

"Devi," Jasmine pleaded into the center of my back, but I did not turn. Nothing--not even the one I loved--could prevent me from looking at those
calm, indigo eyes.

"I hate you so much," I whispered, "and it doesn't even matter, because you don't care."

His body flickered, as if a thousand butterflies made of light had landed on his skin. Then, he started to fade. The last image I saw of him was his
lips, parting as if to whisper something before he disappeared.

It took a moment for my eyes to adjust to the dim light. I was still in the principal's office--I could see Kim's wide, fearful eyes, my mother's bloodless
face, and the redness of James' father's countenance, too shocked to appear indignant.

No. My stomach turned. They probably thought I'd been speaking about James.

In fact, even James thought I'd been talking about James. He wiped his eyes and pulled the hat even further over his face. "I do care," he whispered.

What could I say? No, James, I wasn't talking to you, but the angel in the room--you know, the one only I can see.

James' shuddered. "And I just--Kim, I'm sorry."

Kim's cheeks flushed. Mine almost did, too. James' voice was raspy to the point of sounding as though he could scarcely breathe.

I swallowed. "Look, I was a little harsh."

He exhaled deeply, or perhaps sobbed. "No, you were right." He rested his open palms on his knees and watched them, as if he expected
something to change.

Jasmine led me back to my seat. At least no one would dare doubt my involvement, now--the principal especially. There could only be two
explanations for the way he kept looking at me: either he thought I had a pack of pads under my shirt and was afraid I'd exact revenge on his desk,
or that I was suffering from PMS.

"Ms. Lai," the principal began softly, "I think it would be best if you and your daughter left."

"Do you really think that's wise?" James' father piped.

James put his hand on his dad's shoulder. When he tilted his head back, I caught a glimpse of the red, puffy eyes he'd hid under his cap. "Kim
wouldn't do something like that."

Inappropriate laughter bubbled up in my throat as I remembered Kim dancing on the hood of his car, squirting Siracha like it was a hose. Thankfully,
I was able to push it back down.

Kim stood. She didn't look back at me when she walked out the door--not even once. But she did look at James.

Once the door closed behind them, Forneus leaned forward. "Now that Devi and Jasmine have assumed responsibility for the event, we should
discuss their punishment." His eyes gleamed as he orgasmed that last word. Yuck.

Jasmine squeezed my hand. "It's going to be alright," she whispered.

James pulled his cap over his face, again. His dad patted him on the back. It reminded me of how a father might comfort his son if he struck out on
the last inning of a little league game.

Principal Lowell coughed and folded his hands on the desk. "There was no physical damage to the car, though, according to James' father, it did
take a long time to remove the items." He looked at the floor between the two parties. "I've considered the possibility of suspension. Two weeks
seems sufficient. And Devi and Jasmine would be unable to attend the upcoming dance."

My ears perked up. Not going to school for two weeks? Getting barred from a dance I had no desire to attend in the first place? That didn't seem so
bad. Actually, it seemed kind of wonderful.

My mother wrinkled her brows as if I'd been cast off to a leper colony. "Devi, are you alright with this?"

Don't give yourself away, I demanded as I gripped my jeans. James' father was giving me the smuggest 'take that' smile I'd ever seen. I didn't have
the heart to ruin this moment for him--and, more importantly, I didn't want him to think up a better punishment.

I raised my brows and did my best to give the floor a forlorn look. It was a little over the top, but if everyone else was so melodramatic I guess I could
be, too. "I will just have to live with it," I whispered and clutched Jasmine's shoulder.

"Devi." Jasmine pressed her lips to the top of my head. The chilling sound of her voice vibrated through me. I turned my head so I could see her
face.

Those clear, green eyes didn't quite meet mine, and her hand tightened on my sleeve. I leaned into her again and placed my hand over hers. Her
skin was so clammy, and she was shaking.

Stop, it's okay, I mouthed. A suspension wouldn't keep her from getting into Princeton, right?

She frowned. Either she didn't understand my message, or my delivery sucked. Probably the latter.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Forneus' lip twitch. I guess he wasn't won over by my performance. "This didn't happen on school property,
correct?"

"No," the principal replied.

"And not during school hours, either?"

The principal looked over at James' father. "It didn't appear that way," the dad said.

"I agree that the two should be punished," Forneus flashed his teeth and paused dramatically. What was up with him and the word 'punishment'?
Did he have to be so obvious and disgusting?

The principal gulped and gripped his hands together. At least I wasn't the only one unsettled by Forneus' tone.

"However," Forneus continued as if there'd been no awkward pause, "I think that suspension is a bit harsh for such a childish prank."

"No it's not," I squeaked.

All the eyes in the room were on me. They felt like ants crawling over my skin. I hated this. My throat closed up. I couldn't think. "I mean, I did the
deed," I choked out.

The principal frowned. "You did what?"

Forneus snickered and rolled his wrist, beckoning me to continue.

I glared at the devil. "I did..." Wait, I couldn't say 'deed' again. That's what Forneus wanted me to do. "I, uh, defiled his car," I spurted out.

The crease between the principal's brows deepened. He opened his lips as if to say something--then, I guess, thought better of it, and decided to
ignore me. "If no one has anything to else add, I think we should--"

"I'd like to say something." Forneus' voice slithered from the back of the room. He looked at the remaining mothers, Jasmine, and then gave me a
wink. "Girls, just let me handle this."

Girls? Could he possibly be more condescending? Who would let that chauvinist pig decide anything?

But then, none of the 'girls' chewed him out. James mother crossed her legs even tighter, and my mother's hand flew to her blouse. Please don't
pop open another button, I begged.

Jasmine's caramel hand crept up my thigh. My heartbeat hammered when she gave my knee a slight squeeze. "Don't worry," she whispered.

It felt like her fingers were clamped around my throat instead of my leg. I wanted to grab her shoulders and scream: Why are you trusting Forneus?
Why is everyone acting insane?

Jasmine rested her cheek on my shoulder as Forneus continued. "My 'little brat' is remarkably impressionable and naive. On top of this, my ward
has never been in a school environment before, and is desperate for love and attention. Obviously, this little stunt was an attempt to gain both. As
for Devi..." He allowed his voice to trail off as he ran one of his purple, immaculate nails over his bottom lip. "She is impulsive, manipulative, and
resentful because she cannot see a place for herself in society."

His words ripped through me. My hands balled into fists at my sides. A screech filled the room as my chair skid back to the wall. "What are you
talking about? I don't want to manipulate or hurt anybody!"

I saw a blur of purple as Forneus' fingers left his lips. "You've done a good job of manipulating my ward, regardless of whether it was conscious or
not."

His pupils dilated. My extremities tingled. It felt like he was a lepidopterist, and I was the insect being spread open and pinned in place for display.

Jasmine's grip on my knee grew tighter. I couldn't look at her, though. She was angry with Forneus, but she should have reserved those feelings for
me. His hurtful words were true, no matter how much I hated them, because Forneus couldn't lie.

"That's enough." My mom's whisper sliced through the room, and for a moment there was no sound but the one that escaped from her heaving
chest. "Don't say those things about my daughter. She isn't cruel. She's lonely, I think. And she doesn't have anyone to talk to."

She sounded strained when she spoke the last sentence, as if she were bracing herself from some unseen, self-inflicted wound. I did feel cruel,
then, for pushing her away after disappearing. I wanted her to feel like someone I could talk to, but what could I say?

Forneus put his hand on my mother's shoulder. She didn't flinch. "You see," he began softly, "that is precisely my point. Devi needs to talk with
someone who can offer her guidance and support. Neither child has been properly socialized, which is why I believe that removing them from
school and extracurricular activities will do a disservice to their intellectual and social development."

"What do you suggest, then?" The principal asked.

The dull thud of my heartbeat echoed in my ears. I had no idea where this was going, but I didn't like it. And when Forneus turned his cheek to give
me an intimate smile, I realized I had every reason not to.

"I think they should have individual meetings with a counselor once a week for the rest of the school year."

Forneus' words hit me like a slap in the face. No. He did not just say that. He doesn't understand what he's saying.

But he did understand. This was Forneus. He wanted to punish me with flair, and he'd somehow discovered that the best way to do just that would
be sending me to the school guidance counselor, Mr. Brown.

I'd heard the stories. Everyone had. Once, he'd made a kid go temporarily blind by forcing him to stare at a prism bathed in sunlight for forty-five
minutes. They were trying to communicate with the poor kid's recently deceased hamster. No joke. Now whenever that kid sees a rainbow, he cries.

But Mr. Brown wasn't evil, though it would have been better if he were. It's impossible to hate a 70-year-old man sporting a rattail in a hair wrap with
an Aquarius bead dangling at the bottom the size of a silver dollar. The only bad thing about him was what went on behind those closed doors
during one of his sessions.

I'd walked past his office while he rocked out to Enya. I'd seen his bloodshot eyes after smoking some of his 'medicine.' I'd endured his wet-noodle-
handshakes. I'd heard him singing "Country Roads" off-key while some poor, trapped soul sobbed along. It didn't matter that no one in the school
had ever even been to West Virginia. Mr. Brown was convinced it was home, and that you were going there too.

And I really didn't want to go.

Jasmine tugged on my shoulder.

Please, save me, I thought at her as hard as I could, hoping demons were telepathic. But of course they weren't--in fact, they couldn't even interpret
body language. See? She mouthed, and then smiled, as if something good had just happened.

I couldn't look at her giddy face any longer. Getting hot boxed after lunch with an ancient stoner in the middle of the school would probably make a
pretty cool story, but doing it once a week for an entire year was just too much.

And then someone answered my prayers. "Weekly meetings with a counselor during school hours?" James' father scoffed. "Doesn't seem like
much of a punishment."

Yes! Listen to him!

James' mother reached over her son to touch her husband's sleeve. "Honey." The tomato-faced man's eyes softened as she ran her fingers up his
arm. "I think this is best."

James' father shut his eyes and breathed slowly once, twice. A dimple formed in his chin as he hung his head.

The principal sighed. "It's settled, then." He rose from his chair and nodded at the door.

Nausea swam up my throat. No, I thought as I stumbled to my feet. It isn't settled. It can't be.

"There's something I still need to discuss with you."

My hand wrapped around the base of my throat. Had I just spoken that aloud? No, the voice was low and deep. Sinful. The kind that made your
blood run so quickly through your veins that you couldn't tell if you were excited or afraid.

The only man in the room whose voice possessed that quality was Forneus.

Jasmine grabbed my hand and led me out of the room. This couldn't be happening. How could we leave that devil alone with somebody? Or leave
before knowing what he planned? He'd already condemned me to a year of blindness and recurring nightmares of folk songs. Why was he still
here?

My fingers clamped around Jasmine's wrist. I don't like this, my entire body wanted to whimper, but I couldn't speak. I was caught in a clump of
bodies--the thick wool of my mother's coat on my cheek, the overripe sweetness of James' mother's perfume. My body crushed against the narrow
door. Slow down, Jasmine. We can't leave yet. Something's wrong--

"Not now," Jasmine's kind voice whispered. Her mouth was so close to my ear. She must have been standing on her toes. I felt something brush
against my neck--her lips, perhaps--and a chill ripped through me.

"Please excuse us while we discuss your fate," the devil whispered as I looked back at him. The last thing I saw before the door closed was the
violet hue of his cruel, brilliant eyes.

Chapter 4

Jasmine and I got halfway down the hall before I heard my mom call my name.

I turned. "What?"

Her thin fingers latched onto my shoulders. "I'm leaving," she said. "I just want you to know I'm not upset about what happened. I'm happy you
expressed your feelings in there."

Before I could make sense of the last thing she said, she pressed her dry, cracked lips to my cheek. They scratched my skin. I remembered when
they'd been smooth from kissing foreheads and boo-boos--when they always smiled. Heat closed around my throat like a fist. Why did my body
react as if I were being touched by a stranger?

She released me and I stepped away. My fingers flexed at my sides as she brushed imaginary lint from her skirt. We really have grown apart, I
realized. The only things we share now are blood and bad memories.

"I'm also proud of you for staying in school today." Her words took me off guard. I hadn't said I would go to class after the meeting, and even if I had I
didn't understand why that was something to be proud of.

She brushed her overgrown bangs behind her ear. "Please, thank Forneus for me. I'm glad you now have someone to talk to."

I bit my lip to stop myself from admitting I would never say such things to that devil. I didn't want to give her an excuse to wait around for him, so I
lied. "Alright."

She nodded. "It was nice meeting you, Jasmine."

"It was nice meeting you too," Jasmine replied.

My mother shifted on her feet. Her hand moved to her cross, and she moved it back and forth on the chain. "You have such pretty eyes."

"Thank you," Jasmine said.

"They look..." she shook her head. "I've never seen that color before, anywhere. Except..."

I stopped breathing. Was she thinking of Oz? Could she tell they were the same person? No, that couldn't possibly--

"Actually, I think it's best I don't tell you." Her lips curled. It almost looked like she was smiling. She placed her index finger over them and winked at
me, probably trying to communicate silently that I shouldn't let Jasmine know that she was comparing her to a guy.

I looked over at Jasmine. She grinned.

You're probably the only girl who'd think it was cute to be compared to a deadbeat, tattooed punk by your girlfriend's mother, I thought. For some
reason that made me grin too.

My mother's smile faltered when her gaze rested on mine. "See you soon, Devi."

She turned to the front door. Sunlight streamed through the glass onto her face, making the bags beneath her eyes more prominent. I hated seeing
them there--thinking of her aging alone on the couch, awake when the rest of the world slept, speaking less and less to the one person she still had
left.

Then she walked out of the building. I hadn't even said goodbye.

***

Luckily our parting scene with James and his parents was less emotional--at least on our end. His mother nodded politely and gave us a tight smile
while his father glared. For a second I feared he would grab the fold-up chair by the door and go WWE on my ass.

I think his wife had the same thought. "Come on, sweetheart." She tugged on his sleeve.

With his free hand, he pointed at his eyes, then at ours. "I'm not going to forget this," he growled.

I didn't doubt it.

"Christ, Bill. They're just kids," his wife muttered as she snatched his hand.

James picked up his pace.

"See? Look what you did." The wife's whisper wasn't exactly soft.

James' ears blushed--well, either that or during the last two minutes he'd somehow managed to get a sunburn indoors and at the end of October. At
that moment, I really felt for him.

His dad seemed to sense my sympathy and spun around. "Hey," his wife hissed as her grip on his wrist tightened.

He tried to shake her off, but she'd lodged her fingers into his skin like a bear trap. A bestial growl bubbled up from his gut as he lifted his arm.

She still refused to let go, but he was past caring. "You," he groaned as he did the eye-thing again--this time with his wife swinging on his arm like a
monkey.

It was a good thing that James had his back to his parents. No child should ever see the people who brought him into this world like that. Also, it
made me feel a little less evil for giggling.

I held it in for as long as I could, which wasn't very long, but at least they were out of the building. Well, almost. God, I thought, I'm such a terrible
person. But even my preemptive chastising didn't stop me.

Jasmine stepped in front of me and tugged on the bottom of my shirt. "What are you snickering about?"

I covered my mouth. "I don't know what you mean."

"I think you do." She glanced over to make sure James and his parents had left the building. "And I think I know what it was about too."

I raised my brows. "Oh really?"

"Yeah. Really." Her green eyes lit up with challenge. "You were wondering what car they drove here--"

"Stop!" Did she want to kill me? I wasn't thinking about that, but that made it even funnier somehow. I yanked on her arm, pulling her behind the row
of lockers. "What if they see?"

She grinned and leaned forward, so her head was on my shoulder. "I don't care who sees, or what they see."

My heart skipped. I couldn't think. I didn't even understand what I was feeling. All I knew was that her words made my limbs giddy--and while that
didn't exactly make sense, neither did my reaction to her.

Jasmine looked up, and those warm, green eyes clouded over. "Do you regret what we did?"

Her grave tone startled me. Moments before she'd been smiling, and now... Should I answer honestly? A little bit. I don't know.

I couldn't say it. "Look, we all wanted to do it and it was fun, right?"

"Right," Jasmine repeated without any passion. "I'm sorry it turned out this way. I should have been here for Kim, to tell her that she didn't need to
say anything--"

I didn't want to hear it. I drew her into my arms and squeezed, muffling her voice. Jasmine was so soft and small--as lush and delicate as her
namesake. "You couldn't talk to her because you were off rescuing me," I said.

"Maybe." The hairs at the back of my neck swayed as she spoke.

I held her harder. "Then it's really my fault, then."

Her arms wrapped around me. "Don't say such things."

My chest felt tight. Cold. I brushed her hair away from her face with my fingers. It was longer and darker than mine. Silkier. I felt older, for some
reason, and alone. I let her rest her ear over my heart.

"It's true, though," I said. "You weren't here for Kim because you were chasing after me. That makes it my fault."

Then I heard a voice by my ear--low, soothing, and male. "You cannot blame--"

I leaped to the side, screaming.

Jasmine put her hands over my mouth. "Jesus, Camael." Then she turned her attention to me. "Are you okay?"

My stomach twisted. Somehow, when I'd freaked out, I'd slashed her cheek. Alright, maybe it was only a scratch, but there'd been blood.

I raised my hand to touch the already closing wound. "I should be asking you that."

Jasmine backed up and pressed her forefinger to her cheek. "Oh. Don't worry. I didn't even feel it."

Don't worry. I was beginning to loathe those words. People only said them to me when they were hiding some horrific secret. I glanced down at my
apparently lethal, half-bitten nails. In this one case, I was probably overreacting.

"Devi." My body melted as my conscious mind recoiled. Why was that angel still here?

Oh yeah, because he couldn't leave. The angel stepped towards me. Then closer. Terror pierced me. He'd keep coming regardless of what
anyone, and even myself, did--just like the terminator. Hell, he even showed about as much emotion as that thing.

But this angel was far more frightening than the terminator. You could kill terminators--it was hard, of course, but it was possible. And, more

importantly, terminators didn't sparkle.

"What are you doing?" I stammered as he took yet another step forward.

His eyes locked onto mine. I tried to retreat, but there was nowhere to go. I was plastered against the lockers, and someone's crooked lock dug into
the sensitive area beneath my shoulder blades. He shimmered, glowed, and every inch of my human body reached out to him.

"Sorry," he whispered. "You just look..."

Jasmine's fingers curled around my hand. A low sound emerged from her unmoving lips. The angel looked down at her, then stepped away. "If you
think I'm going to apologize for that, you're mistaken, demon."

I flinched at his sharp tone. Jasmine's grip on my hand tightened. "You should apologize to Devi, for sneaking up on her like that."

The angel shifted his gaze to me again. Something in his expression had softened. His features blurred, as if I were looking at him with eyes that
were either watery or too dry. "I didn't mean to startle you."

Just like you didn't mean to startle me when I woke up to see you staring at me this morning?

I didn't say it. I knew his answer would be something like: That's what I've always done, and I didn't want to even contemplate such a creepy thing
again. "Look, there are more important things for us to be focusing on now, like Forneus hitting on my mom."

Jasmine head butted me lightly on the shoulder. "Forneus won't initiate anything with your mother."

"Are you sure? It was getting pretty..." Disgusting. Awful. No words in existence can describe such a nightmare. "It was a little intense in there."

She stepped back and wrapped her arm around mine. "He won't do anything because I love you, and she is someone you love. He can't do
anything to people who are tied to you like that."

Why would that stop him, and why would Oz even believe such a thing? Unexpected 'ties' certainly didn't stop him from almost killing me a few days
ago.

My teeth rested on the tip of my tongue. I couldn't bring myself to say it. Jasmine was trying so hard to reassure me, and she believed what she
said, even if I didn't.

Maybe it was best to lighten the mood. "I guess I don't have to worry about the principal either, then."

Jasmine looked down. I looked down too. If I hadn't, I would have missed her stepping on the toe of her Hush Puppies. It appeared to be an
innocent gesture, but it made my blood pump so fast that my vision started to waver.

My arms shot forward. Jasmine frowned, but she didn't stop me, not even when I changed our positions so she was pushed against the locker and I
was holding her.

"What is Forneus doing in there with the principal?" I asked.

Someone had tagged the locker--J. C. Dollar, I think it read--then punctuated that enigmatic comment with a happy yellow and blue PLU sticker
from a banana.

Jasmine turned her cheek, covering the tag. "How should I know that?"

"He's your friend."

Jasmine laughed humorlessly. "If you use that term loosely."

"Hey, you're the one who called him that," I reminded her.

"Yeah, right after I shot him." Jasmine raked a hand through her hair. It was a very Oz-like gesture, which creeped me out--sort of like looking into
the face of an old, weathered fisherman and instead seeing a supermodel. "Fine, fine. He's either making things more 'pleasant' for us, or he's
making a deal."

"What do you mean, making a deal?" I asked, voice hard.

Jasmine sighed. "I mean, he's discovered something the principal wants and is going to give it to him, if the guy will pay his price."

My heartbeat escalated. Standing was quickly becoming difficult. "You really think that could be going on?"

She clenched her jaw. "It's a possibility."

My chest constricted. "What price is he expected to pay?"

"His soul." She didn't flinch when she said it. I would have expected that much. She also refused to look at me.

This can't be Jasmine. Jasmine wouldn't be able to sit by while someone suffered. She'd feel something. This person doesn't.

Then, she opened her eyes. The green in them looked like reflection of new growth on a black pond. In them I saw the hesitance Jasmine refused to
admit, reaching for me silently like tiny ripples that died before hitting the shoreline.

The words she'd spoken echoed through me. His soul. I still didn't fully understand what it was, but I knew I had one and nothing else. The idea of my
principal losing his soul made me sick. "We have to go in there and save him and--"

"What do you suggest we do? Burst in there and say that he's a devil? They might not even be drawing up a contract," Jasmine interrupted evenly.

"And what if they are?"

No answer. I stepped back, trying to pry her fingers from my shoulder, but her grip and body remained rigid. What was this? An attempt to frighten
me?

"Your eyes betray you," I whispered. "You hate this as much--no probably even more than I do, and yet you're doing nothing."

Her fingers dug into my skin. For the first time I could remember, the demon's touch hurt.

For some reason, I couldn't speak the word Jasmine, or any of the demon's other names. "Right now, I feel like I don't know you."

Her answer came softly. "Even if that is the case, there is nothing I can do."

My upper lip curled. "That's not true. You interfered when he was talking to me."

Her eyes began to glow--a dark, simmering green. "That's only because it was you."

"That doesn't make sense. Just go in there and take him away. Otherwise, the principal is going to get involved with something that he doesn't
understand."

"Devi, I can't."

"Yes you can--beat him up! Hell, shoot him. I've seen you do it."

Her hands held me in place. No, the tips were like claws, now, and they pinched my skin. "I can't just do that."

It sounded like she was begging for something--probably for me to stop. I wouldn't. Even if this hurt both of us, I needed to know.

"Why not?" I asked.

"Because I don't love him, and you don't love him."

"So what?" My voice was really shaking. The room, also, seemed to shake. "That doesn't mean you can't help him."

"Yes it does."

"Why?"

The claws relaxed on my shoulders, but she didn't remove them. I felt the sting of fabric brushing over broken skin.

"There are some things I can't change, no matter how much I want to." Her hands slipped from my shoulders to my arms, and finally to my wrists.
She held me, limply, as her scaly, reptilian fingers transformed back into to human skin.

I didn't ask her again. I knew she wouldn't answer. But there was someone else who might.

The angel locked his eyes on Jasmine's hands, most likely waiting for the moment when they would turn into claws again. I wondered how he
determined the right time to intervene--what was an appropriate amount of suffering, and at what point did it go too far?

"Camael," I said.

The angel glanced up. If he thought it was strange for me to address him by name, he didn't show it. But I did.

For a moment, I couldn't move. Speaking his name felt too intimate, as if I'd just whispered a painful secret in his ear.

My throat felt try, and my voice sounded raspy. "Why can't she interfere?"

Jasmine's fingers laced through mine. "Stop."

I couldn't tell if that was directed at me or the angel. The angel didn't care. "Most likely she can't act because it would be a breach of contract."

My pulse spiked. "What--"

Jasmine spun, knocking my shoulder and cutting me off. Her black hair whipped my cheek as I stumbled forward. My palms hit the lockers, and--

Crash.

I flew back, stuffing my fist in my mouth so I wouldn't scream. What was that? It couldn't have been me, could it? Sure, I'd slammed into the lockers
pretty hard, but it shouldn't have sounded like I'd smashed into them with a truck. Any moment now the entire school would be out here, wondering if
a bomb had gone off.

The doors remained shut. The halls empty and silent, except for the untapped corner of an uninspired school pride poster flapping beneath a vent.

And then I saw him.

I think the most disturbing thing about the scene was how clean the angel was. His white shirt and pressed jeans weren't wrinkled. No blood was on
him--in fact, nothing that would suggest a struggle tainted his body.

But there had been a struggle--or something.

The lockers around Jasmine's body had been crushed, as if a demigod had whacked them with a Jasmine-shaped crowbar. She'd been slashed
twice--once from her throat to her stomach, and once more across her chest.

The scent of blood paralyzed me. Every time I breathed, I tasted metal on the tip of my tongue.

The angel knelt before her. "You can't fight me in that body."

Jasmine winced as she pulled on her flaps of torn skin, waiting for it to knit itself back together. "Don't tell her."

"Don't tell me what?" I didn't even bother to hide my hysterical tone.

The angel didn't turn. He placed his hand on the lockers. White light emanated from his fingers, and the metal began to bend back to normal.

"Most demons have an employment contract with a devil," he said. "The employees' duties vary, depending on the conditions they decided upon at
signing."

"Stop, please," Jasmine croaked. I wondered why it was taking her so long to heal. Normally, she would be fine by now. Maybe the angel was--

"If you think pleas from one such as yourself would move me, then you are--"

"Stop, Camael," I whispered.

His hand tightened before removing if from the lockers. He placed it on Jasmine's chest, and after a burst of light the wound healed.

Jasmine rolled to her side on the floor, coughing. Each time her chest heaved, she sprayed pink into the air. It splattered on the floor--little drops of
red, like dew.

The angel wiped it up with his hand, then made a fist. When he opened it, it had already disappeared.

"Devi..." Jasmine was reaching out to me, hands twitching as they grasped the air. Her eyes met mine, begging, pleading.

I wanted to scream at her. How could she have made a deal with Forneus? What kind of deal was it? And why didn't she want me to know? But my
lips felt numb. They couldn't move--no part of me could.

Jasmine winced, and did not meet my eyes again--almost as if something she saw in them physically wounded her. "Why did you tell her?" She
moaned.

"I will answer any question Devi asks, unless I've been instructed not to."

Wait, what? My knees popped as I rushed to the angel. "Who gave you instructions?"

"I can't tell you that," he replied.

Great. "So you'll only reveal the secrets others don't want to tell? I can't say I'm upset that you told me, but it seems cruel."

I looked at the demon. The coughing had ceased. She could sit up, now, and her body had healed. But blood still remained on her chin. I sat down
beside her and wiped it. Unlike the angel, my hands did not emerge clean.

Jasmine gazed up at me. "I'm sorry--"

"Don't," I cut her off. "You should have said something."

"I didn't want to admit..." her voice cracked. She turned her cheek. "I don't want you to stop loving me."

Then don't keep things from me.

I couldn't say it.

Why not, Devi? Isn't that what love is--knowing everything about the other person and accepting it?

"Come on." I grabbed her by the shoulders. She wrapped her arms around my neck as I hauled her to her feet. "You know, you're not as light as you

look."

"Devi," she whispered.

A chill shot through me. She hadn't even pretended to smile when I made that lame joke. Her eyes just focused on me, unblinking, waiting for my
answer.

I couldn't give her one. I didn't want to hate her, or Oz. I didn't want things between us to change. It felt like one of those things might have happened
if I uncovered whatever she'd tried so desperately to hide.

"I need to think," I said. "And we need to stop Forneus."

She shook her head. "You don't understand what you're saying."

I didn't stick around to listen to her try to talk me out of it. The principal's office was so close. I could probably get there in a few--

Jasmine caught my arm. The angel appeared right in front of me.

Oh right. I was trying to outrun two supernatural creatures.

"You can't stop me," I growled.

They both shared a pitying look.

Alright, that was kind of stupid. I needed a new tactic. "Let me go!"

Jasmine didn't acknowledge my demand. "Did you not hear a word I said?"

"I can't believe you'd stop me, especially since you seem to hate the deal you made with him."

Her grip on me tightened. She opened her mouth, but before she could respond the principal's door swung open.

Forneus strode into the hallway. The principal followed so closely that he almost tripped on the devil's heels. For some reason, the scene reminded
me of a baby duck following its mother on its way to the pond for its first swim.

The principal patted his comb-over. "Thank you, Forneus. I'm deeply touched by your dedication to education."

Um, what? Even Forneus seemed somewhat appalled by those words, though he recovered quickly.

Then the principal saw Jasmine and me playing tug-o-war with my arm. "Oh, girls. I didn't see you there. Shouldn't you be in class?"

I couldn't think of a response. Luckily I didn't have to.

"This is an unexpected pleasure," Forneus smirked. "Devi and Jasmine can show me around a bit on their way to their next class, and we can
begin to learn more about each other."

"Why would we want to do that?" I blurted out.

The principal balked at my harsh tone. "Devi, I expected more from you."

Did he? Really? From the way he'd glared at me in his office this morning, I doubted he believed I was below doing anything.

"It's alright," Forneus chuckled. "Guidance counselors are used to students putting up a front."

I froze.

Jasmine seemed as worried as I did. "What are you talking about, uncle?"

The principal puffed up his chest. "Remember how we agreed you should see a guidance counselor once a week? Well, Forneus just happens to
be a therapist! He will be a brilliant addition to our faculty."

No. This wasn't happening. It didn't make any sense. "Forneus is not a therapist. Besides, we already have one."

"Who has wanted to retire for years, and now he'll have the money to do so." The principal gave Forneus a devotional smile.

My stomach turned. No. Oh God no. Please don't tell me that frumpy man had given his soul away so one of his aged co-workers could retire.

The principal clapped his hands once. "Now, if you'll excuse me--"

"Forneus is not who you think he is," I blurted out.

The principal frowned. "What do you mean?"

Forneus flashed his teeth. "Yes, Devi, what do you mean?"

"He's a devil," I whispered. "You gave him your soul, didn't you?"

The principal's eyes were so wide they were being ripped open. Forneus was biting his lips, probably to keep from laughing. That was the last
straw for me--the smug look on his face, his complete willingness to manipulate someone trying so hard to do the right thing. "Give him back his
soul. Now."

Jasmine stuffed her hand in my mouth and wrapped her other arm around my chest. "Sorry, we should get going," she groaned as I elbowed her in
the ribs.

"What is going on here?" The principal's voice sounded as frantic as I felt. "Do we need to call the police?"

Forneus doubled over and started laughing. Manically. Like a Saturday morning cartoon villain.

"Forneus," the principal said, worried.

"It's nothing," Forneus whimpered, trying to keep his tone even. "I think I'm finally starting to see the appeal of a human companion."

"Human companion?" The principal repeated.

"It's nothing," Forneus repeated, standing and giving the portly man a reassuring tap on the shoulder. "Now, I think it's time for me to go to my new
office."

The principal nodded, then retreated behind the door without another word. He seemed pretty eager to leave. Maybe he'd regret his decision and
fire Forneus.

Jasmine let go of me once he closed the door. I glared at her. We'd talk later, but I needed to know what Forneus had done. "You didn't take his
soul, did you?"

The devil sighed. "It's none of your business."

"I don't care! You hurt somebody!"

Forneus raised a brow. "And you haven't?"

My mind felt cloudy. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"Forneus, stop," Jasmine interrupted. "She's been through enough."

Forneus exhaled sharply. "I'd like to talk to Devi for a moment. Alone, if it's possible."

"It's not possible," the angel replied.

The devil waved his hand. "Then at least without you, Azazel."

Jasmine's shoulders heaved. "No!"

Forneus sighed again. "Alright. It's embarrassing to give someone something so personal in front of an audience, but I suppose I have no choice."
He reached into the interior side pocket of his suit. Jasmine's muscles tensed, and the angel stepped closer to my side.

"You have such dedicated guardians," Forneus murmured as he revealed a jewelry box. "You should be grateful."

My throat was too tight to answer. I didn't feel anything but fear, which was strange because he was just one weak, pathetic devil. Jasmine could
beat him to a pulp in a matter of seconds, and the angel could...I don't know, dazzle him by flapping his glittery wings, I guess, or chuck him into the
lockers.

That second option appealed to me way too much.

Forneus slipped a manicured finger over the top of the box and snapped it open.

A silver, heart-shaped locket lay on the white pillow. The elegant grooves on the sides were tarnished, and in the center was a symbol I didn't
recognize. Part of that could have been from the shoddy execution--it looked like it'd been carved into the locket with a paper clip.

I heard a sharp sound to my right. The angel leaned forward, held his breath. His fingertips began to glow as they fanned over the locket without
touching it. He parted his lips.

For a moment, I couldn't think. It looked like he was longing for it, but that made no sense. Angels didn't long for anything but God.

"Don't touch that," Jasmine hissed.

I shivered. "What do you mean. It's just a necklace."

She caught my gaze with steely eyes. "No it's not."

Forneus didn't let me answer. "I take it you're not impressed, then."

"It's not that," I babbled. "I just wasn't expecting that kind of thing from you." And really, I wasn't. I couldn't imagine him picking out such a funky,
antique necklace. It looked like something I would see behind the counter at Red Light next to the assortment of gigantic, rhinestone-studded
sunglasses and fuzzy, leopard-print belts.

In other words, it was exactly what I would buy if I had the guts to wear jewelry. And really, Forneus shouldn't know what my tastes were, especially
since I didn't even own anything that suited them.

Forneus leaned forward, so his lips were right above my hairline. "I made this for you."

I grinned. "You mean you're the one who carved that weird symbol into it?"

He sighed and dug one of his fingernails into the side of the locket. It clicked open, and the air between us was suddenly cast in a purple hue. "Do
you recognize it now?"

Inside the heart was a speck of black dust and a writhing, glowing, purple string. My own heart felt tight, as if there were something inside of it,
struggling to free itself. It was there--that beautiful and somehow sorrowful plant that had brought me back to life after Onoskelis killed me.

I heard my voice before I'd realized I'd spoken. "The Ruka-Hayim."

"Yes," Forneus replied. "It's a charm that will give you the appearance of a spirit, so it will be difficult for my kind to track you, or to even notice you
when they see you." He lowered his voice. "And they will see you. I don't foresee a moment in your future where you won't be hunted."

His comment should have frightened me, but I was too entranced by the otherworldly plant.

He closed the locket, draped the silver chain in his fingers and lifted it. "Never take this off, Devi. Wear it always."

Jasmine grabbed his arm. "What are you playing at?"

"This will protect her," Forneus responded.

"Don't take it." Jasmine looked to me desperately, as if I had the answer to some question she hadn't even asked.

"Are you sure that's what you want?" The devil interjected. "I'm not asking for anything in return, and without it she will be targeted relentlessly."

The angel tore his gaze from the locket. "You should take it, Devi."

"See?" Forneus grinned. "The angel doesn't like it either, but he, at least, recognizes its necessity."

"You don't give gifts," Jasmine replied.

"No, I don't. And this isn't a gift." Slowly he closed the locket. His purple eyes met mine, almost as luminous as the stone he'd hid in common silver.
"However, it comes without any expectations or strings, and she needs it. You know she does."

Forneus threaded the chain between his fingers and lifted it over my head. I didn't see him put it on. My eyes were on Jasmine--the way her hands
flexed at her sides when he stepped closer, and the blood she'd drawn from biting her lip straight through as he fastened it behind my neck.

Forneus inhaled deeply and recovered a handkerchief from his coat pocket. "Clean yourself," he muttered as he handed it to Jasmine.

Goosebumps spread over my back. The chain was cool and small. Still it felt heavy, like stones were piling up on my shoulders, like I was bound by
some invisible chain to Forneus.

His voice echoed in my mind: I don't give gifts.

The devil smiled. "It looks lovely on you, Devi."

"It doesn't suit her." Jasmine growled at the offensive object. That deep, dark sound emanating from her shocked me more than anything else.

Forneus chuckled, seemingly unaffected. "Oh, I think it does. I even added Black Cohosh to the charm, because she's such an annoying bi--."

Jasmine kicked the devil in the shin.

I sucked in a breath.

"It does suit her," the angel whispered from behind.

It took me a moment for his words to sink in, and then I really wished they hadn't. "Are you calling me a 'little b' now, too?"

The angel stepped back. "No, never."

My chest heaved. Was he stuttering? Did angels stutter? What did that mean? Was he lying?

"Look," the angel continued, "that's not what I meant. It's just--"

"Don't take it too hard, Camael." Forneus interrupted. "She and the demon aren't capable of appreciating something that possesses such subtle

beauty."

I glanced at the angel. He somehow seemed whiter--probably because his luminescent skin was in front of a broken drinking fountain mounted on a
'cream' wall. But somehow that wasn't it. Had my accusation confused him?

"I don't understand," I said.

Forneus brushed a strand of hair from my face and tucked it behind my ear. "Of course you don't. You don't need to understand a thing. Just don't
take it off."

I shivered. His waxy fingers seemed to have left a residue on my skin. I rubbed the spot his fingers had absently touched, but the itchy, stiff feeling
remained.

The angel stared enigmatically at the spot of skin the devil had just touched. Jasmine snarled at the necklace, as if she were about to bite it off my
neck.

Forneus looked way too happy about all of this. "I should go get settled into my new office. What time did we schedule our meeting for tomorrow?
Two o'clock? I'll see you then, Devi, after lunch."

Chapter 5

I decided not to go to school the next day. Instead, I slept in and took the bus to Morrison's.

It was 10:30am by the time I got there, and Oz hadn't opened up the bookstore yet. I banged my fist on the door. No movement from inside, just
black windows.

Camael's fingers dug into his biceps. His face looked a little green. "Are you sure it's alright if you skip school?"

I raised a brow. "You've seen me skip school before. Besides, do you want me to meet with Forneus?"

He looked down. "No. I just don't like you going in there. I can't follow you."

And that is part of this place's charm, I thought, though I was starting to feel a tad guilty. "Do you really think something bad is going to happen to
me?"

"No," he replied quietly. "And that is why I'll let you go. But remember, if you need me for anything, come outside. If you're on the second floor and
need me, just jump through the window and I'll catch you."

It was a pretty funny image, but that wasn't why my cheeks flushed. The second floor was where Oz's room was. What did he think we were going to
do? Then I remembered that he'd listened to me talk to Oz about "you know."

I swallowed. He suddenly seemed pretty lenient for an angel. But then again he'd been there when my parents...

Do. Not. Think. About. That. I slammed my fist into the door. "Oz!"

Still no answer. I fished my cell phone out of my pocket and dialed Morrison's. After five rings I heard a groan.

"Oz, get down here."

"Devi?" He whispered in a sleepy voice, then sucked in a breath. "Hey Princess, that hurts!"

I smiled. "The cat giving you trouble?"

"A little, and now that I'm up she thinks I should pet her for the next four hours."

"I think you mean until she gets hungry."

He laughed. "Right. Until she gets hungry."

"Well let me in and we'll feed her."

There was a long pause. "Does that mean I get you for the day?"

I leaned on the door. "Kind of. I'm here to help you out at the store."

"You want to work on your day off?"

I could tell he was laughing. It made me nervous. "One of us has to. I can't believe you haven't opened the store yet. Do you even want customers?"

"I've already got the only one I want."

"You're being corny again," I said with a smile. I couldn't help it. "You should let me in. Making a girl stand out in the cold while you lounge around in
bed looks really bad." Then I hung up on Oz's sleepy protests, slid my cell into my front pocket, and rested the back of my head on the cold window.

"Are you leaving me?" Camael asked.

I pulled the cuff of my jacket around my neck to ward off a chill. "Don't say it like that."

"That night I said I wouldn't leave you again, and I won't." He stepped forward, and for an agonizing second I thought he'd touch me. Part of me
wanted him to. Part of me wanted to stand here and forget the rest of the world as I gazed at his pale features. His hair looked almost white in the
sunlight--would have looked white, probably, if his skin wasn't colorless.

But he didn't touch me. Instead, he looked down and wiped his hands on his jeans, though they weren't dirty. They never were. "I'll be here, waiting."

It sounded like he wanted to say something more. I took a step forward without thinking.

We were too close. If he was a creature that breathed, I'd feel his breath right now, fanning across my cheeks, I thought. The wind picked up. I
moved my fidgeting hand to my face and brushed my bangs behind my ear. He looked down at me. His eyes were a cool, perfect blue, like a
cloudless, endless sky.

The bell above the door jingled, and Oz leaned against it. He half smiled as he yawned and scrunched up his cheeks. "Mornin'."

I jumped away from the angel. "You look like you just got out of bed," I said, a little breathless.

"I did," he muttered. Then a howl resounded from the back of the store. Oz frowned. "Princess didn't like me getting up so early. She's really not too
fond of this 'school' business."

Another howl. Oz shook his head. "I'll feed you in a second, cat!" He crossed his arms over his chest. "Oh gees."

I grinned. "Oh gees?"

"What?" He asked.

"I just can't believe I just heard a demon say 'oh gees.' And I can't believe I'm dating a guy who says things like that."

"We are dating now, aren't we?" He said it sweetly, and I immediately felt bad for chiding him. He didn't seem to mind it, though. A private smile
curled his lips. He swallowed and took a hesitant step forward to catch my hands.

Behind us I heard a cough. "Will you remove the poppet, please?" The angel asked.

Oz's eyes narrowed. "And why should I do that?"

I heard one of the racks behind me squeak. "If something happens--"

"Nothing will happen here." Oz responded quickly.

The angel sighed. "I'll still stay out here, even if you remove it."

Oz's grip on me tightened. "I know, but Devi wants to a have place where you can't go. Don't you think, after all you've taken from her, that this isn't
an absurd request?"

I felt something sweep across my back. The angel's hand, perhaps, or the wind.

"Alright." the angel said.

I didn't look back as Oz ushered me inside. I knew exactly what expression would be on the angel's face because it was the one he always had.
And I knew, also, that it would hurt to look at him. I projected too much into those empty eyes, his thin lips, that unmoving posture. I couldn't stand
how alone he was. Whenever I saw him I felt like he should be sad, and knowing he wasn't and would never be, made me feel like some part of me
was quietly dying--the part that was close to Kai.

My brother's face possessed that same eerie stillness. He only showed emotion when I was upset. He never wept. Instead, like the angel, he'd only
mimicked the pain he knew he should feel.

Did I ever really know him? Did he have a genuine connection to anything other than God? Had he loved me as much as I loved him?

Oz put his hands on my shoulders. He'd moved in front of me. I wanted to press my face into his chest, but his expression stopped me.

"Take it off."

It took me a moment to realize what he was referring to. When I finally did, I realized my fingers had already protectively wrapped around it. "Why?
Forneus told me to never take the necklace off--"

"You don't need to wear it in here, with me."

I took a step back, and he looked down. "I'm sorry," he said softly. "I didn't mean for it to sound that way. I just see you wearing it and I feel like you're
a different person."

The necklace was supposed to make it appear as if I had a spirit. I didn't know what that looked like, because I couldn't see spirits, but I suppose
Oz and the angel could.

Do you only love me because I don't have a spirit?

Where had that thought come from? I shivered as I turned around. "Alright. Help me with the back."

He gently parted my hair. His hands were warm on the back of my neck, and I felt his breath on my exposed skin. Soundlessly, he undid the clasp.

"There." He tried to hand the necklace to me.

"Don't give that to me." I said. "I'll break it or forget about it if it isn't around my neck."

Oz closed his fist around it and put it in his pocket. "Fine."

When he looked up his signature smile was back on his face, although it seemed a bit strained. "Do you want to start working?"

I grinned, hoping it didn't look too desperate. I didn't want to keep thinking about the angel or the necklace or even my brother right now. "Alright.
What should I do first?"

Oz rested a box on his hip and pointed to the pile next to him. "I need to bring these to the front and start shelving the books."

I rolled up my sleeves and bent my knees. "Alright," I said as I wrapped my arms around the first box. My knees began to shake as I stood.

"Let me get that," Oz muttered and grabbed the box from my grip with his free hand.

"Hey, I'm supposed to be helping!"

"You are," he said.

"No I'm not. You just took away my work."

"Well, I wouldn't be doing this if you weren't here to cheer me on."

I gave him a perky smile and propped my fist on my hip. "So I'm a cheerleader now?"

His face looked a little red. Was he blushing? "You could be. I mean, if you wanted to come to work dressed as one, I wouldn't stop you."

I stared at him. "There is no way that's going to happen."

He shook his head. "Alright, alright. Just wanted you to know that you're free to express yourself."

"By wearing fetish outfits?"

He laughed. "Okay, I guess that didn't sound nearly as sweet as I thought it did."

My toes curled. Why did his smile always make me want to...I don't know...express myself by wearing fetish outfits.

Heat scorched my veins. Calm down, Devi. He can't read your mind. Probably.

Unfortunately, he could tell something was up. "Is there something you want to tell me?"

Not really.

He took a step closer. "You're breathing pretty heavily."

"I'm just..." I tossed my head side to side, as if that somehow finished the sentence.

And then the cat wailed.

Oz rested the box on his hip and squinted up the stairs. "Christ," he muttered. "Could you feed her while I move these boxes? Until that happens,
she's not going to shut up."

"Right on it, boss!" Thank God I had an excuse to leave the room. I started to salute, decided that was really lame and incredibly suspicious, and
then sprinted up the stairs.

"Food's in the cupboard, next to the bowl," he called after me.

I groaned when I reached the top of the staircase. "I'm here to feed you, Princess."

She was waiting for me in the middle of the hallway. She lifted her haunches, arched her back, and let out a meow as she stretched out.

"Alright, alright. I'm getting your food."

Meow.

"I'll give you extra kibbles if you shut up."

Meow. Meow.

"That means you should stop, not get louder," I muttered as I fished through the cupboards for the cat food. I finally found it--a holistic formula mix in
the most ridiculously ornate canister I'd ever seen in my life. It looked like one of those elaborate chocolate tins Godiva had on display in the
windows--the ones that called to guilty guys as they desperately searched for an expensive gift for their girlfriend to make up for the fact that they'd
forgotten her birthday.

"You are so loved, Princess."

She head-butted my ankle, then curled herself around my legs, making it impossible to move. "Damn cat."

She looked up and gave me the stink eye.

"Oops. I mean, oh gees!" I stated exaggeratedly. "Sorry I offended your sensibilities."

Princess let out one more little yelp as I crouched down and poured the food. Then, when her bowl was full, she began to lick my fingers.

"What are you doing, sweetie? That's not food. Don't you want to eat?"

"She wants you to pet her while she eats," a man's voice said from behind me.

I spun. "Oh gees, Oz, you startled me." I said as I stood.

He took a step closer. "Oh gees?"

My face felt hot. "Yeah, uh, I forgive you for using it earlier. I think I found out why you don't use dirty words--Princess doesn't like them."

Oz grinned. I had no idea what he was going to say next, but I knew it wouldn't be good. "And what dirty words were you saying that Princess didn't
like?"

It was as bad as I thought. "Um, you know I can't say them here, in front of Princess."

He grabbed my hand. "Where are you taking me?" I laughed as he dragged me down the hall. He opened the last door on the left, pulled me inside,
and shut it.

We were in someone's bedroom--no, not someone's, his. It was dim and a little sparse. There were some orchids growing under an artificial lamp
in the corner. He had a Casablanca poster on the wall, right next to a poster of Evil Dead II. He hadn't made his bed this morning, and his alarm
clock hung off his bedside table, kept off the floor only because the cord was caught on the drawer handle.

"Won't you tell me what the words were, Devi?"

"It really wasn't that bad."

He smiled. Slowly. "Don't tell me I'm going to have to use the 'Triple S' to get this out of you."

I frowned. Had I heard him correctly? "Triple X?" He didn't look anything like Vin Diesel.

"No, Triple S." He kissed my temple. "Sweet, Sa--"

I yanked my hands from his lose grip and whacked him in the chest. He stumbled backwards with an awkward expression on his face, probably
from trying not to laugh.

I wasn't laughing, though. "You wouldn't!"

"I so will. Sweet--"

"Okay, okay!" I interrupted. "I said 'damn.' See? Not that bad."

He rubbed the stubble on the bottom of his chin. "That is a bit depressing. I thought for sure you must have said something...dirtier."

"You wish," I replied in the sassiest tone I could muster. It wasn't very sassy. My heart was pounding and my insides felt like hot, soupy Jell-O. It
should have disgusted me. Instead, I loved it.

"Do you want to sit?"

I nodded. Then, I realized that the only place to sit was on his bed.

So I sat on his bed.

The sheets, though unmade, were clean and still smelled of an Irish flower field, or whatever the commercials for fabric softener claimed it smelled
like. The bed groaned as he sat an arm's length away.

He looked to the side, not quite to my face. He was waiting for me to come to him. And so I came.

My fingers slid over his. His hands didn't seem much larger than mine--just rougher and paler.

"What are you thinking?"

His low voice made my fingertips tingle. I dropped my head. "You know." I tried to make my voice sound mature and alluring, but it just sounded
childish, and I couldn't even bring myself to smile.

He tipped up my chin. Our eyes met. He wasn't laughing, either. His lips parted as he leaned in, closer. His left hand closed around my left wrist,
then his right. His grip was a little too tight, perhaps, but his lips were soft, almost too soft. I closed my eyes and opened my mouth. He made a
sound low in his throat. If my hand had been free I would have placed it over his vibrating skin, then lowered it to feel his heartbeat.

His tongue skirted along my bottom lip. It didn't seem real--the motion had too much physicality compared to the heady feelings it elicited from me.
And for some reason, those contradictory sensations made it feel even more lush.

