Soul Stalker

Soul Stalker Timeless [2] Kreitzer, Laura Obsidian Mountain Publishing (2010) Tags:

Women heroes, Italy, Fantasy fiction, Paranormal, Fiction, Romance, Fantasy, Mystery fiction, General, Angels

SUMMARY: Being the Illuminator is not all happiness and light, especially when everyone thinks you are dead. When Gabriella decides to finally let her angels know that she is alive, Joseph and an unexpected friend help her. The Darkness Illuminator is not as in control of her power as she believes, which makes for a very comedic and endearing relationship that blooms between the three. A fender-bender debacle, a run-in with the cops, and a hiccup at the

airport seem to all be worth it until Gabriella finds out her plan has backfired.The three angels are missing, more mysteries pile up, and a new evil is brewing so terrifying, in fact, that even the Soul Stalker herself is cowering in fear. Our heroine begins a jarring, romance-filled, heart-breaking journey that will lead her back to Italy, and ultimately to the answers she is desperately searching for. What will she do when they aren't the answers she expected? What happens when she unveils a truth, so deeply hidden, that it causes an angelic war? Copyright (c) 2010 Laura Kreitzer All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Because of the dynamic nature of the internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them. ISBN-10 0982903316 ISBN-13 9780982903315 Obsidian Mountain Publishing [email protected] http://www.obsidianmtpublishing.com Front cover artwork by Igor Scekic Printed in the United States of America Soul Stalker Book two Timeless Series Laura Kreitzer Obsidian Mountain Publishing For Christopher Emberton. Your love inspired me in indescribable ways. Your ending was a passionate, emotional catastrophe. Nov. 5, 1978-Aug. 14, 2010 To Bonnie and Linda, whose triumphs over difficult times

should be an inspiration to us all. Strong souls Live like fire-hearted suns to spend their strength In farthest striving action; breathe more free In mighty anguish than in trivial ease. George Eliot was one she had worn before she died, but Andrew couldn't let it go because it smelled of her, like lavender. People say that time heals all wounds, but it was quite the opposite for Andrew. The instant connection that grew between him and Gabriella was rare and beautiful. When he awoke on the plane from his long, deathly slumber, he was not confused--actually, he was quite focused. He needed to get to her . . . to save her. It was his destiny. The brightness of her distressed soul had attracted Andrew to her immediately. When they touched, he felt the power that was growing inside him leave through their contact and bring something inside of her alive. That was when he knew she was his . . . and he was hers. There was another loud bang on the door. It's . . . about Gabriella. What about her? Andrew thought dejectedly, wishing Ehno would just drop all the conjecture already. Ehno palmed the door and placed his forehead against the wood that separated the two of them. She's . . . alive. In a flash of movement, Andrew was off the bed, across the room, and halfway through the doorway before Ehno threw his hands out to stop him. Hope flared through his body as his eyes darted in every direction to see where his angel was. "Brother, she's not here." Ehno gripped his shoulders. Andrew slumped slightly but still managed to glare at Ehno. When you've lived for thousands of years, you learn to quell your anger, but there was no stopping the force that was Andrew's wrath. "That was a foul tale to spin." He yanked himself free of Ehno's grasp. "It was no tale, Brother." Ehno's voice was calm and Andrew couldn't sense any lies within him. Not a joke? Andrew collapsed against the door frame. "Where is she?" "On her way here," Ehno informed as his eyes shot down to the dress in Andrew's hands. He was smart and ignored Andrew's need to be close to its.< /> "How?" Andrew choked out, gripping the door frame for sup port. The wood began to buckle under his strength. He fixated on a flaw in the paint as realization finally hit. "How is it possible?" Was it possible? "Truly, she is alive and well. We don't have time for speculation on how. We're in trouble." He heard Ehno's words, but it took a while for the meaning of them to penetrate his spinning world. "Trouble?" Andrew's bright blue eyes glanced up into Ehno's and saw the terror there. "Soul Stalker . . ." Ehno trailed off, though his thoughts came loud and clear into his mind. She would be back and after them--it was inevitable. But for some reason, Andrew didn't care about his own safety--all he could think about was the fact that Gabriella was unprotected and on her way to Aiden's where the Soul Stalker would soon make an appearance.