He pushed me onto my back, or maybe I fell. He let go of my wrist and slipped his hand beneath my shirt.

I didn't have a problem with that. I wanted to be closer to him. I don't think I could have felt too close. So when he began to lift my shirt, I fisted his,

eager.

Then I looked down.

Oh God, he could see my bra. The pink, poka-dotted one with a little red bow between both cups topped off with a strawberry button. Why hadn't the
angel said something when I put it on? Wait, I didn't want the angel to see me undress, so of course he hadn't looked, unless he did something I'd
asked him not to do. But if he had...

I felt my face breaking out in pink poka dots.

Oz's hand began to slip under the cup. I grabbed it, stopping him. "Wait."

"What's wrong?" His breath came quickly, too. When I didn't respond right away, he kissed the underside of my wrist.

"Uh, could you turn around for a second?" So I can take this stupid thing off and toss it out the window.

Oh wait, the angel was out there.

A horrible, horrible image of my bra, sailing through the sky and landing on the angel's head, assailed me. And then, I had an even worse thought.

A paralyzing chill sliced through me. "Oz, I need to ask you something."

He smiled like he was slightly irritated but happy about it. "Okay. What is it?"

"How good is the angel's hearing?"

He shifted and looked down--not at me, but at some place beyond the edge of the bed.

I removed my arms from his lose grip and wrapped them around my chest. "Um, Oz?"

He sighed. "I don't know how to answer that."

That 'paralyzing chill' suddenly felt like a blizzard. The words Camael spoke to me a few nights ago came back to haunt me: God is always
watching.

Oz didn't stop me as I curled up into a ball and groaned. "It doesn't matter what you say now. I'm going to think you're lying if you say he can't hear."

His chapped bottom lip brushed my shoulder as he leaned forward. "I don't know if he can hear or not. My guess is that he can't, because the
barrier Forneus made was strong. However, he didn't make it with a Power in mind."

"What did he make it for, then?"

"Guardian angels."

My hands crept up my arms, following the trail of goose bumps that had just formed. "You want to keep people from their guardian angels?"

He swallowed and stood. The dip in the bed where he'd been disappeared. I felt even colder.

"I don't want to separate people from them," he whispered. "But I don't want to look at them, either. Outside these walls they're everywhere,
especially in the city. It's as if every star in the night sky had fallen and settled in the streets."

"Like fireflies," I murmured.

"No, not like them. They never stop burning. They never fade."

I rolled on my side and replied unconsciously: "It sounds pretty."

I realized my mistake as soon as those words left my lips, but Oz didn't look upset--just a little vulnerable. And lonely. "It is pretty, sometimes, but it
never stops. That light follows you everywhere and blinds you to everything--even, sometimes, those things which are more beautiful, just not as
bright."

He glanced down. "Sorry." The corner of his lip was upturned when he said it, and he tapped his pocket with his right hand.

Forneus' necklace was in there. Stop looking, I told myself. I couldn't. Inside that necklace was the image of a spirit. Wearing it gave me the veneer
of something I did not possess, but would have if God hadn't interfered with my birth.

Whatever remained of the bliss I'd felt when he touched me dissipated. I felt hollow, incomplete. Even if I found my other half, I think I'd still feel
separate and alone, because I still didn't know if Oz only loved me because I lacked a spirit.

My heartbeat escalated. I'd lain beside a demon. Kissed him, even. And not once had I thought of Kai.

"Oz, how are we going to find my brother?" I stammered, as if urgency could banish my guilt.

He ran a finger down the side of my face. It didn't seem to bother him that I'd brought up my brother while we'd been kissing this time, thankfully.

"We will find him."

His voice was low and meant to soothe. I wished it would erase the worries that coiled round my heart. "How? He's in Heaven, isn't he? I can't go
there, and doubt you could either. So how are we supposed to find him?"

He turned away. "There are ways."

My hands clutched the sheets. He hadn't corrected me and said he could go to Heaven. What other option was there? "What ways are those, Oz?"

I saw a flash of unearthly green. "You don't need to worry about it."

"So I shouldn't worry about myself, or my brother, or you." I tried to swallow the lump in my throat. "You do realize that's basically everyone I love,
right? You're mean for asking that of me. If I can't protect those things, then what is my love worth?"

"It's not your job to protect everyone."

"Why? Because you don't think I can?"

He flinched. He could sense my anger, I think. In all honesty he'd have to be a fool not to. My eyes stung. My lungs ached with every breath they drew
in. My nails bit into my palms.

"Devi, I didn't mean it like that. You're wonderful--"

"No, I'm not," I interrupted softly. He didn't get it. "I wish I had powers like you."

"No you don't."

He crouched down and put his hands on the edge of the bed. They looked gentle, and they inched towards me. He was waiting for me to reach out
for him, I think. I didn't.

"How do you know what I want? You can heal the people you love. You can protect them. I can't make anyone do anything. I just...fall."

His fingertips brushed mine. It tickled, and I sucked in a breath.

"You don't know what it means to Fall, Devi--to realize the distance between yourself and the things you love, and to realize that any expression of
that love will be tainted by violence. No matter how much I've helped you, I fear that in the end I will hurt you more."

I grabbed him. "That isn't true. You've saved me."

His hand shook, and then he gripped me so hard it felt like I was being crushed. I grit my teeth but didn't allow myself to wince. I didn't want him to
know he was holding me too tight. "It scares you when I protect you--when I become Azazel. Sometimes I think that a small part of you begins to
hate me as well."

My head shook. Why did my pulse spike when he said those words? "No."

"It's alright to admit it," he said. "Violence strips someone of their voice and their ability to determine their own fate. It's disgusting, and you're right
to hate it. Doing something like that--"

He let go of my throbbing hand. "I'm afraid that someday you'll look at me and only see that thing I must become in order to protect you. I'm afraid,
sometimes, that's who I truly am."

I rubbed my sore fingers. They ached from the cool air, and from my own touch. "You're not a monster, Oz."

His green eyes didn't quite meet mine. "Why? Because I don't look like one right now?"

He didn't get it. I wanted to be closer to him. I didn't want him to sacrifice anything more for me. "If protecting the things you love means becoming a
monster, then I want to be a monster, too."

"Even if that was possible and what you wanted, I wouldn't let you."

I glared at him. He's trying to be nice and do the right thing, I repeated, but it didn't matter. On a deep, fundamental level, it bothered me that he
would act based purely on what he thought was best and without consulting me. "You're making decisions for me and taking away my choice. You
said you hated doing that."

"I'm a demon, Devi. It's not in my nature to fight honorably, even if I'm fighting for you."

God! Were those words supposed to be romantic? I was so...so... I pounded a fist into my forehead and started to laugh.

"Hey," he whispered. "What's wrong?"

"I'm just so mad at you." I hiccupped as I tried to suppress a giggle. Could I possibly be less intimidating? No, I couldn't. So I figured I'd complete the
picture by pouting.

Oz gulped, looking really guilty. "I will find him. Maybe it's selfish of me to ask you to wait a little longer since you've already waited so long, but

please don't push this. I don't want to make rash, dangerous decisions and, well, there is also another reason." He ran his fingers through my hair. "I
don't want to lose these moments with you."

"Why do you think you're going to lose them?" I couldn't stop my voice from rising. "Are you going to do something stupid without telling me? That
isn't okay. I don't want to see you hurt, or for you to ever feel pain again--"

"Stop. It's not like that for me, and it never will be."

I couldn't make sense of what he said, but I didn't say anything more. He grabbed my wrists, and my pulse beat frantically against his palms. I knew
he could feel it--my anticipation, my longing--and I knew he could see it in my face as I looked up at him, wishing we could sink into each other until
we forgot all else.

His lips parted above mine. He licked them, then leaned back.

The room grew dim--a cloud moving overhead, perhaps, or maybe the fog grew thicker. Strangled sunbeams seeped through the yellowing drapes
and cast the room in gold.

"Don't go," I whispered.

"I won't leave you," he said. "I don't even think I'm capable of doing that at this point. And no, I don't want to think about the consequences of that
right now."

Neither did I.

Oz leaned forward, parted his lips, and from them erupted the loudest, most shrill whining I'd ever heard.

What was that? How could he make such a sound? I knew he was a demon, but there had to be limits to his powers, right?

He groaned and slumped forward. "Oh Princess," he muttered.

Right. Princess. She was the one howling like a PMSing banshee, and thank God for that. Oz making that sound might have been a little too much
for me to take.

"She's a pretty thorough chaperone, don't you think? Can't believe she had the nerve to interrupt..." He gave my hand a gentlemanly kiss. "...You
know."

My cheeks burned. "I can believe Princess' nerve, I just can't believe yours."

He frowned. "What?"

"You said 'you know' again in that mildly suggestive way. It wouldn't surprise me if you didn't even know what you were talking about."

He gave me a rakish grin. "I have a pretty good idea. Do you want me to show you?"

"Maybe, but that isn't the point." I bit my lip. "We need to stop this habit. The next one who says 'you know' has to do something for the other person,
and they can't say no."

He didn't even pause. "Done."

My eyes narrowed. What made him so certain he could beat me on this? But before I could ask him, the door started to rumble as Princess
attacked it with her claws.

"Um, should we check on her?"

"Oh, she just wants to go for a walk," Oz mumbled.

"What?"

My lips curled up as hysteria bubbled up inside me. "Like, around downtown Portland around town?"

"Around Old Town. The Park Blocks. Sometimes we venture into the Pearl. She's a classy kitty." He gave me a lopsided grin. "Want to see her strut
her stuff?"

Chapter 6

Oz set Princess down on the chipped honeycomb tiles outside Morrison's. So far she seemed pretty happy--I could hear her purring over the
cement truck down the street.

Princess waddled forward and rubbed her cheek against one of the 35 cent racks. A book fell to the ground. It had a weathered cowboy sitting atop
a horse with inflamed, flaring nostrils on the cover. She sure had interesting taste.

"Impressive," I commented.

My sarcasm was lost on him. "I know, isn't she adorable?"

I shook my head. Alright, watching a cat's tail tickle the heaving bosoms of ladies caught in passionate embraces was pretty funny. And I liked how
she kept biting the red leash. In fact, the entire scene would have been pretty perfect had it not been for one thing--the incandescent guy in the
corner.

I tried not to notice him, which was difficult since he'd started glowing the moment I walked out the door.

"Devi," the angel whispered.

My ears rang. God, I hated the devotional tone of his voice. It belonged in a perfumed, lush garden, with cherub fountains and peacocks strolling
around, not in some dark, crumbling corner in the heart of a city.

I glared at the ground.

I couldn't see his shadow move across the black and white tiles, but I knew he was coming closer. Soon, the black toes of his nondescript boots
were inches from mine, and I could see his delicate fingers resting on his jeans, almost close enough to touch.

I backed up. "Come on Princess, let's go."

She bolted.

Oh no. No, no, no, no, no. She's gonna whack the angel. "Princess!" I yelped as I fell to my knees, making the universal hand-signal for stop with
both hands.

She let out an excited meow, as if I were wiggling my fingers to get her to come over for pets, and leaped into the air.

It happened too quickly. I couldn't react, just watch in fear as I saw her race right towards the angel's feet. Princess, if you keep that up you're going
to get tangled up in the angel's ankles, and then I might have to actually touch him to get you out!

And then Princess soared right through him, as if he wasn't there.

I was too stunned to move, even when she began licking my fingers, silently demanding those pets she'd thought I'd promised. Perhaps I shouldn't
have been so startled. I'd seen people move through the angel before. But I'd thought, for some reason, this would be different.

Princess waved her tail in my face. I collected myself and scratched her under her chin. "What just happened?"

"She can't see him," Oz said.

"Just like how no one can see him," I whispered.

Oz sighed. "Not exactly."

I glanced up at his face. His green eyes seemed to be tinged with...pity. No, it couldn't be. Oz hated angels. But his gaze had looked misty, and
distant, and so tender that my heart trembled.

"She wouldn't be able to see him even if he revealed himself to everyone in this city," Oz continued softly, "because animals can't see angels."

My attention turned to Camael. He didn't look different. The sun hit the bottom half of his face. Though he cast no shadow on the ground, I could see
thin, wispy shadows of his hair on his cheeks. They looked like the shadows of puppet strings awkwardly moving about on a white stage.

The cat circled through his legs again. He didn't appear too long to touch her, or to need her to recognize him. How could he stand to live in a world
that was not even aware of his existence? Where he was made to watch but disallowed to feel--where everything thrived with life and change
except for him?

Princess raised her puffy chin and chirped.

Oz slapped his thighs. "She makes that sound when she's seen a bird. It's time to stalk pigeons."

He offered me his hand. I grabbed it and stood. "Uh, stalk pigeons?"

Oz shrugged. "She's a cat."

Princess squinted and made another chirping sound--the same sweet sound she probably made before ripping into her unsuspecting victim. I
suppressed a chill as her little pink tongue flicked over her canines. It was so wrong how cute cats could look while they schemed to do violent,
horrible things.

"Don't worry," Oz whispered. "She sucks at hunting. All the treats I've given her have made her complacent and fat."

"That's a pretty demonic plan," I murmured.

He grinned, and Princess, tired of waiting, began to walk down the street.

We got half a block before she stopped to sniff a tree for five minutes. "Is this that amazing part you were telling me about?" I asked as she started
to circle the trunk.

Oz chased after her so the leash wouldn't get tangled. "One of them."

Princess then sat down on a grate, looked up at us, and meowed.

"What do you want now, sweetheart?" Oz cooed.

Meow.

"I think she wants to sit there and watch you fawn over her," I said.

"Well, that is her favorite thing to do. Actually, make that her second favorite thing--right behind watching me clean out the litter box."

I laughed. "How charming."

"I just made her seem really evil, didn't I?"

The air felt heavy. Tense. It mirrored the tightness in my chest. I didn't understand what he was asking anymore, or know why goose bumps flared
over my bare arms on such a warm day. "Well, being a little evil isn't such a bad thing."

His shoulders relaxed. The uncomfortable sensation in my head dissolved.

And then the angel ruined it. "Devi isn't wearing her necklace."

"She's with me," Oz whispered. His hands flexed at his sides.

The angel continued, unaffected. "She's outside. If she doesn't wear it and someone traces her--"

"Fine," Oz interrupted softly. He stuffed his hand in his pocket, then held out his fist.

I shivered. "I can't put it on by myself," I said.

"It's alright, Devi," the angel murmured as he uncoiled the silver chain from Oz's grip. The demon didn't move or look at me--not even when the
angel looped it around his fingers.

The angel stepped behind me and parted my hair so it fell over each shoulder. The sun warmed the bare skin on the back of my neck. Then I felt his
fingers, even cooler than the chain.

He fastened it. Oppressive weight settled over my body. I hated how familiar it was beginning to feel--how Oz still wouldn't meet my eyes, like I'd
gone against some unspoken taboo.

Then Oz looked up at me, and gave me his signature, crooked smile. I didn't care that it wasn't as big as it usually was, or that his eyes looked
somewhat guarded. I smiled back at him, grabbed his hand, then squeezed it so tightly that it almost banished the lingering fear that things between
us had irrevocably changed.

***

Walking Princess was kind of like being in a celebrity's entourage. The crowd parted. The people gawked. The celebrity in question randomly
stopped to lick herself.

Alright, maybe it was a little unusual for a real celebrity to do that last bit in public--or at least I hoped so--but I'd never received so much attention
while out walking before.

It had also never taken me over an hour to walk six blocks. Princess loved to sniff things, receive pets, bathe in the sun, and walk in circles.

I felt a little sorry for the angel, who didn't appear to find this as amusing and adorable as Oz and I did. He followed a few steps behind us. Every
time I caught a glimpse of him he was glaring at our joined hands. It made me grip Oz tighter and laugh harder, so by the time we got to the Park
Blocks, my hand was sore and I had a mild headache.

People took afternoon naps on the benches. A few fellow skippers from my High School were skateboarding down the rails near the dried-up
fountain. And a group of twenty-somethings in 'Rasta garb' played hacky sack on the grass. Princess crouched behind the statue of some guy
riding a horse and studied their game intently.

We were taking the long route to Powell's, my other favorite bookstore--but I couldn't tell Oz that because I'd be cheating. "It's good that you're
scoping out the competition," I told him.

"No, there is just a book I wanted to pick up."

So he was the one who was cheating. Or maybe we both were. Well, it didn't matter, because either way this was bad! "You've gotta start thinking
of Morrison's as a bookstore and not just your place to crash."

"Why? I've already got the only customer I want."

My cheeks flushed. That again? It was ridiculous, so why did I get so giddy whenever he said it? "You have the business sense of Princess. You'll
chase after anyone who wiggles their fingers at you."

He wiggled his fingers at Princess, who jumped into his arms. "Yeah, pretty much."

Everything about him looked softer and yet a little more dangerous in the shade--perhaps because the shadows of the few orange and gold leaves
that hadn't yet fallen brought out the green in his eyes. A gust of wind blew some of his hair over his cheek. It would have been really sexy if Princess
wasn't gnawing on his finger.

"Doesn't that hurt?" I asked, afraid to point in her direction in case she'd decide to do the same to me.

"She's just teething."

"She's like eight, isn't she? Isn't she a little old to be teething?" I frowned. "Wait a minute, do cats even teethe?"

"I don't know. Maybe." He gave her a protective squeeze. Princess purred and drooled on his hand, then jumped off and stretched.

I brushed a few wild strands of hair behind my ears as he began to say something.

Whatever it was, I didn't hear it. My mind even drowned out the sound of his voice. I couldn't think of anything, do anything, the moment I looked up
and saw the angel staring back at me.

Why did my eyes go to him? Why, whenever I lost my focus for even one second, was he the first thing I always saw? And why, once I saw him,
could I not glance away? He leaned against the trunk of a giant Oak, though I doubt he was tired. Spindly shadows shifted across his face. Every
part of him was so white, so silent, so still. I didn't understand why looking at him reminded me of clouds drifting over a violent, bruised sky.

A hand gripped my shoulder. "Devi?"

I jumped. "Sorry, just thinking," I said, trying not to think about the worried look in Oz's eyes.

Oz nodded as he adjusted his grip on Princess' leash. "It's alright. Let's go."

***

Oz bought three issues of Street Roots, the newspaper written by the homeless, from a homeless guy outside Powell's--one for me, one for him,
and one for the angel. We took the elevator to the top floor, and he picked up his "special book" from the Rare Book room. It was wrapped in a
brown paper bag and he refused to tell me what it was, no matter how big my puppy eyes got.

On our way back down the stairs, I pulled Oz into the Red Room, behind a display case of devotional Hindu statues of Shiva, Shakti, and Ganesh.
"This is where I always come with Kim."

"Oh really?" Oz asked.

"Yeah. We look for cheap books on magic stuff. Plus, people in the metaphysical section always have the funniest conversations."

Oz leaned against the shelves and raised his eyebrows. "What kind of magic stuff?"

My breath caught in my throat. "Um, lots of kinds," I said as I tried to inconspicuously position my body in front of a book titled Sex Magic right
beside me.

"So you come here to eavesdrop and look up..." He dipped his hand behind my back and pulled out the book I'd tried to hide: "...sex magic?"

I tried to tell myself it didn't matter that my evasive tactics had failed. After all, every book in the section was basically about the same thing. That
didn't make my cheeks any less red, though.

"Hey, I never bought that book!" I whispered.

"Do you want me to get it for you, then?"

"No, I would prefer..."

I bit my lip. There were a few non-"love" magic books--for example, one right next to me had a guy with a goat head, a swarm of glitter-girl faeries,
and a jolly bearded man dancing around a tree that was on fire. The title was How to Communicate with Tree Spirits.

I doubted Oz would believe that Kim and I got together to search for books on that particular subject. Plus, if that cover was any indication, the
'communication' methods the book suggested were a bit sketchy.

I decided to switch tactics. "You shouldn't be talking about stuff like that with Princess around."

"Princess isn't paying attention."

I glanced down. Okay, he was right. She was marking the Occult/Magic label on the bottom shelf with her cheek.

Oz grinned and gave me another smoldering gaze. Was it even legal to look at someone like that in public?

And then, the corner started glowing.

Oh no. "The angel," I whispered. He currently looked like he was about to smite the demon.

Oz groaned.

"Don't be upset," I murmured. "I can't have books like that anymore, anyways, since you told me I shouldn't work magic on demons or other
supernatural creatures."

He swallowed. "Do you want to cast a spell on me?"

When I didn't answer, his eyes narrowed on my lips. His hands found the underside of my wrist, right where my pulse throbbed. "Do you want to
make me yours? Do you want to make me go insane without you?"

"That doesn't sound very nice."

"Magic isn't about nice. It's about what you want." He looked down. Was he nervous?

It didn't matter. There was a need in his voice that my body couldn't help but respond to, and it really shouldn't have. There was a cat purring at our
feet. And an angel in the corner, glaring at us. I gripped his hands, all the while thinking: We're in a public space. Now isn't the time.

Then he whispered, as if at confession, "I wouldn't mind if you did those things to me, you know."

I shivered as I inhaled far too quickly. "You lose."

He glanced up, frowning.

"You said 'you know' first. That means you have to do something I want, and you can't say no."

He moved closer to me. "Uh oh."

"What do you mean, uh oh?"

"You know," he murmured.

Jesus, were we back to saying that every few sentences again?

"What do you want from me, Devi?"

I couldn't think. A delightful, delirious fog filtered through my mind. His lips looked so soft--and they were exactly as soft as they looked when he
pressed them to the base of my neck, and slipped a few fingers into my mouth, opening it and...

The aisle began to glow.

The angel. He could probably read every one of my dirty, thoroughly un-Christian thoughts. What was I thinking?

I put my hands on Oz's shoulders and blurted out the first thing that came to mind. "I want you to buy me a doughnut," I said.

Oz stopped, dazed. "What?"

"From Voodoo Doughnuts," I stammered. "You can't say no."

He stepped back and sighed. "That is profoundly disappointing."

"Hey, it's what I want." I tried to sound nonchalant and keep my eyes on Oz, not the angel. At least he'd stopped glowing.

Oz ran his fingers through his hair. "I know it is, which means I obviously wasn't doing a good job."

I didn't trust myself to respond to that. Is that really what he thought? How could it be? My breath came too quickly. My face was flushed. My arms felt
so blissful they almost ached.

"I'll get you your doughnut, but I'm going to get this for you too," he said, raising up Sex Magic. Then, he gave me a small smile and held my hand
chastely.

***

The line for Voodoo Doughnuts stretched all the way around the block. I sent Oz to Louie's, the fish and chips place next door, to get some takeout
calamari and a treat for Princess.

I didn't say a word to the angel while he was gone. In fact, I did my best to pretend the angel wasn't there. I mean, there was no good reason why,
since if I acknowledged him the people around would think I was crazy. And thinking like this is starting to make me doubt my sanity.

I could not have been happier to see Oz running up the street with two little takeout boxes. His cheeks were a bit flushed when he stopped beside
me.

"You showed up just in time. We're almost inside."

He opened the calamari box. "How's Princess?"

I grabbed a plump squid and dipped it in tartar sauce. "She's great," I said, and she was. She couldn't see annoying angels.

He set a prawn down on the pavement and Princess immediately started lapping. When she'd swallowed it, she picked up the exoskeleton in her
mouth and carried it around as if she'd caught it herself.

"Good job, Princess!" I laughed.

Oz grinned and held the door open as we wandered inside.

The interior of Voodoo Doughnuts had the same cloying and self-conscious color scheme as the suburban town in Edward Scissorhands. From the
Barbie pink ceiling hung a cheap chandelier. T-shirts, art so bizarre it gave the velvet paintings at Dixie's a run for their money, and handwritten
signs were tacked onto the orange walls.

A perky guy with long bangs and an illegible message on his t-shirt asked us what we wanted.

I pointed to a Virgin Mary doughnut.

"You don't want the penis-shaped one?"

I raised my brows. "Do you want me to get that one?"

Oz paused thoughtfully. "I don't know how I feel about it yet," he said as he ordered a Voodoo dozen to go and picked out one of a guy being
pierced in the stomach with a pretzel for himself.

"He looks like he's in a lot of pain," I said.

Oz grinned and took a bite out of the head. "I know. I felt sorry for him, so I wanted to put him out of his misery."

I shook my head as we exited the shop. "So, who's getting the one of Jesus being crucified?"

"I had Camael in mind when I bought it, but since he can't eat I bet he'll give it to you."

I spun to face the angel. "You can't..."

I exhaled too quickly, scattering powdered sugar into the air. It filtered over the image of the angel like fake snow from a snow globe. He looked
cold, standing before the purple bricks, seemingly untouched by the late afternoon sunlight.

"You can have my doughnut," he said, then looked down at the half-eaten Virgin Mary in my hand.

I swallowed, trying to banish the exquisite, sugary taste from the doughnut in my mouth.

"Do you like it?" The angel asked.

"Uh..." Yeah, I love munching on the beloved mother of the savior in front of an angel. I didn't want to answer, so I took another bite. Then another.
Damn it! It was so good, and so wrong, and I couldn't stop. I looked to Oz for help.

He winked. "She likes it."

Thanks for making it so much better, I thought. But then again, I didn't know why I'd expect more from a demon.

I ate a repulsive number of doughnuts on our way back to Morrison's. A guy was browsing the discount stacks when we arrived.

"I guess I have a customer," Oz murmured.

"Yeah, one who can't go into the store to buy the books he wants because the door is locked. I'm amazed you even still have any left on the racks."

Oz fished his keys out of his jeans. He had to kick the door twice to get it to move. "Sorry about opening late today."

The man shook his head and smiled. I was a little surprised he didn't call the cops, since it kind of looked like Oz was breaking into the place.

"It's alright. I'm used to your odd hours."

Oz dropped another prawn for Princess, then opened the pink Voodoo Doughnuts box. "Do you want one?" He asked the man.

"Yeah," I said, "you can take the--" Just as I said "Jesus," Oz said "penis." We both looked at each other and started laughing--in fact, Oz laughed
so hard I feared he would drop the doughnut box.

"I'm actually alright," the guy said. "I think I'm ready to buy the books."

Oz held the door open and the two of them went inside. Princess followed close behind. When they stopped at the register, Princess jumped on the
counter and dropped her prawn exoskeleton beside the man's books.

"Thank you, sweetie," Oz cooed and gave her a loving pet.

The man started asking questions about the cat, then the store, and so I started to browse.

I ran my finger over the spines of the unsorted, oversized books in the box by the poster of Marilyn in the front window. An encyclopedia from the
forties. A book of photographs of the Oregon coast. And The Complete Guide to Guardian Angels.

The quickening thud of my heartbeat pounded throughout my entire body. Slowly, I wrapped my fingers around it and I pulled it out.

"If there's something you want to know about angels, just ask."

I yelped, dropped the book and shot backwards. "Jesus Christ," I whispered as I shut my eyes and rested the back of my head against the
bookshelf. "Don't sneak up on me like that."

I looked up. The angel crouched down to pick up the book. He brushed the dust off the cover. Such a human gesture seemed odd coming from him-
-why would an angel care about dust, or books?

He held the book to his chest as he stood. "Why won't you come to me if you want to know something?"

My throat felt tight. He didn't say anything more, just waited for my answer as he stared at me--no, right through me. I couldn't think straight when he
looked at me like that, so I answered honestly: "I just don't want to."

"I'll never lie to you."

"But that doesn't mean you'll tell me everything. You're keeping secrets from me, aren't you? There are things you can never reveal."

He didn't hesitate, or look guilty. "There are."

I tried to mimic his emotionless response. "Then this book is better."

He offered me the book. I snatched it so quickly it almost fell again.

"I'm not a guardian angel," he said. "And I haven't read that book before, so I don't know how accurate it is."

I couldn't look at him anymore, so I started counting how many Nora Roberts novels Oz had on the shelf beside the angel's legs.

"Devi," he whispered.

How can you say my name so easily? I wanted to shout. How can you stand to attach yourself to someone who hates you? But I didn't really want to
hear the answers to those questions, so I didn't ask.

He continued: "Why do you want that book?"

"So that I can protect myself," I whispered. "From you."

I didn't look at him when I said it--I focused on the wide expanse of painted prairie that graced the cover of Montana Sky so hard that the clouds in
the background seemed to move.

He put his hand on my shoulder. He kept it there, even after I flinched. "I will never hurt you."

My vision went bleary. I blinked once, then again. "How can you say that?"

"I promised to protect you."

He still didn't understand. "You were supposed to guard my brother, right? And now you don't even know where he is." I hated the sound of my
trembling voice, that I was too weak to even look at him. I shut my eyes.

In the darkness, his soothing, haunting voice found me: "That's right."

That's right. No other explanation necessary. It was what he'd been told to do, and so that alone, I suppose, was meant to satisfy me. "Camael," I

said, raising my gaze to his.

As it turned out, that wasn't a smart thing to do.

For a moment I forgot what I was going to say. His eyes shifted color, just slightly, turning a deeper blue. I think he wanted to touch me with his
healing hands, but he didn't because I'd asked him not to.

"Are you alright?" He asked.

"I'm just cold, is all," I finally said. Then: "Do you really want to know why I don't trust you?"

He wet his lips--another human gesture that, from another, would suggest nervousness. "It's important for me to know."

I nodded. "It's because you took him without knowing where he would go or what would happen to him, because you were told to. You did it without
a second thought, even though you'd spent years with him."

I took a deep, nervous breath. The angel said nothing. He was really going to make me say it.

"That's why I don't want to trust you," I began softly. "Even if what you say is true--even if you would never lie to me--even if you've vowed to protect
me I still can't trust you, because your heart will never recognize my suffering or my desires. In fact, it doesn't even exist."

Out of the corner of my eye I saw his fingers twitch.

I swallowed, forcing down the ball in my throat. "I don't want to trust you, because I know someday that you will have to make a choice, and it won't
be me."

We fell into another silence. The angel stepped back. My body felt lighter, as if he'd taken my discomfort with him. But something lingered--a feeling
of loneliness he couldn't remove, or perhaps something that had emerged in his absence.

I stepped into the aisle. From there I had a clear view of Oz at the register. Princess rubbed against the customer's wrists, demanding pets. He
happily obliged.

Then Oz caught me staring at him. He grinned and gave me an enigmatic wink, then turned his attention back to the customer.

I gripped the book to my chest. I didn't understand how something as small as a smile from the person you loved could make you so happy, or why
such an innocent feeling was so quickly replaced by fear.

Chapter 7

Oz dropped me and the angel off late to a dark, cold house. Mom probably wouldn't get off work until close to dawn. I was happier about that than I
had any right to be. It was still difficult to look at her without remembering the cruel, unnecessary things I'd said.

I dropped my bag and kicked it into the corner. A red light flashed in the living room. The school had probably called.

I sat on my knees in front of the end table by the white couch. Our phone was an ancient office phone one of my mom's old bosses had given to her
when she worked as a secretary. I hated it. Every time I tried to put someone on hold, I accidentally hung up on them. Oh well, at least I knew how to
work the answering machine. Sort of.

I hit the play button and the familiar, automated voice boomed. According to the school, I'd only missed second, third, and fifth periods.

I smiled. "I didn't even show up and I only missed three periods. That's my superpower, angel."

The angel just stared blankly at me.

I got up. "Alright, then. I'm going to bed."

Then I walked to my room with my angel behind me.

***

That night I decided to sleep in my clothes. I knew the angel wouldn't peek--or at least I was pretty sure he wouldn't--but it just didn't feel right
undressing when he was around. Maybe I'd wear these clothes tomorrow, too. Or even for the rest of my life.

I sighed as I crawled into bed and carefully wrapped the covers around my face so just my nose poked out. When I was little this was how I'd hid
from monsters, so I figured the same technique would work with angels. It had worked last night. Well, alright, probably only because I'd been so
tired that I'd just passed out.

Unfortunately, right then, I wasn't that tired.

I closed my eyes. The angel isn't here. The angel isn't here, I repeated. Instead of counting sheep, I counted how many Camaels weren't in the room
with me. But even though my lids were shut and I got up to 138 Camaels, I couldn't bring myself to believe it.

I peeked out of the hole in the blankets.

The angel stood in the middle of the room. Staring at me.

I froze. This was a nightmare. No, worse than a nightmare. The images that slithered in my mind were so creepy that I didn't want to give them an
identifiable form by naming them.

"I can't sleep when you're watching me like that." My throat was so tight that it hurt when I spoke.

"How do you want me to watch you?" He asked.

I threw the covers off me and shot up. "I don't want you to watch me at all!"

"I've always watched you," he said, and for a second I couldn't do anything but watch him back.

I felt like throwing my pillows at him. No, burying myself under them. Instead, I took a deep breath and stated as evenly as I could: "That doesn't
make it okay. You need to stop looking at me all the time--especially when I'm trying to sleep."

"If I don't watch you, then I can't protect you."

I bit my lip to keep myself from groaning. "Do you really need to watch me every second of every day?"

He looked down and ran his fingers over the top of my chair. "It just doesn't feel right when I can't watch you."

Something deep in my chest began to ache. Maybe it was how young he looked in the moonlight--the silver streaming through my open blinds
softened his luminescence. Or, perhaps it was how carefully he touched the mundane things in my room. He even hesitated when his hand brushed
against a simple chair, as if it were a sacred object.

I glanced at my quilt, not wanting to look at him anymore. For some reason I wanted to touch the entwined hearts--my brother, Cammy, and me. In
the end I didn't, and just said: "If you don't stop watching me, I'll never get any sleep."

The bed creaked softly. He was sitting beside me as if he was a real thing, and not some ethereal compilation of moonbeams and otherworldly
light.

I brought my knees to my chest. Why did he think that coming closer to me would fix things when I'd just told him it made me uncomfortable when he
watched me?

"If you want, I could make you fall sleep," he said.

I was tempted to accept his offer. More than tempted. In fact, the only thing that stopped me was the knowledge of how disgusted I'd be with myself
when I woke up the next morning to his unblinking eyes.

"I don't want that," I mumbled.

He leaned closer. His fingers were so close to my toes that, if I wiggled them, we'd touch. "Where do you want me to go?" He asked.

Away, where I'll never have to see or think about you again. I don't care where, as long as you're no longer with me.

I froze. My chest constricted with guilt even though I hadn't spoken those words out loud. I don't think it's good for me to be around you. I don't like
who I become when you're by my side, I thought as I glanced up into his clear, blue, neutral eyes.

"Maybe you can stand outside the house? You'll still be close enough to react if something happens, and I can fall asleep."

He held my gaze. It seemed like an eternity before he spoke. "Alright."

And then he disappeared.

Moonlight streamed through the windows, beautiful and cold. It seemed to preserve his presence, somehow--like how fabric absorbs the scent of
smoke. I rolled to my left with my knees still pressed into my stomach and shut my eyes.

Sleep did not come.

"Damn," I muttered. I got up and wrapped my quilt around my body, then waddled to the window and looked out.

The angel stood in the middle of the lawn, glowing like a white Christmas star at the top of the tree, staring straight at me.

I ducked under my desk. Damn. Had he seen me? Alright, stupid question. How could he not see me? Was he really going to stand there all night,
watching?

My hands curled around the edge of my desk. Slowly, I lifted myself up and peeked out the window.

The angel was still there, staring. He didn't appear to be surprised that I was spying on him. Actually, he didn't have any reaction at all.

I started to laugh. I would have stopped if I could since it seemed rude, but I couldn't help it. I doubled over and gripped my stomach. He'd stand out
there all night, wouldn't he? Glittering and staring at my window like a lost puppy.

Well, only if that lost puppy had big, inexpressive eyes, never felt cold, and needed no love. But if that was the case, why had I gotten up to check on
him? Why couldn't I go back to bed? Why did sleep still elude me?

It started to rain. My arms instinctively wrapped the quilt around myself tighter. He can't feel cold, I reminded myself. He isn't crying. He doesn't cry.
Those are just raindrops running down his cheeks.

It was a horrific thought--a man, standing alone in the rain, unfeeling as rain streamed down his face. A man whose eyes never left mine--whose
thoughts never wandered from me. And then me, warm in my bed, trying my best to ignore him.

His hair was darkened a bit from the rain--a tarnished gold. I pressed my finger to the windowpane. It fogged up a bit around it, like a smoky halo.
"You're not a puppy," I whispered. Why couldn't I tear my gaze away from those big, wet, blue eyes?

Oh Hell. I knew I was going to regret this, but then again I'd probably regret anything I did in this situation. I dropped the quilt over my shoulders,
shoved the papers on my desk onto the floor and put my laptop on my chair. Then I belly-flopped onto my desk and groaned as I pushed the window
open.

Real attractive, Devi, I thought as I bared my teeth and pulled up with all my unimpressive might. Thank God only the angel could see me.

"Get in here!" I yelled.

He frowned. "But you said--"

"Get in here!" I repeated, louder. "I can't hold this stupid window open forever."

As those words left my mouth, I realized that I could leave my window open forever. In fact, it probably would be open forever, because the thing was
stuck and I couldn't get it shut.

"Get up here and help me close it," I demanded angrily, as if it was somehow his fault.

The angel materialized next to me. I screamed, waved my arms around, and rolled onto the floor. Luckily my head hit the wall instead of my
trashcan. Unfortunately, it still hurt like Hell.

My eyes rolled to the back of my head. "Don't sneak up on me, please," I moaned.

"Devi, are you alright?" I cracked my eyes open just in time to see his bright fingertips wave in front of my face like glow sticks.

"Let me heal you," he begged.

No. It was the first thought that popped into my head, but for some reason I said: "Okay."

He sucked in a breath. The wall suddenly felt too hard on my back, and the room too small. The only light in that cramped space between my desk
and the corner came from his soft, glowing skin, and the only sound was the rain relentlessly hitting the roof and pavement.

He brushed the hair from my face with his damp fingers. "Are you sure?"

I nodded. I didn't want to say it twice. Luckily, it turned out he needed no further encouragement.

He rested his hands on either side of my head, lifting my face closer to his. Even before light emanated from his body like a night blooming flower,
my vision began to blur. I think because some part of me couldn't stand to look at him when he was so near. His severe features possessed a
beauty that seemed to have nothing to do with Heaven or Earth. I thought of that little bit of humanity as Camael.

But there was no real Camael, only the perfect face God had sculpted, and a body that was repulsed by the natural world even though it contained
its most desirable features. That was what bothered me the most--that my mortal heart could find a mirage more moving than what was real.

He tilted back my head. Beyond his aqua eyes I saw his wings spread open, and that familiar, haunting light spilled over us. No, I thought, as my jaw
trembled open. The light quickly rushed into my mouth. I gasped, allowing it into my lungs.

It pumped through my veins, seeping into my skin. Bliss--undiluted and unqualified. I couldn't shut my eyes, couldn't stop looking at him. I caught a
glimpse, then, of what it would be like to feel something in its entirety, without the restrictions of a body--what pure beauty truly was.

My hands rose through the light and clutched his wrists. Stay with me. I want to be in your arms forever. I didn't know where that voice came from. It
wasn't mine, but it hummed through me, overtaking my consciousness and leaving me with an intense, consuming desire I knew I could never fulfill.

And then he let go.

His damp fingers left trails of water on my cheeks. I pressed my own hands to them, wiping them away.

What just happened? He'd healed me--that much I knew--but he'd done something else. Ecstasy still flooded my veins. The intimacy with which he'd
held me had branded itself into my memory. I didn't want any part of that light that blinded me to all else, even love.

How could I tell Oz what had just happened? That I'd asked for it? And would he even understand if I tried? I didn't even understand it. Oh God, why
had I asked him to heal me? It hadn't been a terrible pain--just a light pounding in my head, and a soreness in my muscles.

Forget it, Devi. It was nothing. It meant nothing.

I looked up. The angel crouched over me. His chest rose and fell rhythmically, unaffected by how close we'd been. "Do you feel better?"

Of course that would be all he'd ask.

A few raindrops fell from his nose to the center of my chest.

"You're getting me wet," I said.

His eyes darkened. My pulse spiked. No. No. I did not just say that. But I had said it. I'd just told a heavenly being that he made me wet. Gross, Devi.
Get ahold of yourself.

"I don't mean it that way," I blurted out. "I just mean that, you know, you're raining on me."

He wrapped his arms around me and lifted me up. My cheek smashed into his chest. "Hey, what do you think you're--"

He set me down on my feet, stepping back.

"I'm sorry for raining on you," he said with a completely straight face.

I searched his face for any sign of humor, but didn't find it. The angel was completely serious. He wasn't teasing. He was sorry for "raining on me."

Though my lips twitched, I tried to answer him just as sincerely. "It's okay. I shouldn't have made you go outside. It was mean."

"You can send me anywhere, as long as it isn't too far from you."

"Well, that kind of limits my options, doesn't it?" I muttered as I glanced over at the desk. "Damn!"

The angel stepped back. "What is it?"

"The window! Shut it!" I called out as I grabbed a towel off the floor and flung it over my desk.

He reached over the desk and shoved it silently and effortlessly.

I mopped up the rest of the water that had pooled up on my desk. Thank God I'd moved my laptop.

"Thank you," I murmured, then: "But you're still wet!"

"I don't mind," he said. Beads of water still clung to his forehead and cheeks. He made no effort to wipe them away, and it bothered me.

"Well I do, especially when it's all over the floor and..." I couldn't continue. Obviously I didn't care about the floor. If I did, I'd clean once in a while. No, I
just didn't like thinking of him being cold, even if I knew he couldn't feel it.

I grabbed the quilt and threw it over his shoulders. "There," I whispered as I crossed the front of it over his chest. He looked absolutely ridiculous
decked out in baby blue and Barbie pink squares, kind of like a teddy bear superhero.

"Now you're quilt is wet," he said.

"Part of it is yours, too," I said without thinking.

He frowned.

"I just mean that my grandma made it for me and Kai and..." I couldn't finish, or even look at him anymore. I tapped the quit--well, actually his
shoulder, and turned around so he couldn't see my face.

"You can sleep in the closet tonight," I whispered.

I cringed. The closet was a step up from the lawn, I guess, but it just sounded bad. Like Cinderella's evil stepmother bad.

"Are you sure that's alright?"

I groaned. Did he have to act like Cinderella--all happy to slave away for me and dedicate his life to my comfort and stand for twelve hours in
cramped, stuffy spaces?

"It's fine," I said, then threw myself down on my bed. "Just be sure to keep the door shut," I yelled into my pillow.

For a moment there was silence, and then a soft: "Thank you."

***

The sound of clucking chickens woke me up the next morning.

Kim, I thought as I swung my arm over my eyes and reached blindly for my cell phone. She'd set the ring tone to that a few months ago, and I still
hadn't figured out how to change it. The first time it had gone off I'd been eating Dim Sum with my mom, and one of the servers had just plopped a
bowl of chicken feet on the table.

I'd just about had a heart attack and, needless to say, hadn't eaten any.

"I can't believe you're calling this early on a Saturday," I grumbled.

"Devi, it's noon. Like a quarter past noon."

I rolled on my side. "Whatever," I said. I didn't even have enough energy to be upset that I was beginning to sound like her.

I opened my eyes.

I shrieked.

Camael rushed forward and put his hand over his mouth. "It's alright, Devi. It's just me."

I gave him the wild eyes. Yeah, just him watching me sleep, which I explicitly told him not to, and then muffled my screams.

I guess there was a good reason for that last bit, though. It wasn't like I wanted anyone else to hear. How would I explain my outburst?

I picked up the dropped phone.

"Devi! Devi! What is it!" My friend wailed on the other line.

"Uh, it was nothing. I just saw a cat."

Kim sighed. "Wait, you screamed because you saw a cat?"

I cringed. She had a right to be skeptical. I loved cats. I would probably have at least ten by now if my mom wasn't still mourning the death of our last
one.

"You didn't sound happy. I thought there was a strange guy in your room."

I bit the insides of my cheeks, staring at Camael. Well, that is why I'd screamed, but I couldn't tell her that.

"Well, just a cat."

A pause. "Right. Where was this cat, exactly?"

"I saw it out the window."

"You saw a cat outside, and you got scared? Devi, aren't you still in bed? You can't even see out your window clearly from your bed."

She had me there. "I saw a shadow of a cat walking around on the floor."

"Can this cat fly?"

Damn her inquisitiveness! Couldn't she just let it go? "Well, I thought it was a ghost cat. Or a ninja cat. Or ghost ninja cat."

"Ghost ninja cat?" She repeated slowly. I cringed. This was just getting worse and worse.

I heard a sigh from the other end. "You're pretty crazy, you know that?"

Yeah, I knew it. I didn't say anything though. Just glared at the angel for making me sound like an idiot.

"Anyways I'm glad you're okay," she said.

"Me too," I whispered, then continued in my most upbeat voice: "So what are you doing tonight?"

"Was going to Brenda's Halloween party. But I can't, because, you know, I padded the quarterback's car. I'm a little afraid to face everybody."

Yay! She had to be a loser on Halloween, which meant she would hang out with me. "Well why don't you chill with me and Jasmine?" I asked.

Kim inhaled sharply. Then there was a long pause. "Jasmine?"

"Yeah. You don't like Jasmine?"

"It's not that I don't like her. I just...Devi, are you actually alright with taking the blame for what happened? I mean, I should have been punished too."

I bit my lip. I couldn't tell her that my punishment included weekly meetings with Forneus. She would probably burst into the principal's door and
demand to be punished as well if I let that slip.

"Kim, you have too much to lose, and I don't have anything to lose. I mean, I doubt any of the colleges I apply to will care that I got into a little trouble
for pulling a harmless prank. You're colleges though..."

I could hear her flicking something--probably her nails against her bedside table. Kim often did that when she was upset. "I just don't like it. You
were the one who hesitated at first, who told me to think it over, and I just rushed into it."

"Yeah, well, I don't regret it at all. We had fun." I found myself smiling, for some reason.

"It's doubly worse with Jasmine. I don't even know Jasmine. She might be really hurt..."

"I don't think Jasmine minds," I replied.

"You can't just say that!" Kim's voice was starting to get a little loud. "Jasmine has been home schooled, for Christ's sake. She's the new kid." There
was a rustling in the background, and then I heard her muffled voice: "Oh God, I took advantage of the new kid."

I paused to think of what to say next. I couldn't just go on as if nothing had happened. Kim was sensitive to those sorts of things because she had
been new once. At that time I'd been the one to take her under my wing--or rather, she'd forced herself under it.

"I just can't face her," Kim said.

"That's just cruel," I whispered. "You can't abandon her like that when she has no friends."

"I know, but what am I going to say, though?"

"Don't worry about it. Jasmine isn't like that."

Kim's voice grew quiet. "Devi, don't take this the wrong way but you can be a little dense sometimes. You can't always trust that someone is happy
just because they put on a happy face."

My throat grew tight. The light streaming through my curtains hurt my eyes. We weren't talking about Jasmine anymore, we were talking about Kim.
Kim, who I knew carried her unhappiness within her, but was unwilling to voice it. Kim, my first and deepest friend after my brother. Kim, whom I
loved.

Her voice broke. "My mom always warned me not to go into debt--not monetary debt, mind you, but the other kind--those debts you can't repay. If
you amass too much of that, you can no longer be friends."

"You're way over thinking this."

"Do you know how long it took me to work up the nerve to call you?" She whimpered. The sound was so shrill and unlike Kim I almost dropped the

phone. "I can't face her. I owe her too much."

I planted my forehead on my palm. Perhaps I should have seen this coming. Kim would rather not eat lunch than owe someone $5, which was a little
insane in my opinion, but I guess it made sense. Besides, it was a much more admirable characteristic than someone who just took whatever
anyone offered and rarely gave anything back.

My heartbeat pounded in my throat. I'd begun feeling like that kind of person lately. Oz had given me his entire life, and I might kill him someday.

I blew out slowly. I couldn't keep thinking like that. I'd go insane if I did. "Well, Jasmine actually did ask me if I'd do a favor for her."

"Really? What kind of favor?"

My mind was racing. Why did I lie like this? Why was this even necessary? I should just tell her to get over it, but no. I had to make up some story.

"Devi, is there actually a favor she has in mind?"

The skeptical tone in Kim's voice burned me. I knew at that moment I had two options. I could say that I was a liar and move on, or keep going.

I chose to keep going.

"Yeah, something about watching her little brother."

"She has a little brother?"

"Um, yeah." Wait, where was I going to find a kid to play Jasmine's little brother? "I mean, I don't know."

"She was your childhood friend and you don't know?"

Damn. Good point, Kim. "Well, she does. I mean, yes."

"Well, I'd be more than willing to help out with this little boy that may or may not exist," she laughed. Good. She liked the idea of doing a favor for Oz.
I mean Jasmine. Oh God, was Oz going to be upset about this?

"Look, I have to do something but I'll call you back. Leave tonight open!"

"It is open, Devi." I could tell she was shaking her head.

"Great. I'm excited. I'll call you back in a sec."

I flipped the phone shut, then pressed it to my temple. "What did I just do?"

"You lied," the angel said.

"Hey, you did too. I told you to stay in the closet."

The angel looked at the floor. "I did."

"What do you mean? You were out here this morning."

He glanced at me and bit his lower lip. "You were making sounds in your sleep this morning. I was worried."

I frowned. "What kind of sounds?"

He let out a high-pitched whimpering, almost-orgasmic sound. Then another. And another.

My cheeks grew hot. "Stop!"

This time it was me who looked down.

"I was worried about you, Devi."

"Alright, I believe you. Next time I make a sound like that when I'm sleeping, just make me stop and then go back into the closet," I mumbled. It was
probably good that I couldn't remember my dreams last night.

***

Oz was sleeping when I called, but his greeting was a lot sweeter than the one I'd given Kim. "Hey. I was just thinking about you."

I felt myself blushing. How could he say that sort of thing in front of the angel? "I don't think you should say that to me right after you wake up,
anymore."