She is actually alive, Andrew thought over and over, trying to make the concept real. Then panic seized him; he couldn't lose her again before he had a chance to live a million lifetimes with her. "Then we let her take us," Andrew said firmly. It was the only way to keep Gabriella safe from the Soul Stalker. The soulless Angel didn't need to know the Illuminator was still alive. Ehno stared back at him with loyalty. "I agree." She was what mattered now--she was who they were made to protect. Even if Andrew had to sacrifice himself in her place. 1 The air conditioner was acting up again. A fan was moving back and forth, but it was only blowing the sticky air right back at me. There were no windows in The Fishbowl to alleviate the heat that seemed to be melting my very skin. I was alone and it was late. Again. I wasn't really working though; I was playing solitaire on the computer while waiting for a shipment that was "molto importante." As I moved the mouse to click on the king to end the game, the fan spluttered, made a wrenching noise, and then stood still. I sighed and hit my head against the desk, the cool metal mollifying heat from my forehead. When my skin had soaked up all the refreshing coolness of that spectacular metal surface, I sat back up and pulled my hair into a messy bun. Several loose hairs clung to the moisture on my neck. I picked up my notepad and began to fan myself, hoping the tiny draft it made would help in some way. It was so damn hot. Every second the air seemed to grow warmer until the whole room felt like an inferno. There was no way I was going to be able to work under these conditions, especially if the package included human remains. That suddenly gave me an idea and my eyes immediately darted to the morgue fridge I had affectionately nicknamed "stiff-n-store." I raised one eyebrow and the resulting sly expression was wasted on me, myself, and the voices in my head. It was cold behind the tiny doors that held those strange bodies . . . and I was warm. No, I was hot, more than hot--it was a fiery pit of hell in here with no air flot felt like I was breathing fire without the benefit of a dragon-slaying knight to set aflame. Relief was behind those steel doors. Smirking, I looked left to see my reflection in the glass; the lights were off in the room surrounding The Fishbowl. There was no one there that I could see. I looked right to see the door to another lab. I giggled aloud, but I was on fire in here, and it was cold--my eyes swung back to the stiff-n-store--in there. I tried to look casual, just in case someone was watching, and pulled the first small door open to be greeted by Frosty the Dead Man. The frigid air felt like a wave of ice cold water had splashed over me. But it felt so wrong sticking my face so close to those hairy feet that stuck out. I laughed at myself, shut the door, and moved over to open another one. A small cloud of freezing, merciful air wafted out when I opened the door. I stuck my face close to the frosty metal and felt the sweat on my forehead crystallize into rivulets of salt. When the air cleared, I almost choked on a laugh. It was the suspected leprechaun; his tiny body barely filled the tray that had previously held "Bigfoot" and "the human fish." I had to admit it was hard to suppress the giggles, even today, thinking of when they first brought in the man who was spotted at the end of a rainbow next to a pot of gold. Oh, how bored the rich become. After I had cooled to some degree, I realized just how ridiculous I had looked--still looked--and shut the door with a small clicking noise when the lock latched. It only took seconds for the smoldering-hot blanket of stale air to turn my skin to a flushed mess again. The large digital clock on the wall displayed the time. It was almost midnight. I had to cool this room down or I wouldn't be able to work in the morning. The bodies in the stiff-n-store were nice and cozy in their iceboxes, but they wouldn't fair well in this heat. I pivoted, saw the fan again, and walked toward it to see if maybe it had accidentally been unplugged or if I could magically make it work again. Several minutes of fiddling with the cord, shaking the thing over and over, and cursing it didn't help in the least. A layer of sweat was now covering my skin, which made it look like I had dipped myself in lip gloss. Who would have thought that doing so little could make you perspire so much?

I placed my hands on my hips and circled the room slowly, while my eyes followed the line of the ceiling to catch sight of the several vents that were not blowing out any air whatsoever. How frustrating! Maybe there was something blocking the airflow. Don't ask me why I thought that, it must have been the heat, because the rest of the building was having the same problem. That didn't stop me from grabbing a stool and climbing on top of it to see if I could somehow stare at the vent and make it suddenly work for my benefit. As soon as I steadied myself on the wobbly stool, holding onto the wall to keep myself from falling on my face, the phone for the lab rang. I jumped and landed on the floor with a thud. "Ouch," I whispered furiously and cursed under my breath. The shrill ring of the phone didn't stop, so I gathered myself up and limped toward the phone. I seized the receiver and put it to my ear. "Stiff-n-store, your one-stop shop for the paranormal," I giggled in a heat daze. "Doctor Moretti?"Ralph the night guard asked with a chuckle. "You haven't been breathing in those fumes again, have you?" I laughed. "No, and that was purely a mistake last time. What's up?" "Your package has arrived and the delivery guy is demanding that you be the one to sign the chain of custody." He paused. "Plus," he laughed, "it is not as hot up here--I have the windows open." Ralph knew how to entice me. I nodded into the phone and hung up. It was then that I realized I had only nodded instead of responding. Delirious and rude, I scolded myself. Once upstairs in the cooler air, and not in the sweltering heat of The Fishbowl, my head cleared. A man stood in the doorway, a very nervous and anxious expression on his face. When he saw me, his eyes snapped to my lab coat and he froze, as if I had frightened him. The only part of him that was moving was his eyes, which started to dart back and forth. "Um . . . hello?" I questioned. "I'm Doctor Moretti. I was told you have a package for me?" He nodded, his eyes looking everywhere but at me. "Sign here." He held out his clipboard and stabbed the line. Well, what did the clipboard ever do to you? I pulled a pen from my lab coat and scribbled my name. He shoved the box into my arms, turned, and stalked away quickly. Well, it was definitely too small for a body. The door practically slammed and I jumped in surprise. I heard a chuckle behind me and twisted around to see Ralph. "He was scared to death of you and what was potentially in that box," he said. A smirk lifted his wrinkled cheeks. "Why?" "He's a delivery guy who isn't told anything about his deliveries, but he does know one thing--you are dead, and even if he didn't know that, he would know just by looking at your lab coat." He laughed again. I looked down to see the name and shrugged my shoulders at what it said, "Dead Illuminator". My eyes didn't leave the box in my hands as I stepped toward the elevator and pressed the button. Once I was back inside the blazing lab, I snapped gloves over my hands--which took several minutes due to the amount of sweat that had already accumulated in my palms--and popped the wooden top off the box. I reached inside and pulled out a head that had been brutally severed from a body that was . . . where was the body? Was there not supposed to be a body? I shrugged and pulled out the normal forms to be filled out. I began to write, "Dark skin, black as onyx." I paused, my pen not leaving the paper. I looked back over to the head again. The hair was thick and long, and there were several small cracks in the skin. It was so realistic. Creepy. My eyes moved back to the box and I noticed an envelope attached to the top. I sat the clipboard down and frowned