"Oh, because of you know?"

Great. How could he start with that nonsense less than a minute after waking up? "Look, I didn't call you to talk about that."

"That's too bad. I'd love to talk to you about that."

"I'm sure you would," I said, trying to keep myself from grinning. "However, this is about something else. This is about Kim. She's a little hesitant to
hang out with us tonight."

It was news to Oz that we were hanging out with her. "I guess that means I get to be Jasmine, again," he yawned.

I looked up at the ceiling. "Not exactly."

"So I get to be Oz? I guess she wants to interrogate me."

My voice grew softer. "That's not it either."

A pause. "Devi, what's going on?"

"Don't get mad," I blurted out. Then banged my fist into my head. Wrong thing to say!

"Why would I be mad?" Oz asked slowly.

"Okay. Okay. I told Kim something."

"What did you tell Kim?"

I bit my lip. I said that Jasmine had a kid brother that we would babysit for. So, could you pretend to be a little boy and let us take you out trick-or-
treating tonight?

I just couldn't say it. There are things that you can ask your boyfriend to do, and then there are things that you simply can't. I had a pretty good feeling
this fell into the latter category.

So I decided to stall for as long as I could, because I guess I wanted to give my body time to go into shock from adrenaline poisoning. "I told her that
Jasmine wanted us to do her a favor tonight because she was afraid of facing Jasmine after we took the fall for her."

"Oh, I see. So you need to think up something for us to do. Well, I have an idea."

The tension in my shoulders relaxed. Great.

And then he told me what his idea was. "You guys could come over and help me clean up my place."

"Um, what?" Had I heard him correctly?

"The bookstore could use some dusting. And it would be nice if the upstairs was cleaned. You know, clothes washed, dishes washed, etcetera."

"That's not going to work."

"Why not? She wants to help me--"

"No, she wants to help Jasmine. Not you."

"Just tell her that...Jasmine's parents own the place?"

"Then why would she be cleaning your room?"

"She won't know it's mine."

"Oz, there is no way a girl would live in that mess."

"Hey, it's not so bad. It's a lot better than your room at least."

Okay, he had a point there. "Still, it looks like the room of an 80 year old man who spends his days listening to old records and reliving his wonder
years."

Oz laughed. "Ouch. That hurt."

"Look," I started. "You can't just bring us over to clean because you're too lazy."

"Fine, fine. What did you have in mind then?"

I bit my lip. "Well, maybe Jasmine has a little brother."

This time it took Oz a little while to respond. "I don't think I like where this is going."

I didn't want to give him time to think about where it was going. "Well, maybe that little brother would like to go trick-or-treating."

"You're kidding, right?"

"Um, maybe." But I wasn't kidding.

Oz sighed. "I really like you, you know that?"

My heart started stuttering. "I know."

"I hope you do," he groaned.

"I like you too."

He chuckled. "I hope so. God, I mean, I guess we can do this? What time do I need to be over there?"

"How about four o'clock?"

"Alright, see you then," he said, then hung up.

I sighed and looked at the clock. Only a few short hours to put together a costume. Luckily I had something in mind.

"Angel, back to the closet. I have to get ready for tonight."

Chapter 8

At 4pm, a four foot dinosaur rang my doorbell.

The little green-eyed monster gave me a smile with plenty of missing teeth as I opened the door. "Hi Debbie!"

I immediately realized this was a bad idea thanks to him pronouncing his v's as b's, but I only had about half a second to regret my request before
the dinosaur launched forward and dug his foam claws into my thighs.

"Stop it," I choked out. I hopped back twice and almost bit my tongue. Damn, it tickled so much.

He let go. "I didn't realize you were that ticklish."

I could still feel the imprint of his "claws" on my skin. A breeze blew between my legs, and I snickered. "You should have been that creepy kid from
The Omen. Or Rosemary's Baby."

"Nope." He spread out his arms. "I'm a Velociraptor!"

Then he looked down at the ground and slowly slipped his right toe over his left. "I like your costume, Debbie."

I had to laugh at that. Since he was going to be an annoying little kid, I figured I should pick something equally unsexy.

It had been a tough decision. Leatherface seemed a little too over the top and yet, at the same time, generic. I could also have gone for the troll in
Troll, or the goblins in Troll 2. But when I reflected his nauseating request to "express myself" at work (aka wear fetish gear), I knew I only had one
option.

I'd picked up an ancient, brick-red and eggshell cheerleader outfit at the Goodwill on Burnside. I then got to work with charcoal, scissors, 2-year-old
face paint, flour, black eyeliner, Vaseline, and Kool-Aid, with which I'd attempted to dye my black hair.

It didn't go exactly as planned, but did leave a nice rose color on my scalp, forehead, and the back of my neck, matching the oozing open sores on
my powdered white face. I decided not to wash it out, so it dried and made my wonky pigtails crusty.

"I decided to express my inner zombie cheerleader," I said.

He took a step forward and gave me a very Oz-like grin. It was so surreal to see a little boy look at me like that, but then again Oz didn't really have
an age, a race, or a gender.

"I'm glad you decided to express yourself, Devi," he whispered. "You can wear that to work anytime."

I peeled off part of my cheek and stuck it on his nose. "You really don't want customers, do you?"

He waited for the piece of faux-rotting skin to fall off before continuing. "Where are your pompoms?"

"Pompom," I corrected. "They only had one. And I'm going to wave it in your face if you don't share your candy."

The dinosaur pouted. "You're gonna to steal my candy?"

I smiled. "No, I'm going to give you lots of opportunities to share."

He wrapped his claws around my hand. The foam crunched when he tightened his grip. "Do I smell...pancakes?"

"Yep." I turned my head to the side, away from him. Why was I so nervous? "I figured we could fuel up before we head out. No blueberries this time,
but I stuffed them with plenty of chocolate chips."

"Did you make them, Devi?"

I fidgeted with the hem of my skirt. "It's just something I whipped up," I murmured.

"I'd really like to try one."

Adrenaline coursed through my veins. I couldn't speak anymore, not even to say something like come in or right this way. Instead, I slumped over
and lurched forward like a freaking zombie. Was I really this nervous because this was the first time I'd cooked something for him? Really? Was I
twelve?

No, I didn't even have the presence of mind of a twelve-year-old. They, at least, wouldn't make pancakes for their sweetheart that looked like
severed ghoul fingers.

I took a deep breath. I'd deal with that when we got there--which happened only to be about ten seconds because, even at my undead pace, my
kitchen was really close to the front door.

I looked at my mom's kitchen and yelped.

"Devi!" The dinosaur yelled.

I raised a shaking finger to the table.

The dinosaur followed it, then groaned. "Bloody Hell."

The angel was seated in between the other two chairs. He'd also pushed our place mats significantly further apart than I'd had them. Though he
didn't have pancakes, he did have three napkins--one "waterfall style" tucked into his shirt, one on his lap, and an extra on the table. I decided to
take offense to that, even though I was a messy eater.

I straightened my skirt. "Sorry, I just didn't expect to see you there."

The angel said nothing.

I walked around the table, grabbed one of the chairs, and brought it to where the dinosaur would sit. When I went back to gather my plate and fork,
the angel put his hand on my wrist. "Devi."

His touch felt like an electric shock, but instead of passing through me it left something behind--the memory of that white, incandescent light that had
spilled over us when he held my face, the way I'd--

I pulled back, steadied my breath. "What?"

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the dinosaur go still. His eyes narrowed on the place the angel had touched. I rubbed my wrist.

"I wish you wouldn't sit away from me," the angel said.

What was going on here? I snatched the plate and retreated.

And then I saw what the angel saw when he looked at me--my reflection, framed in the dark window by my mother's starched doily curtains, was
absolutely horrifying. My corpse paint had already begun to run down my face, making me look like a Kiss fan girl who had lost a wet t-shirt contest.
The open sore I'd pasted on my cheek had slipped down to my neck, leaving a trail of flour, Kool-Aid and caramelized sugar that looked like bloody
sandpaper.

I started to giggle.

The angel's chair clattered to the floor as he stood. "Devi, is something wrong?"

I waved my hand at him. "No, it's just, my sore is roaming around my face."

"Like the mole in Men in Tights?" The dinosaur piped.

I pressed the back of my wrist to my mouth and sighed, hiccupping as I tried to push down the laughter. "Yeah. It's just funny to think
of...roaming...zombie sores!"

The angel stared blankly at me.

For some reason, that made it even funnier.

"Don't worry about trying to get it, Camael," the dinosaur said as I plopped down beside her.

I pinched his cheek. "Oh, so you're one of those know-it-all kids?"

He hid his smile behind a faded yellow claw. "I would pinch you back, but I don't want that gunk on your face on my costume."

"I shouldn't give you pancakes for saying that."

"No, Debbie. Pancakes pwease!"

"You think that mispronouncing words is going to get you cute points? Too bad I know you're an old man."

He didn't respond to the old man comment. I think he knew it was best if he didn't. Instead, his eyes got big and dewy. "Pwease?" He whispered.

I groaned. "Just keep in mind these are very special pancakes, and what I mean by that is they are a lot tastier than they look."

"Good. Dinosaurs love ugly pancakes!"

My face felt warm. From pancake steam, I thought, then realized that was slightly more repulsive than the real reason--Oz, even though he looked
like a kid, was about to eat my food. I grabbed the bowl in the middle of the table, tipped it over, and biscuit-like lumps fell on his plate. Once there,
they wiggled.

"I swear those are pancakes," I said.

"Hey, I didn't say anything."

"I got a little too excited when I was cooking," I explained hastily. "Especially since I ended up putting some of the batter on my face for my costume-

-" I froze. Had I really just admitted that out loud? Get a grip, Devi!

"It's okay," the dinosaur said. "I often put whatever I'm cooking on my face."

I cleared my throat. "Well, anyways, would you like some blood on your pancakes?"

"You mean my dead rats or witch fingers. Dinosaurs don't eat pancakes on Halloween!"

I put a glob of jam on the edge of his plate. "I don't know what dinosaurs eat, but I'm not calling them dead rats."

The little boy grabbed a particularly deformed pancake, bobbed it in the jam, and stuffed it in his mouth. His eyes drifted shut. "Jesus Christ
Debbie, these are so good."

I elbowed him. "Hey, you're like six or ten or something. You mean 'oh gees,' right?"

He shook his head solemnly. "No, I meant what I said. 'Oh gees' doesn't even begin to describe how incredible these are. Saying something like
that after taking a bite is an insult."

"But calling them rats isn't?"

His nose twitched. "I like rats."

And that was that. For the next fifteen minutes, the two of us stuffed our faces with pancakes. A little jam got on the hood of his fraying dinosaur suit.
A whole lot smeared on the side of my cheek where my open sore had once been. The dinosaur just told me that I'd replaced it.

"So you really liked them?" I asked.

"I wouldn't mind it if you made them for me every day for the rest of my life. It's probably wrong for me to say this, but if you wanted to, you probably
could express yourself this way at work..."

"Oh, I see how it is. First it's 'wear sexy clothes,' and then 'go slave away in the kitchen'."

He tucked his chin into his ribbed, yellow chest. "Yeah, knew I shouldn't have said it."

I bit back a smile. He was just so cute. "Kim's going to be here, soon."

His legs kicked back and forth twice before he jumped off the chair. "Rawwr!" he growled, and raced to the front door.

I had to look down for a moment. Despite the occasional odd comment, he really did seem like a little boy, and watching him run around made me
feel old.

I grabbed the empty bowl in the middle of the table and stood. The angel stared at me, just as he'd done all throughout dinner. What do you want to
look at? I wondered, and just barely stopped myself from saying it out loud. Asking him a question like that was just stupid.

"What are you thinking about, Devi?"

I let out a deep breath. "Nothing really. Oz sure did lay on the guilt when I asked him to do this on the phone, but I think he secretly likes being a little
kid."

"It's because he is childlike," the angel murmured. "He wants to experience every moment in all of its intensity, regardless of whether it is beautiful
or painful. It's as if he has no care for his own feelings."

I almost dropped the bowl. Had Camael--unfeeling, distant Camael--really just said that?

His gaze grew more intense--his eyes increasingly blue. My grip on the bowl tightened as my hand wobbled. I grabbed my plate.

He touched my wrist. "Wait."

For once, his eyes weren't on me. They were on the plate of half-eaten pancakes I held.

He let go of me and took the plate from my hands. I was too stunned to move, so my hands remained suspended in the air, shaking. Then he
reached across the table for my fork and cradled it in his hand.

His hand bobbed once, twice. The stainless steel stem between his fingers gleamed like polished silver. He cut a corner of the pancake. Stabbed
it. Dabbed it in red, raspberry jam. It looked like blood, gushing from the pancake's foamy, lumpy surface, clumps dripping off as he lifted the fork
slowly and put it to his lips.

"Camael, what are you doing?"

He glanced at me. His eyes looked unfocused, pupils dilated as if he'd taken an opiate. Then he shut them, sucked in a breath, and slipped the
pancake in his mouth.

The fork fell from his hand. It hit the edge of the table, leaving a smear of red, before clattering to the floor. He inhaled deeply through his nose,
started to chew slowly, clumsily, as if he'd never chewed on something before.

That's because he probably hasn't.

I couldn't move. Couldn't do anything but watch. Was he really chewing or was his jaw trembling? His chest rose and fell so rapidly--was his heart
beating faster? Did he even have a heart?

He pressed his fingertips to his closed lips. It was strange that he'd just compared Oz to a child, because at that moment he seemed even younger.
For once, his skin lacked its luminescent glow. Instead, it looked new and tender.

His chest heaved.

"You probably need water," I said, moving towards the sink.

I didn't get far.

His hands dug into his stomach, and his face grew red. I'd never seen any color on his cheeks before--or on any part of his skin--but right then it was
deep, almost purple, like a new bruise.

His arms twisted until his elbows hyper extended, locking into place. His hands flexed over the table, snatching the napkin he'd set my plate on.
Convulsing, he fell back, bringing the plate with him.

It shattered. Broken pieces of glass, melted chocolate and raspberry jam smeared over the floor, over his arms, staining the front of his shirt. No, it
wasn't just that--something tar-like oozed from his gaping mouth.

I screamed, or at least I think I did. That high pitched sound did sound like it came from me. It was too soft, like it had been trapped underwater. I felt
as if I were sinking--no, suspended in time--as he, caught in a transparent cage, writhed in silence.

I tried to speak his name. I couldn't hear it, couldn't hear anything above the roaring in my ears. I had to stop it. I had to save him. I dropped to my
knees. Chocolate and jam smeared over my old soccer socks, and glass cut into my palms.

I put my bloody hand on his shoulder and he flopped forward, vomiting, expending more of that dark substance from his stomach. I wrapped my
arms around his back and he shuddered, continuing to throw up without acknowledging me.

Something cold ran down my cheeks and neck, into my shirt. Jam, I thought--or blood, or tears. Perhaps all three. "Oz, he's dying!"

"He'll be fine in a minute."

My head whipped around. I almost didn't hear the child's soft voice.

"Oz," I whimpered.

The dinosaur leaned in the doorway. His puffy, green arms were folded over his neon yellow chest, and he watched the angel with dispassionate,
calculating eyes.

I let go of Camael's slick body and kicked myself back. My shoulder blades slammed into the cabinets. I'd never seen a kid so scary. The fact that
he was wearing such a cheesy costume accentuated the ruthlessness that seemed to sleep beneath his skin. It looked like he was about to tear
apart something with those foam claws.

Camael pushed himself onto his back with his elbows, then collapsed. That horrific, thick fluid drenched his shirt. His arms were smeared with my
own blood where I'd tried to hold him.

That's right. I was bleeding, too. I raised my hands, looked at the glass wedged deeply into my skin. I started to hyperventilate. My muscles tensed
up, and suddenly making my mind aware of my muddy, wet flour tears and the stinging pain.

I bit my lip. God, it hurt. How did I not realize how much it hurt? Damn.

Oz stepped forward. "You ate a pancake?"

I might have laughed at the way he asked that question had I not been so traumatized. He sounded like the freaking Godfather. You ate a pancake
wasn't supposed to be a threat on par with you tried to kill me.

Camael's eyes rolled to the back of his skull before he shut them. "I had a bite."

"Oz," I whispered as he stepped over the angel's limp body and knelt before me.

"Don't talk, Devi. Just give me your hand."

My eyes were sticky from the flour, and my mouth tasted like powder and dry Kool-Aid. "He just ate it, and--"

My throat closed up. I couldn't finish. One bite of a pancake wasn't supposed to do that to somebody--a pancake that I'd made and eaten just
moments before.

Oz gripped my hands and raised them to his face. They throbbed with each heartbeat. "Hurts," I hissed.

"One moment."

I cried out as he pulled a two-inch shard from a blue and white checkered breakfast plate from the center of my palm. He leaned forward and blew
on my hands, then covered them with his own.

There was a brief, intense heat, and then only a fading soreness. When he uncovered his hands there were only thin, dark lines on my palms
beneath dried blood. He pressed his lips to them and they disappeared.

"I can't believe you were so careless," the child whispered. He still held me, and I could feel his breath on my skin. "Look at what you did. You hurt
her."

Camael wiped the blood--or whatever that stuff was--off his mouth with the back of his hand. "I'm sorry, Devi."

Was this guy serious? "Don't be sorry. You were going to die," I said.

The angel's eyes locked on mine. He took two shallow breaths, as if steadying himself. I found myself breathing strangely, too. "Would it bother you
if I disappeared?"

"What kind of question is that? Do you think I'm a monster?"

The angel flinched, but didn't look away. "I didn't mean to upset you with that question."

Thanks for so tactlessly avoiding the question I asked about whether or not you think I'm a monster. I sighed. I knew he didn't get things like that, so I
had to stop holding them against him. "Look, it doesn't matter. I just don't understand why you ate it. I thought you couldn't eat anything."

"He can, it's just not very pleasant," Oz answered softly.

Wow, really? I thought as the angel cringed as he rolled on his back.

The child ripped off the hands the dinosaur costume (gloves with foam triangles shoddily glued to the knuckles). At the tips of his chubby, childlike
fingers were draconian claws instead of nails. "If he wants to experience something--like, tasting a bit of pancake--he must make his body dead to
everything except that which he is attempting to experience. And if permission for such an experience wasn't granted by God, then he will suffer for
it."

Dingdong.

"That must be Kim." The child slithered forward and grabbed the angel's chin. "Devi, why don't you let her in?"

"But the mess--"

"I'll take care of it," he interrupted. His claws dug further into the angel's white cheeks.

The doorbell rang again. And again. And again.

Damn, couldn't Kim be a little patient?

Dingdong.

Guess that's a no.

"Oz, don't do anything weird," I whispered.

"I'm not going to hurt him." His low voice sent a chill through my body.

Kim started pounding at the door.

I brushed my hands off on my skirt as I stood--not a good idea, since it was covered with flour, jam, blood, and that dark stuff the angel threw up.

"Good thing it's Halloween," I muttered to myself as I opened the door.

Kim's red, spandex-covered fist froze mid-air. In fact, her entire body was covered in a red hot spandex suit that zipped up the front, stopping right
where her cleavage bulged.

I took a deep breath and leaned against the door frame. "Hey. You look great," I said because, well, she did.

She didn't say anything. Suddenly, I realized how wide her eyes were. No, it wasn't just due to the swirly, black make-up she'd applied, the ruby
rhinestones she'd glued around them, or the ridiculous tattoo she probably thought looked archaic--her eyes were bugging out hardcore. Her eyes
only got like that when she saw bees, and that was only because she was allergic.

I squatted down to her level and adjusted her headband so her little devil horns would be on straight. "There we go. You ready to come in?"

Her mouth fell open.

"Uh, Kim?"

"Oh. My. God." She whispered.

"What?"

"Devi, you are so lucky you aren't seeing Oz tonight."

I folded my arms over my chest. "Oh yeah?"

"Oh yeah," she drawled exaggeratedly. "You look like an extra from an exploitation flick. A recently deceased extra--and by that I mean actually
dead, not dead for the camera."

I gave her a lopsided grin while she grimaced. "Thanks for clarifying. But for the record, I think he'd be open to letting me express myself."

"Yeah, if he wanted to express himself by throwing up."

Something deep in my chest trembled, so I wrapped my arms around my body. Normally that kind of comment wouldn't have bothered me but after
what I'd done to that angel--

"Hey, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you. You're costume is just a little too good."

I laughed. I couldn't help it. I knew I didn't look too hot. The sore that had previously graced on my left cheek was hanging between my ear and my
neck. At least the one on my right seemed to be in place, or maybe that wasn't a good thing. I could feel the Kool-Aid leaking over my face, and the
wet flour re-drying in greasy clumps. The front of my body was covered in jam, smeared chocolate, and...well...Camael's special contribution to my
costume.

Her fingers hovered around my chest. "What is that nasty black stuff?"

I grabbed her hand. "Trust me, you don't want to know."

She scrunched up her nose. "You're either an evil genius, or you've gone insane."

"It's a little bit of both."

She shook her head. "Is the kid here?"

"He's in the kitchen, scarfing down pancakes."

Kim's eyes lit up. "Yum! You made pancakes?"

Oh, I shouldn't have said that. "Don't get too excited. He ate them all."

She bit her lip and frowned. "That little devil."

"Hey, that's you tonight."

Just then something small hugged my left leg. "Dinosaurs eat devils!"

Kim tried her best to look disapproving while she grinned. "Well, devils blast fireballs at dinosaurs."

I picked up the blue and silver pompom and shook it between them. "And zombies dazzle everyone. I win!"

Kim stole my pompom and waved it back at me. "You do win the coveted award for most terrifying costume."

"I like it!" The dinosaur said. "All blood and guts, none of that stupid girl stuff."

"Yeah, well, you're what? Six? Eight?" Kim rolled her eyes. "I remember when I was your age. Damn, I'm starting to feel old."

"Yeah, only three more years until you're twenty," I drawled.

Kim suppressed a shudder. I don't think she caught my sarcastic tone. "You must be Jasmine's little brother. What's your name?"

"Velociraptor!" It answered.

Kim arched a brow. "Velociraptor? Really?"

The dinosaur nodded. "Velociraptor of darkness and doom and destruction!"

Kim groaned. "I can already tell this is just going to be a thrilling evening."

"Don't forget alliterative," the dinosaur piped.

Kim gave him a sideways glance. "It's funny that you know what alliteration is when you can't even tell that your Velociraptor outfit looks more like a
T. rex."

The dinosaur pouted.

"Aww, it's okay little guy. Let's go get lots of candy! Ready, Devi?"

"Just a minute," I murmured, and I glanced towards the kitchen.

I couldn't see much of it, but nothing appeared to be out of place. The floor and table were clean, and so was the angel.

He stood about six feet away, his posture straight and in his signature, nondescript clothes. He seemed distant again, his eyes guarded as he
watched me. It was as if nothing had changed--then again, perhaps nothing had.

Even though Kim and the dinosaur were already on the sidewalk, I waited until he went outside before shutting the door. Then I resumed the familiar
routine of pretending he did not exist.

***

Ten minutes and four houses later, T. rex received a call he couldn't ignore. He also couldn't let me or Kim listen in on that call, either.

Kim tapped her toe as she watched the dinosaur crouch beneath a Japanese oak half way down the street. "I guess he's a really important
dinosaur."

I was too tense to respond. Something was wrong. I was sure of it. Luckily it wasn't a long call, so Kim didn't notice my lack of social graces too
much.

"Hey little guy!" Kim called out soothingly as he made his way back. "What's wrong?"

"I have to go see Forneus," he said.

I really didn't like the way Kim's eyes lit up when she heard that devil's name. "Forneus?" She grabbed his foam claws so hard that for a moment I
feared she'd rip them off. "Let's take you there right now! We shouldn't keep your uncle waiting."

I coughed. "Uh, Kim, I don't know if..."

"Actually, you're both invited," T. rex interrupted, somehow slipping out of Kim's death grip.

I froze. Did he want me to see Forneus? What the Hell was going on?

Oz glanced up at the angel. "He promised not to do anything tonight."

The angel responded immediately. "That doesn't matter. She shouldn't see him."

"I know," Oz whispered, "but I've been summoned. As long as no harm comes to her, I must..." He cringed. "I don't think it would be wise to make a
scene."

Kim stepped forward and cautiously gave the dinosaur a hug. "T. rex, are you feeling okay?"

I realized that to her it must have looked like the dinosaur was talking to himself, so I tried to cover for him. "I think he's just had too much candy."
Wait, he hadn't had any yet. "I mean too little candy."

Kim gave both of us a pitying look.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the angel made a fist. "Fine. Azazel, make sure this doesn't happen again."

Chapter 9

The West Hills was a notoriously affluent neighborhood in Portland, and I was lucky to live in it. True, my craptastic ranch house didn't have a prime
spot on the hill, but it was safe, the schools were nice, and my neighbors gave away the best Halloween candy in the city.

Due to this, it shouldn't have surprised me that Forneus lived in a mansion six blocks up from my place--or that fate had also decided to give him my
dream house.

That golden Italian villa existed in a sea of white colonials. When I was a little girl, I dreamed of walking up the driveway lined with rhododendrons,
dogwood and mandrone trees. I wanted to linger in the shade beneath the arches of pink roses and hops. I wanted to sit by the marble fountain the
center of his circular driveway at the top of the hill. Always, I wondered what paradise lay beyond the hardwood door.

But tonight I didn't want to know. When the child beside me buzzed the doorbell with his foam claw, I had to ball my fists to prevent myself from
grabbing it midair, picking him up and racing down the hill.

The door creaked open.

"Uncle!" The dinosaur shrieked, launching itself into Forneus' arms.

Forneus shoved the thing off as if it had just soiled itself. "Christ. You weren't joking when you said you were a kid."

It didn't take much to figure out Forneus didn't like children. The 'Halloween decorations' around the perimeter of his house had been the first clue. I
had a feeling the life-sized dolls crucified upside down on pikes were there for a little more than decoration.

Forneus opened the door. Beneath our feet were smooth, steel-colored stones, and beyond that, hardwood floors that shone like fresh blood. The
walls were an off-white color. He chose it, I think, to accentuate the furnishings--oriental silk chairs, ornate wooden desks, and subtly painted clay
vases. On the walls hung masks from Africa and the Pacific Islands, dried flowers, and stunning Tibetan Mandalas behind glass.

"Wow, this is your house?" Kim stepped into the hall. She gripped her red, latex fingers together, as if afraid she would unintentionally touch
something.

Forneus nodded. He stepped back to let me and the angel through, then shut the door.

"Your house is so big--I mean..." Kim swallowed.

Oh God, couldn't she contain herself for just one night?

She coughed. "I'm just surprised you don't have a lot of kids, is all."

"I don't think they like the decorations," Forneus mused.

She smiled. "Yeah, they are hella creepy."

Camael tensed.

"Oh, come now," Forneus drawled. "I wouldn't invite someone into my home and then attack them."

Camael remained tense.

"How about this? I promise not to hurt her, or to make a deal, even if she begs me."

I glared at him. Like I'd ever beg you to do anything.

"Now, Devi." The devil turned his attention to me. Before I had time to react he took my hand and kissed it with his crumpled, newspaper lips. "You
look just as I expected you to look."

He moved to the side, probably so I could catch my reflection in the mirror. It looked like I was dying of liver failure and had begun pasting chopped-
up bits of said failing organ on my face. I glared at him. Thanks.

Unfortunately, Forneus seemed to get off on my hatred. He gave me a private smile. "Thank you for coming, Devi."

Wait, what? He hadn't specifically wanted me to come, did he? Didn't he mean to thank me for escorting Oz?

I glanced at the kid, who refused to meet my gaze. I suddenly had an urge to act like an irate parent and shake his shoulders until he looked at me.

Forneus coughed. "There is someone else dressed up as a little boy--a friend you haven't seen in a long time. He's in the living room."

Camael grabbed my hand. My palms were sweating, clammy, wet. His were cold and dry, untouched by my panic. Still, he'd reached out to me. I
didn't know if that was because he sensed my need for reassurance, or if he needed it himself.

Kim's hips rocked back and forth as she stalked towards Forneus. I think she was going for sexy, but she kinda looked like a mad drunk. I guess
she really didn't like the fact that he wasn't paying attention to her.

"So what is your nephews' real name?" She purred. "He kept calling himself 'Velociraptor'."

Forneus frowned. "But that isn't a Velociraptor outfit."

The Velociraptor kicked him in the shin.

Forneus sucked in a breath. I guess that kick had been a little harder than it looked. "You know I can't lie. You're not a Velociraptor." His eyes
softened. "Now hurry up. Your acquaintance is waiting."

Forneus lifted his purple eyes to me. "You too, Devi."

"But really, what is his name?" Kim asked.

Forneus raised a brow. "Azazel."

Kim swatted his arm. Forneus balked at the gesture of affection. "I'm being serious."

"So am I," he said.

She rolled her eyes. "He is a little devil, but that doesn't mean you have to call him something like that."

Forneus took a deep breath. "Come on, then."

Kim followed close behind as he stepped into the other room. Once, her fingertips brushed against his. He paused mid-stride, curled his upper lip,
and rubbed the place she'd touched. Kim didn't notice his disgust--or, more likely, she pretended not to.

The two disappeared behind the open doorway. I let go of Camael's hand, dashing towards them.

And I stopped.

The left side of the room was filled with a thousand lights. The wall was replaced by windows, from the floor to the ceiling. The city seemed alive
beneath us, lights glittering above the tree line and outshining the stars.

But there was something in the room that burned even brighter.

At a large table to the right, a boy sat. He had silver skin and eyes, and a subdued brilliance, as if I were looking at a reflection of something
beautiful in water. Standing behind him, with his hands on the top of the boy's chair, was a man with golden skin, golden eyes and hair, and nine
golden wings. An aura of golden heat surrounded him--it seemed to warm my bare face and hands like the sun.

The boy shifted in his seat, then reached up to touch the man. The man stepped forward, and the boy tucked his face behind his abdomen like a
shy child cowering near his mother.

I blinked, then saw the dinosaur standing in the middle of the room, completely still.

"Azazel." The gold man's voice was like silk.

The mittens of his dinosaur costume bunched up, probably from him curling his chubby, little hands into fists.

The golden man pulled out a chair. "Come, sit."

Azazel's jaw tightened. He walked to the chair and climbed on it, one leg at a time.

The gold man reached to the floor and picked up a beat-up box of Candy Land. I didn't believe for one second that Forneus would have Candy
Land just lying around in his home, so I guess I wasn't the only one who'd done some last minute Goodwill shopping.

"Sariel got this so the two of you could play," he said.

Ah, that explained it. The silver boy--Sariel, I guess--nodded, and the gold man shifted his attention to me.

With an aristocratic nose, high cheekbones, and wide, thin lips, his face should have been too angular to be considered beautiful. Stunning was a
more fitting word--or unnerving. Yet, it was impossible to look away from him.

Two gold eyes rested on me. My chest seemed to simultaneously expand and constrict. They are so bright. I should be burning, I thought, but all I
could feel was unheated air and the cold emanating from the wall of glass. My fingernails bit into my palms. I'd balled up my hands to keep from
trembling, but I couldn't stop, and I didn't feel stronger.

The gold man's gaze filtered past me. "Camael," he said, then paused. "You're keeping strange company these days."

I heard something shift beside me--Camael, bowing his head.

The gold man stepped out behind a table, revealing a trim, triangular waist and the tiniest loin cloth I'd ever seen. It wasn't nearly big enough to
cover up what was under there and--oh God, it was flapping like a little flag in the wind as he came towards me.

I shut my eyes.

The footsteps came closer, closer, then stopped.

A gold chest shimmered before me. Feathers rustled as he stretched out nine wings. Camael came to my side and stretched out his wings as well.
Camael looked at me, once, before the gold man took his hands.

"I never expected to see you on this plane," the gold man said.

Camael nodded.

"You must be tired," the gold man continued. "I remember the first time I came to Earth after the fall--the sudden heaviness of my body, the
strangling thickness of the air, how lonely it was to exist in this world without light."

He brushed his gold fingers over Camael's cheek. "You look especially fatigued tonight. Did something happen?"

He paused. "I'd rather not discuss it," Camael said.

A chill shot through me. The pancakes.

The golden man's hand flexed, then went still. "Alright," he murmured. Then he turned those brilliant eyes to me. "Is this why you're here?"

I shifted my gaze to Camael, but he didn't look at me. "Yes."

The golden man's eyes narrowed. I had a horrible feeling I knew the exact place he was staring at--the limp, peeling slice of "rotting skin" on my
cheek. I was suddenly keenly aware that I'd vigorously applied corpse paint to my face like a 13-year-old on their way to their first Dimmu Borgir (or
should I say Demon Burger?) concert.

Oh well, at least the cheerleader outfit was classy.

The gold man pursed his lips. Please don't say anything, I begged silently.

Kim's laugher saved me. The gold man glanced up at the source of the throaty, low sound--a latex-laden devil with small, sharp horns and a dark
smile.

She stopped when she saw the gold man. Her mouth slowly uncurled and fell open, and she stumbled back into the door frame.

"It looks as if I have competition for your affections," Forneus noted dryly.

"Wow, no, I'm just, wow," she babbled. Her mouth still hung open, which made it difficult for her to enunciate, and she struggled to keep her eyes
from staring at his loincloth.

Unfortunately, she wasn't doing a very good job. "Um, you have a really great costume," she said. "What are you?"

The golden man took a step back. "An angel."

The room went silent. Beyond the tips of his golden wings, I could see cars moving across the bridge, and the reflection of their headlights on the
Willamette River.

An angel.

My vision grew dark. Had a shadow passed over the room? No--that couldn't be it--there was no sun here. The muscles in my stomach clenched.
Why had Camael bowed to him? Because he's an angel. But an angel wouldn't be in a devil's house, coddling a silver boy with piercing eyes.
Angels followed the will of God, and no part of God existed in that room, void of light and covered with heathen masks carved out of wood,
decorated with nails, and painted with berries and mud.

Camael's fingers wrapped around my fist. "It's alright," he whispered. It felt warm where he held me, and where his lips brushed against my temple. I
stared at Azazel. He still had his back to me. What was going on?

Kim stumbled forward. Her latex décolletage cut into her breasts with each short breath. "You have too many wings," she drawled. "Angels are only
supposed to have two."

The gold man glanced at Forneus, as if to say: Do I really have to put up with this? Forneus shrugged.

The gold man sighed. "Some angels have two wings. Some have less, others have more."

"Some like you?" She purred.

I kicked her ankle before she could rub her index finger down his chest.

Kim bit back an expletive. "Not while I'm wearing heels, Devi."

"Please contain yourself, for one evening. Please." I didn't care that the angels could hear me, or that Forneus began to smirk. Kim, I thought,
hoping she could read in my expression what I didn't dare say out loud, don't get involved with that thing--whatever it is.

She shook her head and smiled, cheeks almost as red as her painted-on suit. I bit my lower lip. Why did I have to be so clumsy about this sort of
thing? Why were we even here?

Kim coughed and tilted her head to the side apologetically. The golden angel said nothing.

"I was just going to ask you about your costume," she said.

The angel's wings retracted. "It's not a costume."

Kim's eyes went wide for a second, then she laughed. "Right," she mumbled. "This color is amazing." She ran a finger down his arm, then looked at
her finger pad. It came back clean, of course, and she was too entranced by this to notice how his skin didn't respond to her touch.

"How long did it take you to do this? What did you use?"

"To do what?" The gold man asked.

She flipped her hair out of her face. "Your costume, of course."

"It isn't a costume," he responded.

Kim's eye twitched, but she kept her forced smile in place. Her ankles wiggled in her stiletto heels she crept back. "Funny," she murmured.

"What is funny?"

My eyes started to water. Hold it in, I told myself, but I couldn't. Kim looked so confused, and why shouldn't she be? She'd never tried to explain
something to an angel before.

I brought my pompom over my face and started to cackle into it. The plastic rustled, and it sounded kind of like one of those cheap stock sound
clips you might hear by a graveyard in a horror movie.

Kim started to smile, too. "And you were telling me to control myself."

I took a deep breath, trying to regain my composure, but I ended up inhaling little bits of pompom. It tickled the back of my throat. I coughed, tossed
the pompom down, and croaked out: "He doesn't think it's funny because he's being serious."

Kim raised a brow. "Right. Let's just have a look at those wings, shall we?"

"Don't touch them." The golden man's soft warning hung over my skin like a spider web. I brushed my arms. Was I imagining it?

No, I wasn't. Kim took a few steps back, her almond eyes never leaving his. "Let's see how the kids are doing," she whispered, her tone so
apologetic and fearful that she could have said--stay away from me.

The gold man tilted his head. "They are doing fine."

Kim turned, took three large steps, then gripped an empty chair by the table until her knuckles went white. She glanced back at me, then ruffled the
dinosaur spikes on top of Azazel's hood. "Hey there, T. rex."

The Velociraptor didn't try to correct her. He didn't even look up. His attention was completely on...Candy Land.

"Okay," she whispered, rocking back on her heels.

Azazel had slid the tail of his dinosaur suit between the seat and back of his chair. He'd removed his claw-like mittens and put them on the floor. It
would have looked cute if his hands weren't shaking.

Sariel glanced up at Azazel before drawing a card from the center of the board. His silver eyes narrowed, as if looking for a tell. He didn't need to
look too hard. Even from where I stood I could see little beads of sweat forming above Azazel's upper lip.

Sariel looked at his card. "Orange--green. I get to ride the rainbow. Have fun in the Peppermint Forest."

Azazel gulped.

"Pick a card," he insisted.

Azazel looked down at the board.

"I was always super afraid of the Molasses Swamp when I was a kid," Kim noted.

"Take one," Sariel said, ignoring her.

Azazel fumbled as he did, knocking over the deck. "Sorry." I almost didn't recognize his small voice. I think it was the first thing he'd said since he'd
entered the room.

Kim walked back to where I stood. At some point during the distressing Candy Land scene, the angel had moved to the corner to meet with
Forneus.

"Those are the most intense kids I've ever seen in my life," she whispered.

"No kidding," I whispered back, aware that everyone in the room could probably hear us.

"I mean, it's Candy Land. You'd think they were going to shoot whoever lost."

Maybe they would. A knot formed in my stomach. "Yeah."

"It's weird. Jasmine's little brother wasn't like this until we got here."

"You want to leave?" I tried to keep my voice as even as possible.

I followed Kim's gaze to Forneus, staring in the opposite corner, grinning. Figures he would be enjoying this. I was actually kind of surprised he
hadn't poured himself a glass of red wine and toasted us.

Kim sighed. "How about when they're done with their game."

I started peeling the sore on my cheek. Forneus' smile faltered, and I realized that I should have told him that I'd dressed up as him for Halloween.
Maybe I still could.

"Damn," I hissed.

"What is it?" Kim asked.

"Nothing. I have to use the restroom."

She frowned. "Well, go."

I grabbed her wrist. "Will you go with me?"

She pushed me off. "What?"

"This place is kind of creeping me out."

She looked down.

"Kim!"

"Sorry, Devi. Do you really want me to leave T. rex alone with those people? I mean, his uncle's okay, but I think something's wrong with that other
kid." She wet her lips. "My mom used to make me play with this creepy kid when I was younger--"

"Alright, alright." I bit my lip. If Azazel was really Jasmine's little brother, and not, well, Jasmine, I guess she would want Kim to stay. "Just don't leave
Jasmine's--I mean, uh, Azazel's--side."

Kim didn't even comment on my slip-up.

I slunk out of the room. Once we were out of ear-shot, I turned to Camael. "Watch Kim."

"I'm coming with you."

I grabbed his hand. "No."

"Devi, I can't let you wander around this house alone."

"I'm going to the bathroom!"

"It doesn't matter," he whispered. "I'll wait outside the door."

I glanced at the doorway. If I didn't keep it down, someone would hear us. "And what about Kim?"

"The demon will watch her."

"The demon is currently in a coma," I muttered, remembering those little, shivering hands I wanted to hold. "What the Hell is going on? Who are
those people?"

"The angel is Shamsiel. The demon is--"

"So that kid is a demon? What is a demon doing with an angel? Wait, what the Hell are they doing with Forneus?"

"I don't know. I haven't seen Shamsiel or Sariel since the fall."

That didn't sound good. "I don't like leaving Kim alone in there, or Azazel, for that matter."

"The demon can take care of himself."

His voice was oddly hard, and his eyes flashed blue. For a moment, I felt as if he weren't an angel. Camael put his hand on my shoulder. It
tightened, briefly, as if he wanted to pull me into his chest.

But of course, he didn't.

I stepped out of his lose grip. "Forneus can't lie, right? He said he wasn't going to hurt me, or do something like make a deal, when we got here--but
he didn't make any promises about Kim."

Camael grabbed my shoulders. His skin began to shimmer faintly, like the stars behind the clouds, almost drowned out completely by the city's
lights. His eyes glowed--deep, blue, piercing--and for a second I felt as if we were both drowning.

"Devi, don't make me leave you."

The pleading tone my mind assigned to his soft voice broke the spell. "Can I make you leave, Camael?" I whispered. "Do I have that much power?
You've been ordered to protect me, haven't you? Doesn't that mean you'll do just that, no matter what I want?"

I didn't know where the words came from. It was a stupid question--of course I didn't--but it seemed to affect him. His shoulders shuddered as he
drew in a deep, haggard breath of air his perfect body did not need in order to survive.

"If there was a time I had such power, I wish it was now. I love Kim, Camael. I know you can't understand that, but I love her, and so for the next five
minutes, as I go do my business in a bathroom that I wouldn't let you follow me into anyway. I want you to watch her."

Beneath my palms I felt his hands seize up, then he gripped mine.

"Five minutes," he whispered. He leaned forward, as if he were going to press his lips to my hairline, stopping just before contact. "If you get into
trouble, say my name. If you feel frightened, even for a second, call for me. I will come."

I nodded, bumping into his chin. "Ouch," I said.

He frowned, raising his fingertips. "Does it hurt?"

"No, it just startled me. Go to Kim. She's been alone for too long."

He nodded and walked back alone into the room we'd just left.

***

I probably should have realized that it would be difficult to find the bathroom in a house this large. It had taken me more than ten minutes to find one,
and now I couldn't find my way back. I had a horrible feeling that if I didn't get out of here soon Camael was probably going to pop out from behind
some corner and give me the biggest scare of my life.

I ran down another corridor. This house did not seem this big from the outside. And these doors, there were just so damn many and--

I stopped.

The door to my left didn't look any different from the others in the hallway. It, too, had dark wood paneling that looked like a dried red rose in the dim
light--fragile, paper-thin, and with a hint of brown.

I spread my hand out on the surface of it and tried to steady my breath. I couldn't. It felt like I was breathing in something sweet yet toxic--a drug that
filled your body with bliss as it ate your skin.

I gripped the doorknob.

Don't, I thought, or maybe someone else had thought it. It didn't matter. I shut my eyes and sucked in another breath, and another, pushing my cheek
into the smooth wood as I gently opened the door.

I felt it on my skin before I opened my eyes--strange, because I'd only been in contact with it once before, and at that time it had been small. But
even then it had made my chest ache, as if my heart were a sea anemone being prodded by a clumsy child's finger.

I crept forward and placed my hands over my lips. I wanted to touch them--those beautiful, tragic things that forever grew towards the one place they
could never reach--those plants that should not have been here because they only bloomed in Purgatory.

The door squeaked behind me.

My nails cut into my lips.

The door. There was only one way out. I was alone with--

"Devi," the familiar, hated voice slipped over my skin. "You found it. I knew you would."

Chapter 10

My sneakers squeaked as I spun. "I'm sorry, I mean, I was just--"

"It's alright," Forneus interrupted. "I wanted you to find this place--or rather, to see if you could."

He emerged from the shadows of the hallway, and the tentacles of the Rukah-Hayim recoiled from the cool air. Purple light shifted over his sharp
features, as if we were trapped inside a violet-tinted glass bubble beneath an aquarium.

He advanced. I took a step back. "Camael!"

Forneus pressed his fingers to his mouth to keep his lips from smiling.

I called out the angel's name again.

His shoulders shuddered as he sighed. "Devi, I'm not here to hurt you," he said, voice muffled because his hand was still over his mouth. "Also, he
can't hear you. This is the one room in the house no one else can find or enter. I've put up charms to keep out demons, angels, other devils, and
humans."

I inched back. "That doesn't make sense. Why am I here, then?"

His eyes glimmered. "Stop retreating. If you take another step, you will squash the Rukah-Hayim."

I flexed my calves to keep from dashing away. He was too close, and still coming closer. "Why do you have so much of it here? I thought it grew in
purgatory. And why am I here if humans can't be?" I babbled.

He stopped when he was less than an arm's length away. "It's alright to be confused. I was, too, for a while." He cupped my cheek. I felt his waxy
thumb slice beneath my gushing, fake sore. "I don't know why you're a mere human. It is fitting, but I didn't expect it."

"You aren't making sense," I stammered. "And you aren't answering my questions. Why would I be able to enter this room if your charm blocked
humans?"

"Because you're more than just a human," he murmured. "And you would be the one to find this room, because it was made for you."

My heart seized up, as if it had been dipped in dry ice. What are you talking about? What do you mean this is for me? I couldn't say it. My throat felt
too tight to move.

Forneus removed his hand from my face, and my body went cold. "There are a few things we should talk about, but first..." He plucked a tentacle
from one of the plants. "I would like to show you something."

"I don't want to see it." My white breath curled through the air like smoke. It wasn't just me--the room was freezing.

My feet shifted, and Forneus caught my wrist.

"Hey!"

He pulled me toward him. "I told you not to back up. I've never shown anyone what I am about to show you. I promise you won't come to any harm. It
isn't that sort of thing."

I really, really didn't want to see whatever it was he wanted to show me. I tried to wiggle away. He put his free hand on my lower back, as if to
reassure a trembling damsel.

I couldn't take it anymore. Forneus was strong--or at least stronger than me--but I had longer nails.

I whipped up my free hand and clawed at his face. I didn't have a lot of experience attacking someone like that, but I made up for it with enthusiasm.
His thin, soft skin gave easily beneath my chipped nails. My scratches weren't deep, but they were enough to reveal his true skin. I screamed as I
saw my nails sink into his cheek. It felt like raw hamburger meat that had been dropped in mud.

The devil grit his teeth and caught my hand. "That wasn't very nice." He twisted my arm and I shut my eyes. I couldn't look at him anymore. His cheek
was turning green and little bits of plaster rained down into the front of my cheer outfit--or at least I told myself it was plaster.

Then I felt his freezing, decaying breath fan over my collarbone. "I regret promising not to hurt you," he whispered.

I bent my knees and catapulted forward off his ankles.

Unfortunately, Forneus chose that exact moment to let go of my hands, and I fell face-first on a pot on the floor, splitting open my lip.

The bowl beside me rattled, spinning in a circle. I pressed my fist into my mouth to try to stop the blood.

I glared at him. "You said you wouldn't hurt me."

"You did that to yourself," he muttered as he pulled a match from his pocket and struck it against a patch of bare stone. Then he dropped it and the
tentacle into a clay bowl on the ground beside me.

Hiss.

For one horrifying second I thought the sound was coming from his leaking, brown and green hamburger cheek. Then I saw the embers beside me.

The interior of the clay bowl glowed as the Rukah-Hayim inside folded in on itself. It twisted and turned black, like lit newspaper. Heat and purple
smoke coiled through the air--too much and far too hot to have come from such a small plant. It stung my busted lip.

I sucked in a mouthful of smoke. My eyelids grew heavy. The brilliant lights in the room began to fade under a mass of purple fog.

"Are you drugging me?" I slurred.

Three footsteps. Forneus was coming closer, but I couldn't see him. I raised my arms, I think, but I couldn't see them either, and my body was
beginning to feel numb.

"Let yourself relax."

The voice came from far away--across a cavern, perhaps. When had so much distance accumulated between us? Where was I? The only thing I
could see was the bowl beside me, glowing like a lantern.

I wanted to touch it, but was too afraid to reach out. I couldn't see my hands. I might accidentally knock it over, and find myself caught forever in this
world of smoke and heat. I couldn't think of anything worse than not knowing if my body still existed--not being able to feel anything. It made me even
thankful for the dull throbbing of my lip. I inhaled deeply, allowing the thick smoke to fill my lungs, just to make sure they were still there.

I heard Forneus again. "Just relax."

No, I can't let you win. I don't want to see it. Get me out of here.

The smoke curled around my body, drowning out the light. I shut my eyes and reached forward, then, not caring if I knocked it over. I had to know
something else was out there. I needed--

"Open your eyes," he said.

Moments before I might have resisted, but my heart beat too quickly, and I couldn't fill my lungs with enough air regardless of how fast or deeply I
breathed. I was afraid of being alone--so afraid that his loathsome voice comforted me.

So I did as he said, and opened my eyes.

***

Nothing could have prepared me for what I saw, but one thing came close.

When I was young, my father read The Secret Garden to me and Kai. Long after he'd closed the book, turned out the light and left the room, I'd
stayed by Kai's side, holding his hand. In the dark, with my eyes shut, I'd imagine a garden. It would be hidden behind a stone wall, and forgotten by
the world, but he and I would find it.

We'd touch gnarled branches with our tiny, soft fingers and make them green. We'd sleep on the dry, hard earth and wake up on a bed of grass.
Flowers would grow from where our tears fell. Such a place, I thought, must have been the closest place to God, because in my little mind there was
nothing more holy than bringing the dead back to life.

I told Kai these things, and he listened.

I will take you there, I said, hugging his chest. I remember feeling the soft vibrations of his heartbeat on my cheek, and its small and steady sound.

And he said, Alright, I'm there with you, even thought it was all in my head and he couldn't see it.

So I hugged him harder, as if I could pull him into my dream. I think he knew what I was trying to do, because he said it was beautiful, and that there
was no other place he'd rather be.

I'll bring you with me, I whispered. I promise.

And then he'd stopped pretending. He knew I couldn't bring him, and that continuing to pretend would just hurt my feelings. So he'd simply said: I
love you, Devi.

***

My eyes hadn't adjusted to the intense light, so my first glimpse of that world stung. We weren't in Forneus' room anymore. I could hear wind roaring
in the distance, or perhaps it was ocean waves.

"It's alright, Devi. You're safe."

Forneus? No, the voice sounded too kind. I glanced up.

Gone were those ethereal plants. The walls were replaced by a seemingly endless field. The air was so clear that breathing it made me feel

weightless. Taking it in--the subtle, jasmine scent, the images of blades of grass and deciduous leaves that shimmered like emeralds--made me
forget myself. Surrounded by that vibrant green, I felt more beautiful than I ever had before--as if I, too, were a precious, secret, sacred thing.

I stumbled to my feet. It's not real, I thought. It can't be real. But it was, and I too entranced to be afraid.

I'd come to that secret place forgotten by the world--that place I'd imagined as a little girl.

But I hadn't gone with Kai.

In fact, I hadn't even found it myself.

A man had taken me. One who thought nothing of stripping someone of everything they held dear for his own benefit. One who stole men's souls.
One who despised me.

He stood four paces away with his chin tilted towards the sun. His eyes were shut, his mouth open, and his palms faced the sky.

He looked nothing like Forneus.

It wasn't just because he had wings, though he did have six of them--each a complex purple, like the final moments of a sunset--nor was it just
because the scratches I'd made moments earlier were healed. The change was deeper than that. His skin was luminescent, like a violet pearl. His
poise lacked self-consciousness. He seemed free.

He looked over at me with something akin to compassion, and reached out to me.

I walked to him, but refused to take his hand.

"Does my appearance startle you?"

"A devil shouldn't be so beautiful," I answered honestly.

For once, he had no snide reply. "This is what I looked like before I fell." His lips parted as he looked past my shoulder. "We were content, before
Eden was touched by men."

Something within me twisted. How long have you looked for a place like this? I wondered, but didn't dare ask. Instead, I cleared my throat. "Where
are we?"

"Still in my room."

The wind picked up, and two white petals from a blooming apple tree flew past my cheek. "I don't understand."

He raised his arm in a dramatic sweep. "I created this illusion. If I could, I would make a world like this."

I hugged my arms. The heat from the sun felt real, as did the coolness of the breeze, and the drifting clouds. "I don't understand."

Forneus looked back towards the hills. Wind bent the long grasses, leaving its ephemeral touch on the world. "I can manipulate the spirit of the
Rukah-Hayim to make charms and illusions. I can convince the body that it can no longer move, or create an image of something that doesn't exist. I
can even go from this earthly realm into ones that originated from and are maintained by spirit, such as Heaven, Hell, or Purgatory. In the end it
does not matter."

He inhaled sharply, as if he'd just become aware of how loud he'd been talking. The wind picked up again. He waited until it died to continue. "I
cannot change the nature of this world, and so everything I create is subject to the laws He put in place at the beginning. This, like all sanctuaries
man, beast, and demigod have fashioned, will soon disappear."

I tucked my chin into my chest. I felt my heart beating too quickly in my throat. I wasn't used to hearing such passion in his voice--or, responding so
strongly to his words with something other than revulsion.

Far to our right, something moved in the distance.

I stood still as a startled hart. In the center of the field was a man with long black hair and smooth pale skin. The corners of his green eyes crinkled
when he caught my gaze.

I ran to him.

The grass stung my legs. My arms moved faster, faster--even faster than my feet. I bowled over when I got to him, trying to catch my breath.

"Oz, how did you get here?" I croaked.

He put his hand on my shoulder. White soothing light collected on his arm. I felt it move through my skin from his fingertips, into the center of my
chest. It felt different from how he usually healed me--more invasive, and more blissful--almost as if I'd just been touched by Camael.

I grabbed his wrist. He's in his demon form, I realized. But no, that couldn't be. Those strange, stick-like tattoos weren't imprinted on his skin, and he
had six wings.

One of them brushed against my cheek. It followed the same path that the apple petals carried by the wind had taken just minutes before.

I pressed my fingertips to my tingling skin. Those feathers looked like the tips of peacock feathers. They were stunning next to the shifting greens in
his eyes. "Oz, what's going on?"

He studied me blankly. "Who is Oz?"

"She calls you by that name," Forneus replied. "Don't worry about it."

I suppressed a chill. Why I hadn't heard him come up behind me? Was I really so entranced by him?

There was something different about his beautiful face beyond the fact that he was in demon form. His features seemed smoother, the angle of his
forehead and cheekbones less severe. He stared back at me without recognition. No, that wasn't the right word--he lacked empathy.

I took a step back. That was, perhaps, the one thing I couldn't imagine him without. He always allowed himself to feel without caring how it would
affect him. But his eyes, now, looked at the world as if they'd known neither sadness nor love. As if they were content.

"He's an illusion, isn't he?" I whispered.

"You could call it that," Forneus answered.

"What else would you call it?" I snapped.

"The image of Azazel, before he fell."

"I don't understand." Azazel's posture was as straight and his tone as clear as Camael's.

Forneus looked down. "It's nothing. Why don't you show me the thing you were looking at earlier?"

I shifted my gaze to the devil. What thing? We'd just arrived.

Azazel nodded. "Alright."

He turned without glancing back. His shimmering, evergreen wings spread out further as he walked. For a moment, I thought he would take flight.
Perhaps he did. After I blinked, he disappeared.

"Do you like it here?"

I hugged myself again, this time because of the voice on my left instead of the wind. How should I answer? A part of me loved it. It was difficult not to
love something so beautiful. Still, something about its ethereal beauty unsettled me, like looking into the face of someone you love, only to discover
they don't recognize you.

"What is it?" Forneus asked.

"Nothing. I mean, it's just..." I wet my lips. "I don't think I would have imagined you making something like this."

"Something like what?"

I struggled to find the right words. "Something so sweet, and so lonely. Then again, maybe I just feel that way because I haven't seen any birds or
bugs yet."

No answer but the sound of blades of grass rubbing together in the wind. Then: "There aren't any."

"What do you mean there aren't any?" I asked.

His jaw tightened. "I didn't want to bring any living thing here. Even allowing these plants to grow seems like too much. However, I think I need to be
beside something other than myself, even if I am unaffected by it, lest I begin to feel like everything exists only in my mind."

A week ago I doubt I'd have understood what he meant, but that little incident with the purple smoke had changed me. That kind of loneliness was
suffocating.

Forneus nodded to the place where Azazel had disappeared. "There will be another here as well. I want to take him with me when I make this world,
but I doubt he'll accept it. He's grown too attached to the things that make him suffer."

What was wrong with Forneus? Sure, his speeches often contained dramatic (but mostly awkward) pauses, but he'd never gotten all dewy-eyed
before. No tears fell, but they seemed imminent.

Maybe it's just the wind, I thought. It felt like the universe was imploding...or like I was watching Steven Seagal play Hamlet.

Should I pat his shoulder? My fingers twitched as I raised my hand. No. He probably wouldn't want me to touch him. I remembered his complaints
about "my stink" when I'd climbed into his car. So I ended up just waving.

He didn't look amused.

My hand shot to my side. Why do I even try? "Look, of course Oz wouldn't want to come here. He loves all the things you've excluded from this place

more than himself."

Forneus flicked something off his pants. "I know. I almost can't forgive him for that."

"That's not fair," I blurted out. "It's cruel to ignore someone's wishes."

His eyes narrowed. Here it comes, I almost groaned.

"Am I really the cruel one?" He began. "Your kind must kill in order to sustain itself. Plants take energy from the sun, animals from plants and other
animals. Whether consciously or unconsciously, every action you take is either an act of violence, or a response to it. Do you really see anything
inherently cruel about that? Do you think such a cruel system deserves to be cherished?"

His words hit me like a hammer to my gut. I clawed at my side. Where was all this coming from?

Of course, evil incarnate didn't explain himself. His lips curled back in a mocking grin, and for a moment I glimpsed the devil beneath that heavenly
veneer. "The world really is satanic if you think about it. You are punished if you fail, of course--but then, you are also punished if you are too
successful. A hunter that is too good at killing his prey will starve."

"Life is about balance," I said. His eyes settled on me. My throat closed, but I kept going. "I mean, life hurts sometimes, but it's beautiful too. Even
you know that. You wouldn't want plants, or Oz, if you didn't think that was true."

He stepped back. Sunlight streamed over his cheeks. A wave of blossoms and dandelion seeds drifted past his violet hair. "There isn't anything
beautiful about horror. It's just ugly, and it taints those beautiful things that endure in spite of it. If there were some way to change that, wouldn't it be
cruel not to?"

He stepped back and sighed. "I am tired of success and failure--of endless, pointless suffering--of the disgust I feel when I attempt to empathize
with other beings, and the disgust I feel when I cannot. The world He created is vulgar and banal, but this..."

He reached down and picked up a handful of soil. He held it close to his chest, bowed his head, and breathed deeply. His featured softened, and
for a moment I thought that I, too, could smell the scent of dark soil. Then he relaxed his grip, and the dirt spilling through the cracks between his
fingers was carried away by wind.

"Here, I could spend eternity," he whispered. "I will be satisfied with the elements and the silence. I will not repeat those mistakes my Creator
made."

Dandelion seeds filled the air between us. He's crazy, I thought, yet I didn't move from his side.

Finally, he looked at me. "Our friend rejoins us. We should enjoy him while he's still here."

Sure enough, Azazel was running up the hill to us--a dark, innocent angel.

"Forneus! Look!" He called out as he held a rock in his palm. "Isn't it beautiful?"

"Yes," Forneus whispered. "It is."

Azazel glanced over to me. "You called me Oz."

"Yes, I did." But you're not.

He took a step closer. If this place was real--if that phantom was truly Oz--he would flash an odd smile. He'd tell Forneus to shove it. He'd pull me
down on the grass and whisper suggestive nonsense into my ear until I was too giddy to notice the clear air, vibrant green grass, or anything that
wasn't him.

Now I wanted to look at anything but him.

I shut my eyes and smoothed the white fringe of my cheerleader skirt. Old flour smeared over my palms.

"You may have this," Azazel said.

Before I could think not to, I held out my hand. He put a rock in the center of my palm. "It was the only thing I could find that looked like your eyes."

I smiled despite myself. "That's the worst pick-up line ever."

A crease formed between his brows. "I don't understand."

Of course you don't, Camael.

I gasped, as if I'd compared him to the angel out loud. "I'm..."

His frown deepened.

"It's nothing," I finished. He wouldn't understand why I apologized, anyway. It's not like he was truly Oz.

I glanced over at Forneus, only to discover that he was looking at my hands clutching the hem of my skirt. He might have asked me about that. It

looked like he was thinking of something important. I'll never know, because at that moment the world began to ripple.

At first I thought a large cloud had passed over the sun, but the sky was clear. Was I tired then? No. The ground wavered, as if it were a mirage.

Then it grew dark. The wind ceased blowing. The sound of distant waves was replaced by hissing. Purple smoke curled among the three of us.

"What is that?" Azazel's jaw was tight, his eyes wild.

"It's time for me to go," Forneus said.

Azazel grabbed him. "Where are you going?"

Forneus brushed him off. "Don't worry. In a few moments, it won't matter."

Azazel relaxed. His mouth moved, but I couldn't hear what he said. I curled my fist around the rock. It, too, was turning into smoke. I could feel it
evaporating on my skin. Smoke filled my throat. When I tried to call out to Oz, I chocked. I can't say goodbye, I realized. Though I don't even know
why I wanted to, since he didn't really exist.

The smoke dissipated, and Forneus and I were once again in the glowing, purple room. I looked at my hands. The stone was completely gone. It
hadn't even left a speck of dirt behind.

"It's over," Forneus said without opening his eyes. I think he was preserving the image of that world for as long as possible. But soon the smoke
disappeared, and its soft glow was replaced by the harsh sparkling of the Rukah-Hayim.

He took one last deep breath, then looked at me.

"I missed you on Friday." His conversational tone sent chills up my spine.

"What?" Friday? There was no way I'd ever see him--no, wait. Our little counseling session. "I, um, was busy. I mean, I wasn't feeling well."

His eyes narrowed.

"I didn't go to school, you see," I mumbled.

"I noticed," he said. "And I forgive you. It gave me some time to learn more about you."

"Learn more about me?" I croaked.

"Yes." He looked down. "Do you know what happens to someone after they commit suicide?"

It felt like he'd ripped apart my lung tissue. My chest heaved. Every breath was a knife tearing into my heart. My voice, when I found it, sounded like
a squeaking hinge. "What do you mean?"

He glanced up. His cheek was still raw from where I'd scratched him. I'd forgotten about that when we'd been in his dream world.

"Your father shot himself, didn't he?"

I cringed. How could he just say something like that? I wish he hadn't shown me his "dream world"--that it hadn't been beautiful. I didn't want to feel
anything for that creature.

"When someone commits suicide, their spirit goes to Purgatory."

No. You're lying.

"And once there, it cannot leave without divine intervention."

Stop. I hit the side of my head with my fists.

"For a spirit, the most horrific punishment is being distant from God, but not once has He ever released one from Purgatory."

I gripped my stomach. "Why are you telling me this?"

"I am the only person you know who can get him out. Azazel lacks the ability, and Camael, as one of God's beloved creatures, is barred from
interfering with His will." He rubbed his hands together. "I'd be willing to do it, if you are willing to pay my price."

I glared at him. My eyes hurt. Every part of me did. But even pain, and the quiet fear lingering beneath it, didn't stop me from asking. "What price is
that?"

"What devils always want." His teeth gleamed. "Their client's soul."

My head shook. "No."

I didn't realize I was retreating until Forneus took a step forward. "No, you don't want to give it to me, or no, that isn't what I want?"

"Both."

He chuckled. "You're wrong. It is what I want. Whether or not you give it to me is up to you, of course, but in this case it's probably in your best
interest."

I seriously doubt that. "Why would you even want it?"

Forneus sighed. He shut his eyes, but I could tell they were rolling beneath his eyelids. "When God awakened, there were no things in existence, but
he was not alone. Something in the void moved him. Inspired him. And it gave him the energy he needed to form the universe." He paused.
"Without a soul, the spirit lacks the will and ability to create."

"Why don't you just use souls from plants or animals, then?"

"Ah, that is my curse. Demons, who fell in love with the world, are condemned to die for it; devils, who had the audacity to long for a better world,
must stand by and watch this pathetic spectacle they cannot change for eternity."

I was almost against the wall, now. I could feel the Rukah-Hayim squirming on my back. "You still didn't answer my question."

Forneus looked down. "Like my Father, I cannot create anything lasting unless I manipulate the energy that is responsible for making all physical
objects--the soul. However, unlike him, I cannot simply take it. It must be given to me."

"I'll never give it to you. I don't need your help. I have Oz."

He grinned. "So your solution to your problem is, again, to rely on someone else to fix everything for you?"

It sounded bad when he said it, but really, what was I supposed to do? I didn't know any demons, devils or angels. Well, alright, I knew one of each.

"Devi, what will you do if those you've put your faith in fail you?"

"They won't," I whispered. "Because we love each other. It's something someone like you couldn't understand."

His chest heaved, like he was holding in laughter. "It will take Azazel a long time to figure this out, because he won't want to. Even after he's
uncovered the truth about you, it will take a long time for him to accept it."

"Why?"

"Because, once he learns who you really are, things will change. I wouldn't be surprised if the relationship between you, and his feelings for you,
changed as well."

My eyes felt dry.

"I think he will be reluctant to take you to your brother, Devi. In fact, it is likely he will try to prevent you from going to him."

"Why?"

Forneus laughed. "Oh, come on, I'm not going to tell you that. If you want answers, you're welcome to make me an offer anytime--except right now,
of course."

I frowned. "I don't know why you're telling me these things. I'll just tell Oz, and he'll find a way to get it out of you."

"He might, but could you live with the consequences, I wonder?" The devil slipped forward. "I'm going to make a prediction--something that, with
almost absolute certainty, I think will come true. When Azazel learns the truth, he will hate you as much as he loves you."

You're lying, I wanted to scream.

But Forneus didn't lie.

He brushed his thumb over his chin. "There will probably come a time in the future when you will find yourself alone. Just remember that it doesn't
matter to me how tarnished you become, or how much this world despises you, or what horrible things you may or may not decide to do."

His eyes glowed, deeper and brighter than the Rukah-Hayim around us, until they were all I saw. I didn't realize he'd touched me until he bent his
head down to kiss the back of my hand. "I will always accept you," he whispered over my skin. "And above all else, I will cherish your soul."

I reared back, unintentionally slamming my hand into his nose. Damn. I pushed my stinging hand against my stomach.

Forneus caught my gaze. The front of his face was covered with blood. "That amount of force wasn't necessary." He smiled as black ooze leaked
into his mouth and between the cracks of his front teeth. Skin around the bumped area began to flake off, as if his nose had a really bad case of
dandruff.

My stomach rolled. I had to get away. I whipped around and rushed forward, tripping. The doorknob cut into my hip as I crashed into it.

"Please think about what I said. I am the only one you know who can save your father and arrange for you to meet your brother."

My hand froze on the doorknob. Just turn it. Don't listen to him, I demanded, but some part of me hesitated.

I leaned forward until my forehead hit the door. "I really hate you."

His shadow eclipsed mine. When had he moved so close?

"I don't doubt that." His voice was deathly quiet. "Now, we should rejoin our party. I'm sure they're worrying about all the terrible things I could be
doing to you."

Chapter 11

I saw his light before I saw him. It glowed as softly as a lantern in the fog, and painted the stained mohogany walls of the narrow hallway red.

I stopped.

His looked past me, as if I wasn't there. "Where did you take her?"

Behind, Forneus sighed. "Devi, you should discipline your dog. You know, make sure he stays when you say 'stay'."

The angel's jaw clenched. So did my heart. Was he irritated? No, he couldn't be. Angels didn't get irritated. I'd probably just imagined it. When
Camael spoke, his voice was cold. "Step away from her."

The devil did as he was told. "No need to get testy."

Camael looked at me. "Did he do something to you?"

I couldn't answer. His eyes were clear, just like Azazel's had been in Forneus' illusion. If Camael and I were in that dream world, they would be the
same color as the sky.

Why do you trust me to answer that question, I wondered, when you've witnessed every lie I've ever told? Unconsciously, I took a step forward.

I couldn't tell him what had happened. If Forneus had been telling the truth, then...well, I didn't want to think about it either. For now, I'd keep it a
secret.

"Why aren't you with Kim?" I asked, changing the question.

Camael's looked guilty--or at least as guilty as a being who felt nothing could be. "You said you'd be gone five minutes. You left alone. Why is he
with you?"

Now it was my turn to stare at him. What could I say? Forneus cornered me in his secret lair. Then he took me to his make-believe dream world,
and told me he could make all my problems disappear if I just gave him my soul.

"Devi," Camael whispered.

I tucked my chin into my chest. A flimsy zombie sore slid off my face. It wiggled when it hit the ground, like Jell-O.

Forneus groaned, then spit out a curse. Guess he didn't like getting that on his fancy rug. At any other time I probably would have gloated. But my
heart was pounding too fast in my chest, and I grasped at any excuse not to talk to Camael.

"Oh, I need to get that," I blurted out and dropped to my knees. When I reached out to grab the sore, a large hand wrapped around my wrist.

The flawless white skin sparkled like sunlight on the surface of a lake. My eyes stung.

I yanked my hand back.

The angel didn't let go. "What did you do to her?"

"I'll let Devi tell you." The devil's smug voice slithered over my shoulder. Even though Camael was putting on his little light show, the room seemed to
grow darker.

My body wouldn't stop shaking. Why was it so cold? And why did his immobile grip feel so gentle?

"You should have just stayed with Kim." I tried to keep my voice steady. "Forneus didn't hurt me. I'm fine."

Camael's chin brushed the top of my head. "Let me see your hands."

"What?"

He was already turning them over. "Just let me look at them."

He brought them close to his lips. Slowly, he wiped away the layers of flour and dried Kool-Aid.

My jaw locked shut. His touch made my skin tingle, but that wasn't what unnerved me. What is it, then? What am I waiting for?

And then I realized what it was. He wasn't breathing.

Of course angels didn't need to breathe, but Camael normally did. He'd noticed that it upset me when he appeared too otherworldly. But now, he
was so focused on my wrist that he'd forgotten.

Camel's thumb stopped. The corpse paint and the dirt on my palms were gone, leaving pink flesh.

"You don't trust me?" Forneus laughed. "I told you I wouldn't do anything."

Camael kept staring at my naked skin, as if reassuring himself nothing else was there. "It's good you didn't."

"Oh?" Forneus drawled. "Will you get in the way of her free will again?"

Camael let go of me and stood. "Come on, Devi. Let's go check on Kim."

Then he started down the hall.

I glanced back at Forneus. The devil raised his eyebrows and made a "shoo" gesture. Fine, I thought, stalking forward. That man was infuriating
even when he was silent.

I stepped where Camael's shadow would have been if he'd had one. On our way to the living room, he didn't look back at me or Forneus. Not even
once.

***

Kim had wedged herself between Azazel and Sariel. Azazel's dinosaur gloves were abandoned below his shaking feet, and his hands were balled
into fists at his sides. Kim moved his fire-engine red gingerbread figurine on the Candy Land board.

"It's okay, Velociraptor. It's almost over." She gave him a pitying look. Sariel had already passed the Molasses Swamp, and they were still hanging
out with Princess Lollipop.

None of them realized I'd entered the room. "Hey," I said.

Azazel's head whipped around. "Devi."

It sounded as though speaking my name made him ache. It looked like it, too--his cheeks flushed, and he'd gnawed on his bottom lip until it split.
"What took you so long?"

"Yeah, really," Kim grumbled. "Longest bathroom trip ever. What the Hell were you do--"

Kim shrieked. Her knees smashed into the table and her chair clattered to the floor. Her foot got caught around one of its legs and she tripped,
catapulting forward.

Her fist slammed onto the Candy Land board as she tried to steady herself. Cards flew through the air, and the little gingerbread figurines that had
endured so much in vain to get to King Kandy plummeted to the floor.

"Kim! What is it?" I yelled, but she wasn't listening.

The blood had drained from her face. Her lips parted in horror as she pointed at the gash in Forneus' cheek.

Forneus gave her a bloody smile. "Hasn't anyone told you it isn't nice to gawk?"

"I just--I..." She swallowed and brought her hands to her chest. "Oh God. I mean, what happened to you face?"

Forneus rolled his eyes over to me. "Devi did it."

"Devi!" She chided. "What were you thinking? Did you want to make him into your freaky older zombie brother?"

My lip twitched. Forneus, however, didn't find it funny.

Kim crept towards us. "I can't believe how real it looks. I mean, it looks like you were mauled by a rabid bear. How did you do it?"

"Thanks," Forneus muttered. "She used her nails, mostly. Then she clocked me in the nose."

Kim took a few more steps forward, then recoiled. "Oh God, it stinks too."

I laughed. I couldn't help myself. And when Forneus glared at me, I laughed harder. "What? It does stink."

His lip curled back. "Alright. Party's over. Everyone out."

This time I recoiled. He actually considered two kids playing Candy Land in a dark room while two ancients and two teenage girls watched a party?

Shamsiel retracted his golden wings. They disappeared behind his shoulders, and with them gone the only light in the room came from the ice blue
and violet-tinted reflections of skyscrapers on the water hundreds of feet below.

Kim hugged her arms. Her eyes shifted between Shamsiel and the silent children at the table before finally settling on me. I guess even she'd
noticed how strange that was.

I shrugged, trying to pretend it was no big deal, but it was hard to move my tight shoulders.

Forneus flicked on a lamp without offering an explanation to the light's absence.

"We'll leave first." Without looking at any of us, Shamsiel walked to the table.

Azazel became even more still as the angel drew near. Even his chest, beneath the layers of green and yellow felt, stopped moving. Shamsiel
ignored him and knelt down before Sariel.

The silver boy's chair wobbled as he scooted back. "Looks as if I won our game."

"I never was that good at Candy Land," Azazel mumbled.

I frowned. He'd played Candy Land before? And like it meant something?

Kim's high-pitched, fast laughter echoed through the room. "Oh, come on. How can you be bad at Candy Land? It's just a game of luck."

No one said anything. Her desperate eyes locked onto mine, silently begging me to laugh as well.

But I could do little to ease the tension. "I was never all that good at it either, Azazel."

The dinosaur's hands trembled when I spoke his name. Why didn't he look at me? What was going on?

Shamsiel lifted Sariel into his arms. The silver boy wrapped his arms around the angel's golden neck and laid his cheek on his collarbone. "Put me
down when we get to her," he whispered.

They can't mean me.

The angel walked slowly to where I stood. My heart pounded ten times for every one of his steps. Azazel remained at the table with his face to the
windows. Camael stood by me, unmoving.

When they reached me, Shamsiel set the child down.

The boy stood on his tiptoes. His pudgy fingers slipped around the locket. The metal looked dull against his skin. Only one part of him didn't gleam
as if it were made of moonbeams--the shadowed tattooed symbol on the underside of his wrist.

"Pretty," he murmured.

He knows.

No, he couldn't. Forneus said the charm would disguise me against his kind. Where did that thought come from? And what was it that he might even
know, exactly?

But those reassurances did nothing to stop the chill from creeping up my spine, or my chest from growing tight.

Camael shifted on his feet.

"Come, Sariel," the golden angel said.

The boy didn't react to the reprimanding tone. He shut his eyes and pushed himself up even further onto his the balls of his feet.

"Thank you." He closed his eyes and parted his lips. The rest of him remained still and reverent, as if waiting for me to anoint him with oil. Then, he
leaned forward and kissed the locket.

"It is pretty, but you're more beautiful without it." He looked up at me as he said it, with steel eyes behind silver lashes.

The chain felt heavy though he cradled it in his palm. His cool white breath seeped through my cheerleader uniform and penetrated my chest. My
heart pounded--faster, faster--until the only sound I could hear was my escalating desperation, and all I could see was that seemingly innocent child
that saw too much.

"Sariel," the golden angel said.

The child let go of the chain and rocked back on his heels. A golden arm wrapped around him. Sariel turned to press his face into the angel's waist.

Kim bent down and gave a salute. "Hey. See you later. You rocked Candy Land, little guy--"

They walked past her. Moments later, I heard the front door closed.

"Uh..." she stood up, her hand still pressed to her forehead. "Those are the weirdest people I've ever met."

Forneus chuckled. "You didn't like my other guests?"

"Oh, I didn't mean...it's just..." She bit her lip. "They didn't even say goodbye to you."

One side of Forneus' mouth curled up. Unfortunately, it was the side I'd slashed. His skin sloughed off as if it were a plaster that had just been struck
by a hammer. "Their decorum does leave something to be desired. Are you going to avoid looking at my face for the rest of your time here?"

Kim blushed.

"It's alright. You don't have to answer that." He patted shoulder. "All of you may leave, now."

"What?" She flinched when she glanced up at him, but didn't look away.

Forneus sighed and stuck a finger into the open wound on his cheek. "Don't force yourself."

I could see Kim's stomach flexing beneath the layers of latex on her stomach. "I could help you wash that off, if you want." There wasn't anything
suggestive about her trembling lip, her soft voice, or how large her eyes had become--just fear.

Forneus turned away from her. "Go."

She backed up, still looking at him.

"Azazel," Forneus whispered, "I'd like to speak with you before you leave--alone, of course. The rest of you may show yourselves out."

Kim looked as if he'd slapped her. "Alright," she said to no one in particular because no one was listening. She turned and left, taking short, uneven
steps down the hallway, as if she were a little tipsy and didn't want to wake a sleeping child.

The dinosaur slipped off his chair, picked his "claw gloves" off the floor, and walked to me. "I won't be long, Devi."

This is too much. I didn't care if Kim thought it was weird that I was trying to come between a kid and his "uncle." Besides, she probably was too far
away to hear.

I snatched the dinosaur's neon sleeve. "Don't go."

He stopped. "Please don't ask that of me."

"Why not?" The felt on his costume was all balled up. It would probably leave behind annoying bits of fuzz on my palm when he left. No, I couldn't
think like that. I couldn't let him leave. I held on tighter.

"I must go when he calls me."

"That's a really stupid answer," I blurted out.

"Maybe, but it was even more stupid for you to wander off alone." He looked down. "I trust you checked for a mark?"

It took a second for me to realize the question was meant for the angel, not me.

The angel nodded. "It's fine."

Azazel's hands flexed at his sides. "I know he promised he wouldn't do anything. I know the angel already checked. I'm sorry, but I must."

Without asking, He grabbed my hands. His thumbs brushed over the pink skin at the base of my palms, again and again, just as Camael's had.

"There's nothing there." My voice sounded chocked.

He nodded but continued to stare at it, as if waiting for something to magically appear.

Nothing did.

He folded my hands into fists and held them. "Don't leave like that again."

"Don't play Candy Land with kids that are creepier than you," I replied.

He bit his bottom lip, possibly to hide a smile. "You think I'm creepy?"

"Hell yes," I whispered.

He handed me his dinosaur gloves. "Stay warm. I'll be back soon." Then he turned entered the dark room Forneus had disappeared into.

***

The limpness of Kim's hair, the downward slash of her eyebrows, and the way she resentfully rubbed up against the Doric column in a futile effort to
ward off the cold, all made her look like a wet cat.

I kind of wanted to hug her.

She narrowed her eyes. "What?"

"Nothing," I replied, trying hard not to smile. I had a feeling she didn't want to hear me tell her she looked cute, so I wiggled my yellow claws at her.
"Want the dinosaur gloves?"

"No." She tried to glare at them, but the smirk she couldn't hide killed it. "Those are really silly gloves."

I gave her an abracadabra wave and said in my best spooky voice: "I know."

She twitched her nose. "That kid is pretty damn silly, too. Figures he'd pick a costume like that."

"Yeah."

Kim kicked the base of the column with her heel. "What was that other kid's deal? T. rex was having a great time until he showed up. But Sariel
managed to make a game of Candy Land feel like the Fifth circle of Hell." She blew her bangs out of her face. "He seemed to be really interested in
you. What did you two talk about?"

It felt like a burning string was winding itself around my throat. The interior of the dinosaur gloves felt damp and hot, and my hands shook from the
effort of not throwing them to the ground.

"He just liked my necklace," I said, surprised at how calm my voice sounded.

Kim held my gaze for a few seconds, then: "It doesn't matter as long as you're okay, I guess."

That decimated any doubt she didn't believe me. The balled up felt stuck to my sweaty palms. I stared at her sultry red form--the only dash of color
under the gnarled limbs and the gray sky. I took a step back, then another, until the doorknob hit the center of my back.

"Sorry," I murmured.

Alright, probably not the best thing to say. Kim frowned, parted her lips, and the door behind me creaked.

I yelped and leaped forward.

A neon green blob with two rosy cheeks crept out. The hood of Azazel's costume had been pulled too far over his forehead, so he had to tilt his chin
up to get a good look at us. "Sorry for keeping you guys waiting."

For some reason, my body decided to let me know it was relieved by making my heart beat a thousand times a second. The only thing that kept me
from keeling over was crouching like a football player waiting for the play to start and giving Azazel the crazy eyes. I just barely stopped myself from
screaming: Oz! And thank God, because that would've been hard to explain to Kim, who probably would've considered it the creepiest thing that
had happened all night.

Kim waltzed towards us and bent over. "No need to be sorry. I'm sorry you didn't get much candy." She winked. "Next time I see you, I'll treat you to
ice cream."

"Really?" T. rex grinned.

She nodded and took his hand. "Not now, though. I've got to catch my bus."

"You're not staying over?" I tried not to sound happy about that. The thought of Camael watching both of us fall asleep was just too much.

"You've got to take the SAT tomorrow, right? I don't want you waking me up at five in the morning."

Oh Kim, how considerate you are. "We'll walk you," I groaned, and the three of us headed up the street.

Kim's stop was only five blocks away. Still, it only took her half a block to complain about being bored, and another half a block to start belting "The
Wheels on the Bus" because, apparently, the best cure for boredom was singing my least favorite song.

I dug through Oz's candy bag and threw a Figgy Bar at her. It knocked her devil horns to the side, but otherwise left her untouched.

"Hey, those are his special treasures!" She laughed.

"It's a Figgy Bar," I replied.

"You need to get back at her, T. rex," she pretended to whisper. "Let's see your windshield wipers."

Unfortunately, the dinosaur thought this was a grand idea.

"I hate both of you," I moaned. "This song is going to be stuck in my head all night."

That observation just made the "bus" honk.

Time to pull out the big guns. "If you keep it up, I'm going to join in," I warned.

Kim's hand flew to her mouth. Oz kept singing.

"I'm serious," I said.

"T. rex, it's time to stop," Kim squealed as she tried to cover the dinosaur's mouth.

Oz darted up ahead. "I'd love to hear Debbie's voice!" He yelled.

Kim grit her teeth and trotted after him. "No you don't!"

Sarah Jessica Parker was Kim's favorite actress, and had been ever since she'd seen her character from Sex and the City sprint in high heels.

Devi, you have no idea how much skill that takes, she'd told me. And she was right--I didn't--but watching her waddle as fast as she could after a
dinosaur sure gave me an appreciation for it.

"T. rex is still singing," I warned her.

"Give me a second! I'll stop him!" She replied hysterically.

"Too late!" I yelled, and began.

Every dog in the neighborhood began to howl. Cats screeched. Some drunk teenagers in a passing car rolled down the window and asked if the
zombie apocalypse was happening. I told them all about the wheels on my bus, and they took off at a speed significantly greater than the posted
speed limit.

"You're going to cause an accident!" Kim cried.

I kept singing.

"I'm sorry, I'll never do it again."

That didn't stop me.

"Oh, Hell!" She tried to run away.

It didn't work. Kim was usually faster than me, but tonight I wore sneakers.

"No!" She wailed. "T. rex, stop singing. You can't possibly want to hear this."

He stopped for a second. "You have an amazing voice."

I started to laugh. "You want more?"

"No, you can't want more!" Kim screeched.

"I think he does," I replied, and began the second round.

"Devi, if you don't stop I'm ticking you," Kim warned.

When she came at me, I flailed my arms in front of my body.

She scowled. "What, are you trying to karate chop me?"

"No, these are just my windshield wipers," I sang.

Kim bent over, defeated. "Alright, we're at the bus stop, you two can stop."

I started driving the bus.

"Please Devi. I'm sorry," she whimpered.

I considered finishing the verse, but decided she'd suffered enough. I signaled for the dinosaur to stop. "Okay, but you shouldn't do that again."

"I forgot about your secret weapon," she said, breathless.

I just smiled.

Kim did too. "Next year we're gonna to have to meet up at my place for Halloween. I'll make sure you get a ton of candy, little man."

"Next year you'll be in college," I reminded her.

Her smile faltered. "Yeah."

There were things I wanted to say, but couldn't. It would sound too much like whining. She'd probably think that I wanted to hold her back, but I didn't.
I was proud of her. It just hurt, sometimes, to think about how far away we'd one day be when she was next to me.

Next year she'd be on the other side of the country. Next year she'd be making new friends who had big dreams. I'd still be here, not knowing what I
wanted to do, trying my best to support my first and dearest friend from far away.

The air felt colder, and I ran the felt claws up and down my arms. It was that odd time on Halloween when the trick-or-treaters were on their way
home, stuffing their faces with candy as their parents complained about cavities and tooth aches, and the teenagers were rocking out to Black
Sabbath as they sped off to the second party of the evening in cars well-stocked with eggs and toilet paper.

"It's not like we won't see each other again after that," I said.

Kim straightened her devil horns. "I know, it's just, you're like family to me and--"

Right then, a lewd "Hey lay-deees!" resounded through the night and a hairy, pasty white butt pressed against the back window zoomed past us.

T. rex cringed. "They really shouldn't do stuff like that in front of children."

I gave him a pitying smile--or tried to. I was pretty grossed out as well.

Kim's hand dashed to her forehead. "Oh God. I think that was Tim's ass."

"Wait, Tim as in Cannon man?" I yelped.

She nodded, staring at the ground.

"How do you know what his ass looks like? Actually, I don't want to know."

Kim kicked me lightly. "Come on. I would never with Cannon man! Did you see that--well, okay, I know you saw it. Anyways, he always streaks
during halftime at home games."

I winced. "I'd hoped that was just a rumor."

She made a clicking sound. "Come to the homecoming game and you'll get a good look."

"That's not making me want to go," I whispered.

"Seriously, you'll see so much of him that you'll never be able to forget--"

"No more!" I interrupted.

She bit her bottom lip and grinned. "Just saying."

The two of us were giggling so hard that we didn't see the bus pull up. T. rex pulled on my cheer skirt. "It's here."

The driver opened the door. Kim stopped laughing and stared at me.

"You should go before he leaves," I said.

Kim nodded. "Yeah." Then she turned around, heels clacking as she walked up the steps. She murmured something as she showed the driver her
pass and she smiled.

I watched her take her seat near the back of the bus. She rolled her eyes when she caught me staring, and waved.

My chest felt too tight. I couldn't move. So I just looked at her as she pressed her forehead against the window and looked back. The bus started up
again, and her eyes stayed locked on mine until she finally faded from view several blocks down the street.

I stayed beneath the streetlight, watching the place where her bus had disappeared, wondering if she still had her head pressed against the
window, doing the same.

Oz stepped next to me and wrapped his little fingers around one of my claws.

"Yeah, it's time to go home," I said, replying to a question he probably hadn't even considered asking me.

Chapter 12

The three of us didn't say much on the way back to my place. The dinosaur offered me a Figgy Bar and, when I didn't respond, said I could have all
his candy. I ruffled the spikes on his head and told him not to worry. Camael remained behind us. If he hadn't glowed in the dark places between the
streetlights like an angelic flashlight, I might have even forgotten he was there.

Come to think of it, after leaving Forneus', I had forgotten he was with me. Briefly, I wondered what it was it like to be such a creature as we
approached my home.

The inside of my house was always colder than it was outside. I didn't understand how that worked, but was used to it. I stumbled from the door to
the kitchen and flicked on the light.

I sucked in a breath. "Wow."

The dinosaur plopped his bag of candy on the counter--the gleaming, clutter-free counter. "It was a little messy, so I cleaned it." He nodded to the
sparkling corner. "The angel helped too."

I picked up his discarded felt gloves and folded them carefully, trying not to bend the foam claws. "Are you staying over tonight?"

He clutched his sleeve. "Can I?"

Of course, I wanted to say, but my throat was too tight. Why was he looking at me like that?

"Who do you want me to be?" he asked. "Jasmine? Oz? Cannon Man?"

"You don't even know what Tim Cannon looks like." I muttered.

He scrunched his eyebrows and gave me an awkward smile. "Well, I actually got a pretty good look--"

"Oz!" I screeched. I didn't know what he'd gotten a look at, but I didn't want to see whatever it was. "Just be Oz!"

His grin deepened. "Okay. Let me grab something first. I haven't been a kid in a long time, so it's not pleasant when I change." The dinosaur
crouched on his knees, opened the cabinet, and pulled out a bottle of scotch.

"Uh, what are you doing?"

The child's brows furrowed. It made him resemble a Cabbage Patch kid. With those pinch-able rosy cheeks he looked like he should grace the
cover of one of those cutesy greeting cards people give to their grandparents...or at least he would've if he wasn't holding hard liquor.

The kid followed my gaze to the bottle. "Oh yeah," he laughed.

"Yeah," I said, not finding it nearly as amusing as he did. "I don't care if you are a bazillion year old demon. You can't drink that when you look like
you're ten."

T. rex tilted his head. "Bazillion?"

"You know what I mean," I grumbled, taking the drink from him and holding it above my head.

T. rex didn't try to jump for it. Instead, his bottom lip trembled and those green, dewy eyes got larger, greener, and dewier. My grip on the bottle
loosened. Was I being too harsh? He'd mentioned the change was uncomfortable.

I set the bottle on the counter near the sink. The adorable little dinosaur was shifting back and forth on his feet with his hands folded in front of him.
Oh God, am I really doing to do this--let a kid drink alcohol? I coughed. "How much does it hurt to change?"

T. rex picked up on my unease immediately. "Don't worry about it. It's not necessary."

"You didn't answer my question," I said.

He winked, and a dimple formed in his cheek.

I groaned and thrusted the bottle at him like a pirate offering him a swig. "Take it."

"No," the dinosaur whispered. "You're right. I need to remember what I look like, and what I can and can't do in this form. If you're worried you can
leave it out for when I get back, just in case."

With that he scurried out of the room--or rather tried too. It was hard for him to move quickly when he wore the little boy's equivalent of fuzzy bunny
slippers on his feet.

I set the scotch down on the counter. "I really need to think more before I say stuff," I muttered.

Silence. The hairs on the back of my neck pricked up, as if I'd been reprimanded harshly. But no, he hadn't and would never. It was just me, trying to
read something into his actions.

I ran my fingertips over the counter. "Oz really did take care of the mess in here. All the food was put away."

Camael still said nothing.

My nails clinked like muted wind chimes as I scratched the stainless steel counter. The edge of it was cool and slick against my palm. I couldn't
ignore it any longer.

"Why did you eat it?" I asked.

I heard him swallow. It sounded awkward, which would make sense since I doubted he'd done it often until recently. Still, it seemed strange that any
action he took would ever lack elegance.

I spun around.

He stared at me calmly. My heartbeat escalated. My breath came faster. My palms suddenly felt hot. The darkness of the room made his blue eyes
seem bottomless.

It scared me, and yet I took a step forward. Don't. If you keep looking, you'll fall into them and never stop falling. But I couldn't stop, and I couldn't
silence or heed my fears. He was too beautiful--so beautiful that my limbs buzzed and my fingers tingled from the heady mix of bliss and fear. I
wanted that beauty for myself. I wanted to be consumed by it--

He blinked.

I dropped my gaze to his lips. My hands shook at my sides, and my throat pounded so hard that I could scarcely breathe. What was wrong with me?

"Are you alright, Devi?"

I nodded, or at least tried to. What could I say to him? I felt like I was being absorbed by you, and I liked it. You make me lose control of myself--
make it so I can't think--and I like that too.

I ground my teeth. What had we been talking about? Oh right, fatal pancakes. "Did you know what would happen if you ate them?" I continued.

This time he didn't hesitate. "Yes."

"Then why?"

Silence.

"So now you're not talking to me?" I said, voice a little louder.

He swallowed again, and again that strange, ungraceful sound filled the room. Even his throat looked vulnerable--his Adam's apple bobbed up and
down, as if he were being strangled. "I don't know what to say. When I'm with you, I sometimes get the urge to do strange things, and I don't
understand it."

My own throat felt tight. How could he reveal something like that in such a dispassionate voice? Did he even know what he was saying?

I grabbed the bottom of my zombie cheer top to prevent myself from touching him. He's lonely, I realized, and his immortal body lacks the capacity
to understand that.

My vision blurred. Angels weren't supposed to feel, or ache. Still, it seemed that whenever one of them deigned to visit this plane, they were
consumed by such feelings. Even Shamsiel, that untouchable golden angel, had alluded to it. Just looking at Camael, I could see it hurt him to be
here, just as it had hurt my brother. He, like Camael, had stayed until he'd been called away.

Because of me.

My fists tightened around my jersey, causing it to rise several inches and reveal my stomach. At that moment, I didn't care. It wasn't like angels
noticed that sort of thing, either. "When I was a kid, my goal in life was to never hurt anyone," I whispered.

"I know," the angel said.

Of course he did. He'd been there when I'd told my brother, who'd said it was an admirable goal even though, at that time, I'd probably been hurting
him.

"That's not really possible, though, is it? No matter how much I might want..." My voice sounded like shattered glass. Images of broken plates and
half-eaten pancakes, syrup that looked like blood, and that black, vile liquid that originated from within the angel swam before me.

I shut my eyes.

The angel didn't respond. I don't know why I expected him to. Nothing in the room moved but me. Only the sound of the buzzing refrigerator and my
own panting filled the space between us.

"Say something, Camael." I stumbled over his name. It still felt strange to say it, like I was initiating intimacy with a stranger.

Camael knelt in a supplicating position--head bent, palms face up on his thighs. Something shimmered over his back, right where his wings would

be, if he'd revealed them. His shoulders expanded as he inhaled deeply. Then, he looked up at me.

I grabbed the counter to support myself. That same feeling of sinking--of being absorbed--consumed me as I focused on his eyes. I almost didn't
hear him over the roaring of my blood.

"Do you love the demon?"

"Yes," I said, trying to match his intensity.

He glanced at my white fists clinging to the edge of the counter. "It won't end well."

I smiled and laughed, though it sounded like a sigh. "Are you worried about me?"

He just stared.

"Right, don't say anything," I mumbled. "It wouldn't surprise me if it didn't end well, but that doesn't mean I can just stop loving him. It's probably
similar to how you must protect me, no matter what I do or say. I think, sometimes at least, the heart can bind you just as fiercely as God's word."

Something smooth slipped over my wrists--his hands on mine--cool skin that would never change temperature, no matter what he touched or how
long he held it.

"You're gripping the counter too hard," he said. "You'll leave an imprint on your skin."

I held my breath. What do you really want to say, angel? Is there really nothing there, behind those cold, beautiful eyes?

Behind the wall, down the hallway, a door clicked shut. I could hear the soft slipping of slow, uneven footsteps.

"Oz," I whispered.

The angel rose and stepped away from me. He wiped his hands on his pants before retreating back into the corner.

"Hey," Oz leaned in the doorway with a lopsided grin, looking bad ass--or at least as bad ass as a guy in a kid's dinosaur suit could look. With
horror, I realized he'd changed into Oz while wearing it. The adorable, little neon feet were split open at his knees. The midsection of the suit was
stretched around his waist. His chest sprouted from a gigantic rip from the incandescent yellow neckline. The only parts that weren't damaged
beyond repair were the foam claw mittens, which covered his hands.

For a moment I couldn't speak.

Then, I couldn't stop laughing.

He grinned. "You're not supposed to find this funny."

I tried to catch my breath. "Really? What am I supposed to think?"

He gave me a smoldering look. "Let's see if you can guess."

In an attempt to stop myself from laughing, I bit the insides of my cheeks. The zombie sore that had been giving me trouble all night plopped to the
floor and wiggled.

Amazingly, Oz didn't comment on that. He stepped forward, and the arms of the dinosaur costume flapped around his waist. "I'll give you a hint," he
drawled. "I'm half naked."

I moaned inwardly. I can't take this. If my teeth sank any deeper into my cheek, I'd taste blood. "Oz, if you keep looking at me like that, I'm going to
laugh again."

"Looking at you like what?" He murmured.

Heat flared across the bridge of my nose. Did I really have to say it? Yes, otherwise he'd ask again--with that same look.

I took a deep breath. "Like a leering Fabio."

Oz tilted back his head and laughed. His abs tightened. They looked more like a swimmer's than Fabio's, and for some reason I wanted to touch
them.

Oz looked down at me. My cheeks burned. He can't read your thoughts, I reminded myself. Even so, the demonic glint in his eyes unnerved me.

"Hey," he began. "Does that make me worthy of a spot on the cover of Sweet Savage Sentiments?"

"I knew that was coming," I groaned.

He brushed my upper arm with his claws. "I don't know if a dinosaur hero would've improved the book, but it certainly would have inspired me to
read it."

The flour cracked over my cheeks as I smiled. "You don't look like a dinosaur hero. More like you stole that poor kid's costume."

"I also took his chocolate," Oz whispered. "For you, of course."

I raised my eyebrows. "Am I supposed to find that heroic?"

"Don't worry, I left him the Figgy Bars."

I pulled him closer to me by tugging on one of the limp arms of the dino costume around his waist. "That's pretty savage," I said as my stomach
flipped.

"I can be sweet too," he whispered, leaning down.

His breath fanned across my neck. My body started to tingle. Yes. He's going to kiss me.

Then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw the angel. Staring at us. Expressionless as a plant--the creepiest, most judgmental plant in the universe.

I looked at my shoes, and Oz's lips crashed into my hairline. They hardened for a moment. Then his soft tongue parted his lips, and he started
making out with my forehead.

"Hey," I laughed, pushing him away. "That's kinda gross!"

He tipped up my chin with his foam claw. His eyes were large and black, and they watched me as if I were the only thing that mattered. My body fell
against the counter behind me.

"You taste like flour and Kool-Aid," he whispered.

I should have called him out for saying something so disgusting. Really, I don't think he could have said anything less sexy. But my insides were
melting like the flour and Kool-Aid on my face. I could feel it running down my cheeks, down my neck--my sweat mixing with the scent of high-
fructose corn syrup and baby powder. None of it mattered to Oz. He kept looking at me as if I were not dressed like a zombie--as if only the two of
us existed.

Kiss me. I'd wanted him to do just that so badly. He'd wanted to so badly. So why hadn't we?

Something behind him glowed.

Oh yeah. The angel.

Who was still in the corner.

Staring at us.

Oz followed my gaze and groaned. "Camael, you're upsetting Devi."

For some reason, the angel thought the appropriate response to that was to keep staring.

Oz pushed himself away from me and ran his fingers through his hair. "What you're doing right now is actually kind of what I was referring to."

Camael kept staring.

I pulled on one of the dinosaur arms around Oz's waist. "Why don't you and I go into my room? The angel can stay here." And stare at the sink. Or
the table. Or anything that isn't me when I'm about to kiss my boyfriend.

Camael's delicate glowing suddenly went supernova as he burst into the center of the kitchen. "I can't stay in the closet?"

My eyes bulged out of my head. "You'd rather be in the closet than in here?"

"I should be near you, Devi."

He stood with his shoulders back. The fragile angle of his jaw line was as rigid as it always was. It made him look untouchable--no, immobile,
especially when he spoke in that clear, simple voice. It was as if he truly didn't understand why I'd think he'd find a spacious kitchen more
comfortable than a closet.

Oh God, why was this happening? With a whimper, I shoved my face into Oz's shoulder.

"I'll help you with your math homework," the angel continued.

What? My head whipped around. "You can do that?"

Oz wrapped an arm around my stomach. "Hey, you can't do homework during sexy time."

I scrunched up my face. "Sexy time?"

Oz bit his lip. "Did referring to it as 'sexy time' just ruin sexy time?"

I giggled. How could I not? "I don't know, 'sexy time' sounds fun. Still, I actually do need help with my math homework." I ran my fingers up his bicep.

"If you want, you and I could study..."

The angel glared at Oz. "Do you know Pre-Calc?"

"Of course he does!" I shot back. "Oz is really old."

Oz sighed and rubbed his temple with his free claw. "Thanks, Devi."

The angel did what he was best at--stare. Thankfully he focused on Oz instead of me. Amazingly, Oz ignored it.

He let go of me. "Why don't you take a shower and meet me back in your room?"

"Sure," I said. "But you need to change. No studying or sexy time in your dinosaur suit."

The black had drained from his eyes, leaving only that vibrant, shimmering emerald color. His expression was bittersweet--the haziness of his eyes,
the slow manner in which his lips curled into a smile. For a moment, it didn't feel like he really saw me. Even though I stood less than two feet from
him, he seemed to be conjuring my image from memory.

"You're not allowed to comment on the clothes I choose, then," he said. "I'll see you in a few."

***

Oz and Camael only had to wait ten minutes. The average time I spent in the shower had gone way down ever since I learned angels could be--and
actually had been--watching.

I kicked open the door, saw Oz sitting criss-cross-applesauce style in the middle of my room, and laughed.

It didn't matter that I had Kool-Aid stains on my hairline and half my face, or that I'd probably be wiping off black eyeliner for the next five days. Oz
looked insanely ridiculous in my largest pair of neon green sweat pants and my gigantic Church of Elvis t-shirt, which was even too big on him.

He frowned. "Hey."

I grinned. "I'm not saying anything, but I think you should know that I have some star-shaped sunglasses in my desk. They're bright orange."

"Not gonna do it. It would clash with my pants," he said, scooting over to make room between him and the pile of clean, unfolded laundry I'd
dropped on the floor.

Camael squatted in front of us and handed out two notebooks and two freshly sharpened no. 2 pencils. Then we got to work.

Honestly, it didn't go too well for me.

The angel tried to reassure me. "Just take your time, Devi."

I groaned. "I don't even know what those symbols mean. Have we even gone over them yet in class? Oz, help me."

Oz grinned and plopped his head down on my shoulder. "Just add them all up and don't worry about the symbols, then."

I shoved him off. "That's the worst math advice I've ever received. Do you really not know how to do this?"

He tapped his pencil on the corner of my paper. "Sure I do." He bit his lip. "Maybe."

I raised my eyebrows.

"That's what I would do at least," he finished.

"That's not how you do it," Camael said, and pointed at the formula again. It was probably the closest he'd ever come to showing irritation.

"Oz, I can't believe you don't know how to do this when you're so old."

Oz fell back and groaned. "I can't believe you keep calling me old."

"But you are. Would you rather I call you ancient instead?" I picked up one of the claw mittens and set it on his lap. "Wait, you were actually around
when dinosaurs roamed the earth, weren't you? Is that why you dressed up like one tonight?"

Oz's lips curled into the most pitiful smile I'd ever seen. "Fine, I'll answer your first question. I don't know Pre-Calc because I've never needed it."

"I guess you've never needed to know how to divide either, apparently, because whatever you did earlier was totally not how you divide."

Oz frowned. "How do you know that's not how you divide?"

"How do you run a bookstore?" I shot back.

"Not very well," he grinned. "You should learn how to divide and come help me."

My pulse skipped. Was he putting moves on me at a time like this? If I didn't watch it, I'd start laughing again. Nothing good would come of that--not
when he kept flashing me smoldering gazes and butchering basic arithmetic.

"I can't believe this," I muttered in the most disapproving tone I could muster. "And before you say anything else, let me just guess what it will be. The
only kind of math you've ever needed to do is 1+1=2, right? Sexy time math."

He wiggled his eyebrows. "Or the number can be higher than two."

I squealed and chucked my math textbook at him. "That just ruined sexy time for me."

I would have chastised him more, but a calming, melodic voice stopped me.

"Devi."

I jumped, smashing my shoulder against my mattress.

And then I saw the angel.

That's right, he was still there. Of course he would be. It's not like he could go anywhere else. But that meant he'd listened to me talk on and on
about sexy time math while ignoring his attempts to teach me real math.

Camael picked my book off the floor and flipped back open to the page we'd been on. "You must focus if you're going to remember this. It will
probably be on your SAT tomorrow."

I scooted forward. "How do you know what will be on the SAT?"

Camael didn't look up from the book. "There were similar questions on the practice test your teacher handed out about a month ago."

I grabbed his sleeve. "Wait, you remember what was on my practice test a month ago?"

"Yes." His voice was softer. Though he remained completely still, he wouldn't look at me.

Oz began to fidget.

I ignored the demon. "Why do you know so much about math?"

"I don't think you want to know the answer to that," Oz murmured near my ear. It was the tone he used whenever he told me not to worry--like when I
learned I was destined to kill him.

My eyes narrowed. "Why wouldn't I want to know?"

"Because it's going to depress you," Oz replied.

I glared at the statuesque figure before me. "Is that true, angel?"

He still wouldn't look at me. What the Hell was going on? My fist curled around his sleeve. "Look, I want to know. Do angels do math or something?"

"No," Camael answered softly.

"Then how do you know all this stuff?" I demanded.

"From your classes," Camael replied.

A chill sliced through me. "You pay attention during my classes?"

The angel nodded, and I caught a glimpse of his eyes beneath the strands of gold hair that had fallen over his forehead.

I let go of him. When I was little, I used to watch the horizon long after the sun had set. I remembered the wind on my cheeks as I stared at that cold,
twilight blue. His eyes reminded me of those final glimpses of color before the sky went black--they were just as beautiful, and filled with longing.

"I remember everything I've heard," he said.

"Oh," I whispered.

And then implications of what he'd said sunk in.

He'd seen my teachers lecture me on how to hold my pencil correctly for more than two years. He'd listened to Kai test me on my multiplication
tables for hours. He'd watched me cheat on my second grade spelling tests by peeking at that little sheet of paper in my desk that I'd carefully
copied the words on. He'd known I hadn't been careful enough, because I never got above a B.

He had to watch. Everything. He could never look away--not when he was bored, or when I'd done something so stupid it must have been painful to
stand beside me silently.

I stared into his impassive face, waiting for something--anything--but he didn't even know enough to loathe that kind of existence. That's alright, I

thought, blinking frantically. I hate it enough for both of us.

Oz hugged me. "I told you it would depress you."

That's right. Oz is here. Don't think about the angel.

I leaned back into him. "Why don't you remember what you've been told then, too? You've been to a few of my classes."

My towel slipped off my head. Oz caught it and held it away from my shirt so it wouldn't get wet. "Yeah, but I was only paying attention to you."

The angel pushed the book at me. It bumped my knee. "Devi is human," Camael began. "If she doesn't do these things, she will have difficulty
finding her place in the human world."

I sighed. I hated how the angel always spoke about me as if I wasn't in the room. "I think Oz and I will be able to figure something out."

"And what will happen when he's no longer here?" Camael asked.

"What do you mean if Oz leaves?" My right hand flexed. My pencil split in two.

Camael reached for me. "Devi, you're going to hurt--"

"Stop." I threw what was left of my pencil at him. "Answer me. What do you mean when he's no longer here?"

Camael picked up the broken pencil. He didn't say anything. Oz didn't, either. And, in all honesty, neither of them needed to because I already knew.

They believed I would kill Azazel someday.

Oz put his hand on my shoulder, then started to rub my back in small circles. I curled my hands into fists to keep myself from slapping him away. The
fact that he felt like he needed to comfort me when I was the one who had messed up his life was too much.

"We've had enough math for today," Oz said softly. "Besides, if you're really going to take that test tomorrow, you need some sleep."

I stared at the floor, cheeks hot. I couldn't look at either of them.

"That means you go back in the closet," Oz told the angel gleefully, not even trying to hide the fact that he loved that idea.

Camael closed the textbook. I turned away so I wouldn't have to look at his white, perfect hands, and smacked right into puff paint Elvis.

Luckily, it didn't look like Elvis minded. His bloated lime green face, surrounded by fiesta-style party squares and squiggly lines, suggested that he'd
already transmuted so much water into wine that he'd be down with anything.

"Will you stay?" I asked.

"As long as you want me to," Oz said.

The two of us crawled onto my bed, and the angel, silently, disappeared into the closet.

***

We pulled the blankets over our heads and lay beside each other, face to face. For a long time we didn't speak.

Then, I grabbed his hand. "I need to tell you something."

Oz's body stiffened. "What?"

My resolve faltered. I clutched him harder, until I felt the muscles in his hand straining.

"Devi, please tell me."

My feet began to shake, which made the bed shake too. "It's about the angel. It's something that happened with the angel."

A long pause, then: "What happened?"

Tension radiated off of him. It bled into my own, causing nausea to rise in my throat. "It's about the angel," I croaked.

"Yes?"

Just say it, Devi. Even if he hates you, making him wait like this is cruel, and keeping it from him is unforgivable. I took a deep breath, then blurted
out: "The angel healed me the other day."

For a moment he said nothing. It wasn't until he spoke that I realized he'd been holding his breath. "And?"

"And I liked it," I admitted.

Oz exhaled. "Is that it?"

"What do you mean 'is that it'? I liked it, Oz, and I shouldn't have. I shouldn't like anything that has to do with that light. It shouldn't make me feel
complete--"

He wrapped his arms around me.

"I betrayed you," I whispered into his chest, and the puff paint they used to outline Elvis scratched my lips.

"You didn't betray me."

"Yes I did. You don't understand. I didn't want him to ever stop. I wanted to stay in his arms forever. It was so..." I couldn't continue. I shut my eyes
and curled into his shoulder, trying to push the memory of the light out.

His fingers ran through my hair. "It was beautiful, wasn't it? It drowned out everything except that glimpse of God's perfection that no being other than
He can achieve. And the more you looked at it, the more you longed for it."

My jaw clenched. Harder.

"Don't torture yourself over something like this," he said. "He made us in His own image, but He didn't make us His equal. It doesn't matter that you
don't have a spirit. You are human, so your body was built to recognize and love Him."

"But I don't want to," I whispered. "I don't like feeling powerless, and He's hurt me so much, that I don't want to love--"

I froze. Too late, I'd said it.

And then, I heard Oz's aching voice. "I loved him too, once, if you could call it that. I didn't have a will of my own at the time. All I wanted was to be
beside Him, and the closer I got, the more I felt the immutable distance between us."

His words made me feel as if my veins were made of ice. My neck stung as I moved back. "I was never for Him. All He has done is take away the
things I care about. And yet, I wanted His light more than I'd ever wanted anything before. In that moment, I betrayed you." And myself.

"No, you didn't."

I wrung the collar of his shirt. "It doesn't matter. Tell me a way to make it up to you. Tell me," I begged.

He sighed, then was quiet.

I pushed my face into his chest again. "Are you going to leave me with this guilt? It is a fitting punishment, I suppose. I love you so much."

"Devi," he said, tilting up my head. "If it bothers you that much--if you feel like you've betrayed me--if you want to make it up to me--then endure the
pain even when it becomes intolerable. Don't ask for the angel, and if he offers himself to you without your asking, shut your eyes, even if it breaks
your heart."

His voice broke. He leaned forward, and kissed the underside of my wrist. "It will hurt, but know that for each moment you suffer, I will suffer with you,
and love you more for it."

I couldn't see his face in the dark, so I traced it my fingers. "Why do either of us have to suffer, Oz? Can't we just make each other forget?"

His breathing came faster.

"I don't want to be moved by it anymore. I don't want my body to remember, even one second--"

Something soft pressed into my lips, stopping me.

I leaned into his kiss, waiting to drown in him, to make the rest of the world and that longing for Heaven disappear.

But it didn't. I would never be able to forget, and he knew it. It was why his mouth refused to leave mine--he didn't want to give either of us a chance
to speak. But still, that sorrow was overshadowed by the realization that Heaven's light would always haunt him, too.

He held me so tightly I could barely breathe. He'd forgotten his strength, I think, and it ached when he pushed his fingers into my back. I didn't turn
away, or stop him. I didn't want to. His desperation only made me want to grab onto him harder--to sink deeper into those dark and precious
sensations he evoked within me--transient as apple blossoms ceding to the wind right before they fall.

He stopped, and rested his forehead on mine. I put my hand on his chest, felt his heart slow from its breakneck pace, and curled into his body in
silence.

Perhaps we held each other so tenderly, then, because we wanted to forget, for just one moment, that even love could not stop us from longing for
that perfect world from which we'd both been exiled.

Chapter 13

My mom made me wear her silver cross to the SATs. It didn't really look good next to the antique monstrosity Forneus had given me, but I couldn't
take it off. My mom had insisted it was a good luck charm. Too bad I knew it was really just good old-fashioned paranoia. You see, they only let you
take the SATs on Sunday for religious reasons, and, in Portland, Halloween was considered a religious holiday if you were Pagan.

Which I was.

Sort of.

Or at least that's what entered in my online form so I wouldn't have to wake-up early on Saturday. Sure, I may have lacked the standard amount of
black eyeliner, piercings, and hemp accessories, but if anyone doubted my religiosity I could just tell them I was dating a demon.

A balding man in aqua running pants, who referred to the 100+ teenagers moping in the hallway as a "pack of rascals," herded us into our "testing
centers"--or, as I liked to call them, "classrooms." I had a feeling he was Wilson's PE teacher, and half-expected him to ask the guy with sagging
jeans in front of me to "pull up his drawers."

I took a seat in the back. Posters made with construction paper, magic markers and glitter depicting the water cycle were tacked salon style on the
walls. It looked like kindergarten graffiti, and I was instantly jealous of all the kids lucky enough to be in this class.

The woman at the front of the room passed out our tests without introducing herself. She went over the rules, and then told us to open our books.

The test had begun.

The first verbal section wasn't too difficult. And, in all honesty, the first four math problems didn't give me too much trouble either.

And then I got to question five.

If a train is going 35 miles an hour and leaves at 8:15am and travels 375 miles...

My eyes started to glaze over. I rubbed my temple and tapped the question with my pencil. I hated thinking about time. I hated those damn analogue
clocks I could never read. I hated it when I asked someone what time it was and they responded with something like: quarter till, and I had to ask:
quarter till what?

I glanced at the ticking orb above our chaperone's head. The fact that I had an hour to go until the test was over was just one more thing to hate
about time.

"You can do this Devi. Your teacher went over it in class a few weeks ago. You took good notes."

I squeaked and grabbed my test booklet, crumpling the pages. The lady at the front of the room pushed her hipster glasses to the edge of her nose
and glared at me.

I shut my eyes, took a deep breath, and told myself to relax. The only person who could hear and see Camael was me.

The same Camael who remembered everything he heard. And paid attention during math class. And remembered what questions would show up
on the SAT.

With a shaking hand, I wrote: Hi Camael.

"Devi?"

I cringed. Everyone else bent their heads over their papers, writing furiously. The chaperon had returned to her book. Only I could hear him, but
could I actually bring myself to...?

I drew a smiley face.

"What is it?" Camael asked.

I drew sunglasses on the face.

The angel sighed.

I drew a few sun rays around the smiley before continuing our "conversation." I need help.

I bit my lip and dropped my pencil. Had I really just written that?

His answer didn't come right away. "What do you need help with?"

I drew a new sun ray. It extended far past the others--across both pages, and ended with an arrow pointing at question five. Then, I wrote: Help
please.

"This test is supposed to measure your aptitude, Devi. It's alright if you don't know everything."

My aptitude sux.

"Don't say that."

O really? Score so far?

"That doesn't matter. Just focus on what's ahead of you. Your teacher went over this last week. Try to remember what he said."

I wrote the word 'remember' three times. What had my math teacher said? I drew a picture of a train, and put the times down on it, and a little speed
sign that said 35 mph.

"You can do this, Devi."

He was right--I could draw silly pictures. Too bad this wasn't a silly art contest.

"Devi..."

I gave the train cho-cho smoke, and from the smoke two words emerged: Please help.

"But I'm an angel. That means I shouldn't really help you right now."

Will God get pissed?

"No," Camael said, softly.

Did that mean this was something that he, personally, wasn't comfortable with? I respected that. Hell, I wasn't even totally comfortable with it. I just
didn't want to fail, and...

Actually, failing probably wouldn't matter that much. I doubted my scores were high enough to get me automatic admission to Oregon.

I squinted at my train, then at the question, then back at my train. It was time to try out my psychic powers. Someone, somewhere, had probably
received a perfect score on this thing by guessing, and I was feeling pretty lucky. "C" looked like the best option. Yeah, "C." It was giving me good
vibes, whatever that meant.

I started filling in the bubble.

Camael's voice shattered my peace. "On these tests, they usually have one answer that is extremely different from the other answers, and that
answer is generally wrong."

Alright, so "C" was bad. But where did that leave me? None of the other options felt as good as "C."

I exhaled sharply. I couldn't start doubting myself now. How could I have faith in my guessing/psychic abilities when "C" still felt so right?

I liked "C's" attitude. "C" wasn't afraid to be different. "C" didn't play by anyone else's rules. "C" was the tough biker-chick answer, racing down a
red desert highway in a leather jacket, with only the wind and Steppenwolf's "Born to be Wild" for company. Wait, scratch that last part--I didn't want
be compared to a greasy Jack Nicholson from Easy Rider.

I gripped the pencil tighter. Yes, I could do this. I could dare to fail. Kick-ass bicker-chicks didn't need college.

I started to fill in the rest of "C" bubble.

The angel touched my wrist, stopping me. "I'll help."

Was "C" really that wrong? Was it so bad to aspire to be "C"? I shook my head. It was too late now. Bicker-chicks did what was necessary and
asked questions later.

"Please, Devi. I'm sorry for not saying anything earlier." The angel crouched down next to me. "You can do this."

Hey, angels can't lie, I wrote.

Camael ignored it, and started to explain the problem. "Do you understand?"

I couldn't detect any sarcasm or mockery in his tone. He really just wanted to know. I shrugged.

"You can attach the numbers to your picture, if you think that will help."

I almost dropped my pencil. Why did he have to try this hard? Pretending like the stupid picture I drew could actually be worth something didn't help,
it just made my chest ache.

No, it made all of me ache.

"Try to internalize what I'm telling you so you can do it next time."

I didn't want to internalize anything. Too much was already going on inside me. My stomach twisted as he pointed to my picture. He continued to act

out the problem, oblivious to my nerves...or at least he tried to act it out. In his defense, it was difficult to act with an expressionless face while
speaking in monotone.

"See?" He finished. "That would make the answer B."

I nodded. It made sense, though I really wish it didn't. "C" had been about as far from "B" as you could get.

Camael scooted closer. "Do you need help with the next one?"

That was a dangerous question. I shut my eyes. Biker-chick, or getting an angel to cheat for me. Which is worse?

I glanced at the bottom. What is the ratio of the area of the triangle to the area of the parallelogram...?

Oh no. Geometry. What was a parallelogram again?

"Devi?"

I nodded. With my eyes shut, I wrote in the corner of the page: OK. It was probably a good thing that I didn't have a spirit, because if I did I would so
be going to Hell.

***

I couldn't look the teacher in the eyes when I turned in my test. I also couldn't prevent my hands from shaking, or my heart from beating so furiously
that I feared I would faint at any moment. Briefly, after setting my answer sheet down on the pile, I got the urge to grab it, wad it in a ball and toss it in
the nearest trash can. The angel had helped me with every single math problem. Every. Single. One. Well, except those few in the beginning I'd
done on my own, but that didn't matter. There was no way to justify what I did.

But then, the hippie behind me set her paper down on top of mine, and the red-eyed, greasy-haired kid in the Rob Zombie t-shirt did the same,
and...

I'd lost my chance. I couldn't fish it out. I'd look psychotic if I did, or like I was trying to get rid of Rob Zombie and hippie kid's tests. So I stared at the
floor and raced out of the room.

It wasn't as crowded in the hallway. Kid's from other test rooms filed out and wandered towards the blue light filtering through the glass doors above
the exit sign. I didn't notice Camael beside me until he spoke.

"You did a good job on the test," he said.

Yeah, thanks to you. I kept my gaze at the glassy tiles on the floor. I couldn't look at him, even though I knew he didn't deserve to be ignored--I mean,
he really, really didn't deserve that--but...

Camael patted my shoulder awkwardly. I stopped walking and tried to suppress the shiver that shot through my body. The angel was just trying to
repeat that comforting gesture he'd probably seen in countless coming of age movies featuring kids who'd missed whacking the ball at the big
game, or ones who'd had to let their animal best friend return to nature.

You're not supposed to do that for kids who cheat, I wanted to tell him, but instead I put my hand on top of his and patted it back.

He started to glow. I guess, for some reason, he liked that.

I sighed.

The glow dimmed. "Are you mad at me for helping you?"

"No, more like mad at me." My heart started throbbing again. Had I really said that out loud?

"Why?" He asked.

I took a deep breath. "What I did wasn't right, and the only excuse I have is that I suck and I was afraid--"

"You don't suck," he interrupted quietly. "You understood everything I said today. It's just that you get frustrated when you don't understand
something, and then immediately give up."

Camael stepped in front of me. He waited for me to look up at him until he continued. The light from the glass doors down the hall gave his body a
pale blue aura. "I helped you because it looked like you were giving up--that you believed failure was inevitable instead of trusting your abilities."

The blue light behind him bled into him, until I couldn't tell where he ended and the sunlight began. I wiped my eyes.

"What is it?" He whispered.

"You probably shouldn't reward me with touching motivational speeches after I cheat."

He still looked fuzzy when I opened my eyes--and distant. "Every day presents an opportunity for redemption and forgiveness." His cool, ethereal
fingers curled around my hand. "And, for you to understand yourself, and through doing so, begin to understand His love."

Um, what? I tried to recoil, but he refused to let go. How did those sweet, inspiring words turn into him waxing poetic about God's "love"?

I shuddered and walked towards the flickering exit sign. "Let's just go."

***

It was impossible not to notice Oz's car in the parking lot, smoking and groaning like a little black raincloud in the middle of a blue sky on a sunny
day. As if that wasn't enough, it was also the only rig in the pick-up zone. I guess all the other cars had given it a wide berth because they were
afraid it would blow up.

A barricade of backpacks had already been set up to protect the stragglers from a possible onslaught of flying car bits. I jumped over it and strutted
to the passenger door.

Oz unlocked it, then kicked it open. "So, how did you do?" He asked, as if beating your car to get it to work was normal.

I tucked my chin into my chest. That was the last question I wanted to answer. Slowly, I got in the car. Carefully, I folded my coat on my lap. Then, I
made a big show of fastening my seatbelt.

Oz leaned forward. "Devi?"

I bit my lip. "Um, I did really well, so let's go do something fun."

He grinned. "Really well?"

I glared at him as Camael materialized in the backseat. Why did he have to focus on that instead of the fun part? "What, you don't think I have what
it takes to pwn the SATs?"

"Devi, I don't really want to say this, but I was there, with you, while you worked on your math homework last night."

"That's right. You were there, and I seem to remember that someone had difficulty dividing."

Oz looked pleased when I said that. "It's true. I can't. And while I don't doubt you did well on the verbal portion of your test, I am a little surprised to
hear you say that you, uh, pwned the entire thing. Is that an SAT word, by the way?"

I groaned. "I'll let you know that I did very well on the math section."

Oz tilted his head to the side. "Uh huh. So if a train is going at 100mph--"

"What is it with these trains?" I slammed my fists into my thighs, then winced. Ouch. Bad move. Still, I grit my teeth and kept going. "I hate trains. The
only one I've ever been on is the Zoo train, and it didn't exactly leave a big impression."

"Well, let's have this train ride reflect your mediocre experience on the Zoo train. If it leaves at 8:15am and arrives at 9:30pm--"

"That's way too long of a ride for the Zoo train. It takes fifteen minutes to do it, and goes like 10mph." I smiled with triumph. "There, I answered your
question."

He propped his elbow on the steering wheel and laughed.

I leaned back into my seat. "What? Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Oh, I just have a feeling that I know how you did so well on the math portion of your test."

My heart pounded. For a moment, my vision blurred, and his smile twisted as if I were looking at his reflection in a funky funhouse mirror. "It's
because I'm so smart," I whispered.

He leaned closer. "You are, but I don't think that's why."

I sucked on my bottom lip. "Oh really? Well, why then?"

He cocked his head to the side, motioning at the backseat.

My cheeks burned. Did he know I cheated? No, he couldn't know. Angels didn't do things like that, which meant all that winking and subtle head
movements were leading up to...

No, he couldn't possibly be thinking what I thought he was thinking. Not in a middle of a crowded school parking lot. Not in the backseat of his stinky
car next to the angel. Even a demon would have to know that this was the inappropriate moment for "sexy time."

My cheeks blushed. I took a deep breath.

And then the demon cut me off. "You rocked the math section because you got the angel to cheat for you."

It took a full ten seconds for his words to register. Then, the only response I had was: "What?"

"What do you mean 'what'? I'm not wrong, am I?"

There was a sharp voice from the back seat. "Azazel."

Oz ignored it. He looked pretty happy with himself in general. I fisted the folded jacket on my lap. The only thing that kept me from tossing it in his
face was the knowledge that he'd probably like that.

I glared at him. I guess I could try to lie, but he already knew. So I swallowed my pride and asked: "How did you know?"

He turned his key in the ignition. Within a plume of smoke, the car sputtered to life. It was so loud that I almost didn't hear his reply. "Because it is
exactly what I would have done."

My eyes went wide. "Really? I mean, you don't think it was bad?"

He frowned. "Devi, look who you're asking. Hell, I would have tried to cheat for you if I didn't suck worse than you."

I touched his soft sleeve of his leather jacket. "You would?"

"Of course." He brushed his fingers with mine before gripping the wheel. "I hate letting another guy cheat for you. That should be my job."

He looked away, a bit embarrassed, perhaps, for admitting something like that. I leaned back, grinning and content not to say anything. My skin
tingled where he'd touched me.

Oz started sweet talking the car as he restarted it a few times. The expressions on the faces of the people outside were priceless. Some of the kids
on the steps outside the school dashed back inside, and a gutsy mom in a van gunned it for the exit. Finally the car lurched forward. Oz looked up,
squinted, flipped down the visor, and took off.

For the next two hours, I didn't stop smiling.

***

I would remember the following few weeks as some of the happiest of my life. It's difficult to describe exactly why because it seemed so simple.
Jasmine, Kim and I had lunch together every day. Oz would drive me home after school in his beater. Kim bought me a safety helmet, which she
reminded me to wear via post-it notes she left on my locker after each period. She insisted I needed it if I was going to continue to ride around in a
deathtrap.

For the first time since kindergarten, I started to look forward to going to school. Jasmine and I always passed notes to each other during History
class. We got caught, once. The teacher asked Jasmine to read aloud our note, which she did--or at least some of it. She only got to the second
stanza of her erotic love poem before the teacher told her to take her seat.

He never asked her to read anything in class again.

Yes, everything would have been perfect, if it weren't for the counseling sessions.

"You can't keep ignoring me forever, you know," Forneus would say as he leaned back in his leather chair. It was the only item he'd brought into the
room. The previous counselor had filled the room with dream catchers, fake plants, and cheesy, tie-died posters with inspirational messages. Now
the walls were chipped and bare. There wasn't even anything on the surface of the desk.

After a long silence, he'd look down. "If you continue to refuse to talk to me, I'll have to inform the principal."

I never responded to anything he said--not until the end of the session, when he'd gently pull me over and whisper in my ear before the angel and I
left. "There are things you cannot discuss with either of them."

I'd always swallow, clutch Camael's hand, and tell myself to look away. And despite that, I'd still glance up at his enigmatic, distant purple eyes as he
murmured: "I'll be here, when you're ready."

But it was easy to forget the way his words made my skin crawl when everything else was perfect.

In the evenings, Camael helped me study. He was the best tutor in the world. He never got impatient, distracted, or tired. And when we were done,
he'd go to the closet. I got my first B ever on a math test. I was so happy that I wanted to tape it to the fridge. When I chickened out, Camael told me I
could tape it to the closet door.

Yeah, things were pretty perfect, until I lay alone in bed at night and tried to sleep.

I hadn't said anything to Oz or Camael about my conversation with Forneus on Halloween. I seemed to know, instinctively, that this happiness was
fragile, and that even the slightest disturbance could shatter it: being told to wait a little longer to look for my brother, hearing from Camael's lips that
he wouldn't save my father, or watching Oz fall out of love with me.

Still, even that pain disappeared when I drifted off to sleep. And in the morning my fears, like my dreams, felt hazy and distant.

But they weren't. That peace born of routine, and that love that thrived in ignorance, were the true illusions. Soon, I learned there was only so much
one could do to postpone fate.

Chapter 14

That Friday in mid-November was wet and cold, which wasn't unusual. It also wasn't unusual that by second period, the energy I'd received from
three cups of Green Tea I'd chugged at breakfast was long gone. The burn on my tongue had stopped hurting, though. That was worth something.

I squinted at the sine waves on white board, wishing I'd gotten more sleep. They seemed to bob up and down, like the ocean. Mr. Baker drew a few
more waves. My mouth fell open in a dopey smile. Look, now they have friends.

Wait, was I hallucinating? I rubbed my eyes, then pried them open with my fingers. They felt dry. They were probably bloodshot and sunken. Great,
everyone's going to think I'm tripping.

I yawned and frowned at the front of the room. It seemed to focus me, sort of. Mr. Baker's lecture on the unit circle wasn't doing much to pep me up.

He droned on until the last fifteen minutes of class.

At this time, Mr. Baker handed out our homework and went over the problems that gave us the most trouble. Like usual, he wrote the problem out on
the board in purple white marker.

Then he called me to the front of the room.

I shot up in my chair, alert. "What?"

"Would you mind dong this problem for us, Devi?"

My hands began to throb to my heartbeat. "In front of everyone?"

Mr. Baker looked at the floor. He bit his lip. He shifted on his feet. For a moment, I thought he would take back his request. Then I heard a soft:
"Yes."

My chair screeched and left silver lines on the cream tiles. I picked up my binder, then set it down. No, I didn't need it--didn't need everyone's eyes
on me either.

I folded my hands over my stomach and made my way to the white board. Everyone looked as confused as I did, and some even gave me
consolatory glances. Mr. Baker never asked his students to do this sort of thing. So why was he asking me?

I grabbed a red of the dry-erase marker and looked at the problem.

And looked at it.

The back of my neck grew hot. I felt my classmates' eyes on me, as if a nest of baby spiders had hatched on my back. I lifted my hand. My sleeve
wiped away the top part of a series of numbers my sleepy, anxious mind couldn't decipher.

"Did you do your homework?" He asked.

I gulped and readjusted my grip, reverting back to the way I used to hold my writing utensils in first grade, which was "just awful" if Mrs. Finnerty was
to be believed.

"Yes," I whispered. Maintaining my arm's rigid position above my head made it ache. I spoke the truth, though. It had taken Camael a few hours to
explain it all to me, but I did get it eventually and I had done it. I just couldn't do it now, with everyone watching.

The teacher sighed.

Did he not believe me? Did he think I was a cheater? Alright, maybe I was a little bit bad, but I was trying to change. I'd done so well the past few
weeks. Camael had said so, and Oz had finally conceded that I could be trusted to divide.

But none of that mattered now, because I couldn't even think.

"Devi. Do you want me to calm you?"

I almost said yes. Almost. Then I remembered my promise to Oz to endure my pain without the angel's healing light. I doubted Mr. Baker's second
period math class was what he had in mind, but I still couldn't do it.

I shook my head.

"Alright," Camael responded. "Take a deep breath. You did this a few days ago."

I know I did, but I can't remember. I can't think.

I shut my eyes. A few days ago, I was not in the front of the room, and everyone was not watching my face become as red as a tomato.

"Devi?" The angel asked.

My eyes shifted towards him. Unlike me, he wasn't discolored. I really wished I could stoically stand in front of so many people. I wish I could

disappear.

I can't, I mouthed.

"Do you want me to talk you through it?"

I nodded. Immediately, my hands started to shake. A jagged red line appeared on the board. It looked like an angry sine wave.

"Alright," Camael began. I barely listened to what he said. I couldn't process anything but my nerves--the way my hair stood on end, the restlessness
in my legs, the soreness in my throat. I wrote down everything he said in a fury.

Then, about thirty seconds later, I stepped back from the board.

God, my handwriting looked bad. Preschool, just-learning-how-to-write-numbers bad. But at least it was all over.

I turned around.

No one moved. The teacher's mouth was open.

What the Hell? "Um, I think that's it," I said. "Am I wrong?"

Mr. Baker gulped. "No, you're not wrong."

I set down the marker. "Okay, I'll just go back to my seat, then."

The teacher was still staring at me. "You didn't even use a calculator."

I froze. Turned. Looked at the board. The answer was 5.6773692. My eyes wandered around the board, taking in the flurry of crazy numbers. One
had ten decimal places, and one of those little lines on the last four numbers which meant that pattern repeated forever. How could I have crunched
numbers like that in my head?

I whipped around. Mr. Baker was half-standing, now, and gripping the edge of the desk as if at any moment he'd keel over. "I accidentally mixed up
this classes' practice test sheets with the ones for IB Calculus."

My stomach dropped.

"It's perfect, and you didn't even use a calculator."

Suddenly, I recognized the look he was giving me. It was the same look that math teacher had given Matt Damon in Good Will Hunting.

Oh no. No, no, no, no, no.

"Look, I got help," I stammered, backing up. "I wasn't the one who did it," I said.

His brow furrowed with concern. "Devi, I just saw you."

"I know, but that wasn't what happened. It was..."

I shut my eyes. My angel helped me with my homework. My angel told me what to write right now, because I freaked out and my mind went blank. I
couldn't say it. Not when I was the only one who saw Camael.

Mr. Baker fidgeted with the ironed sleeve of his dress shirt. "Devi, I'm not mad. I'm just trying to understand...why are you in this class? How long
have you been pretending?"

It felt like someone had their hand around my throat. "Pretending to do what?"

"Pretending like you're not good at math."

"I'm not pretending. I'm not good at math. I never have been," I explained, voice wavering. "Look, what happened just now was divine intervention. It
will never happen again."

"I've never seen a student do what you just did." He inched towards me, in a crouched position and with his hands face-up, as if he were
approaching a wild animal.

I didn't bite him. I wasn't that far gone. But then again, most wild animals don't bite unless they're cornered or rabid, which I wasn't either. When they
see you, most animals stand still for a few moments, and then, if you come closer, run away.

That's exactly what I did. Mr. Baker took two more steps, and I ran away from him, the awkward gazes of the other students, and that horrible,
horrible math problem on the board as if my life depended on it.

***

I hid in the bathroom. It was either that or the dumpster in the alley behind the school. Yes, those were the two places my "genius" mind thought to
flee to.

I leaned against the wall, trying to pretend the splotchy-faced, worn-down girl in the mirror wasn't me.

"I wish you could erase people's minds," I told Camael. I tried to keep my tone casual and not at all like I was prodding.

I don't think I fooled him. "That is something I would never do."

Damn. "Could you do it, though?"

He stared at me with those tropical sea blue eyes.

I ran my hand through my knotted hair. "What?"

"Do you really think it's right to steal someone's memories?"

His question cut straight through to my heart. "No." I pressed my fists to my temples. "Why didn't I just go back to my seat? Why did I have to do it?"
And why did I run away to the bathroom so I could get lectured by an angel?

Camael stood by the sink. A thick line of yellow ran from the faucet to the drain. The greasy, fast-food style bricks looked even grimier next to his
flawless, porcelain skin. He looked so out of place in here. It even looked like the blue in his eyes was starving.

"Go wait outside. I'll be a bit," I whispered.

After a long moment, he said: "Alright."

I retreated into the second stall. The door didn't shut all the way because there was just a hole instead of a lock, but at least I couldn't see the angel.

I knew it wasn't right to blame him. Not when I'd been freaking out like that. Not when I'd asked him to help. Still, I wish he hadn't interfered. Why did
he care if I had a mental breakdown in front of the class? Why did he care if I did well in school?

I looked up at the ceiling. A little, round face looked down at me. "Boo."

My muscles tensed. I gripped the roll of toilet paper next to me, ready to chuck it at her. I almost did. The only thing that stopped me from doing just
that were those beautiful, beloved, demonic green eyes.

I put my hand over my heart, steadying myself. "It's not smart to sneak up on someone like that. You almost got it."

Jasmine's lips curved up slightly. "Why are you hiding out in here?"

I shut my eyes and leaned back against the stall. "It's stupid. I overreacted. Wait, how did you find me?"

Jasmine's cheeks got rosy.

My hand clenched around the toilet paper roll. "Tell me, or else you really are going to get it."

She cowered so that only her eyes were above the stall. "I heard someone freaked out, is all. Then I saw the angel in the hallway, hanging out
outside the ladies bathroom."

Laughter so eerie it sounded like I'd been possessed by a banshee bubbled up from inside me. Jasmine gripped the stall harder, and her knuckles
turned white. I smiled. "You heard that someone freaked out and automatically assumed it was me?"

"Devi, don't be mad. I was worried. Put the toilet paper down."

I put it back on top of the dispenser, though I doubted anyone would use it since it was all bent out of shape from my mauling.

Jasmine lifted her head so her chin was back over the side of the stall. "So, do you want to tell me what happened?"

"Not really." Her face fell, and I sighed. "But I will. I solved a really hard math problem without a calculator in front of the class. Well, actually Camael
did, but they all thought it was me. Now the teacher thinks I'm a math genius."

Jasmine reached down to brush a strand of hair from my cheek. "Is that all?"

"What do you mean, 'is that all'?" I snapped, then immediately regretted my sharp tone.

Luckily Jasmine wasn't affected by it. She hopped down and knocked on the door.

It swung open.

"Oh, oops," she whispered, fist still in the air.

I kicked it all the way open. "It's alright."

She rushed forward and hugged me. "It's just one math problem. Tell the teacher you remembered the answer from the homework, and that you got
help from one of your friends. Even if he doesn't believe you, there isn't much he can say about it."

Why hadn't I thought of that? "Yeah," I muttered. My lips brushed against her silky hair. You smell like honey and cinnamon, I thought, but didn't say it.

Jasmine squeezed me once more before letting go. "In the grand scheme of things, this isn't a big deal. Now, let's go to PE."

I groaned. "I thought you were going to suggest something to cheer me up."

She showed off her perfect teeth. "We're gonna run the mile today."

I groaned louder. "I'm getting a side ache just thinking about it."

But I let her take my hand and drag me out of that dank, depressing restroom into the bright hallway, where the angel waited.

***

We were lined up in t-shirts and shorts beneath a gray sky. Our gym teacher demanded that we hop up and down to keep our bodies warm so we
wouldn't pull a muscle during the big run. Unfortunately, since she couldn't figure out how to get her stop watch to work, we'd been hopping around
for ten minutes, so I already had a side ache.

"Yes! I did it!" Our PE teacher called out, holding the stop watch above her head like a trophy. "Ready, set..." She frowned. "Oh wait. Why is it doing
that?"

My classmates' moaned. Yes, it was so freaking cold that we were actually upset that we hadn't started running yet.

"Wait!" A student in a yellow parka yelled from the far side of the field. He was panting by the time he got to us. "The principal wants to see Devi."

The PE teacher spat as she scowled down at her stop watch. "Can't this wait until after she's done?"

"Nope, now," the kid insisted.

Thank God! It probably wasn't good that the principal wanted to see me, but at least I didn't have to run a mile.

The PE teacher glared at me as if seeing the principal was my idea. "You're gonna have to make this up. State says you've gotta run."

I hopped towards my yellow parka savior. "Yeah, okay."

Jasmine caught my wrist. "Do you want me to go with you?"

The PE teacher pointed at Jasmine. "Get back in line, Miss Sanchez."

"It's okay, I'll have the angel," I whispered.

Jasmine pouted, but remained in place as the yellow parka kid led me off the field. He left me in the secretary's office to talk to the principal. The
woman behind the counter gave me a pitying look and offered me some lemon drops, which I took.

Seconds after I popped the first one in my mouth, the kid returned and led me to an office down the hall.

An office I'd become quite familiar with over the past month.

"Wait, you can't be serious. I thought I was seeing the principal."

The kid shrugged and opened the door. "You're to see the counselor. Go on." He waited for me to enter before leaving.

Forneus' office felt ten degrees cooler than the hall. I hugged my stomach and started to bounce. Behind me, I heard the door creaking. "Come on,
Camael," I whispered, reaching out for his hand.

I didn't feel it.

My heart lurched as I spun. "Camael?"

He was in the doorway, bouncing too. No, not bouncing--trying to burst in. Sparks flew off his fists as he beat against the open space in between the
door frame. The door was closing over him...

I leaped to the door, trying to push it back. I couldn't even touch it. Something was in front of me--a cold, unforgiving and unseen wall between and
everything that lay outside devil's room.

"He can't enter." The devil's voice slithered over the back of my neck. "And you can't go to him. I didn't think it would take either of you so long to
figure that out."

Forneus' purple eyes looked past me, at the angel. "Have you thought about my offer?"

I breathed heavily.

"The question isn't as difficult as you're making it. Do you want to save your father, or not? Do you want to find your brother, or do you want to
continue to play house with the angel and ride around after school in the demon's car?" Forneus bent over, until his crusty bottom lip rested on the

faded cotton on my shoulder. "Right now, I am the only one who can help you, but I won't be able to for long. You must decide now."

A burst of white light hit the doorway. It scattered when it hit the surface, like oil on water, beading up and trickling down the door frame.

"If you don't believe me, then ask him. He can hear everything we say, so ask." His hands gripped my waist. I felt him smile on my neck. Every cell in
my body recoiled in horror. I couldn't move. Had he cast some spell on me, or was this my own fear? My throat went dry. The angel in front of me
kept pushing, beating at the air, as Forneus crept closer, until he felt like my shadow.

"Ask him now if he will free your father. Ask him if Azazel has the ability to free him. Ask if I am the only person that can help you."

I didn't want to believe it. The Camael I knew always stayed beside me. He helped me with stupid homework, for Christ's sake. He hated to see me
cry. He wanted to help--

No, that didn't make sense. Angels didn't feel. They didn't want anything. Even now, as he tried to remove the wall with all his strength, his eyes were
calm and clear as a deep, undisturbed pond. And that face that I'd believed I'd begun to reach remained immobile.

I took a step back, hitting Forneus' chest. "Camael, is it true?"

I realized, before he even answered, that I didn't need to ask because I already knew it was.

The angel stopped struggling. He pressed his palms to the invisible wall. They flattened, as if on glass as he leaned forward, and spoke. I couldn't
hear him, but I could watch the movement of those perfect lips. I can't. I'm sorry.

Maybe I'd just imagined he'd said that. Or maybe there was even more distance between us than I'd thought.

"Camael, can you help me save him?" I asked. "You knew him. How can you leave him there? He doesn't deserve it."

I was begging, now. My eyes felt heavy, my throat tight. Even that didn't move him. He said something more, but his mouth was moving too quickly
for me to see, and my vision was too blurry.

Still, the answer was the same. He wouldn't help. I always knew, deep down, that it wasn't me he worked for. No matter how close I got to him, he
would never be my friend. And he would never understand how much he hurt me, because his heart would never break.

"Then I'm sorry, too. I have to do this," I explained, though it was pointless to apologize to a being like him. But I had to say it, I think, because I didn't
want to admit he was really that empty. When did I stop hating you? I wondered, just barely resisting the urge to touch the invisible surface where his
hands lay. I wish I still did. Hating you was easier, and it hurt less.

I shut my eyes. When I looked up, the angel was gone.

Forneus let go of me. My skin still felt cold where he'd touched me. "He'll be back, unfortunately. It would be best if we finished before Azazel got
here. We probably only have five minutes."

"Why do I have to decide now?" I demanded, voice shaking.

"You're wasting time," Forneus snapped. Then, he continued softly: "I'm not all powerful. There are a lot of things looking for you, and the Rukah-
Hayim that shields you from them needs to be replaced."

"Why does that matter?"

He chuckled. "I don't work for free. From now on, if you want my protection, you will need to give me something in return."

"I have Camael and Azazel."

"And both of them will have to endure endless bloodshed in order to protect you. They won't stop coming for you until you're dead."

My upper lip curled up in horror. "What are you talking about?"

Forneus flashed his teeth. "You'll have to start running. You'll need to live in isolated areas, because you'll place the lives of anyone you come into
contact with in danger. But even your absence won't save the people you care about. They will be targeted, in order to get to you, or out of spite."

My stomach contracted so violently that I felt it bruise, as if he were beating my sides with a lead pipe. "You're not making sense. Why would anyone
do that?"

"Because of who you are. Uh uh," he cooed, pressing his waxy finger over my lips. "Don't ask. I won't tell you."

I was gasping. The full weight of what he said washed over me, crushing me. "You can't just say something like that," I wheezed. "What--what--"

"Don't get so worked up. I will fix it for you."

"I don't want you to!"

He sighed. "What you or I want doesn't really matter. The only one who can spare you from such a fate is me, Devi." He touched the necklace with
his index finger. "It may not look like much, but it is the one thing I can do that they cannot. Now, we're almost out of time. What is your answer?"

I coughed. He patted my back, purple eyes glowing above me. Even when I doubled over and shut my eyes I still saw them, burning in my mind like
violet suns in a nuclear winter.

What was a soul even, anyway? It was only my ability to feel--only my connection to the earth, and all other living things. If he took it after I died, it
would only mean that no part of me would return to those things I loved. But that was a small price to pay, if it meant they could live.

...Am I really even thinking about this?

Yes.

...What if he's lying?

Devils can't lie.

...I'm scared.

I clenched my sore stomach muscles and stood. It was probably okay to be afraid when you were about to give away your soul. I grit my teeth.
Please forgive me, Oz. I'm sorry.

Then I looked at the devil, and tried not to think about anything anymore. "I want you to find my brother. I want to save him."

Forneus cocked his head. "What if he doesn't need to be saved--or if you don't want to?"

Like Hell that would happen. I sighed. "Fine. You make sure I find him, and if I want to bring him home, make sure I can."

The devil nodded. "Alright. Anything else?"

"I want to save my father. I want his spirit to go to Heaven."

"Alright. Anything else?"

"You can't make any deals with my friends or family, even if the deal goes bad. Don't do anything to my mom and Kim."

Forneus paused. "I'll leave them alone, but if they come to me I can't promise anything." He tapped his foot in the silence. "Anything else?"

"No."

"Devi, I won't approach them. They don't even have anything I want. However, if anyone comes to me with a request, I can't say no, no matter how
much I'd like to."

He sounded upset about that, which seemed strange. I paused. "Alright, don't suggest it to them, then."

He nodded. "I won't."

I looked down and bit my lip. "I want my mom to be happy."

Forneus raised a brow.

"I want her to live a long life. I want her to go to Heaven. I want..." to make up for all the times I've ignored or hurt her. For her to know how much I love
her. I wiped my eyes. "I just want her to be happy."

"Alright, your mom lives a long time, is happy, and goes to Heaven. Is that it?"

I shook my head.

Forneus grinned. "I generally only give people one wish, you know."

I curled my hands into fists. "You make this last one happen, or it's no deal."

"Fine," he snarled between clenched teeth.

"You have to save Oz from me," I said.

For a moment, all he did was stare at me. "What?"

"If I kill him, the deal is off."

Forneus turned around and clawed at the back of his head. He dropped the F-bomb as he slammed his fist through the drywall.

"I think you mean 'oh gees'," I muttered.

Forneus glared at me. "What?"

"I mean, you're gonna have to cover that hole up with something."

He rubbed his temples. "I will try my best on that last bit."

Try his best? Was he kidding me? "No, you either do it, or this is not happening. I won't kill him, Forneus."

"You don't have much of a say in the matter, I'm afraid," he muttered. "But we might be able to figure out something."

He held his head for a moment. "You better hope this works. There are far worse creatures to owe a debt to," he said without facing me.

"Does that mean you'll do it?"

He turned, and immediately I noticed that he'd bitten through his bottom lip. Blood dripped off his chin, onto his white, starched dress shirt.

"I won't initiate a deal with your friends and family. I will release your father's spirit from Purgatory. I will make sure you mother lives a long and happy
life, and goes to Heaven. I will orchestrate your meeting with your brother, and after, make sure his spirit does not go to Purgatory. And..." he bit his
lip again. Black ooze gushed from his mouth. "I will make sure Oz does not die by your hand."

He stepped forward. "If you accept these terms, give me your left hand."

I acquiesced.

He rolled his eyes. "Your other left, Devi. I swear to God."

"Sorry, I thought that was the one."

"Uh huh." He cradled it in his palm, and began chanting.

It was soft at first--a whispered, atonal Gregorian chant. I had to struggle to hear it.

His claw-like grip on me tightened. He pulled me forward, pressed his cheek to my cheek. Horrific whispers filled my ear--as if, instead of chanting,
his jaw was breaking. Blood dripped from his chin. It seeped through my shirt and pooled in a hollow of skin near my collarbone.

Just as I was about to push him away, he bent over and kissed my wrist.

His lips were dry and rough, like sand paper. Blood still filled his mouth. I felt it spill out over my wrist. It burned. It made my blood burn, too.

"Stop," I whimpered, pushing at his head with my free hand.

He pressed his lips to my skin, harder. Something pierced my wrist. The scent of seared flesh filled my nose.

I beat and clawed at his skull. Blood from his scalp stained his purple hair. "Stop it! What are you doing?"

The sharp pain sank deeper, into my marrow. Then, it shot through my body. Intolerable, hot, consuming. My body seized up and my wrist contorted
beneath his dark kiss.

My bones are shattering. Everything is shattering. I can't...

Then it was gone.

Forneus let go and pulled a handkerchief from his front pocket. "Clean yourself," he said with disdain, as if it were my fault I was a bloody mess.

I did as I was told. Beneath the layers of blood, there was a small black dot in the center of my wrist I couldn't remove. "What is that?"

"I've marked your soul. When our contract is complete, your soul will belong to me. If the contract fails, the mark will fade and I'll be unable to collect."
He smiled at me and pushed a stray lock of hair behind my ear. My body turned to ice. "You haven't made it easy for me. But then again, when one
is seeking a treasure like this, it shouldn't be easy."

Then, he took my hand and headed to the door.

I shook him off. "What are you doing?"

"I thought we'd go save your father--or do you want him to suffer another day in Purgatory?"

Chapter 15

It turned out that you couldn't get to Purgatory from just anywhere. That made sense. What didn't make sense was just how close the nearest
entrance was.

"Are you seriously telling me that our indoor gym is a gateway to Hell?"

"Not Hell, Purgatory," Forneus corrected. He pulled a bulging set of master keys from his pocket. "Most classrooms in this building would work. The
remnants of student's discontented spirits are ripe for manipulation." He grinned as the door popped open. "Since your classmates are running
around outside, this room was open. Also, I needed space to complete the ceremony."

Cool, damp air greeted us. Purple light emanated from the corners, glowing like fireflies trapped in violet lanterns. Mist obscured everything--the
basketball hoops looked like spindly trees, and the floor like a swamp from a movie set. The fog beneath our feet parted as we walked, revealing
the tape outlining the basketball court.

"What would you have done with this mess if I'd said no?"

The corner of his lip curled up. "Nothing. Some kids played a prank and--" He cut himself off, clutched my wrist, and went still.

A growl echoed in the gym. "Forneus. Devi."

It took a moment for me to recognize the voice--for me to realize that the fear that gathered in my stomach was not merely nerves, and that the
deathly stench in the room was not from Forneus' spell.

I stopped breathing. A demon.

The dark figure jutted up from the middle of the bleachers, next to something white and completely obscured by fog. The dark figure looked as if he
were made of shadows--all hard angles, fading to black. The only color came from a touch of violet reflected on his cheeks and lips, and the two
narrow, violent green eyes that stared at us.

My hands tightened around Forneus' grip instinctively.

Forneus swallowed. "Run."

His voice was so quiet that I almost thought I'd imagined it.

Then, again I heard him. "Run. To the center of the court."

He took off, pulling me behind him. My legs locked up, but still I limped forward, gasping. Mist coated my throat and eyes. It was sweet, like honey,
and it mixed awfully with the scent of decay.

It only took six steps for the dark figure to intercept us. Then Forneus was in the air. His waxy, white fingers slipped through mine, and he began
tearing futilely at the claws around his throat.

"Why are you with her, Forneus?" Azazel hissed.

"Devi had some problems in math class. The principal asked me to discuss them with her."

"No, I want to know why you're with her," Azazel hissed, plunging his thumbs into the devil's throat.

"Stop asking questions and then making it difficult for me to answer," the devil gurgled.

"Oz, he didn't do anything wrong," I whimpered.

Azazel dropped the devil on the floor. Forneus' body cracked as he fell on his hip. His head disappeared under the fog and he crawled towards the
center of the court with his elbows, leaving streaks of black blood in his path.

Azazel didn't try to stop him. His eyes never left me. "He didn't do anything wrong?"

The demon repeated my words, then clenched his jaw. The tattoos on his body began to move, dissipating and recollecting like mist that swirled
around him.

I almost said no--I wanted to say anything that would redirect those cruel, green eyes away from me. He stepped closer. My body tightened. I will not
tremble. I will not whimper. I will not--

He stopped in front of me. "What did you talk about with him?"

"Just about math," I whispered.

"Really?" He asked, brushing his claws tenderly over my arms. I couldn't stop myself from trembling under his scaly, inhuman touch. After he
stopped, he left a cool trail of the devil's blood on my arms. It beaded on my skin, refusing to dry.

"Devi, was that really all?"

I still couldn't answer.

"Let me see your wrists."

"Why would you want to do that?" I laughed, lacing my fingers together behind my back.

"Just let me see them."

His voice was softer, more desperate. My throat felt dry. "First tell me why. It's so weird that you want to--"

"It will make me feel better if I see it," he interrupted.

I bit my lip. "No it won't."

The demon slumped over. He pressed his forehead on mine. His hair draped over my skin like black silk. "It won't?"

There was something deeply unsettling about his voice. A suffocating aura surrounded him. I felt as if my heart were contracting, as if the water in
my body were evaporating. And yet, that voice seemed so fragile. I didn't want to hear it break.

His wrists clamped over mine.

"Stop it!" I demanded, trying to pull my hands back. "Don't look at it!"

"Stop struggling, Devi," he whispered, pulling my arms forward. My knees buckled. My fingers convulsed. I didn't want him to see it--that imprint
from the devil's bloody kiss.

He turned it over.

His chest rose and fell slowly. The scales fell away from his thumbs, like a snake shedding its skin. With the pads of his fingers, he wiped the
incriminating area over and over.

"Devi." He said my name as if I were lost to him. When I didn't respond, he shut his eyes and pressed the mark against his cheek. "What did you
agree to, exactly?"

I'm sorry, I wanted to say, but I wasn't really. I would give anything to save him, even if it meant enduring his quiet, pained expression for the rest of
our time together. No matter how much I hurt him, it was worth it.

He shuddered as he inhaled. His wrist shook. And then I saw it, right below his left palm and illuminated by otherworldly violet light--a black spot
exactly like mine.

How could I have missed it? No, it wasn't possible--neither Jasmine nor Oz had a mark like that on them. Did it only appear in Azazel's demon
form?

"You have one too?" I murmured, before I could think better of it.

Mist curled around my bare legs, making my body go cold. His eyes opened. There was nothing demonic about them--just deep, restless, tender
green. "It's a little late for me to be saved. Now, what did he agree to do for you?"

"What do you mean it's a little late?"

He kissed the black spot. My wrist seized up as fire shot through my limbs. It didn't hurt as much as when Forneus had pressed his lips over my
skin. Still it ached, as if each individual cell in my body was remembering the pain.

"The terms of my contract have already been fulfilled."

"I don't want to hurt you," I whispered.

"Is that what you asked for?"

I cringed. "Well, part of it."

He lowered my hand to his chest and backed up. "Then the way out of this is simple. You must kill me."

I stood, paralyzed. Nothing moved but the mist, filling the space between us until all I could see of him were his green eyes. His heart beat furiously
on my fingertips.

"What?" I asked.

No answer, and then something wet leaked onto my hand and ran down my palm. I looked down and saw something black dripping from my elbow
to the floor.

I screamed.

"Keep your fingers straight," he demanded.

What the Hell was going on? Something gummy and damp collected under my fingernails. His muscle tissue. And beneath that, something long,
thin and delicate cracked.

Oh my God. He's cutting into his chest with my hand.

I screamed kicked at his shins. His grip loosened, and I slipped out of it, falling onto my back. He leaped on top of me and grabbed my wrist. Our
hands, sticky and coated in black, reflected the purple from the light in the corners.

"Stop it," I begged.

His knees were over my thighs. I couldn't move anymore. All my flailing did was give me a headache from whacking my head against the gym floor.

"Stop hurting yourself. Don't make this more difficult than it has to be." He was begging too, and breathing too heavily. Each breath parted the mist,
revealing his twisted, agonized expression.

He leaned forward and kissed my temple. "I love you, Devi."

You're so messed up, I thought. I really wish I didn't love you right now, because this is more than anyone should have to deal with.

His tattoos swirled around his body, slowly migrating to the crude opening in his chest. He sandwiched my hand between his claws. What was he
going to do, tear his chest apart and make me squeeze his heart until it popped? Its brutal trembling filled my palm. It vibrated through my entire
body, forcing my own heartbeat to match its pace.

"If you really loved me, you wouldn't do this," I croaked.

"You don't know what will happen if he takes your soul. I won't let him have it."

"Azazel. Stop." Forneus wheezed.

The demon froze.

"Let go of her and get off."

Forneus' voice was louder that time. Azazel dropped my wrists and stood, his body jerking as if he were a marionette. He crouched over me, eyes
violent, furious, and pointed at Forneus.

I rolled my pounding head on the floor to get a better look at the devil. He'd finally reached the center of the court. His hand was draped over his
heaving chest. He looked just as pissed as Azazel. "Are you really so eager to throw away your life?"

"Do not speak to me. You weren't supposed to go near her. You promised."

The devil's eyes narrowed. The purple in them looked as strangled as the flickering lights emanating from the four corners of the gym. Then he
smiled. Slowly. "She came to me. You know I can't refuse a lady in need."

Azazel pounced.

"Stop," Forneus spat.

He did. Immediately.

"Don't look at me like that," the devil said. "I didn't want to do this. I know how much you hate it, but you give me no choice. She and I are under
contract, and you are mine."

I propped myself up on my wobbly elbows. It was hard. My arms were still sore and caked in Azazel's blood. "What do you mean, he's yours?"

"Don't," the demon begged. He bowed his head, slightly. At his sides, his hands curled into fists.

Forneus looked straight past him, at me. "Haven't I told you already?" He asked. "He is my demon. I'll have to remind him of that, if he continues to
get in our way."

Suddenly, I didn't want to hear any more. I didn't want to know what kind of sick hold he had over Azazel. And I realized I'd asked for the wrong thing.
It should have been Azazel's freedom.

I didn't know, I thought, curling my knees up into my chest as sickness filled my stomach.

Forneus sighed and wiped blood off his neck with the back of his wrist. "Come here, Devi. It's time to save your father."

I involuntarily scooted back. It didn't look like he was about to save anything.

His eyes flashed. "I can't believe I have to keep asking this. Do you want him to remain in Purgatory, or not?"

I shook my head, shut my eyes, and crawled towards him.

Mist cloaked my body, cooling the sweat on my neck. The blood on my arms cracked as I flexed my muscles. Some of it was dry, at least. As long
as I kept staring at the floor, I could go to him. If I looked at that decaying face--at the dark liquid foaming out of his neck with the same frothy
consistency of a bath bomb tossed in water--I'd lose my nerve.

But you run into problems when you don't look at where you're going. Like, you bump into things. Things with shimmering white ankles.

"Camael!" Where the Hell had he come from? I latched onto his ankle and pulled myself forward. "Why didn't you stop me when Azazel was about
to--"

"Because it would have been better if you'd killed him," Camael said without turning around. Then, he stepped out of my reach. "Stop this, Forneus.
I won't let you take her."

Forneus laughed. "So it's like this? You're getting in the way of her free will again?"

"That doesn't matter. I am here to protect her," the angel said. And it didn't matter what I thought, or what I did, or even that he would never
understand me. Camael would stand by me, until he was called away.

His back sparkled as if someone had dumped ten pounds of glitter on it. He rolled his shoulders forward, and four white wings uncurled from the
flawless skin between his shoulder blades.

The devil's lip curled up. "I see. Azazel," Forneus began in a commanding voice.

The demon's head shot up. His muscles flexed as he tried to move. His ankles shook. He swallowed and clenched his jaw as if trying to speak, as a
look of disgust and fear washed over his face.

Forneus nodded towards the angel. "Stop him for me."

Azazel's green eyes went wide. His hand trembled as he brought it to his throat, already changing into inhuman claws. He tore at his neck, plunging
his fingers deeper and deeper. Blood dripped down his stomach.

"Don't fight it," the devil whispered.

Azazel fell to his knees, blood streaming across the floor, so dark and smooth that it acted like a mirror, reflecting the pained and twisted
expression in his eyes. He convulsed, screaming. His limbs contorted and snapped, as he bent them back.

This wasn't how he'd changed in the cave. The scales climbed over his skin, then fell back as if being pushed, before surging again. He is breaking
his arms on purpose, I realized. He didn't want to change.

"Stop it!" I didn't know who I was begging.

Only his face and stomach remained human. He clawed at them, until they looked as dark and complex as his scales. "Finish me, please." He
reached out to me with his claws.

I couldn't move.

"Run, Devi," he croaked.

That thing is Oz, I thought. And, at the same time, it's everything Oz doesn't want to be. I couldn't leave him like that. I love you, I vowed, even when
you scare me. I didn't look directly at his putrid, reeking form. I tried to ignore the stench of death--the haunting, heavy aura that dragged on my skin.
But I did run, straight to him.

"Oz." I reached out to him.

He growled and slashed at the air in front of me with his claws. "Get the Hell out of here or kill me!"

Then, something grabbed my shoulders, pulling me back. "It would be kinder, I think, if you did as he said," it whispered near my ear.

Camael. He always knew exactly what not to say. "What do angels know of kindness?"

My body seized up. I'd spoken without thinking. I couldn't take those cruel words back.

The angel lifted my aching body from the floor and set me down behind him. Those blue eyes looked down at me, patient and forgiving--but maybe
he only appeared to be those things because he felt nothing.

He cupped my cheek. "Fine. Don't move, no matter what happens."

And then, right in front of me, Camael began to change, too.

He shut his eyes and dipped his head back. Light filtered from the dark ceiling, and it touched only him. The mist around his body died down. The
floor beneath his feet was lost beneath a wave of white gold. Everything--the outline of the basketball hoops, the flickering, haunting, purple lanterns,
the faded school banners on the walls--faded from my vision, until only the darkness, the ethereal light, and his perfect form existed.

His core began to glow. It eclipsed his dull, human skin, his faded clothes, and his lackluster hair, until all that remained was light.

My chest began to throb. Don't look at him, I demanded. Please stop. He made my eyes sore, my throat tight, and my body feel heavy and weak.
But I couldn't tear my eyes away, even for one second, because he was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen.

I wanted to stay enshrouded in the dark as the otherworldly, dank mist filled my nose. I wanted sit before him with my cramping hip digging into the
gym floor. I didn't even mind the cold emanating up from it, making my muscles tight and my skin numb. All I wanted was to look at him forever, until I
forgot everything else, because Camael's body was made of Heaven's light.

He held out his hand, and a flaming sword appeared in it.

Yes, Heaven's light would destroy the scaly creature in the corner--no, that repulsive, stinking, tortured person I loved.

"Wait, Camael. What are you doing?" I shrieked, coming to my senses.

He moved forward, not answering.

"You can't hurt him!"

The angel's step faltered. "He made a deal with a devil, Devi."

"So did I, like five minutes ago," I reminded him. "Are you going to swing that thing at me too?"

He looked down. "I will always protect you," he said without turning.

"And what about him?"

He took another step forward.

"Don't hurt him!" I screamed. "If you do, I will hate you forever!" It was probably the most useless threat I could have made, since Camael wouldn't
care if I hated him, and I wouldn't be around forever.

He glanced back at me. Even his eyes are made of light, I realized. They looked like the sparkling surface of a lake--or at least would have if they
didn't seem so sad. "I cannot promise that, though I will try," he said. "Stay back."

Then, with his sword held high, he waited for the dragon to move.

The monstrosity bellowed. Rows of sharp teeth jutted out the sides, and he gnashed them wildly, as if rabid. The narrow green eyes glowed as they
locked on me. There was no cognizance in them. Has he forgotten who I am?

My wrists weren't strong enough to hold up my body. I fell onto my elbows as I tried to scoot back. Why was it so hard to move? Why couldn't I see
any part of Oz in those eyes that stared back at me, filled with cold, relentless violence?

Azazel rushed forward. The angel stood his ground. I couldn't see his face, but his back remained motionless as the demon charged. Then, the
moment before the demon hit, the angel's long muscles relaxed, and he clutched his hands against the sword's helm as if in prayer.

Fire leaped out, creating a bubble around the monster. The dragon screamed as he was flung back by the flames. Camael stepped forward, cutting
the air with his sword, surrounding them in a ring of fire.

The demon crept along the perimeter. There wasn't anything human about the way he looked, or moved. His scales were like plated armor. He lay
low, like a cat, as his serpentine tail swayed behind him.

Azazel attacked quickly, using his size and speed to his advantage. It didn't matter. Camael was like Heaven itself--you could fight him, but you
would never win. Even when the dragon plunged his claws into his chest, the angel didn't bleed.

Camael fought defensively, only striking when the dragon attacked. Still, he was breaking apart the demon's body faster than it could heal. If it
continued like this, wouldn't Oz get too hurt to--

"Our gallant knight is doing a good job of protecting his little, defenseless, beloved Devi." Forneus said from the safety of his circle. "It's too bad
you're not enjoying yourself, but I suppose it can't be helped. Princesses should not fall in love with dragons."

My head whipped around to face the devil in a motion as reckless as my heartbeat. "Stop them! I don't know what you did to him, but this must
stop!"

I wished I didn't sound so shrill--that I could respond to him in the same detached, condescending tone he used when addressing me--but I couldn't.
Not with the foul scent of demon blood so near, and when I could see that pale fire burning even when I shut my eyes.

"Azazel is putting up a good fight, but I don't think he'll last much longer. He's losing too much blood, too quickly. Still, he'll keep fighting until he
ceases to breathe."

I sucked in a breath--no, sucked in ice. My body froze, and the world around the two of us went black. "But won't that be forever? You said that only I
could kill him."

"Not exactly. Only you can bring about his death," Forneus said. "And I think this might count. In theory, an angel's blade can kill a demon. Despite
their regenerative properties, they aren't immortal. Of course, the curse normally grants them immunity, but since Camael is acting on your behalf..."

He stepped to the edge of the circle. "Azazel is being forced to condemn the one he loves against his will, as the thing he hates most in this world
protects her. Do you see the blankness in his eyes?"

I shuddered. I didn't want to think about the way he looked when he saw right through me.

"That's not how he truly feels, but since he vowed to serve me, his body becomes like that whenever anyone tries to breach a contract--even if that
person is the one who requested my aid."

He leaned forward, revealing a set of straight, white teeth as his cracked lips curled. "Do you think this scene is cruel enough to satisfy the terms of
the curse? Or does God have an even more horrific fate in store for him?"

For a moment, I couldn't do anything but stare into his hypnotic eyes. The sound of Camael's sword clashing against the monster's shield-like skin
became soft as rain. A chill sliced through me as I took a step back. "How can you do this? You called him your dearest friend--"

Forneus interrupted me with a hiss. "It doesn't matter how I feel, or what I want. This act was written for us to play out long, long ago, and we are
powerless to stop it."

"We're not powerless! You can stop it right now!"

His eyes narrowed. "I made a promise, and so I must honor it. You asked something of me, and so you must honor that."

"But if it hurts everyone we care about, what's the point?"

His smile was slow and painful. Blood stained his neck like a black cravat. "You must accept casualties if you want to change fate. It doesn't matter
if it's a trinket, food, or love--anytime you possess something, you are either denying it or taking it from something else. If you think your desires are
selfish or cruel, hate yourself. If you think the world unjust, then hate your God."

I pushed my palms to my eyes, trying to banish the image of fire, but it didn't disappear. The flames just grew, twisting with his searing words until I
could feel both eating me from the inside out.

"It wasn't supposed to be like this," I whimpered as I looked up at him, eyes big and cold from the mist drying on my tears, begging silently.

With a theatric flick of his wrist, he placed his hand over his heart. "Do not hate the one who listened to your troubles, then offered you solutions. Any
evil I commit from here on out is in your name, and thus a reflection of your own cowardice, ruthless determination, and base yearnings. Still, I will
offer you a way out."

Forneus held out his hand. "I can end it right now, if you come to me."

"Devi, don't--"

The dragon reared forward and swiped his tail across the ground, throwing the angel to his feet and stopping his plea. Camael adjusted his grip
and stabbed the dragon's tail. The entire backside of the demon's body burst into flames.

Fire danced in the devil's expressionless eyes. "You can fulfill our agreement. You can do what you want to do, and what I want you to do. Then, the
demon will stop attacking, and the angel will cease to fight. The alternative, of course, is to stay here and watch the angel's sword turn his body to
ash."

Camael was screaming, but I couldn't make it out above the dragon's roars. The smell of the dragon's--no, Oz's--pain overwhelmed me: a scent at
once unnatural and too full of life, like rotting fruit dipped in ammonia.

It had been less than ten minutes, and already this contract I'd made to save the ones I loved was causing them to tear each other apart. I never
wanted to hurt anyone. Maybe that is what I should have asked of the devil: Make everyone happy. Make it so that they don't have to suffer anymore.
But even then, he might have found a way to make me regret it.

Still, it didnt' matter. Regardless of where he took me, I had no choice if I wanted to stop it.

"I'm sorry, Camael," I whispered. "And Oz..." My throat was too sore to finish, so instead I kissed my fingertips.

Then, with my eyes still closed, I ran into the devil's arms.

Chapter 16

Forneus grabbed my wrist and held it above my head. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw something shimmer in the dark.

"No!" I tried to yank my arm back.

His grip tightened. "Just an offering." His bloody teeth gleamed like pearls sinking into oil. "Mortals must sacrifice something when traveling to the
underworld, where nothing is gained without paying a price."

I sucked in a breath as his blade sliced into my skin.

"There." He sheathed his knife and put his free hand on the center of my back and pulled me close. His arms curled around me, plastering me to his
torso. "Don't let go, no matter what happens."

Purple light shot up from the floor. No, the floor was gone. There was nothing but that haunting, sickly light prying open my eyes, clogging my tear
ducts, and plugging my nose.

My screams were replaced by light. I sucked it in instead of air. I saw that violet glow and nothing else, not even when I stuffed my nose into
Forneus' damp shirt, where I heard no heartbeat. If he hadn't been holding me so tightly, if I hadn't been able to feel his hair on my cheek and smell
his sour breath on the back of my neck, I would have thought I was alone.

Almost as suddenly as it had started, the light began to dim. The vibrant purple was drained until it turned silver. It filtered slowly through the air
before settling like dust on the amethyst palace around us. And then it too was gone.

My chest felt tight. The Rukah-Hayim. It coated every surface, changing value and hue like gleaming jewels viewed beneath water.

I tried to move away.

"I told you to not let go," he snapped. He fisted the back of my shirt and latched onto my wrist, cutting off the circulation to my hand. My cut began to
sting, and my palm throbbed.

Forneus watched me wince dispassionately. "I don't have anything for it," he said before letting go.

Was that last bit really necessary? I curled my fingers into a fist and pressed my sore hand into my stomach. "Thanks, you freaking psycho."

"Freaking psycho?" He chuckled and stepped back. I guess it was okay to let go of me now. I glared at him.

Immediately, I regretted it. I wished he'd forced my face into his coat, and dragged me, all bundled up, into Purgatory. That way, I wouldn't have seen
him.

And I would have never known how beautiful he really was.

The gash in Forneus' throat was gone. Even the blood on the front of his shirt had disappeared. His clean teeth reflected soft, violet light. In fact, his
entire body sparkled with a purple beauty only overshadowed by the eerie brilliance of our surroundings.

I dropped my head and allowed my bangs to fall over my face. I probably looked like that creepy little girl from The Ring, but that was alright as long
as he didn't realize how intently I was studying him.

Yes, I was studying him even though it hurt to look. Those cruel lips had softened, the surface of his skin glittered harshly, and there was a new
depth in his eyes so akin to passion.

"Are you so surprised by the way I look?" He drawled. "Our bodies heal immediately whenever we return to the underworld."

It's more than that. You look like an angel. My heart hammered against my rib cage. No, not an angel. He was too seductive for that. More like the
embodiment of temptation had wrapped itself up in stolen--

Eew. Devi, stop. It's Forneus.

I needed to wash my mind out with soap. No, make that Draino. What was wrong with me?

Smoke from Purgatory's entrance--no, excuse me, the school gym--still clung to my body. I patted myself down and coughed, trying to act natural.

Forneus scowled.

I blushed. "Um, why don't you come down here to heal instead of asking Oz, then?" Yeah, I could continue the conversation.

"I can only enter Purgatory on my own when I have an assignation." I shivered, not liking the way he said that "a" word. He lifted his eyebrows, then
continued. "As far as visiting Hell...well, let's just say I dislike seeing my extended family."

He thought that last bit was hilarious.

I didn't get it.

"Is Azazel part of your extended family?"

His lips straightened into a thin line. "No. He's closer than that."

"Is that why you control him?"

His eyes narrowed. "You're getting bolder, Devi."

I didn't feel bold, just confused and alone. My ankle wobbled. I tripped over a rock and almost toppled over into the lush tapestry of the Rukah-
Hayim.

Don't let him get to you. Hold your ground, I told myself firmly. "Why did you tell me to run when we got there? Why did you allow him to hurt you?"

Forneus looked down. Then, and only then, I let myself give into my nerves, and trembled. I was breathing so heavily that I almost didn't hear his
voice: "Because I don't enjoy forcing him."

"What?"

The left corner of his mouth curled up as he snickered. "Are you really so surprised? It's degrading, for both of us." He sighed and retrieved a sable
pouch from his coat, then a starched handkerchief. "Now, before we continue, I'm afraid I must do something else degrading."

He walked to the wall of the cave, stepping in between the patches of the Rukah-Hayim growing on the floor. He laid the handkerchief on the
ground. Then, crouching low but careful not to let his knees touch the floor, the dug his fingers into the wall.

Something snapped. Shards of obsidian fell to the ground. How was he cutting through something like that? And then I saw it--that all too familiar
blood dripping down his arm, as black as the rocks he sliced through. The snapping sound was his own bones, breaking as he grabbed more and
more rock.

I almost cried out.

Forneus glanced at me. "I'm touched by your concern," he whispered, then removed his hand and held it up for me to inspect. The wounds were
closing as quickly as they would have had he been a demon.

That's right. He could heal in this world instantaneously. But I still didn't understand. "Why are you doing this now?"

This time, he answered without stopping. "We can only collect it when we release a spirit from Purgatory at a client's request, and we can only take
as much as Lucifer allows us to." He dropped the first batch of plants onto the handkerchief, then continued digging.

"Why?"

Forneus looked up at me and smiled. It wasn't a pleasant one--more like the 'smile' a half-crazed father might give his bratty kid after asking for the
thousandth time: Are we there yet?

"Because, darling Devi, it is power--power Lucifer wants to control, and through controlling it, he controls us as well."

That condescending tone was meant to shut me up. Instead, it pissed me off. So, going back to that car metaphor, this time when I asked I decided
to do the equivalent of kicking daddy's seat. "How is it power?"

Forneus sighed. "Do you really want to know this, or are you just trying to irritate me?"

I was trying to irritate him. "I really want to know," I said.

He gritted his teeth. "Fine. The spirit cannot generate anything on its own, it can only reshape things that already exist. The purest, most malleable
material is, the original soul, which is what God bent to create matter. Historically, we devils do not have direct access to the Original Soul, and
have found it difficult to manipulate lesser souls, so we've had to make do with this."

He held out his hand face-up. The plant writhed in the center of his palm. "This seemingly insignificant object is saturated with spirit. All my 'magic'
is a result of my will breaking apart its body and reforming its released spirit into whatever image I want to make. However, these images, divorced
of vitality or soul, are illusions that exist only in the mind."

I stared at him.

He set the plant down tenderly on top of his pile. "What?"

"If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were so high right now."

He laughed. "You can use the Rukah-Hayim to do that sort of thing, too." He finished scraping the rock clean and closed his satchel. "I hope you
found that answer satisfactory."

"Sort of. I don't get why demons can change things in the world, and you can't."

"That's an astute observation for one such as yourself to make," he said.

"Angels can, too."

"They are the hands of God. They can do anything, as long as they don't go against His will."

"So why can demons heal on earth, then?"

Forneus' lips curled into a private smile. "You should ask Azazel that question yourself."

The way he said that unnerved me. It sounded like he was in on some horrible joke at my expense. I didn't like the way I began to doubt myself and
Oz, either. "So, why do you let Lucifer decide how much you take?"

Forneus chuckled again, lower. "You are trying to irritate me, aren't you?"

"No," I said truthfully. This time I actually wanted to know.

He held my gaze for a long moment before folding up the handkerchief. I guess he was done digging. "Lucifer's official reason for controlling its
distribution is to make sure his subjects don't deplete this resource. It's not an unfounded concern, but there is more to it than that--he wants to
make sure the rest of us never gain enough power to overthrow him by keeping us dependent on his benevolence. I, too, am still paying for a
contract I made hastily and out of naivety, back when I was looking for something to fill the terrifying void that afflicted my consciousness after I fell."

I didn't like feeling this close to him. "Why are you telling me this?"

He brushed his slacks off as he stood. "All of it is common knowledge. If you wanted, you could sneak into my house and destroy the Rukah-Hayim
in my room. However, that isn't my only, or even largest, collection."

He advanced until he was less than an arm's length away. Slowly, he brushed the hair out of my face. My lower jaw trembled. He caught the tip of it
between his index finger and thumb.

"If you somehow found a way to take everything from me, you would only find yourself in more danger. Like I said, you're going to need a devil's help
to complete your quest, and I am the best one for you to ally with."

"I doubt that," I whispered.

He let go. "I hope you never find yourself in a situation that proves those doubts wrong."

His unfocused gaze rested on my lips, then leisurely moved down along the length of my throat. I saw his eyes shift, once, before he covered them
with heavy lids.

A chill shot through my body.

His fingertips ran over the chain around my neck, then rested on the locket. "I should take this."

"Why? I thought you said--"

"You trust me to fulfill my end of the agreement, don't you, Devi?"

I took a step back. My hand curled around the locket. It felt cold in my palm. What was he talking about? "Of course I don't trust you."

"You should learn to, from now on," he said, coming closer. "Take it off."

I was almost to the wall. The Rukah-Hayim squirmed on the back of my neck. I didn't dare retreat any further. "I thought you said it protected me."

He smiled, again--that slow, slight, secretive smile. "Do you really think I'd go to such lengths to hide you only to give you up? If that's what I wanted, I
wouldn't have given you something so precious in the first place. Down here, there are other things that will protect you. Now, turn around."

I didn't move.

"Are you going to make me use force?"

The locket's spring bit into the wound he'd given me with his knife. I sucked in a breath.

"You're just going to hurt yourself if you resist." He placed his hand on my shoulder and turned me around. I let him, even though I could feel his cool
touch seeping through my shirt, making me shiver. What could I do, anyway? Kick him, I suppose, but he would only heal instantaneously. Here, I
couldn't even hope for dumb luck as a last resort.

His thin, long fingers looped beneath the chain, undoing the clasp. The chain was caught in my hair, but that didn't stop him from ripping it out.

I cursed.

"Are you ready to see your father?" He asked, ignoring my discomfort as he placed the locket in the front pocket of his slacks.

I nodded.

Even though I don't think he'd been looking at me, he noticed my assent. "Take my hand, then."

I did. His skin was oddly clammy, and his grip strangely tight, as he led me deeper into Purgatory in silence.

The further we went, the more lush and thick the Rukah-Hayim grew. Each time we took a step, it brushed against our legs, quivering as it recoiled
from contact. We left black footprints in our path--the crushed remains of bruised petals.

"Almost there," Forneus said.

I looked up. Just ahead, a wall of white light blocked our path. It bleached out the vibrant purple of the Rukah-Hayim. In fact, the plants nearest to it
were gray, though they were the fullest.

I looked over at Forneus. I'd always secretly thought his skin had the consistency of newspaper, but he truly looked like he was made of it now--a
crisp picture, hot of the press, inked in black and white.

His grip on my hand tightened. "The lost spirits here are like ghosts. They wander in circles, replaying their traumas over and over again in their
minds. In order to find your father, you must speak about your life together. At first, it will seem like nothing is happening, but eventually he will
remember himself and come to you."

I shivered. What event was he eternally remembering? The moment he realized, on that day I'd come home alone, that Kai had disappeared and he
was left with me? Or was it the day he ended his suffering with a bullet--or, at least, tried to?

He looked away first, back to the wall of light. "There's something else. His pain has probably poisoned him. Don't take it personally if he says
something cruel, and don't worry if he tries to hurt you. Shades can't harm us."

That didn't sound good. What was he getting at? I parted my lips, but before I could make a sound he stepped forward, pulling us both into that
world of white.

I collapsed. It felt like the bones in my body were bending in on themselves. Like my skin was dissolving. Like my eyes had sunk to the back of my
throat.

Something rubbed my back--Forneus' hand. "You'll get used to it in a few minutes."

Get used to it? I wanted to slap him away, but I couldn't move. My body only trembled. Even my hands wouldn't curl into fists.

"It hurts because you don't have a spirit. There is nothing like you here."

Is this what Heaven would feel like, then? I wanted to ask, but my eyes rolled to the back of my head. I gasped, sucking in the scent of...nothing.
Everything was white. There was no floor, no sky, no horizon, and yet the two of us somehow stood, without a shadow, in complete emptiness.

I shifted back and forth, trying to swallow my nausea. I don't know if 'getting used to it' would have described how I felt, but I could tolerate it. Sort of.

"You should have warned me," I whimpered.

He grinned. "I didn't want you to back out."

"I wouldn't have."

"Oh really? You had a fit when I scratched your hand."

Since when did stabbing someone in some bloody ritual count as a scratch? Alright, it was a small cut, but it freaked me out. "That still hurts, by the
way," I said, rubbing the raw skin against my pants.

"My point exactly," Forneus murmured, setting me on my feet.

"Now, call your father."

Was my skin was sliding off my bones? Every part of me ached. Even my lungs felt as if they were made of tissue, and each breath I took seemed
to rip them apart.

Ignore it. You have to speak. "Father," I croaked. "It's Devi."

The space before us wobbled. Gasping faces dropped forward. Their eyes were shut, their skin white, as if they'd been dripped in Titanium paint.
Hands reached for me--hundreds of thin fingers grasped the air, like the legs of beetles after being tipped on their backs.

My mouth went dry. How many lost spirits were there?

Behind, I heard Forneus' clipped command. "You need to be more specific. Right now, every shade that was a father and knew someone named
Devi has come forward."

Great. I teetered back and forth and sucked in another tasteless breath. Don't think about the other spirits. Just think about..."Father."

My voice sounded distant. My chest started to pound, and not from the pain of being in Purgatory. I hadn't expected it to hurt this much to think of
him, or for my heart to beat this fast, or for images to pass through my mind so quickly that I couldn't hold onto a single one.

There were only the words I'd wanted to say to him. I'd rehearsed them in the mirror as a little girl in the weeks leading up to his death. I spent so

much time rehearsing that I'd lost the opportunity to speak them aloud. I'd always wondered if things would have turned out differently if I had.

"I know you wish that you'd only had a son. I know you think I betrayed you, and Kai. I know you didn't love me. But I always loved you.

"I remember tip-toeing into the kitchen to watch you make pancakes for us. I still use your recipe. Mom does, too. And I remember how you put your
hand on Kai whenever he snuggled up next to you, and how you always did the same for me, even though I don't think you wanted to even touch me.
Still, you did your best to treat us both equally, and I loved you for that as well."

My voice broke. My legs buckled. I fell forward, steadying myself by clutching onto my shaky knees.

"Don't stop. You're doing great. He'll come, soon."

A chill passed through me. I was bearing my soul in front of Forneus--Forneus, who felt nothing, cared for nobody. Did that devil even know how
much speaking like this hurt?

The taste of salt slipped between my lips--the first thing I'd tasted since entering this forsaken place. That's right. It didn't matter if he was here, or
how much I embarrassed myself, as long as my father was released.

"I know I wasn't the one you wanted. I know I wasn't good enough for you. But why did you have to leave?" I whispered. "Why did you want me to be
the one who found you on that white couch? Did you really hate me that much?"

"Devi," Forneus interrupted.

I sighed. "First you want me to keep going, then--"

"I think he's here."

I looked up.

I saw my father's long, crooked nose; in kindergarten, when we made pictures of our family, I drew it as a lightening bolt. I'd also made him taller
than the trees. He'd always seemed too big for every room he'd walked into. That wasn't the case anymore. The light made the edges of his body
hazy, and without any other objects to compare him to, he seemed fragile.

Fragile. That was a word I'd never thought to apply to him, even though he'd been so pale that he used to joke that the only thing whiter than him was
our couch. But, in Purgatory, his skin looked like it was made of chalk, and like he would crumble of I exhaled to quickly.

"Devi," my father said without emotion.

"Dad?" I tried to rush forward, but something latched onto the back of my shirt.

"Don't go to him," Forneus whispered. "I don't want to have to wander around Purgatory for ten hours looking for you."

I glanced at my dad shakily. That would have been a good thing to know before we'd come. "Should I keep talking?"

Forneus chuckled. "Yes. If he disappears, we'll have to call him out again."

I didn't want to stay here a second longer than I had to. The only reason why I was still on my feet was because collapsing would hurt too much.

"Where is Kai?"

My father's desperate voice interrupted my pity-party. "Um, he's not here."

"I want to see Kai," he cried. "I look for him all the time, and I never see him. I can never find him."

"I want to see Kai, too," I admitted.

He stepped forward. The crease in his brow, deepened. "Why are you here? Why did you call for me? Why is it you--why is it always you--instead of
Kai?"

His words stung. Remember what Forneus told you--Purgatory poisons lost spirits, I told myself, but I knew it was more than that. This was how my
father truly felt.

"I love you," I told the shade. "And now I want you to be free."

"What did you do to him?" He continued, as if I'd said nothing. "Did you watch them when they took him? Did you want them to take him because
you were jealous?"

No. Never. But I couldn't blame him with the same unflinching passion. Instead, I babbled: "I couldn't. There was so much light--"

"He loved you more than anything. He loved you even more than he loved me." He jabbed his finger into my chest--or at least tried to. I felt nothing
as the pasty image sank through my shirt, right above my heart.

My father didn't notice that his touch didn't make contact. He didn't know how fast my heart beat, or how much it ached. "He loved you so much, and
you still let him go. He would never have left you. Never."

It didn't take me long to answer. "Yes," I whispered. It was true. If someone unknown had reached for me, Kai would have latched onto my arm. He
would not have been distracted by the light. No part of him would have wanted to go to it.

"Nothing in this world was as beautiful as Kai. Nothing. I used to wonder how something so perfect could have even existed, and then I would
remember you."

He stepped forward, gray eyes blazing. "I knew something was wrong the first time I saw you."

My mouth fell open. A chill spread across my arms. "What are you talking about?"

"In order for something that beautiful to exist, there had to be something equally horrific. How could it be otherwise? It wouldn't make sense."

No, you're not making sense, I thought, but the suddenly large lump in my throat stopped me.

"I used to think you were just nothing, but you're evil, aren't you? You hide it well, behind those big, emotional eyes. Your mother called me crazy.
She thought there was something wrong with me, for thinking such 'awful things' about my own child, but it's true."

His large, shaking hands whipped around my throat. I could see his muscles straining, his chest heaving, his head bobbing each time he pushed
forward, trying to stop me from breathing.

I felt nothing. Gray sweat dripped off his chin. Even when it fell on my skin, I felt nothing. The only thing I felt was pity as I looked up at that pure,
relentless hatred in his eyes. He wanted to kill me so badly--he wanted to hurt me so badly--and he couldn't even touch me.

And I couldn't touch him.

If I tried to kiss his cheek the same way I did when I was a child, I wouldn't feel his whiskers. If I stopped his hands from strangling me, I wouldn't be
able to hold them. If I leaned forward to give him a hug, my face would pass through his torso.

Tears ran down my neck, straight through his hands. They stopped only when they were absorbed by the collar of my shirt. He didn't even seem to
notice I was crying.

Forneus didn't seem to notice, either--or rather, he noticed but didn't care. "We're almost done," he said.

It shocked me to hear his voice. I'd completely forgotten about him. But there he sat, in my peripheral vision, with his hands clasped together,
chanting something under his breath in a foreign tongue.

My father's voice sliced through his rhythmic, reverent tone. "You took away the only thing I loved. I should have killed you. I should have waited for
you to come home and shot you instead. Why are you here? Why didn't he come for me?"

His face twisted. "Kai," he whimpered. "Where are you?"

The chanting stopped.

The hands at my neck turned into light--the ethereal, haunting light of Heaven. I remembered, briefly, my promise to Oz to look away, but I couldn't.
Not when my father looked at me with big, hollow eyes. Eyes, I realized, that looked as peaceful and distant as Kai's. But no, he didn't remind me
just of Kai--he also looked like Camael.

"Devi," my father whispered, as if seeing me for the first time. He inhaled, once, quickly, opened his lips...

And disappeared.

The air suddenly felt heavy. My tears had left sticky trails on my skin. I was once again alone, with a devil, in the endless space of purgatory.

Forneus sighed. "We're done. Ready to leave?"

"What just happened? He was trying to kill me a moment ago, and then he suddenly..." I hugged my arms.

"I warned you that speaking to him would be unpleasant. As far as your other question, he went to Heaven, of course." He smirked. "Aren't you
going to thank me for releasing him?"

I nodded, but in the end I couldn't bring myself to thank him. "What about the other spirits, Forneus?"

He raised a brow. "What about them?"

"Are you just going to leave them here?"

"Yes."

I winced. "Are they going to continue to suffer?"

"Yes, until God frees them." His eyes locked onto mine, challenging me. "Now, are you ready to leave?"

He held out his arm and I clung to it.

He didn't say anything as I grabbed the hem of my shirt to wipe my nose. Perhaps his callous heart felt something for me, or maybe he was just
tired.

Silently, he led me out of that place, filled with horrors created by severed minds, and that impenetrable loneliness that comes from being
separated from what you love most for all eternity.

My body shook from anticipation. I felt guilty for wanting to leave so badly, but I couldn't help it. Every part of me ached, and my eyes were hungry for
color, even if it did come from those desperate plants blooming feverishly at the entrance to Purgatory.

Once out, I got what I wanted:

The glowing purple jungle of the Rukah-Hayim;

A glowing white Camael;

And a glowing green Azazel.

Chapter 17

Green flames shot up randomly from Azazel's heaving chest and shoulders like a demonic version of whack-a-mole. He was pissed. It didn't take a
psychic to figure that out. And Camael...well, as an angelic automaton it was hard to read him, but he was sparkling. A lot. And in a way that
somehow seemed both disapproving and threatening.

I looked down to avoid their gazes. I had to have been imagining things. They were just sparkles, so by definition, they couldn't be dangerous--there
were no such things as fatal cupcakes, Barbie accessories, or glitter glue. He was just shining like that to make me feel all warm and--

Camael pointed his flaming sword at the devil's throat.

Never mind. Those are bad sparkles.

"What did you do?" Camael demanded.

"Do you need to ask?" Forneus placed his hand on the sword and pushed down. The scent of burning flesh filled the cave, but after wiping his
hands on his slacks once, the wound on his palm healed. "I did what neither of you could. I saved her father."

Azazel's eyes narrowed. "Her father?"

Camael's grip on the sword tightened.

"Yes. Her father killed himself. Devi wanted to release his spirit." Forneus grinned. "Can you really blame her for making such an offer? Out of
everyone here, you understand the most how painful it is for a spirit to be caught in Purgatory. Or have you already forgotten?"

Azazel's face twisted. He brought his fist against the side of the cave, smashing the Rukah-Hayim with a pounding sound. Purple sparks sped past
his smoldering green form.

Forneus tisked. "It isn't fair to take your anger out on living things."

"You can't describe anything that originates from this place as living," Azazel murmured.

The devil smirked. "Do you put yourself in that category?"

"Of course." Azazel pressed his forehead to the barren, jagged rock. The remaining Rukah-Hayim curled away from him. "I wish you had not done
this."

Who was Azazel speaking to? I glanced over at Forneus. Beads of perspiration collected on his upper lip. The devil rolled his head to the side and
wiped them away with the back of his hand, then scratched his cheek, as if that had been his intention all along.

Before I could speak, Azazel's knuckles cracked as he curled his hand into a fist again.

My heart hammered in my chest. He's going to hit the wall again, I thought. But he didn't. Instead, he turned around and pulled me into his chest.

I couldn't stop myself from crying any longer. I couldn't pretend that my father's horrible words did not affect me. I couldn't remain oblivious of
Azazel's grief. The marks on his body moved to where my tears fell, then bled over the surface of his skin like smeared ink.

Azazel understood my sadness, even those things I dared not speak. He felt it as if it were his own. And I loved him more than anything. Even when
he had fallen under Forneus' control, and his eyes looked through me as if I were nothing to him, I'd loved him. I knew somewhere hidden beneath
that fearful exterior was a young man, a teenage girl, and a small boy, and that all three hated and feared that power even more than I did.

So why were my hands curling into fists? Why did I wedge them between us? Why was I pushing against him?

I know God made angels irresistible to man. Anyone with a human body desired to be near them. Oz had told me that, once. But, conversely, had
He engineered my body to fear fallen angels? Or was there just something wrong with me?

I didn't understand the markings on his demon body. I knew the dragon lurked just beneath his skin. At any moment he could change into something
I did not recognize and instinctively feared--in fact, even when he just stood before me in the form of his fallen angel, I feared him. And I couldn't hide
it. Not the trembling in my limbs, the panicked escalation of my heartbeat, or how I recoiled when he leaned forward, as if he were so vile that just
the thought of touching him disgusted me.

He took a step back. "Is being this close to me really that awful?"

"What do you mean?" I asked, averting my gaze to my feet.

"Look at me," he said.

"Okay," I said. But I didn't move.

"Devi," he whispered, then repeated: "Look at me."

I still couldn't, so he pulled up my chin and I had my eyes shut. I felt his breath on me--too hot, like fire--and my eyes opened.

He really was beautiful, dressed in ethereal green light. Long midnight black hair obscured his features. His tattoos dripped from his shoulders, still
heavy and wet from my tears.

I almost touched them. You looked so happy in Forneus' fantasy world. I want that for you, not this harsh, frightening beauty. But I couldn't tell him
that. I had a feeling telling him about my little trip with the devil was a bad idea.

"See? I'm not afraid," I told him.

"I can see you trembling," he said. "Even your heartbeat seems to..."

He didn't finish, and I didn't ask how he could tell what my heart was doing.

"We should go," Camael said. I jumped. I'd completely forgotten about him and Forneus.

The devil worked his jaw silently. His face was whiter than Camael's sparkles. He fidgeted with the hem of his jacket. And he was staring at Azazel
and me like he wanted to rip the two of us apart.

What was wrong with him?

Azazel seemed too upset to notice. "You know why these rules are in place. If you interfere with her, you could interfere with God's curse. This is the
one area where I can act against you..." He swallowed, his skin glowing a deeper green, breathing in deeply before continuing. "You swore I could
protect the ones I love, and you found a way to even take that from me."

Forneus studied his nails. "You'll be thankful, soon, that I was the one to do it."

Azazel faced him. The emerald fire in his eyes was deadly. "And you'll regret it, forever."

"Don't be so melodramatic--"

"Our contract was supposed to prevent this from happening," Azazel interrupted. "You can't take away my ability to protect her, from you or anyone
else."

Forneus pressed his lips together. "I cannot refuse anyone who comes to me."

Azazel laughed twice, humorlessly. "I'll never believe that she thought of this on her own."

The devil's posture straightened. "If she hadn't been the one to initiate this, it wouldn't have happened."

"That doesn't matter. You put the thought in her head. You made it so this would happen, even though it shouldn't."

Forneus looked down. "Believe what you want."

"When we get back home, I'll tear you apart."

His face paled, and he looked down at his healed hand.

"Think, Azazel. I know you hate doing that, but please. If you do, I think you'll see that this isn't something you could have stopped. She has an angel-
-and not just any angel, but Camael--following her. Why would someone like Him do that?"

Someone like Camael? "What do you mean. My brother asked him--"

Forneus put a finger to my lips. "Yes, he did. But the angel would not have been able to follow your brother's request, had it not been God's will. Isn't
that right?"

Azazel snarled. "I don't care."

"Fine, don't care, and don't come whining to me when you realize that all this was inevitable. She was never meant for someone like you."

"Both of you should stop," Camael said. "You're upsetting Devi."

The devil chuckled. "Oh no, we wouldn't want to do anything to upset our little darling--"

"Forneus," the angel warned. The devil lowered his head like a chastised child. Camael sighed. "Alright. Devi, take my hand. Let's leave this
place."

"Are you really going to leave in the center of our nursery?" Forneus asked without raising his head. "You'll damage the plants."

"Maybe you should have thought of that before bringing her to this place," Azazel grumbled.

"And maybe you should heed the angel's words and not 'upset Devi.' She has a sensitive, fragile heart. Unlike you, the Rukah-Hayim is a living
being, regardless of whether or not you recognize that fact."

Camael squinted at Forneus. "Would it bother you?"

It took me a moment to realize he was talking to me. I answered honestly. "Can we do it somewhere else?"

Camael held the devil's gaze for a minute longer. "Fine. Devi, you walk after me. Then Forneus. Then Azazel."

Forneus raised his brows. "You don't trust me?"

Azazel kicked the devil in the shin. Camael looked ahead, ignoring them. "Let's go," he said.

He still hadn't looked at me. None of them did except Forneus, rarely, sneaking a peek out of the corner of his eye. I inhaled deeply. We needed to
leave before I lost my mind. Slowly, I followed Camael's glowing form through the cave.

A violet, luminescent shadow followed the angel through the cave. Though the Rukah-Hayim sunk away from Forneus, Azazel and I, it reached out to
Camael. The purple tentacles were stretched so taught it looked like they would pop off the walls, and the specimens on the ground tried to wrap
themselves around his ankles. He moved precisely and at a clipped pace, keeping his head bent and his arms close to his sides.

I tried to keep my eyes on my own path, but it was hard. I'd never seen Camael's elegant posture crumble before. Still, it made sense. He, himself,
was so far from God in this place. And yet, to the condemned beings trapped here, he was the closest they would ever come to God's light.

I hugged myself. It was best not to think about these things. We'd be out of here soon.

Eventually the patches of Rukah-Hayim became scarcer. We began to walk on rock, and our footsteps echoed.

"We're far enough, Forneus. Let's leave now," Azazel called from the rear.

"Not yet," the devil murmured.

Camael stopped. "Why isn't this far enough?"

Forneus didn't answer.

The angel turned. The gleaming of his skin was more subdued, like a pearl peeking out from behind a lacy veil. He frowned and parted his lips, then
froze.

"Devi." Camael's voice warbled as he stepped closer, eyes widening as they locked onto my neck.

No, more precisely my naked neck.

That's right. The familiar, cold weight of the chain was gone. Camael's fingers traced the place where it would have been. My heartbeat throbbed as
he touched the base of my throat.

"Why aren't you wearing your necklace?" he asked, voice strained.

"What? She isn't?" Azazel pushed Forneus aside. In a moment he was in front of me, eyes fierce and wild. He froze when he spotted my bare neck.
"What the Hell is going on?" He hissed through clenched teeth.

Camael grabbed my shoulders. His grip was too tight, almost bruising.

"Um, it's nothing," I said in my most reassuring tone. "He just said I didn't need it right now."

"Forneus said that?" Camael whispered.

I nodded.

"That makes no sense." Azazel's chest heaved. The whack-a-mole flames were back. "Nothing like you exists here. Without that thing, every devil in
Hell will feel your presence--the presence of the unattached soul they've been looking for--wandering around and..." He glared at something past my
shoulder. "You planned this."

I could hear Forneus swallow. "I'm sorry, old friend, but I made this promise long before you fell."

"What are you saying?" Azazel yelled, rushing forward. I heard something explode behind me, and turned just in time to see Forneus' battered body
step away from a crater in the cave wall.

The devil winced and rolled his shoulders. They cracked as rock fragments crumbled behind him. "All I'm saying is that I'll just have to endure a little
more of your hatred before this is done."

He stepped forward, trying to brush Azazel's cheek with his broken, bloody hand. Azazel punched him into the wall, breaking his fist and Forneus'
throat. The violence was merely theatrical, though. By the time the demon stepped back, both of them had already healed.

"Camael, open a portal. We're leaving. Now."

The angel held out his hand. Light collected in the center of his palm, then scattered into the rock, like fireflies going out one by one. "I can't."

Azazel whipped around. "What?"

"I can't feel Him," he whispered.

"Neither of you will be able to leave from this part of the caves," Forneus said.

Azazel grabbed him. "Why?"

Forneus laughed. "Come now, I won't tell you that. You'll leave if I do."

"I'm not messing around," the demon hissed. His fingers were already turning into claws. They ripped the front of Forneus' starched shirt.

"It doesn't matter, now. There are more pressing issues." The devil smiled. "Ah, you haven't heard them yet, though Camael has. He's already
drawn his sword."

Forneus was right. The angel crouched low, sword in hand, his aqua, fiery eyes peering unflinchingly into the darkness.

The devil continued: "Will you change too, Azazel? You won't be much of a match for them, if you don't."

Azazel looked at the darkness ahead, then back at me.

Forneus followed his gaze to mine, then smiled. "Or are you too afraid of what she'll think?"

The demon paused.

I cleared my throat. "Uh, don't think about me. It's alright..." I trailed off, uncertain whether to call him Oz or Azazel. It only seemed to worry him more.

"Now!" Camael yelled, readjusting his grip on his sword.

Azazel crouched on all fours. "Don't look at me, Devi," he pleaded.

I couldn't look away, even though he'd begged me. The ink stains on his arms moved, shifting into scales. Green fog surrounded his body. It grew
thicker as he grew larger. Soon, all I could see of him were his inhuman emerald eyes, glowing through the mist, looking straight at me.

I involuntarily took a step back.

Camael yelled something and spread his wings. They shimmered like hope in endless darkness, and I couldn't look away.

I tried. I turned my head towards the dragon, but a growl from Azazel's dark corner made me freeze. I rubbed the goose bumps on my arms and
glanced back at the angel. Why was it God's light instead of Oz's power that soothed me? Did I, too, have a curse--to covet, as much as I hated, this
haunting beauty that had condemned me? And why did Azazel want to hide that part of himself from me?

Actually, I knew the answer to that last question. It was because I recoiled every time I saw him--the real him. He must have thought I--

I never finished my thought. Hundreds of twisted, gray faces stormed the entrance.

They looked like the embodiment of pain--like they were born in it, existed in it, and died in it. Sharp bones stuck out of their skulls, pulling their skin
so tight that it sometimes broke. Their mouths were attached to their nose and cheeks, and some didn't have lips at all. Either way, they couldn't
completely shut. Rows of small, spiky teeth poked through their puffy gums. Each time they moved their jaws, they were lacerated by their teeth.
Their expressions were so twisted it was impossible to tell if they were in pain or not. Black saliva, or blood, or a combination of both, dripped out
of the sides of their mouths and steamed when it hit the ground.

Camael and the dragon shared a glance, then ran forward. Camael's body reverted back into Heavenly light.

The creatures from Hell never stopped. The ones behind pushed the ones in front onto Camael's sword. Their impaled bodies caught fire, but those
behind kept rushing forward with beady, black, unchanging eyes. The fire spread through the crowd.

A wail echoed through the cave. And another. I brought my shaking hand to my parted lips. That had come from me, not the repulsive creatures. The
only sound they made was the pitter-patter of their feet, and the clicking of their jaws as they bit down on Camael and Azazel's bodies.

The dragon exhaled fire. The bodies curled, then turned to charcoal. Soon his scales were covered in dust.

I inhaled ash. Soot caked onto my skin. The air was too heavy. The dragon's green light had been snuffed out. All I could see was the angel.

None of those creatures were able to get past him: patient Camael, who had walked me through my math homework; gentle Camael, who stood
watch in the closet each night; beautiful Camael, who I couldn't stop looking at, regardless of how much it made me ache.

His face remained unchanged as his blade sank into each creature. Azazel bellowed and flailed, trying to shake off the residue of death from his
skin. The dragon's movements were desperate, almost ugly. The angel was precise and fluid, as if he were dancing.

Camael kept going in a manner as selfless and methodical as the creatures he fought. The blood that soaked his limbs, the teeth marks in his
otherwise flawless skin, the dark clouds of incinerated carrion that cloaked his body--it meant nothing. I realized, at that moment, that he truly had
been made for war--that his only purpose was to bring death to those that opposed God's will.

Three more creatures awaited us at the front of the cave: a jackal with neon yellow eyes, a black bull, and a purple stranger, as elegant and cold as
Forneus.

The jackal laughed as the plume of dust reached them. The bull leaped, black horns gleaming, as he rushed straight into Camael's sword.

It went right through the center of his body, though the bull didn't care. His hooves crushed the twisted beings. The sound of splintering bones
echoed through the chamber. White flames emerged from Camael's skin, until he seemed to be made of Heavenly fire. Still, the bull pushed
forward, until he'd successfully slammed Camael against the wall.

The jackal circled the dragon, laughing. Then, he crouched in the middle of the twisted creatures, and jumped with them at the dragon's throat. The
dragon howled as a circle of yellow flame encased his neck. The twisted creatures ate at it, and the yellow seeped into his wounds. The dragon
threw himself against the wall, smashing the jackal at his side. He left a crater in the side of the wall, and the black rocks from the ceiling above
cascaded over all of them.

I screamed and darted forward.

If I'd been thinking, I wouldn't have done that. There wasn't much a human girl like me could do against those supernatural beings--I mean, just one
of those deformed, toothy, lumpy things could have taken me out. But none of that mattered. Azazel was in pain, and I had to save him, even if it
meant removing rocks from the pile on top of him one by one.

Something latched onto my shirt, stopping me. "Let's leave now, Forneus."

I looked up. The purple stranger that'd stood between the jackal and the bull looked down his aristocratic nose at me. His upper lip curled.

Forneus wiped his hands off on his slacks. "Whenever you're ready."

The purple being reached into his pocket and threw a purple, powdered substance--ground up Rukah-Hayim--at the cave's floor. It immediately
started glowing.

I really didn't like this guy touching me. I didn't like his pretty face, waxy hands, or the fact that he smelled exactly like Forneus. Anything that smelled
like Forneus couldn't be good. So I balled up my fist and clocked him in the jaw.

I screamed and doubled over. It felt like I'd just hit cement.

The devil grabbed my hair with his free hand and yanked down. "Don't keep us waiting," he told Forneus, before jumping with me into the glowing
purple circle on the floor.

***

We'd stopped falling. Maybe. The wind no longer rushed past my face as we plummeted in a violet vortex towards God-knows-what. But there was
still something wrong. Pressure rained down on every inch of my skin. My head was spinning. The air was--the air...

I'd stopped screaming. Probably. But my throat was still raw, and every time I inhaled it felt like fire was rushing through my core, swallowing up my
insides. There was something wrong with the air. It felt like I was in the middle of a bed of thorns. Needles were embedding themselves under my
skin.

No, that wasn't right. My arms were still soft and pink. I couldn't see anything wrong with them. And my vision was clear, or at least I couldn't see any
sign of ash. Is it all in my head?

I looked up at two purple eyes, sparkling like polished amethyst.

"Forneus?"

"What?" The voice above bellowed. "I'm not Forneus. Wait, you got me mixed up with him?"

I squinted up at his face. Alright, other than the purple features and flawless white skin, he really didn't look much like Forneus. His eyes were bigger
and much further apart. His lips were fuller--pouty, I'd describe them--and his nose was longer and straighter.

The stranger carried me, all sweaty and grimy and dressed in my gym clothes, like a princess. Unfortunately, when his hands reflexively curled at his
anger from me mistaking him for Forneus, they dug into the side of my chest and my upper thighs.

I'm very ticklish, so I started kicking. He gripped harder. Oh, please stop, I tried to say, but I couldn't stop laughing, or flailing like that little,
possessed girl in The Exorcist.

"What's wrong with it?" He yelled, struggling to keep his hold on me.

"She's not used to the air, Marchosias," a slick, cool voice replied. I recognized it immediately. Forneus.

For some reason, the March guy thought the correct response to that was to hold me tighter.

It wasn't.

I knew wiggling around wasn't smart, but I couldn't help it. Those damn pasty fingers just felt so silly. I buckled, and the nausea I'd successfully
swallowed during our descent reared its ugly head. I swayed back and forth, knocking my head into his chest, and vomited all over the front of his
shirt.

"What the Hell?" March screamed, dropping me on the very hard, very rocky ground.

It hurt. A lot. And yet, the rocky cushion that held my battered back still felt better than the air. "What's wrong with his place?" I croaked, ignoring the
ringing in my ears and trying to focus my blurry vision on what I thought was Forneus.

The cool, familiar voice answered: "You're in Hell. Did you think it would be pleasant?"

Hell? This was hell? It was rocky, and...Well, at the moment I couldn't see much else. "My throat," I rasped.

Forneus brushed sweaty strands of hair from my face. "It is especially unpleasant for you since you don't have a spirit. The other souls in this place
are trying to tear you apart already, and make you one of them."

I gasped. "Other souls?"

I told you, Devi, that spirits can only create illusions. If you want to make something lasting, you must use a soul."

My stomach turned again.

"Everything--from the ground you lie on to the air you breathe--is made of human souls."

March took an exaggeratedly deep breath. "Our Prince made and maintains this 'Paradise' for us. We give half of the souls we collect to him so he
can repair and create new structures in Hell, and we keep the other half to feed to our demons. The spirits, as you seem to know, are sent to
Purgatory to feed the Rukah-Hayim."

I shot up. My head was swimming. No, that's wrong. It has to be. "You feed what to the demons?"

Forneus grinned. "Demons use soul magic. Where do you think those souls come from? When someone who was once under contract dies, we
extract both their spirit and their soul. As you know, we direct their spirit to Purgatory, and then either give their vital energy--or soul--to our Prince or
feed it to our demons. "

"Oz would never do that," I said. It sounded more like: Ozud evra do-rat.

March crouched down beside me. "Oz. You've said that twice now. Is that your little name for Azazel?"

I tried to get a better look at him, but my eyes rolled to the back of my head.

March rested his chin on his fist. "It doesn't matter what they want. Demons are useless to us if they don't consume souls, so we included 'feeding
clauses' in contracts. At the time they were willing to agree to anything so they could release the ones they loved from Purgatory."

Sharp pain seized my chest--the feeling of my lungs deflating. "Save?"

Forneus sighed. "God casts the spirits of those who sin into Purgatory, and tempting an angel to fall is a grave sin."

March poked my nose. "And they couldn't get them out without us," he sang.

No. You're joking. Was this the beginning of Forneus and Oz's "friendship?" Had Azazel accepted eternal servitude to save the one he loved from
Purgatory? Did he beg the devil? Did he thank him? How did he feel when he realized that, in exchange for saving the person who'd tempted him
from Purgatory, he'd be forced to eat human souls? Azazel, who hated all power, especially his own.

I closed my eyes, forcing back tears. I would not cry in front of either of these disgusting, decrepit, manipulative beings. I would not give them
anything. I had already given Forneus too much.

If I'd known--if only you'd told me--I never would have done this. Never. I can see why you didn't want to, but now I can't take it back...

The devil tapped my nose a few more times and stood. "They didn't know how contracts worked, either. Thought they could get out of them. So
funny when they tried." He winked at me, then snickered. "You remember when you and I thought that too, Forneus, don't you? Lucifer tricked all of
us, that lucky bastard."

Forneus stared at me, saying nothing.

I glared back, wishing the resentment in my eyes would make him feel something. Anything. I almost couldn't feel the sick weight on my skin
anymore. It was all replaced by my revulsion for these things.

"Forneus, there is something I don't understand."

The devil blinked, then turned his attention away from me. "What?"

"There was an angel back there."

"Yes," Forneus replied.

"Lucifer didn't mention that."

"I think he wanted it to be a surprise."

"He knows how much we hate surprises, especially ones like that," March muttered sagely, licking his fingers. "It was Camael, wasn't it?"

Forneus paused. "Yes."

"Well, that's interesting."

Forneus said nothing.

"Was Azazel really fighting beside him? Maybe I could understand if it were another angel, but for a demon to stand alongside Camael--"

"Azazel, for the most part, does what he pleases," Forneus answered. I noticed that he didn't bring up the fact that Azazel loved me.

"You give him an unprecedented amount of freedom. Lucifer will not be pleased to hear it."

Forneus looked up and narrowed his eyes. "He is not Lucifer's pet, he is mine. Whether his actions please our prince or not is inconsequential."

The purple stranger looked down at me. "We'll see. You're not telling me something."

Forneus studied at him for a moment. "Since you know, there's no reason for me to continue chatting with you to maintain appearances."

"Oh, come on. Don't be like that."

Forneus grinned. "Let's go. Lucifer hates to be kept waiting."

March snarled. "Fine. Since you didn't help during the fight, you can carry her."

No. They couldn't possibly mean they wanted to hold me again. Wet puke still dripped from the side of my mouth. I doubted I'd be able to keep it
down if one of them picked me up--no, if one of them dared to touch me.

Forneus' shiny leather toe kicked a rock next to a pile of my vomit. "No."

March pointed to his stained shirt. "Well, I'm certainly not going to--"

"I brought her down here. I've touched her enough," Forneus interrupted. "Besides, don't you want some credit for bringing her here?"

"Fine," March whispered. He bent over me and shut his eyes. Slowly, he brought his lips down to my collarbone, and inhaled. "You are...exquisite.
It's been so long since we've taken one of the Nephilim. Our Prince has waited for thousands of years for someone like you."

This time, I projectile vomited in his face. It was about 95% involuntary.

Forneus handed March a white handkerchief. The devil wiped off the offensive residue and threw it to the ground. "I suggest you try not to do that
when you meet him," he enunciated sharply, then picked me up. "Now, let's go to Lucifer."

Chapter 18

It felt like we'd been walking forever. March's shirt was still damp from my puke, so in the back of my mind I knew it couldn't have been that long.
Still, that did little to ease the pounding in my temples, or the burning in my lungs whenever I took a breath.

Finally, I felt his chest rumble. "Almost there."

I rolled my head to the side, ignoring the tightness of my sore neck. An iron gate covered in overgrown rose bushes stood before us. It was the first
object I'd seen in Hell. All around it, and everywhere else, was endless, thick mist.

"Can she walk now?" March asked Forneus, not me.

Forneus retrieved a tarnished silver key from his pocket. "Probably," he muttered, fiddling with the lock.

March set me down. I weaved back and forth twice before grabbing his shoulder.

"Miss me, sweetheart?" His violet tinted teeth gleamed at me.

I wanted to say something equally sarcastic and diminutive, but my mind was too fuzzy. I slurred, then blew air through my lips like a whinnying
horse.

March laughed, then turned to touch a rose. Their stems were black as the iron gate, and their petals red as human blood. He pinched one of the
stems, breaking it off. Little thorns embedded themselves in his palm and fingers, and a similarly black, thick liquid oozed down his wrist.

"A gift for a princess," he murmured reverently.

I took it without thinking. Stupid Devi. You should never trust anyone who calls you a princess. Never. What if it had been coated in poison? But it
wasn't. The petals were soft. I brought them to the tip of my nose, and inhaled an almost cloying scent reminiscent of the perfume my mother used to
wear on Christmas and her birthday when I was a little girl.

I almost dropped it. How could such a subtle, personal fragrance exist in a place like this? Before I could wrap my mind around the questions, the
rose began to fade. I held it tighter, risking the sharp prick of its thorns in my skin, but I felt nothing. It was gone, and the only trace that it had ever
even existed were a few thick, black smears on my hands--the blood March had shed when the thorns cut him.

"You've come at a good time," March whispered. "Our illusions become less potent each day."

"Enough," Forneus hissed. The door squealed as he kicked it open. "There's no need to tell her things like that."

March raised his brows.

Forneus grit his teeth, grabbed my arm, and dragged me through the gate.

It took less than a second for us to step through. Such a seemingly insignificant amount of time, yet I knew the moment it happened because
everything changed. The heavy, damp mist was gone. It still hurt to breathe, though the air filling my lungs merely made them ache instead of ripping
me apart. Warmth caressed the bridge of my nose. I took a step forward, this time without wobbling, and opened my eyes. Immediately I squinted,
waiting for them to adjust to the light.

Yes, light--the brilliant, comforting light in the center of Hell. I was about to ask how it could exist and why everything outside the gates was so dark,
but one look at my surroundings silenced me.

The three of us stood in the middle of a courtyard. A mosaic maze lay beneath my 2-year-old sneakers. Directly in front stood a Gothic palace--or at
least I assumed it was. It looked like someone had thrown together a hundred Notre Dames. Angular steeples shot into the sky, and on the stone
carved walls were ornate depictions of angels falling, human evisceration, and bestial men fornicating.

I shivered. Those carefully executed grotesque scenes looked so out of place amongst the manicured almond, fig, and apple trees. Around the
palace was a moat and hedge maze, reminiscent of that one in The Shining an axe-wielding Jack Nicholson chased his kid into.

"Don't dawdle," Forneus muttered.

March put his hand on the small of my back, ushering me across the lawn. We passed six fountains on our way to the red doors. They featured
cherubs splashing in the water, or Venuses sprouting out of seashells with strategically placed hair.

My knees buckled as I climbed the steps. Those doors were at least thirty feet high.

I can't do this. They're really taking me to meet the devil. The devil.

"Uh, guys.." I stammered.

"Don't embarrass yourself, Devi," Forneus sighed as he leaned against the door.

It was dark in there. Maybe it was just a pit, and they were going to drop me in.

My head whipped around. I couldn't leave the grounds because I couldn't even walk outside the iron gates. But I could lose them in the hedge maze.

Maybe. I didn't know my way around, but they might not either. Yeah right. Or I could jump in the fountain. I could be mistaken for a Venus on a good
day, if I didn't smell like bile, and I grew six inches, and increased a few cup sizes and...oh Hell.

I had to find some way to stall--to either give Oz and the angel enough time to find me, or find some way to escape myself.

"Camael," I whispered, voice shaking.

"That won't work here," Forneus said. Then, more softly: "And I suggest you not advertise the fact you have a guardian angel."

My pulse spiked. Was he helping me?

"Come on," March called from behind as he pushed me through the doors.

I stumbled onto a glass floor. In it, I saw my yellow-cheeked, sunken-eyed reflection. Alright, there was no way I could have passed for Venus. At
least I knew that escape plan was never an option. And then, I realized that the ceiling was reflected in the mirror, too.

On one side were angels, mythological creatures, cherubs and humans painted in a Rococo style. They played, laughed, and stumbled into
suggestive situations. The other half of the ceiling was completely different: children hid inside rib cages, monstrous forms rose from the ground,
demonic creatures dug out their victim's intestines and wore them as necklaces. It was painted in the same frivolous style.

Whoever made this has a seriously twisted sense of humor.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Forneus' lips twitch as he took in my shocked expression.

Guess I'm right.

March coughed. He stood next to a black door on the left, beneath a silver unicorn head mounted like a deer between two silver wings.

"Forneus, is that real?"

"The unicorn?" He laughed. "No, Devi. It's just a statue."

I rubbed my arms and nodded. Forneus stepped behind me, quietly herding me to where March stood.

"We should wipe her face off before we present her," March muttered, opening up his jacket.

"Lucifer won't care," Forneus responded. "Let's get this over with."

March's bony fingers wrapped around the silver handle. "Very well. After you."

A wall of sweet, violet smoke greeted us. I stepped through the doorway and right onto someone's hand.

I jumped. "Sorry, I didn't mean--I mean, I didn't see--"

The man draped his wrist over his chest--his naked chest. In fact, he didn't wear anything at all, and he didn't even seem to notice that I'd stepped
on him. His purple eyes were almost swallowed by his dilated pupils. He gazed up blankly, watching the smoke circle above his head. Black ooze
dripped from the corner of his open mouth.

Oh my God. He bit through his tongue, and he didn't even notice...

Something grabbed my arm. "Keep moving."

Instinctively, my hand wrapped around Forneus'. For support, I told myself, and boy did I need it.

The floor breathed. Hundreds of thin, naked rib cages languidly moving up and down. Devils were piled up on top of each other, their limbs
intertwined, their long, purple hair stuck to their sweaty, skeletal faces. And those eyes--haunted, unseeing, ecstatic--burning like violet fireflies in
the smoke.

Most were curled up in a fetal position between one of the many Malabar Hookahs. They moved only to pass one of the hoses to the next devil, or to
place the mouthpiece between their lips to inhale, deeply, the smoke from the Rukah-Hayim.

That was definitely what they were smoking. I remembered the pungent scent and heady purple smoke. I remembered that feeling of falling. I
pinched myself to stop the contact high and held my breath. Yeah, like that will work. Still, I kept doing it. I really didn't want to strip, curl up beside
them on the floor, and lose myself in their drugged dreams.

Were they all imagining their own dream worlds, like Forneus had done with me in his private room? Was that why their glazed expressions
seemed happy? Had I looked like that when I was with Forneus in his ideal field?

I didn't want to think about it.

Forneus pushed me forward. I tried to step in the spaces between the complex weave of legs and arms. That didn't go so well. It was impossible
not to step on them, but thankfully no one noticed--well, either that or they were too high to do anything about it.

The smoke thinned at the back of the room. There, atop a platform, a man sat on a black throne inlaid with mother of pearl. He had wide, clear

eyes, full lips, and a delicate bone structure. His knee-length hair was caught in a thick braid. It sparkled like dewy spiderwebs illuminated by the
morning sun. If his open aubergine robe hadn't exposed a flat, angular chest, I would have considered him to be the most beautiful woman I'd ever
seen.

A green snake had coiled itself around his neck. It rested its head on the devil's arm. Two emerald eyes, as bright and deep as Azazel's, stared at
me, unblinking. The devil brushed his thumb over its scaly green head and winked.

My cheeks burned. Alright, it hadn't exactly sunk in until that point that everyone in the room was naked. Naked. In heaving lumps on the floor.
Heaving naked lumps. I shut my eyes so tightly that my neck began to ache.

This is so beyond not okay. I squeezed Forneus' hand as if my life depended on it. Get me out of here. Please. I don't care where we go, or what we
do. I can't take this!

"Devi."

I didn't recognize the low, slippery voice. Given that, and the direction it came from, it was probably Mr. Open-Robe's. I tucked my chin into my
chest, and felt something--perhaps fingertips, or disturbed smoke--brush against my eyelids.

"Are you afraid?" Open-Robe asked.

Just of light breezes. "Uh, no. I mean, are you all buttoned up?" I squeaked.

He chuckled. The low, intimate sound made my skin crawl. There was a rustle of fabric, then: "I'm no longer immodest."

I cracked my eyes open. Silver and gold clasps kept his robe closed. Good.

"I feel like I've waited an eternity for this moment." The serpentine man leaned forward and took my hand. His touch was as waxy and cold as
Forneus'. I could feel the tongue of the snake curled around his wrist flick the top of my thumb. He kissed my knuckles with his thin lips. "Thank you
for bringing her to me, Forneus. You will be rewarded."

"Hey, I helped," March insisted.

The other two devils ignored him.

"Is that a promise, my Prince?" Forneus asked carefully.

My heart skipped a beat. The flasher--I mean, Open-Robe--was Lucifer? I was standing in front of the devil.

The serpentine man dropped my hand. "Is there some reason why I would regret making such a promise?"

Forneus bowed. "I prefer assurances, my Prince. You understand."

Lucifer ran his free hand down his long, pale neck. "You're excused, Marchosias."

March's eyes darted between them. "If that is your wish." After an exaggerated bow, he retreated into the smoke.

Once that devil was out of sight, Lucifer leaned forward and whispered: "What game are you playing, Forneus?"

"I suspect the same one you are," Forneus answered smoothly.

Lucifer's eyes narrowed. My pulse spiked. What the Hell was Forneus thinking? Lucifer was stronger than him, right? I mean, he was the Prince of
Hell. Was Forneus planning treason, or was he just being an ass? And why did he have to drag me into the middle of it?

I stumbled. My shadow fell from Lucifer's neck to the center of his robe. I have to get out of here. Please. I took another step back. Then another.
The scent of the Rukah-Hayim grew stronger. That's right. Behind me is a sea of drugged, naked bodies.

The snake coiled around the Prince reared back its head. Its eyes burned with lethal anticipation, like it was waiting for me run so it could hunt me
down.

My hands flexed in the air, grabbing only smoke. There had to be another exit somewhere.

Along the edge of the wall, hidden behind three ruby urns, a man with gold skin and gold wings stared at us. On his lap slept a silver man. His silver
chest rose and fell as the angel ran his gold fingers through his silver hair.

"Who is that?" I croaked.

Lucifer diverted his attention from Forneus to me.

Okay, bad move Devi.

"Sariel and Shamsiel. The moon and my sun." Lucifer tilted his head to the side. "You look like you're experiencing deja vu."

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Forneus go completely still. So it wasn't just my imagination--he was hiding things from Lucifer. I wish he'd told me
this before he'd taken me to meet him.

"I just--" I bit my lip, trying to think of something. "They're so beautiful."

Lucifer glanced over at them, licking his lips. "That they are--in fact, they are the most beautiful things in this room. You have exceptional taste."

I began to breathe heavily. Apparently, my body wasn't thrilled that it was receiving compliments from the devil Prince.

"You know, not all of us are so uptight," Lucifer purred.

Behind me, someone coughed, followed by the slick sound of flesh being dragged across the floor. I don't know. Uptight is starting to sound pretty
wonderful right about now.

Lucifer smiled. "Being stuck with someone like him must have been awful."

I started to feel dizzy. "Uh, do you mean Forneus?"

His eyes narrowed. "Who else would I be talking about?"

Damn, nothing escaped this guy. "March?"

Lucifer raised his brow.

Come on, Devi. Don't make it sound like you're asking a question! "Yeah, March. He seemed kinda cool."

Alright, I was the worst liar ever. March seemed 'kinda cool'? Really? The guy smelled like puke--well, my puke--but still.

Lucifer chuckled. "Relax, Devi. I'm here to give you what you want."

Does that mean I can leave?

I bit my lip. No, I couldn't ask that. Even if he granted my request, he'd probably require something in return. Just thinking about what that might be
terrified me.

"Relax," Lucifer repeated. He shut his eyes for a moment, took a deep breath, held it, then retracted his lids.

Purple fire danced where his pupils would have been. Everything in my peripheral vision--the smoke, the haunting violet, silver and gold lights, the
shiny exterior of the room--began to bleed. My body melted. I leaned towards him, chest first, as if he'd pierced my heart with a string.

"Your brother's name was Kai, wasn't it?"

Time stopped. He knew about Kai? How?

The Prince's cool voice interrupted my thoughts. "There is a story I like, about a boy named Kai and his sister."

"The Snow Queen," I whispered. But how did he know about that story? Did he read fairy tales?

My limbs felt stiff. The lush, liquid pleasure flowing through my veins began to ache. Something was wrong. Still, I couldn't look away from his
gleaming eyes, or force myself to move away.

"Yes," he drawled. "In it, he was stolen and taken to a world of winter. His sister had to find him, and bring him out of the cold slumber that
imprisoned his spirit."

Lucifer ran his fingers through my hair. "Devi, what are you willing to do to release your brother from stasis?"

My eyelids drooped. Don't let him get to you, I chided, but his words lulled me into a state of calm as if he'd cast some magic spell. Perhaps the
smoke was beginning to drug me--or perhaps what he said naturally held power over me, for I would do anything to save my brother.

"Anything," I murmured.

He breathed out. Purple smoke swirled around us both. I began to sway, and he caught me in his arms. Slowly, his fingernails dug into my skin, and
then I felt something damp.

I'm bleeding, I realized. This should hurt. I should push him away. But it didn't hurt, and I didn't stop him. All I felt was a subtle, incandescent ecstasy
swimming through my veins, replacing my fear. My breath caught as I waited for it to swallow me whole.

"I will take you to your brother, Devi," he said. "If you give me your soul."

My droopy eyes drifted up to his. They were so beautiful--like precious, purple sapphires, or cold fire. I wanted to kiss them.

"Will you give me your soul?"

I've already done this. With Forneus. I guess it won't matter if I will do it again.

No. Wait. "You're trying to trick me," I slurred. "You are going to feed my soul to demons. You are going to make me part of Hell."

He leaned forward and brushed my hair behind my ear. His sandpaper lips scratched my neck "No, I want you for more than that. With you I will
create Paradise, not Hell."

I grabbed onto his sleeve to steady myself. It felt like crushed velvet. "Paradise," I repeated.

"Yes." I tried to back up but he held me close. His sandpaper lips brushed against the bottom of my ear. "You will be our salvation, and you will be
taken to your brother. All I ask is that you give me your soul."

My eyes began to water. Somewhere, in the back of my mind, this felt wrong. But the sickeningly sweet scent called to me, and the flames devoured
my concerns. I want to save everyone. I want to create Paradise. I want to save Kai. "Alright," I said.

"Give me your hand." The ruthlessness in his eyes scared me for a moment, but, as if hypnotized, I did as he asked.

Not this again. He was going to make me hurt, just as Forneus had. I whimpered as his hand lashed out like a striking snake, wincing as his fingers
constricted around my wrist.

I shut my eyes and grit my teeth, waiting for the pain.

It didn't come.

Then, a cruel, deep voice broke the silence. "What did you do, Forneus?"

"I brought her to you, as you asked."

"She's already been marked," Lucifer whispered.

"You should have expected as much," Forneus responded quickly.

A pause. "That's alright. Just give me the debt."

"No."

The devil threw my hand down and whipped around. "What do you mean, 'no'?"

"No," Forneus repeated clearly, leveling his Prince with a gaze filled with disgust. "I will not hand her over. I don't think any devil would after realizing
what she is."

The purple sheen drained from Lucifer's face, until his skin looked egg shell white.

Forneus sneered. His shoes clacked on the polished floor. "Did you really think none of us would figure it out? You should never have sent another
to collect something so precious--but then again, I suppose one in your position has little choice."

Lucifer swallowed and stepped back. "You have to give her to me."

Forneus grinned. "Do I? I've already fulfilled my end of the bargain--I've brought her, as you demanded, and I don't have to do anything else."

The Prince took a deep breath. "Forneus," he began slowly, "is this the path you choose? Do you really think you can stand against me?"

"Are you threatening to punish me for being such a bad boy?" Forneus replied chidingly.

Lucifer didn't hesitate. "Yes."

"Well, I expected as much," Forneus whispered feverishly, eyes blazing with passion. "And I await your punishment eagerly. Let maggots infest my
dead flesh. Let the pools outside your palace be filled with my blood. Rip me apart, again and again, for the next twenty years. Or fifty. Or one
hundred. Or for however long she lives."

Forneus glanced at me, and his expression softened. "What was the first lesson He taught us? That those who sacrifice the most will receive the
most in His Kingdom. I will suffer gladly for your sins, Lucifer--and for my own, and for the sins of every devil, demon and every man--for that
suffering will bring me closer to salvation."

Lucifer opened his mouth but did not respond. Instead, he inserted one of his long, purple nails into the back of Forneus' throat. When he pulled it
out his fingernail was caked in black liquid, far darker and thicker than devil's blood. "And how will you fulfill this debt if you cannot speak or move?"

Forneus' commanding tone faltered. "If she dies before I give you the debt and neither of us fulfills it, this opportunity will be lost forever. Are you
really that petty?"

Lucifer slithered forward. His fingernail cut Forneus' cheek when he grabbed his chin with his clean hand. Then he wiped away the blood, healing
the wound. "It seems I am."

The Prince looked down at Forneus, his lips parted as if he were about to kiss him. The snake tightened its hold on his wrist, brushing against
Forneus' cheek. The lesser devil trembled.

"You are a fool for underestimating me," the Prince hissed. "My followers remain loyal for many reasons. Perhaps you need to be reminded of
them." With that, he slashed Forneus' neck with his black finger.

Forneus gripped his sliced neck and doubled over. The venomous light in his eyes flickered as he glared at his master.

"I want to make a world for all of us, but you are only interested in saving yourself," Lucifer said. "Even still, I will bring you with me. I will not abandon
any of my forsaken, beloved, fallen angels."

"Do you think beings such as us are worthy of salvation?" Forneus groaned. "Do you honestly believe God was wrong for casting us out of Heaven?
Look at us! No world could be made that would satisfy even ten of the devils in this room. If you tried to create such a world, it would not be beautiful,
for the only thing any of them want is your power."

Lucifer turned away from him, cringing, as Forneus fell to the ground.

The gash on Forneus' throat grew. First his chest ripped open, and then his stomach, as if some unseen hand were unzipping his torso. Forneus
doubled over, clawing at his guts as he tried to close the gaping hole. Still, he spit venom at his master. "You are naive, my fallen Prince. Such a
goal is impossible, and if you did somehow succeed your subjects will not thank you for it. Unless, of course, your 'Paradise' is merely another
opium den, wherein all of us lay before you, bereft of clothes, dignity and consciousness, indulging in nihilistic power fantasies or trying to escape
from them by inhaling that sacrosanct drug. For me--for all of us--a world fashioned by you could only be another Hell."

"Silence," Lucifer rasped. Then his large, glassy eyes rested on me--eyes filled with regret and something even rawer--a deep, unsatisfied longing.
"Come to my side, Devi."

The desperation in his voice broke the spell. He didn't look confident any longer. His chest heaved. He reached out to me, and the veins in his arms
bulged as the snake coiled tighter around him.

"Don't come any closer," I shouted, stepping back.

"Forneus will come around. Soon, nothing will stand between us."

Words could not describe how horrible that sounded.

The snake hissed and flicked his tongue against the veins popping out of his arm. The purple flames were back in his pupils.

He's trying to hypnotize me again, I realized, shutting my eyes. Such a gesture probably wouldn't help me escape, but at least I wouldn't be drawn to
him. That counted for something.

And then something slammed into my back.

I crashed to the floor. I tried to move, but the thing above me held me in place. No, it wasn't just a thing--a silver hand lay right before my eyes, and a
man's ripped torso pinned me to the ground.

The cool floor exasperated the pain in my bruised cheekbone. My ribs felt like snapping twigs. They dug into my lungs like a shrinking cage. I'm
being crushed. I can't even breathe. What is going on?

I cracked my eyes open and saw light.

Golden flames curled through the air, sweeping over the violet smoke like ink poured into water. White, hot, Heavenly light. Every exposed inch of
my skin the silver man didn't cover began to burn. I wailed as I watched my hands turn lobster red. Oozing scabs appeared on my knuckles.

Camael, I thought immediately. It looked the same as when I'd first seen him walk into that tunnel of light with my brother. And when he'd healed me.
And when he'd protected me from Oz and the Hellish monsters. He and Oz had come for me. Somehow they'd found me in this cruel, forsaken
place. No, of course they would. Oz loved me--surely that love had led him to me. And Camael was duty-bound to protect me. Nothing could stop
him. Together, they'd take me away from this nightmare of addiction, pain and desperation.

I winced as I pushed against the body on top of me. The movement caused the skin on the sides of my arms to crack and slough off. Ignore the
pain, I commanded. Something like that didn't matter. They'd heal me. I pushed myself to the left with all my might. Just barely, I was able to make
out the form of the most beautiful heavenly being I'd ever seen.

But it wasn't Camael.

His wings filled the room. They looked like a phoenix's--red, gold and white pools blurring into each other, always moving. Intolerable, relentless
heat pulsed off his body like nuclear rings. His eyes were fire.

Lucifer held his arms above his head, trembling as he stepped forward. The snake hissed at the light. Forneus was completely black, his skin a
charred husk. His lips had been burned off, and his bony jaw was locked open in a silent scream.

The silver hand moved from the floor to my forehead, blocking my vision.

I struggled at first when he wrapped his strong arms around me. But his touch was like aloe, soothing the burns and coating me in an almost liquid
cool. He held me to his chest, and both of us glowed with soothing silver light.

The golden angel turned and blasted a fiery hole in the wall. "Take her. I'll catch up with you."

"Shamsiel," the silver demon whispered, then looked down at me.

I stopped moving. The "whites" of his eyes weren't white, but black. The gleaming, silver orbs that looked back at me in that darkness looked like
little moons.

"Just go," Shamsiel said, turning his back on us.

The silver demon cradled my head next to his shoulder, then leaped into the wall of fire the golden angel had left for us.

Chapter 19

The cave glowed from the silver light emanating from his body. It looked like we'd entered Purgatory, though I couldn't see any patches of the
Rukah-Hayim.

He set me down on the hard ground. "Do you still hurt?"

I shook my head. Nothing burned. Even the welts were gone from my skin. It was as if nothing had happened

He placed his hand on the center of my chest. My body shimmered as another soothing, cool wave spilled over me. "I'm sorry."

My heart beat faster. "You're that little boy from Forneus' Halloween party, aren't you?"

He nodded.

Well, that didn't surprise me. His name was Sariel, and he was silver. Yet, he'd saved me.

I shivered as I wrapped my arms around my chest. Oz had told me to stay away from him--no, actually he'd begged me to. Why was he so scared of
this demon?

"May I see your hand?" Sariel asked hesitantly.

I'd prefer you didn't, I thought. I hated thinking about that spot. It looked exactly like what I'd always imagined Bubonic Plague to look like. But
unfortunately the demon was already reaching for them, and really, what could I do to stop him? Slap him silly, I guess.

However, I doubted he would find it funny, so I let him wrap those cold, gentle fingers around me and turn my hands face-up. His jaw tightened
almost imperceptibly. "I wish you hadn't done this."

"Why do you care?" I blurted out.

He closed my hand, then held my fist. At first I'd considered the coolness of his skin soothing, but now it was giving me goose bumps. My fingernails
bit into my palms. His silence only made it clearer how alone we were, and that the only light in this seemingly endless black cave came from him.

"I know you're a demon," I told him.

His eyes no longer had pupils. They truly did look like moons, then--full and distant in a starless night sky.

"Do you belong to Forneus?"

"No."

"Who, then?"

He glanced over his shoulder, at the place where the portal we'd escaped through had once burned. "I don't have a master anymore."

Blood pumped through my veins so hard and fast that I almost fell over. "But you did have one--a devil owned you, and you got rid of him. How did
you do it?"

My hands were free. He'd let go, at some point, and stepped back. He couldn't get rid of me, though. I'd dashed forward, skinning my knees, then
started clawing at his arms. "Tell me, please, how to save Oz."

He crouched down to my level, then grabbed my wrists to stop me from scratching him. "I'm sorry, Devi. It isn't something that could be repeated."

"What do you mean?"

He sighed. "Devils covet the beauty of angels. They remember the lightness of their bodies, the purity of their light, and the grace of their wings.
Lucifer feels this most keenly, because he cannot even leave Hell. When the angel of the sun offered to sit at the foot of Lucifer's throne, and fill his
bleak world with light, he couldn't say no." His expression softened. "The Fallen Prince forbade other devils from having angels. However, even if
that weren't the case, I doubt you'd be able to find an angel who could stand living so far from God."

"Is Shamsiel really an angel? I mean, if he belongs to Lucifer--"

"He doesn't 'belong' to Lucifer--or, at least, the Prince cannot control him." Sariel gave me a slight smile and let go of me. "If Shamsiel bent to
Lucifer's will instead of God's, then he would no longer be an angel. Lucifer must endure that slight if he wants to see the sun."

I gulped. Alright, those were a pretty extreme set of circumstances. But... "There has to be a way to save Oz from Forneus."

"There isn't," Sariel responded steadily. "He promised to serve Forneus until death, and in return the spirit of the woman who tempted him in Eden--
the one he loved who made him fall--was released from Purgatory."

It isn't fair. You just wanted to save them because you loved them. How could that be bad? I blinked. The demon's image blurred, until all I could
make out were silver streaks in the darkness.

I heard his rich, deep voice. "The spirit suffers most when it is separated from God. We knew this, and the devils knew we could not enter
Purgatory. So they offered to save them if we became their servants. We didn't know, then, that we would be forced to eat the souls of men, or that
such an act would turn us into monsters.

"There are differences in our contracts, but the end result is the same for all of us: when the devils wage war against each other, we fight; when a
human tries to back out of a contract, we force them to comply; and so on."

My chest felt tight. I fell forward, tearing at my hair. "I thought I could save him if I could stop the curse. Forneus said--he said--"

"Is that what he promised you in return for your soul?"

I suddenly didn't want to tell him anything more. I don't know why. Something in me stopped myself from explaining further. I really didn't know this
demon. I didn't know what he was capable of.

"There has only been one demon who has ever survived our curse," he said softly.

My head shot up. I knew it. Oz refused to tell me about it, but Onoskelis had mentioned that a demon had survived. My fingers twitched. "Tell me."

Sariel frowned. "Are you sure you want to know? The Rukah-Hayim still runs through your system. Since the event is still too close to me, there is a
possibility that you will lose yourself in my words, and experience my memories. They aren't pleasant."

Like I care. I'd already ventured into Forneus' fantasy world, so I already knew it was hallucinogenic. Besides, whatever it was couldn't be worse
than Hell. "I need this," I begged. "I don't want to be a killer. I don't want to hurt anybody. I never did. I love him."

"I understand," the demon answered.

"Then tell me," I whimpered.

There was a long pause. The air seemed too still, and the damp scent of the cave filled my lungs.

His hand slipped over his face, obscuring the light from his eyes. It looked like he'd draped a veil over two distant twin moons. "The demon waited
until the woman he loved was asleep beside him..."

The cave pulsed.

His droning voice echoed, then disappeared.

I fell back and sucked in a panicked breath. What was going on? I was somehow breathing unstiffling air, salty and clean. It was warm, and the
ground was soft. I was sitting on blankets piled on top of a sandy floor. I'm not in the cave anymore, I realized. The Rukah-Hayim must have
immediately pulled me into his memory.

I looked before me. A man and a woman lay beside each other in the red tent, though in the darkness it looked aubergine, almost the same color
as her eyes. She slept so he couldn't see them. He wanted to, one last time. But that desire, like so many others, would go unfulfilled.

He bent down and kissed her cheek.

She wrinkled her nose and yawned.

He loved it when she did that. It made her look innocent--no, more than that, like the horrors of the world could never touch her. He didn't want that to
ever change. He knew it was wrong to feel that way, but he couldn't help himself. Because of that innocence, she hadn't turned away in disgust when
he told her he was a demon. She hadn't lusted after his power. She'd simply held him, as she always did. And for the second time, he fell.

He ran his fingers through her silky hair. It was black in the dark, the same color it was beneath the sun. He glanced to his side.

Through the opening at the doorway, the stars gleamed back at him. There was no moon out that night. No one would see this, or remember her,
but him. I will keep you in my heart always. I will never forget you, he whispered. My only regret is that I love you too much.

He grabbed his pillow. He gripped it so tightly that his knuckles turned white. He was reverting back into his demon self, and he couldn't stop it.
Light seeped through his skin, painting everything in the tent silver. Her hair, her eyelashes, her flesh--all of it was outlined in the same color as him.

His hands shook as he raised the pillow.

He wanted to kiss her again, but did not dare. It was too easy to put it off for one more moment, and then another, and another. If he put it off any
longer, his time would be up. She was human. Her spirit would go to Purgatory if it was her fate to murder him in cold blood. And if that happened,
he wouldn't be able to free her. No one would. She'd remain there forever.

But that was only part of it. If he was to end the cycle, he couldn't allow anything or anyone to hold him back, not even her.

I will find it, he vowed. If only I had already. Perhaps this was his punishment for that failure.

The silver man cried as he raised his shaking hands and put them over her face. His face twisted when she started to shift in her sleep, as her
hands limply gripped his arms. But he pushed down harder. Harder.

She stopped.

Her hands slid off his arms. She'd left red marks where she'd fought him--marks that healed, almost instantaneously.

He collapsed on her body, his cheek resting on the pillow. Then, he kissed it.

Golden light crept through the opening of the red tent. The sun was rising--no, it was too early. It wouldn't for at least another five hours.

You came to watch? Sariel asked.

For a moment, the light retreated. Then, a golden hand shoved back the tent door.

Shamsiel looked at the demon blankly. Then, his lips parted. He was about to say something. I could almost hear his voice--

But I didn't catch it. The image faded, then was replaced by another--his calm, silver face.

"You killed her," I whispered.

He stood and offered me his hand.

I didn't take it. "Why would you do something like that?"

He looked down. "I used to hate God. In the moments after I killed her, I hated Him more than anything. But I can't hate Him anymore."

I kicked myself further into the wall. Rocks dug beneath my shoulder blades. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"I realized something," he continued calmly, either ignoring or oblivious of my disgust. "Everything in this world--both the things I love and the things I
hate--were created by Him. Devils, angels, demons, and humans, are made in His image, and each carries a fragment of His Spirit. Even if I
wanted to distance myself from Him, I could not, because everything that exists, and everything that I can conceive of, was fashioned first by His
mind.

"When Heaven and Hell fight, it reflects the discord within His own Spirit. God is the devil who wants to make a new world. God is the demon who
lusts after His creation. God is Cain and He is Abel. And God is the perfect, unwavering clarity of an angel."

He looked down at me. "He is a part of all things--except, of course, you."

"What do you mean, me?"

Sariel crouched beside me and ran his fingers down the sides of my face. "You mostly look and act human. In fact, there is nothing remarkable
about you, except that which he placed inside you."

I flinched from his touch. Rocks bit into the back of my head and my shoulders. I didn't want to know what God had put inside me--or what could
make someone so cold touch me so tenderly with those cruel hands.

"Do you want to know who you are, Devi?"

Not really. I couldn't find my voice. Maybe a part of me realized how futile it would be to protest, because he wanted to tell me. I could see it in his
nervous, anxious posture--the way he stared at my face as if he couldn't make up his mind whether he wanted to kiss or devour me.

Sariel leaned forward and began to whisper, in that same strained, reverent tone he used when describing the scene of the demon who killed the
one he loved. "In the beginning, there were no things--just a mass of creative potential, unconscious and without form. The ancients have called it
Chaos, infinity, or primordial energy. When God awoke, he called it Nephesh-Tohuw, which came to be known as the Original Soul.

"God saw nothing like Himself in the universe. He did not understand why He, alone, was conscious--why the Nephesh-Tohuw was in constant
motion while He remained unchanged. And so, in an attempt to come closer to the Original Soul, God bent it to His will. He separated the light from
darkness. He created a transcendent Heaven, and the material world. Earth became a living soul, and everything made from the Original Soul, from
the rocks, to the plants, to the animals, was subject to time.

"But the transient beauty of His creation only made Him more aware that He was separate from it. He could not experience the elements directly;
He could only watch. So He ripped apart His own spirit and, from that, created the angels. Still, the angels were mere reflections of Himself that
could only enact His will. God wanted more--a being with a transcendent ego that was, at the same time, different from Himself. God's discontent
and sadness was mirrored by the angels, and the first of them, led by Satan and Lucifer, fell, believing they could make a more perfect world than
God's.

"In turn, God created man--a being composed of both spirit and soul in His own image. He gave man paradise--they had both free will and an
unrestricted connection with the living soul. But paradise was not enough. Man could not tolerate having all he could eat, living in peace with other
men and the natural world, and even happiness, so he destroyed it.

"God wanted man to be better than he was. The second set of angels who also wanted this fell. They loved the world, and they loved that thing which
was so similar to them but could live in the world."

Sariel inhaled deeply. His eyes were shut, and he looked as if he were taking in a drug more potent than the Rukah-Hayim.

Words could not describe how much I wanted him to get away from me. "You haven't explained anything," I stuttered. "None of that has anything to

do with me."

He leaned back. Thank you. Now just stay back. I brought my knees to my chest.

"It has everything to do with you. Normal souls can be given form in this world, but the Original Soul, when directed by spirit, has the power to tear
apart the universe. It can then be used to create a new one, or to return the Lord to the cosmic womb, so that He may sleep, undisturbed, forever."

It sounded like someone held a seashell to my ear. I felt distant from everything--the hard cave walls, his soft, ethereal light, even my own body.
"What do you mean, tear apart the universe?"

"I mean it can destroy all things--inanimate objects, spiritual beings, and life--and return them to their primordial, undifferentiated state."

My heart turned to ice. Cold swept through my veins. I was frozen. Paralyzed. "That has nothing to do with me."

His eyelids fluttered as he inhaled again, slowly, as if he never wanted it to end. "Your fragile, seemingly insignificant, human body houses the
greatest treasure in the universe. The Nephesh-Tohuw. The Original Soul. This is the first time, since He made Earth, that such a treasure has been
made available."

"I don't understand." I don't want to. Stop.

"Really? The devils want to rip out your soul, then use it to create an asylum that will not fade with time. That is what Lucifer wants with you--and
Forneus too, who, for the moment at least, appears to have the upper hand."

My stomach turned. That was why he was suddenly interested in me. His cooing and disgusting displays of attempted affection--the fact that he
considered it so important for me to like his little ideal world--all of it was because he wanted to use my soul to destroy this world to build a new one
with me.

"Do you know what the demons, like me and your beloved Azazel, vowed to do to you if they found you?" Sariel murmured.

My eyes went wide. Of course I didn't--and of course I didn't want to hear it. But those unspoken feelings did not stop him.

"We vowed to destroy you, because your very existence threatens everything we love." He smiled. "Don't worry. I don't feel that way any longer. If I
did, I would have killed you the moment I realized what you were back at Forneus' Halloween party."

My heart beat too quickly. It was too hard to figure out what he was saying. No, that was a lie. I understood what he meant, or at least I thought I did. I
just didn't want to believe it. Forneus' prediction was coming true. The devils and demons would hunt me down. Oz might stop loving me if he knew.

"What do you want?" I croaked. Why are you telling me this?

"What God wants, and what you want." The light in his eyes grew softer, like the moon obscured by clouds. They looked as they did when he gazed
at his beloved one last time. "I want you to wake your brother from his slumber. I want that which should never have been separated to become one.
I want to end my Father's torment, and mine."

"Alright," I said shakily. "I still don't see what you're saying."

His silver hands flexed. "Our Father is tired. He sees the future but cannot change it, and when He tries to assuage the suffering of others, He only
amplifies their suffering and His own. He doesn't want to watch His angels fight. He doesn't want to watch mankind destroy His creation. He wants
to return to that unconscious state from which He cruelly awoke." Sariel shut his eyes. "You will save him."

The words were out before I could stop them. "What do you mean?"

"In order to end this world, both the Holy Spirit and the Original Soul must be born into it--that would be you and your brother Kai."

"What about Kai?" My shrill voice almost overwhelmed the roaring in my head. Almost. It didn't sound like a seashell was pressed to my ear
anymore. Instead, it sounded like a stampede was rushing towards us, led by my own heartbeat.

"The Original Soul resides within you, and the Holy Spirit resides within your brother. Kai sleeps, as God once slept. And, just as the Holy Spirit
awoke when he felt the Original Soul stir against him, Kai will wake when he senses your presence. In his groggy, half-conscious state, he will
confound light and darkness. He will destroy Heaven and Earth. Then, he will return to his rightful place within the cosmic womb, and this world and
this nightmare will end."

For a moment, all I could do was stare at him. Then, in a pathetic, soft voice, I whispered: "You lie."

He shook his head.

"No, you are lying to me. Demons can do that. You're trying to trick me!"

Kai and I were always together. We grew side-by-side in the womb. He had my spirit, and I had his soul. We were born together, and as a child I'd
thought we'd die together, too, because I couldn't stand the thought of existing without him.

But I'd never imagined it would be like this.

The bond between us was sacred. It was greater than either of us. We loved each other.

It couldn't be like this, because love was beautiful. Through compassion, it could redeem evil. It gave hope to those who suffered. It was the origin of
life, not destruction. Such a thing was impossible. It had to be.

"Don't cry, Devi." The demon brushed a silver finger over my cheek. "You have been given the most sacred task: to free Him who gave us life."

"No, you're wrong."

"You alone can ease His suffering, and the suffering of His creation."

"No!" I pushed him away and leaped to my feet. "No."

"Come back. You'll hurt yourself." He hadn't moved from his place--just turned his head and offered his hand.

I whipped my head back and forth. Nothing but darkness in either direction.

How far would I get if I ran? What would happen if I fell and broke my leg? Would I have to wait in that darkness for him to come and ease my pain?
Would I be relieved when he put those cold, murderous hands on me? Would I thank him for healing me? The thought made me gag. I didn't want to
depend on him for anything. I didn't even want to be near him.

I shut my eyes. "Camael," I whimpered. "Camael..."

Bang!

Heat ripped through the cave, followed by a ring of light. For a moment, that indigo and silver world was painted with gold. I threw my arm over my
eyes. Another wave passed through me, and then another, until finally the temperature of the air around me cooled.

It took a moment for my eyes to adjust to the light. The golden angel stood in between the demon and me. His glowing hands cradled the body of
something black. No, wait--not just a something, but a body draped in tattered clothes.

The face had burned away, but charred skin was still melted onto his ribcage. Organs slipped between bones and blood oozed between the
angel's fingers. Shamsiel set the body down, then wiped his hands on his thighs, marring his perfect gold skin with thick, black smears.

Sariel's lip curled. "You brought that devil?"

That devil? Were they talking about Forneus? I had never seen him look so bad, and after his fight with Onoskelis that really meant something.

Shamsiel looked at the rotting corpse groaning on the ground dispassionately. "I don't think it's wise to leave him behind until we know exactly what
she agreed to."

"You're right, of course," Sariel replied evenly. His jaw tightened as he pressed his toe into Forneus' spleen. I doubt he liked that Forneus--or at
least what was left of him--was there.

None of this affected Shamsiel. "We only have six hours until the sun rises in Hell."

Sariel sucked in a breath. "Not much time, then. Come on, Devi. I'll take you to your brother."

My body pulsed. His silver hand reached for me, offering everything I'd dreamed of since the day he was taken. My brother. I could see him. I could
save him. And in doing so, I would destroy the world.

"Devi?"

His voice called out to me, a more portent drug than Lucifer's slithering voice. My blood rushed through me too quickly. I felt giddy. Lightheaded.
And then I did something I didn't think I would ever do. I didn't accept the hand of the man who offered to take me to my brother. Instead, I stepped
back.

From below, I heard the sound of grinding bones and laughter. "You told her, didn't you?" Forneus was smiling, or at least I think he was. It was hard
to tell since the skin on his face and neck looked like silly putty smothered in steak sauce. "That wasn't smart."

Sariel's eyes narrowed.

"Well, at least I don't have to worry about you stealing her. She won't go with you. Not now."

His silver hands curled into fists. "It doesn't matter what she wants. Her body calls for the Holy Spirit. It is inevitable."

"You really know nothing about women, Sariel," Forneus muttered.

I think I agreed with Forneus on that one. No, wait--was Forneus actually insinuating that he knew something about women?

Forneus laughed. "Thank you for rescuing her from Lucifer, but from now on I shall be her escort."

His raw hand emerged from what was left of the inside pocket of his jacket. Shamsiel and Sariel went still, then leaped forward.

It was too late. The drawstring on the pouch had already been pulled. It slipped from his fingers, and the Rukah-Hayim scattered onto the floor.

Violet smoke filled the air. I coughed and stumbled back. It stung to open my eyes. It was too thick--too hard to breathe. Strange sounds echoed
throughout the cave. Purple phantoms emerged from the smoke, then walked passed me--copies of Forneus with glowing eyes and flawless skin.

Then, a slimy skeleton latched onto my arm.

I screamed and clocked it in the temple.

"Jesus Christ," Forneus yelled.

That's right. He hadn't healed yet. Which meant I'd just punched a decrepit corpse. "Oh God, oh my God, I'm so sorry, I thought--"

"Never mind. We have to go," he spat. I swallowed my nausea as he readjusted his grip on my wrist.

Wait a second, was he crazy? "Why would I go anywhere with you? You got me into this mess--"

"I didn't have a choice. I promised Lucifer a long time ago that I'd bring you to him if I found you. I showed you to them so they'd save you--look, we
don't have time for this. My illusion will only keep them busy for so long. We have to find Camael and Azazel."

He wanted to take me to them? That made no sense. Azazel would rip him apart.

But, if Forneus had truly promised Lucifer he would bring me to Hell, he'd have to do it even if he didn't want to. At the same time, he'd promised
Azazel that he wouldn't take me to Hell. That meant that in order to satisfy both promises, he'd have to get someone else to actually bring me to
Lucifer--someone like March--and since he couldn't tell him where to pick me up, he'd have to bring me to a place such as Purgatory and take off
my protective amulet so that the other devils would be alerted of my presence.

Still, that didn't explain why he'd invited Shamsiel and Sariel to Halloween...unless he knew, somehow, that he'd need help getting me and himself
out of Hell. But even then, how had the two recognized me, and if they knew what I was, why hadn't they just taken me then?

My head hurt.

Forneus dragged me forward. He kept one hand in front of us, face-up. A purple light glowed from the center of his palm. "Stay close. The caves of
Purgatory are a maze. Portals can only be created in certain areas, and in most places no one, including me, will be able to find you if you get lost,
no matter how loud you cry out. We need to get to an area where you can call Camael and I can create a portal back to earth."

"And how far away is the next area?"

His jaw tightened. He quickened his pace.

That close, huh?

The smoke began to dissipate. We moved faster with only his faint light guiding us. I feared Shamsiel or Sariel were right behind us, but whenever I
turned my head I just saw darkness. I kept falling over onto him, which I felt really bad about. Forneus was starting to heal, but it wasn't happening
very quickly, and each wound I gave him made that process go even slower. Still, he didn't scream at me, though that was probably because he
was trying to conserve his strength.

Forneus let me go ahead because it was more important for me to make it out than him--his words, not mine. I wasn't a fast runner. I'd never been
able to run below a nine minute mile. The smoke still clung to my shirt and hair, and that intoxicating scent made me feel as if I were swimming
through the cave.

Forneus put his hands on my back and pushed. "Christ you're slow if even I can catch up with you in this shape."

Those words stung. Skin had only grown back on one of his feet, he barely had muscle tissue on his rib cage, and one of his intestines flapped
around his hips like a chains dangling out of a stylish guy's baggy jeans. Well, if such chains looked like bloody, miniature sausage links--but that
wasn't the point. The point was that there should have been no way in Hell devil-zombie should have been able to catch up with me.

No, make that passing me. "Come on! Only 100 more feet! Then you can call your angel"

"100 feet!" I wailed. "That's like a mile, isn't it?"

Forneus stopped and glared at me. "No, it's not 'like a mile.' Not even close. There are 5,280 feet in a mile."

"So like a quarter mile, or something?" That didn't sound too bad. I could do one of those in less than two minutes...maybe.

He cringed. "Just shut up and run."

I did. My lungs were on fire. My mouth was dry. My palms sweat and blood was running into my eyes from where I'd fallen. Can't stop. I had to keep
going. Even if my muscles gave out. Even if I died getting there.

"Now!" Forneus called out.

I took a deep breath and screamed: "Camael!"

A burst of golden light appeared in the infinite, bland darkness of the cave. A ray of hope. I dashed forward. Forneus yelled something I didn't hear.
It didn't matter, anyway. We were saved. They'd come for me. So I jumped right into the angel's arms.

The arms of the wrong angel.

Chapter 20

"Idiot!" Forneus yelled.

I winced. Even I had to admit this wasn't my greatest moment. But could you really blame me? Shamsiel glowed just like Camael. Still, there was
one big difference between the two. The golden angel wore significantly fewer clothes.

He held my cheek to his chest with an iron grip. I tried to scream, but all I got when I parted my lips was a mouth full of his pecks, courtesy of his
bare chest. I didn't dare look down. I whimpered, not knowing whether I should leave my mouth open or shut it and risk chomping on them.

My teeth chattered, causing me to gnaw on his tasteless, hard flesh. Please let go, I begged silently.

Something growled behind me. "Let go of her."

Shamsiel tightened his grip.

"Let go," it repeated in an even more threatening tone.

The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. I recognized that terrifying, low sound.

"Azazel. Camael." Sariel stood beside me and the golden angel. His posture reflected his calm tone. Just barely, I could make out the slow rise and
fall of his chest.

"I said let go!"

The cave trembled and groaned as rocks cascaded to the ground. Instinctively, I shuddered. The golden angel's grip remained unresponsive. I
guess he either didn't notice my fear, or didn't care.

"Stop it," Sariel chided softly. "She's not for you. She's not for any demon, or devil, or angel. She was made for God."

The demon had stepped forward. I couldn't see anything of him--just his soft, silver light. Stop talking, I begged silently. If he did, Oz would realize
what I was. And then...I didn't want to think about it. I couldn't think of a deeper betrayal. The fact that I wasn't even aware of it just made it worse,
somehow. Oz would hate me if he knew.

But maybe that was Sariel's plan.

"She couldn't have been made for God. She was born without a spirit. He condemned her." The desperation in his voice shattered me. He believed
in me so much. It wasn't something he'd had to think about. He'd embraced those beautiful, frightening feelings the moment they'd emerged.

All that meant now was that he couldn't even comprehend how unworthy I was of such devotion--or, perhaps, he simply never wanted to know.

I shut my eyes. "Stop it. Don't say anything." Please.

Footsteps crunched against the rocky floor. "Can you see how much your ignorance hurts her, Azazel?" Sariel continued smoothly. "She will suffer
until you acknowledge what she is, and she will suffer after."

"What the Hell are you talking about?"

"I think you know, brother. Why would a human without a soul appear after so many years? She isn't one of the Nephilim. Her brother, who has a
spirit but no soul, was taken by the angels."

Azazel panted. "None of that matters to me."

"It should. How can you claim to love something you don't know?" Something cool grabbed my wrist--a silver hand. Sariel pulled me from
Shamsiel's hot embrace into his shadow. "Look at him, Devi."

I don't want to.

"That beast is your beloved, isn't it? He's hurt. The creatures of Hell tore up his limbs, and they haven't healed fully yet."

A knot of anxiety formed in my chest. Stop it.

Of course, Sariel didn't. "He sustained those injuries trying to find you--"

"Leave her alone!"

My pulse spiked. Azazel's raw voice ripped through me and, before I could stop myself, I glanced up.

He stood next to Camael. Both were bathed in heavenly light, but for the first time my eyes were drawn to Azazel, not the angel.

Green light oozed off his shoulders. His eyes already resembled a dragon's more than a man's--wild, dark, impenetrable--and afraid.

My grandmother had once had a cat that rarely left her bedroom, and had never been outside the house. When my grandmother died, we took the

cat. We'd lived happily together for five years, but the process of moving her from my grandmother's house to ours had haunted me for months.

Until then, the only memories I had of Stitches were of her curling up to sleep next to my thigh and the gentle vibrations in her throat when she purred
as I scratched under her chin.

When we'd removed her from my grandma's house, she'd gone wild. I'd tried to explain to her: Grandma isn't here anymore. You're coming home
with us. You love us. Of course she hadn't understood, but it was more than that--it was like she didn't even seem to recognize us anymore--like
she'd lost her sight. She clawed at whatever was in front of her, regardless of whether it was our hands or the air. Her piercing, insistent wails never
stopped. Her wide eyes were all the way open, void of anything but fear.

Azazel looked like that--a trapped animal that would lash out at anything that got too close, even if it was someone he loved.

"Don't stop looking at him," Sariel whispered, and I realized something. He wanted me to look into Azazel's eyes when Azazel discovered the truth.
He wanted to watch Azazel's love for me die. He wanted to see my face when it did.

Sariel's calm voice sliced through my thoughts. "You love her because she's beautiful. Any demon can see that. But do you think you could love what
is horrific about her, too? Do you think you could love her, not in spite of those things, but because they are an intrinsic part of who she is?"

"You're making no sense," he growled.

Sariel ran his fingers down my shoulders. His tender touch became even subtler when he felt me flinch. "Then let me clear things up for you. This
mortal chest contains the Original Soul. God sent her to destroy all of us, and Himself."

For a moment, I could only hear a drip, drip, drip somewhere in the distance.

"I don't understand," Azazel whispered. It sounded like denial. The tattoos on his skin spread over it like daggers, concentrating into hard points.
Those are scales, I realized. He's turning into the dragon. His body changed unconsciously to prepare for attack.

Forneus' voice came from somewhere across the room, so far from us that I couldn't see him. "She's the Nephesh-Tohuw."

"No, you're wrong." Azazel's voice was squished. Of course. It must have been hard to speak as a dragon, and his throat looked like malachite
armor.

Forneus looked away. "She is. I'm sorry."

Azazel whipped around and stomped. Shards of rock flew into the air. "You told me it wasn't a person. You had me searching in caves for an ounce
of dust--"

"I believed that's what it was," Forneus interrupted, tone just as harsh. "He wanted us to interpret it this way to hide the truth, or perhaps he didn't
even know it himself. Either way, when I learned her brother had a spirit, I knew it was her. It was the only answer that made sense. I'm just
embarrassed for not realizing it immediately, as Sariel did."

"You lie," Azazel spat.

"I'm sorry, Azazel," Forneus replied softly.

"Neither of them lied," Sariel cut in. "The Nephesh-Tohuw isn't human, it's just in a human container. Why are you so upset, Azazel? Is it because
you can't bring yourself to love her anymore, or is it something even more troubling? Do you love her as much as you did before, even though you
know you should not?"

"Shut up," Azazel hissed.

"Brother, you have already devoted yourself to the one who will end all things. Now stand beside me and embrace your fate. You've never beaten
me. Even the last time we faced-off, you lost."

Azazel winced.

My head pounded. Face-off? Was he talking about Candy Land? Was he actually flaunting the fact that he'd won that cheesy children's game like it
was something to be proud of? Why wasn't Azazel making some snarky comment about that? Instead, he looked like he'd just been punched in the
face.

I couldn't take it anymore. "Stop it!" I yelled, trying to yank my hand from his grip. "I'm not going to do those things. I have a choice."

Camael inhaled deeply. The room went silent as white, purifying fire gathered around his shoulders. Unlike Shamsiel's flames, I felt no heat from
them. "You've been warned Sariel. Let her go."

"Camael," Sariel drawled condescendingly. His eyes flashed silver. "You've appeared before me twice now, and each time you've drawn attention
to yourself. You have a lot of nerve."

I shivered. His tone was far more acidic than I would've expected. Sariel believed that all heavenly bodies were reflections of God. If he didn't hate
God anymore, why did he reserve special treatment for this angel? Did it have something to do with what the devils had mentioned about Camael
and his relationship with the demons--

"Unhand her." Camael opened his eyes. That perfect, tropical blue had been swallowed by fire. Tactile skin had been replaced by ethereal light.
The flames danced over it, spreading up through his hair, over his limbs, and down the tip of his sword.

"You're serious," Sariel murmured.

Camael took a step forward.

"If you do this, you interfere with God's will. I know the true nature of this world was kept hidden from the angels, but--"

"It doesn't matter what she is, or what God or anyone else wants," Camael said. "I don't care about prophecies. Whatever fate our Father planned
for us shall come to pass, regardless of how much we scheme or struggle. I promised to protect her, and so I will. That is my purpose."

Azazel bellowed behind him. He fell to his knees. His skin had already turned to scales. The dragon would consume him, soon.

Sariel gazed at Shamsiel. "Are you ready?"

"Does it matter?" Shamsiel responded as he shut his own eyes.

The temperature rose. The surface of the cave sizzled, like someone had just poured water over rocks in a sauna. The air became arid. Gold and
red flames surrounded his body, consuming his flesh and wings until he was completely lost in a ball of fire.

Oh no. He's going to blast all of us, just like he'd done in Lucifer's throne room. How much time did we have? Two minutes? We were all gonna get
fried...

Camael rushed forward. The dragon arched his back. And Forneus ran in the opposite direction.

Seriously? I probably would have picked up a rock and chucked it at the coward, but the silver demon near my side bent his head and began to
change.

When I was little, I always told people that my favorite animal was a Unicorn-Pegasus. They would, of course, inform me that such a creature did not
exist. I'd say that neither Unicorns nor Pegasuses existed anyway, so why did it matter? And they'd finish the conversation by telling me I was stupid.

I didn't care how stupid I was. A Unicorn-Pegasus was the most holy creature in the universe--a symbol of purity, as white as the moon, that could
take flight. And so when he raised his head I began to ache. I felt young, naive, and simple--exactly as I did when I rested my head on Kai's lap as a
child, and the two of us would watch the spring apple blossoms fall around us like snow.

Sariel extended his long, delicate neck. His silver mane caught the light of both angels, and for a moment his horn and wings were lit in both
avenging and protective fire.

My Unicorn-Pegasus, I thought as I touched my lips. The most beautiful thing I've ever seen.

And he wanted to destroy the world.

Camael's sword clashed with the horn. Sariel tried to knock it from his hands, but Camael pressed down, as if he was trying to sever it. Then,
flames spilled from his body, cloaking Sariel in flames. Azazel circled around the back and whipped his tail around. It knocked Sariel off his hooves.

My chest constricted when I saw him fall. He's evil, Devi. He wants to end everything in existence.

My heart refused to listen. But he's a Unicorn-Pegasus.

My hands shook as I pressed them over my eyes. What was wrong with me? How could I feel anything for such a creature? Was I so moved by
images that my convictions meant nothing?

I looked up just in time to see the Sariel stab Azazel with his horn. Black blood streamed down its length, staining his silver forehead and hair.

"Oz!" I screamed, but no one could hear me. The sound of battle and rocks crashing to the floor echoed through the cave.

Camael swung his sword into Sariel's neck. The flames, again, flowed through his body, charring his silver coat. Sariel neighed wildly, tossing his
head back and forth.

I didn't know much about the hierarchy of angels--only that Camael was one of the Powers, which meant that he'd been below Azazel, and that
Sariel seemed to at least be on the same level as Azazel. Those things didn't matter in a fight like this. They might have been greater angels, or
even more beloved by God, but Camael had been built to fight.

He blasted Sariel back with another round of fire. The silver demon could barely move, now, and the dragon took this opportunity to leap on him. His
black canines sank into the Unicorn-Pegasus' flank.

"Devi, down!" Camael called out.

I froze for a second, then panicked and belly-flopped to the ground.

Needless to say, it was an awful idea.

My teeth sank through my lip. Rocks cut into my chin and neck, and sliced through my stomach. I prayed Camael had no other instructions for me,

because I couldn't move.

I cracked my eyes open and spit, trying to rid my mouth of the sanguine metallic taste. From the cave wall to the tip of Camael's sword was a wall of
fire.

A wave of heat radiated from the other side of the wall. It pushed Camael's flames out, but the wall itself remained intact. The heat also wasn't nearly
as scorching as it had been in Hell.

"Shamsiel," Camael yelled out.

The only answer was another blast of heat.

Camael dashed in front of me and absorbed the burning air. I guess there was only so much heat his wall of fire could withstand. My fingernails
scraped against the rock floor. Dirt and blood mixed with sweat and stung my busted lip. Even with the angel by my side it was too hot. If this went
on much longer, my insides would liquefy.

Camael held out his hand. A second wall of fire surrounded us, but the heat was leaking through it fast, and each heat wave was more relentless
than the last.

"Azazel, we must go!" Camael yelled. "Leave Sariel!"

As soon as Camael spoke the silver demon's name, relentless waves of heat pulsated outwards. My lungs are on fire, I thought as the walls of the
cave glowed red. My vision wavered as if I were caught in a mirage. Maybe this is all a dream.

Blisters bubbled on my back. I screamed and rolled to the side.

It wasn't a dream. My dreams were never this messed up.

Oh God, I want Oz.

I knew it probably wasn't the smartest wish. I didn't know how Oz felt about me anymore. In fact, there was a pretty good chance that he'd hate and
want to kill me. But that didn't matter. I needed him--his warm smile, the scent of his leather jacket, the smell of his ridiculous car...

Alright, maybe I didn't miss that last part, but I'd take it. Surrounded by suicidal angels and demons and holy fire, the place I wanted to be most was
in his arms.

"It's alright, Devi," a voice whispered. Soft hands slipped beneath my battered stomach. I heard a sharp intake of breath as a green, soothing haze
settled over my skin.

I looked up and almost jumped out of his arms. He was there--those familiar, sweet eyes, that crooked mouth--the guy I loved.

"Oz?" I winced. It still hurt to speak.

"It's time to go. Camael can't hold him off forever."

You don't have to convince me to leave, I thought. "How..." Questions swarmed in my mind. Why do you look like Oz? You were just a dragon--how
did you change?

"Shh, Devi. Don't say anything."

We were already moving towards the back of the cave. Camael trailed behind us, panting as he kept up the wall of fire intact.

"Forneus has made a portal," Oz sneered.

Well, I guess if I were him I wouldn't be too fond of Forneus either. At least he hadn't ditched us, though.

The devil looked over his shoulder, his face shadowed by the rocks. Or maybe that dark stuff was just blood.

"Ready?"

Oz's fingers flexed, involuntarily cutting into my raw skin. "Damn, sorry."

Don't sound so concerned, I'll be alright. I wanted to say it, but I couldn't. My head rolled back as another wave of heat ripped through us.

"Don't leave me again," Oz whispered.

My eyes rolled to the back of my head, and blood dripped out the corner of my mouth. Before I could give a proper response, he jumped forward.
There was a flash of purple light. I wrapped my arms around Oz's neck and shut my eyes as an intolerable pressure built in my temples.
Indistinguishable, horrific sounds grew louder, like an airplane taking off--or like the entire world falling apart.

I screamed.

***

I was still screaming when I fell on top of Oz.

He groaned as I rolled off his chest onto the hardwood floor.

Nice Forneus, I thought. I really wish the portal's exit had been a feather bed. Or a hot tub. Or something other than this.

The floor vibrated. No, more accurately throbbed.

I winced and looked up. I couldn't see much with my blurry vision. The room was black, but bright red and white things floated on the floor. Balloons, I
think they were. They were red and white, my school colors.

My stomach tightened. No. It can't be.

I craned up my neck, and saw what felt like 500 people giving me the biggest "WTF-faces" I'd ever seen.

I shut my eyes, trying to silence the roaring in my ears. Bryan Adams' "(Everything I Do) I Do it for You" was blasting in the background.

Oh no. I could think of only one place in Portland that would play such music.

I glanced up at the posters behind the bleachers, proudly displaying the two years our football team had won State in our school's history--1968 and
1970.

High School gym. Insanely catchy pop music. Teenagers.

All of that could only mean one thing: we'd crashed Winter Formal.

Camael stood up first. He sparkled even more than the disco ball overhead, but of course I was the only mortal who could see his light. He stretched
out his four wings and grabbed Forneus by the scruff of his neck. Then, holding the devil out in front like a shield, he walked forward.

My school's female population had unanimously declared Forneus "the hottest guy ever." Every girl who had been called ugly, or who had a cat that
had gotten run over in the second grade, or who suffered from a mild headache, tried to sign up for one of his coveted "counseling sessions." Yet
tonight, as Camael led him out of the gym, they squeaked as they recoiled, giving the angel a wide, clear path. It kind of reminded me of Moses
parting the red sea.

But really, who could blame them? Forneus looked like he'd just been through Hell. Stringy hair clung to his sweaty, bloody face, and his clothes
were scarlet. The only good thing I could say about his appearance was that he looked better than he had. His guts were in his stomach, and he
only looked like he'd been hit by a truck, not burned to a crisp by the sun.

Bryan Adams was still cooing in the background when Oz picked me up.

Now that Forneus had disappeared--without anyone following him, I should add--everyone stared at us. This was a little disconcerting because I still
had no idea how we'd ended up here. Had we fallen through the ceiling? Had there been a portal?

I really didn't want to think about the worst-case-scenario, but it popped into my head. What if I--the school's overly emotional problem child--had
burst through a glowing purple orb in the ceiling and fallen on top of the tattooed older guy that picks me up in his creepy car every day? And what if
we'd both fallen on the new school counselor, who looked like he'd been beat-up by said tattooed older guy?

How the Hell would one explain that?

"What are we going to tell them?" I whispered.

Oz set me down. "Nothing."

We have to say something, I thought. But before I could pester him, he wrapped his battered arms around me and started to dance.

I shut my eyes and leaned into him. It was probably the most ungraceful dancing anyone in the room had ever seen. I didn't care, and even if I did we
weren't really dancing--just rocking back and forth while hugging each other. His lips were on my neck, and his cheek right below my ear.

"You changed into Oz pretty quickly," I said awkwardly.

"I always change quickly when I'm in demon form."

Then why don't you just change into demon form whenever you need to change into something? I almost asked. But I realized I already knew the
answer--it was because he really hated that part of himself that much.

The gym doors burst open with a bang.

My pulse skyrocketed. My muscles tensed, ready for an attack.

The music switched from Bryan Adams to Lady Gaga's "Born this Way." Over her singing, we heard a man's battle cry: "Cannon Ball!"

What? After all this I have to look at another naked man? Tim Cannon took advantage of the parted crowd (curtesy of Forneus), belted out another
"Cannon Ball!", and charged. I stuffed my face into Oz's ripped black t-shirt.

Then, his thundering footsteps stopped.

Tim's nasally, high-pitched voice interrupted Lady Gaga's chorus. "Dude, what happened to you?"

I knew I shouldn't look. Nothing good would come of it. However, sometimes people do things they know aren't good for them. I rolled my head to
the side and got a good enough look to confirm Kim's belief that it had, in fact, been Tim Cannon in the back of that car on Halloween.

Tim yelped and jumped back once I made eye contact. He held out his arms as if debating if he should make a protective cross with his index
fingers.

So I look about as good as Forneus. Good to know.

"You must be Cannon Man," Oz said.

Tim glanced up, dazed. Two seconds later he flashed us a grin. Guess he was pleased that some twenty-something guy with tats had heard of him.
"Yeah."

Oz tilted his head. "It's cold out tonight. Especially in here. You might want to, you know..." Then, he glanced down at me and winked. "So, do I owe
you more doughnuts?"

More doughnuts? Oh yeah, he'd said you know, and...

I pressed my face to his chest. Does this mean you don't hate me? I balled my hands up in his shirt. It smelled like fabric softener and Hell.

"What?" Cannon man laughed. Then, he whispered conspiratorially: "Are you guys like on something?"

"Tim Cannon!" Someone yelled from our right. I looked up in time to see a large vein throbbing in the center of Mr. McDonnel's rosy face.

"Oops!" Tim raised his hands above his head and screeched: "Cannon--"

He didn't have time to finish. One teacher was already next to him, and the other was circling around to cut him off.

He dashed through the crowd. "Go Cannon Man! Go!" Some of his football buddies whooped. Tim gave a mock salute and almost tripped over the
drink table; though he didn't fall over, a number of the refreshments did.

"Tim Cannon!" Mr. McDonnel yelled, slipping on the wet floor. "Get back here now!"

Tim beelined to the exit. Some of the guys he passed slapped his ass with their socks. Some of the girls he passed cried.

And then he was out the door, the two teachers following close behind.

Oz rested his lips on my forehead and resumed our meandering dance. At least most of the kids no longer stared at us. They still gave us
practically the center of the basketball court, of course, but I think gossiping about Tim Cannon was more interesting than contemplating
otherworldly portals and kids who looked like they'd just barely escaped from a street fight.

"That was interesting," I murmured.

He said nothing.

My body stiffened. Are you really okay with everything? You offered to buy me doughnuts. Were you just... I couldn't finish. I was too afraid to think it,
let alone ask.

"Do you hurt anywhere?" He whispered.

I shook my head.

He held me tighter.

Finally, I couldn't take it anymore. "Do you hate me?"

"What?" He pulled back. His emerald eyes were glistening.

"I was made to end everything you love," I said.

He looked to the side. "It doesn't matter."

"Really? Sariel said the demons vowed to destroy me once I was found. Did you? When you'd first found me on your doorstep, would you have
killed me if you'd known?"

His jaw clenched. "That doesn't matter now."

My arms trembled. Why did it suddenly feel so cold?

He sighed. "Devi, I'd never hurt you, but don't make me answer that question. I don't want to think about it."

I shut my eyes. I wished I could block out my thoughts just as easily, but they spilled out. "Whenever I was lonely or sad I thought of Kai. Even when I
was happy I thought of him. I wanted him beside me always, because I felt things more deeply when he was here. I used to think that if I could just
find him, everything would be alright."

I bit my lip--that same lip that less than an hour ago I'd bit straight through. Oz had cleaned up the blood, but I could still taste the bitter soil of
Purgatory. "I don't want to hurt anyone. I don't want to end anything. That should mean that I don't want to see him anymore, but I do. I miss him so
damn much, but I can never see him again."

I felt his Adam's Apple bob on my cheek as he swallowed. "It's fine if that is your choice."

"What do you mean? What other choice is there?"

He paused. "You could go to him."

"That isn't an option, Oz."

"You say that now, but if you change your mind, just tell me."

This time I stepped back. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"It means that if you want to go to your brother, I won't stop you."

My throat constricted. His words were sick. "Do you know what you're saying?"

His eyes narrowed. "I'm not a good person. I turned my back on Heaven for love when it was the only thing I knew. Is it so surprising that I would
abandon this world for it as well?"

"But that isn't who you are. You love everything so much, Oz. How can you give that up?"

He didn't say anything for a moment, then: "Do you know why my body contorted in pain when I began to see what you were? Do you remember
how I changed unconsciously after Sariel confirmed it? It's because I shouldn't love you, and yet, my first thought after he said it was: fine. Let her
end it, if that is her will. The rest of the world doesn't matter if she doesn't exist."

His fingernails scratched the back of my head. He was holding me so close, and I couldn't find the strength to speak.

"Maybe our Father forbade us from falling in love because it is too dangerous. It's too late now, though. Wherever you go, I will follow. It's too late to
save me from you, and even if there was a cure, I wouldn't take it."

"What about Princess?" I whispered desperately.

He made a sobbing sound in the back of his throat. "I don't want to hurt anything either. I fought against the angels when they evicted man from
Eden, and again when they slaughtered the Nephilim. After watching my children die, I swore that I would never harm any living thing that came from
the soil their blood was spilled upon. But what choice do I have if it is your destiny to see your brother? I can only go with you or stand against you."

He inhaled deeply. "Devi, don't say anything now but if, one day, you want to go to him--if you want to wake him up--I only ask that you let me stand
beside you when you do, so that you are the last thing I see when I leave this world, and the first when we enter whatever comes next. I don't want
you to ever be alone."

I don't mind being alone, I thought as I rested my cheek on his shirt. I've been alone most of my life. It's you who is afraid of that. But don't worry
about such things anymore, Oz. I'll never leave you.

The music throbbed. It was some dance song I hadn't heard before with a hook so catchy that it nibbled on my sanity. I held onto the one who I knew
would always be there for me. The one who loved me to such stupid, suicidal, beautiful lengths.

"I think we officially have the most messed up relationship in the world," I murmured.

"Really? You're not gonna give that honor to you and Camael?"

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the angel watching us from the corner of the room, unseen by the crowd. The disco lights sparkled on his white,
perfect, expressionless features. Sure, he lived in my closet, doing God-knows-what as I slept, but that was pretty tame compared to this.

"He doesn't even come close," I said.

Then I buried my face in Oz's chest, and allowed his heartbeat to drown out all thought and sound.

THE END

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Excerpt from Forgotten Self by Rachel Carr

Chapter 1: Then (Rachel Carr's Forgotten Self)

Today had been graduation day for a good portion of my friends. They had long since finished their photo slide shows and singing of "Time of Our
Lives" and all the other standard high school grad nostalgia. I had fallen into it too, despite having just ended my junior year, writing page-long
letters in yearbooks and posting Brand New's "Soco Amaretto Lime" lyrics on my Facebook page. But as many of my former classmates got ready
for the all-night party hosted by our very own Snowline High School, my friends were headed elsewhere. A bunch of us, new seniors and recently
graduated alike had planned a small party on the other side of town, at the edge of the forest. The trees were thick here; tall pines crowded the
mountains. Which meant a perfect hiding place lest we got busted for underage drinking. It wouldn't be the first time.

NPR news played through my speakers, more and more static breaking in the higher I drove up the trail. It definitely creeped me out being in the
woods at night. I mean, we've all seen Blair Witch. NPR had this real-world feeling to it, so I played it whenever drama or paranoia came my way. It
said to me, "Hey, the world's still here. Important, actual things are going on." Sometimes you need that.

I reached the spot quickly enough, but everyone was already there. A fire had been lit and a couple coolers sat nearby. I got out of the car and was
instantly inundated with the sounds of MGMT. "You guys are such sell-outs," I called at my friends. A chorus of "shut ups" and one "look who's
talking" came right back at me. I smiled and made an obscene gesture in return.

A tall, slender girl with long red hair came running over. This was my best friend, Danielle. "What's up, A-dawg?"

I slapped my forehead. "Ugh, I thought I told you to stop calling me that."

She grinned and offered me a beer. "Drink with us tonight. Please," she added when I grimaced. I wasn't much of a drinker. I mean, it didn't taste
good and it made you feel sick afterwards. No logic. But, it was kind of fun in the middle I guess.

I stuck my hand out.

"Awesome," Danielle chirped and bounded away.

I sighed, popped the tab, and joined everyone at the fire.

"Ah, miss music critic has graced us with her presence at last."

I looked across the fire. "It was only so I could look upon your sweet face once more, handsome prince," I mocked Jonathan. We'd had a thing in
junior high, but after our disastrous 'fling', stuff like that had been off-limits. It's not that he wasn't hot, because he was really, really hot. It's just that
sometimes the people you like the most aren't the best for you, and after our final argument had ended up in a serious Skittle-throwing fight - like
welt serious - I'd decided that dating in school was probably a waste of my time. I thought I'd give myself and my peers a little more time to mature.
And not bring Skittles to an argument.

Jonathan beckoned me over to the log bench he sat on. I joined him and drained my beer. My friends were dancing and laughing and reminiscing
and I watched them quietly. I would miss this. But before I could get nostalgic about my friends – one day out of their high school careers – I
reminded myself that college awaited me, too. I'd worked my ass off so far to get there and I would be happy. Or something like that.

"So what'd you think of the ceremony?" Jonathan asked me mischievously.

I grinned. "Well, the introductory speech was really motivating."

He laughed. Jonathan had been the host this year, and instead of reading the administration-approved speech he'd turned in, he'd read something
a little less polite. The phrase "booze, women, and rock & roll" had been used at least once. Though, our soon-to-be student body president was
well-known for being less than reverent.

"So what's the deal with you and Kayla these days?" Kayla had been Jonathan's most recent 'fling-ee', as I called them. He was a serial non-
commiter.

"Well, she's moved on, I've moved on. You know how it is." He took a long drink.

"I sure do. I've known the last four years how it is."

Jonathan raised his eyebrows at me. "You had your chance, sweet lady." Before I could sass back, he stood up. "I'll be back with more beer."

As soon as he had left, Danielle took his place on the log. "Things heating up over here?" She did an eyebrow-waggle thing. What was with these
people and eyebrows?

I waved her away. "What are you always yapping about? Boys this, boys that. You know none of them are good enough for me." She pursed her
lips; I winked back.

"Mm-hmm. Abigail, we are gonna get you a man one of these days. You'll see."

"Don't you put that curse on me, child." We both immediately laughed.

Jonathan reappeared with two beers. "Now, what are you two sexy ladies giggling about over here? It wouldn't be over my superbly fine looks, I'm

sure."

Danielle mock-gasped, "You're right!" Then she jumped up. "I'll leave you two alone," she melodramatically announced, laughing as she walked
toward the fire.

I rolled my eyes and Jonathan handed me a can. "Bottoms up, punk."

The next morning I woke up groggy. I didn't feel sick because, thankfully, I'd stopped after a few drinks. Suddenly I realized my phone was buzzing. I
pawed for it on the bedside stand and quickly answered before it went to voicemail. "Hello?" I said thickly.

"Abigail, what's up?" A voice greeted me excitedly.

My clock glowed brightly. 7:34. I groaned. "Danielle, it's way too early."

"Not for this it isn't. Guess what tonight is. No wait, don't guess. You should just know."

"Uhhhh..." I couldn't think. Saturday. May. Oh damn. "You don't mean -"

"It's the third Saturday. It's Marshmallow May!"

"Danielle..." I hated Marshmallow May. It was a tradition dating back to 5

th

grade, when we'd met. Basically we just got together in the woods and

roasted marshmallows. Exciting, I know. Over the years it had grown from me and her to about fifteen of us. "I think I'm going to have to bail," I told
her.

Enter Danielle's prissy voice. "What? You can't."

"I have to. I've got, uh, family stuff."

"I thought your parents were in Guatemala."

"Exactly, they're coming back today."

There was silence as Danielle tried to decide whether or not I was purposely ditching her. But, she relented. "Alright. But we have to meet up for
coffee tomorrow then. No excuses."

"Fine, fine. I'll see you then."

After we hung up I quickly got ready. Obviously, I'd lied to Danielle. And it wasn't just that I disliked "Marshmallow May", but that today was
something far more important to me. Three years ago today, my cousin Kelly had been killed. Murdered, actually. Danielle knew about it, but she
didn't know that every year, starting the very day Kelly had passed away, I drove up into the mountains to our favorite spot. You could see the entire
city from there, and gorgeous sunsets, and we'd often gone up there together to talk.

My mom and her mom were sisters. We'd grown up together, living in the same city. Kelly was two years older than I, but I'd never felt an age
difference. She was a sweet, caring, beautiful person. And, though I'd never told a soul, since I was tiny it seemed that Kelly had been surrounded
by a glow. Of course, it was probably some mild hallucination or schizophrenia or something, but it was always her and no one else. An aura
maybe? I'd never been sure. Whenever I was around her, though, that light seemed to create this atmosphere of peace and love. That light was her.

But ever since her body had been found in the river, I'd been filled with a kind of quiet rage, if that's possible. Something deep inside. Her killer was
never identified or found and up until last year I think that's where I'd poured my anger – in finding him. For a long time I'd frequented the jogging
path she'd last been seen on, in the early mornings when it was still misty and dark. It was a reckless agenda I'd followed, waiting for him. Willing
him to come my way.

But today was not one of those days; those were long past. Today was about remembrance and mourning. Kelly was gone, but the least I could do
for her was keep our old traditions alive.

Chapter 2 (Rachel Carr's Forgotten Self)

I drove up the winding roads into the mountain pass. It was mid-afternoon already – I'd gotten held up when my car wouldn't start. It wasn't old or
anything, but once in a while battery problems would pop up, and then disappear just as quickly. I knew I should probably take it in, should've months
ago, but it didn't matter right now. My thoughts were filled with Kelly. One of my clearest memories of her was around age seven. She had just
turned nine and we were near the river behind her house, playing with her new dolls.

As Kelly washes her doll's hair in the river, I watch a small worm inch across the ground. I pick it up and give it a good look. I feel like it is in the

wrong place, on this dry patch of grass, so I gently place it in the moist soil near the water.

As I perform this task, Kelly is getting closer to the river's current, attempting to dunk the entire doll. The worm is digging its way into the ground
when I hear a small plunk. I look over at Kelly, who is no longer there. Then her hand pops out of the water. Fear shoots through my small body.
"Mom!" I scream, running over to where I can see the hand. "Mom!"

No answer.

The hand dips under and without a thought I jump in. The water is cold, and fast. Already I am being pulled along, zipping past the tall grass. Kelly
must have held onto something or she would have been far down the river before I did a thing. But whatever she'd done to fight the current, it was no
longer working. I can see her hand again and her head pops up a moment, just long enough to take a breath and scream.

By now I am panicking. But even then, at seven years old, I know it will not help me save my cousin. Channeling the one swimming lesson I'd had so
far, I paddle my arms and kick my feet in an uncoordinated way. "Kelly!" I call over the water. Nothing. No part of her was visible. In that moment I
realize she is beyond my reach. I feel no fear, only grief. I stop paddling, no longer compelled to fight the current.

Suddenly, a bright light appears on my left. The water pulls me under before I have a chance to look. It is cold; there is no solid ground here. I float,
race along, become part of the water. Death isn't unknown to me and I do not fear it. It is okay.

A hand grabs mine and pulls me up. My head breaks the surface and I gasp for air. The bright light has returned. An indescribable feeling flows
through my rescuer's hand into me. It is okay.

Don't worry, Abigail. She will be saved.

The message resonates through my mind as this person, this being of light, cradles me in the water.

By chance, two fisherman see Kelly race by and pull her out. I am found soon after, holding onto a branch near the river's edge.

My mother never let us play near the river after that day. She had been watching us, but an ill-timed phone call had taken her inside the house for
"only a minute". Sometimes that's all it takes. Kelly was completely fine after the incident, seemingly unaffected. Years later, whenever someone
brought it up, she said that she had not been afraid. She said she knew it was going to be okay.

The sun made its slow, steady way down to the bottom of the sky. It would soon set. This had been when Kelly and I would make our way up here,
parking the car on the gravel and laying on the hood, watching the show. I pulled my camera out of the glove box and stepped out of the car. I don't
know why I'd never thought of doing this, but I would document this place, this scene. This was even Kelly's car, given to me after she was gone. It
would seem like it had been before.

I snapped a hundred pictures during my time there, taking a moment to quietly watch the gorgeous colors mark out the day's end. There was
something glorious about the way the sun came and left. Almost like silent, heavenly music – uplifting and peaceful. I was never religious, but I'd
always been spiritual. I knew there was something more to this life than what we saw in front of us. It meant more. I found comfort in that, and in
these little moments.

Kelly and I had often talked about just that. It was a special feeling we'd shared. A memory of us right here, talking about just that flashes in my mind.

The sun is gone but its light still splashes color onto the lowest clouds. Kelly lets out a long sigh. I turn my head and look at her. "What is it?"

She closes her eyes. "I don't know, Abby. I feel like I don't have the language to describe it."

"I think I know what you're talking about."

Her face turns to mine, eyebrows raised. "You do?"

I smile slowly. "You feel it when the sun sets, right? Like you're floating, happy, peaceful, joyous, awed, and grateful all at the same time?"

Kelly laughs. "Exactly."

"But only here. It's like I get this one clouded glimpse into eternity and then it's gone," I tell her.

"Hmmm," she looks back up to the stars, her glow bright in the darkness. "I feel it everywhere."

She had been taken from me not long after that.

I tilted my head and wondered why I hadn't thought about that in so long. It was a treasured memory, after all. I'd often felt that there was something
more to our conversations. Some hidden meaning...or maybe subtext that neither of us understood. But there was no use in thinking about it now. I

shrugged to myself and capped the lens on my camera. The sun was long gone and a chill flowed through me - something didn't feel quite right. I
made the decision to leave. I had homework, anyway. Even though the seniors had graduated, the rest of us still had a week left. I hurried back to
my car, thinking about my calc test on monday. I was definitely going to flunk. Once I got in, I buckled my seatbelt. The rocks around me became
illuminated as a light came down the pass; another car traveled the road.

My car started with one turn of the ignition and I looked over my shoulder to back up. An anxious feeling ran through me. The light was too bright
now, too close. Too late I realized what was happening and frantically tried to get the door open. Then a thousand unpleasant sensations all
happened at once.

***

Dedication, About the Author, Cover and Copywrite Information, Author's Note

Dedication

This one is for you dad. Thank you for your support and help putting this together!

***

About the Author

Katherine Pine is addicted to shoujo manga and black tea. Though she's only in her mid-twenties, she lives in a retirement community in the Pacific
Northwest. Alright, so maybe it isn't officially a retirement community, but the age of the average person is about 62. As a result, Katherine has
grown accustomed to epic, all-night bingo battles and losing terribly at Bridge. When she's not writing she knits, tries to convince slugs that her
compost pile is much tastier than her vegetable garden, and gets bossed around by her cats. She is currently working on the next book in the Fallen
Angels series.

Email: katherinepineauthor(at)gmail.com

Website: http://katherinepine.com

Twitter: (at)KatherinePine

Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/KatherinePineAuthor

***

Cover Credit

Cover copyright Katherine Pine 2011.

I would like to take a moment to thank C. Arthur Hart for creating such a wonderful cover! He can be reached at carthurhart(at)gmail.com, or
followed on Twitter (at)boshyboo. All of the fonts used on the cover were found on the site Font Squirrel (http://www.fontsquirrel.com/) which lists
beautiful fonts that are free for commercial use. The font is called Water Street and can be downloaded from:
http://www.fontsquirrel.com/fonts/Water-Street. The image is from istockphoto.com.

***

Author's Note

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any
resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental unless explicitly noted. Since this book takes place in
present, some current artists, works of art, products, businesses, trademarks, and places are referenced to make the book "come alive." However,
no association between the author and any artist, work of art, business, place, product or trademark holder is expressed or implied. Use of a term,
or work, or artist in this book should not be regarded as affecting the validity of any artist, work of art, business, place, product, trademark,
registered trademark, or service mark. The artists, products, businesses, and places, trademarks, registered marks, or service marks referenced
in this book do not endorse this book unless otherwise specified.

Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 1: Then (Rachel Carr's Forgotten Self )