before I peeled off the envelope. It was so hot in the lab, the tape had melted. After struggling with the sticky tape that now covered my fingers, I was finally able to unfold the elegant stationary inside. A necklace tumbled out of the folds and I caught it, briefly seeing a small circle, like a halo, with a shield in the center. Then I read the only line on the paper in cursive script. Illuminator, The immortals can't save you now. You're next.

Soul Stalker

The Fishbowl had officially turned into an inferno. Fire licked its way up the walls like hungry piranhas. I folded the paper and put it in my pocket along with the necklace, patting it once for good measure, and went back to work. I sprang forward from sleep, my breathing insanely quick. "What the hell was that?" I whispered to the air, my fingers gripping the couch with unnecessary force. Light flooded into the room like liquid rivers of gold, spreading to the still form on the recliner next to me. By the angle of light, you could tell it was still early in the morning. It took me a few moments to figure out where I was, but then I was abruptly immersed in the memories of the last few weeks. It all came rushing back to me like a loyal dog: the bodies in my lab, the FBI, Karen, the plane crash. It was then that everything had changed for me. Before, I thought it was all a dream, and then I'd almost died. There were Angels, one in particular I couldn't erase from my mind. Andrew. He was my kindred soul. My heart ached every moment I was away from him, but mostly because he thought I was dead. Then again, they all thought I was dead, every

Angel and person, except for Joseph. Joseph stirred next to me. He must have fallen asleep out here with me. His eyes flew wide-open. He flung himself forward and the chair flew back to its original, upright position. "Shit!" His chest heaved as his head jerked wildly around as if he had heard a burglar. When he caught sight of me he froze. "Shit!" he repeated. I silently agreed. "I thought it was all a dream, but it wasn't, was it?" For a moment I thought he meant my dream before realization hit and I shook my head. "I'm really here." He heaved one last calming breath and turned his body toward me. "Excuse my language. I was . . . well . . . I was afraid it was all a dream and that you really were . . . dead." I leaned forward and placed my hand over his. "Joseph, I'm sorry. I'm here. It's really me." His eyes darted down to our hands and he turned his palm to wrap his fingers around mine. We were both speechless for a moment. He seemed to make an internal decision, pulled me toward him, and hugged me against his chest. It was at an awkward angle, and a little uncomfortable, but it felt so wonderful to be close to him that I didn't protest. That was when the babbling began. "I had to do it," I told him, "to protect everyone. Jeff had promised to kill everyone that stood in his way--and I know you and the Angels and your heroic ways. I knew that you would all sacrifice yourselves for me. I couldn't have that, I just couldn't. And when I woke up in the morgue, and realized what had happened to me, I knew what I had to do. Please, forgive me. Ple--" "Oh, shut up, Gabriella." I did. His arms squeezed me tighter until he pushed me away from his chest and just looked at me. "I don't care why you did it; I am just so damn happy that you are alive that I can't even think straight. How is it even possible?" We seemed to skip past this conversation last night. "I'm an Angel--you know, immortal." I tried to smile, but I was sure it didn't come out right. Honestly, that was my best guess as to why I wasn't dead. "I know, but Andrew told me that the spell had severed your soul from your body, just like with Abelie. If she was gone . . . I thought you were too. It just doesn't make any sense, but I really don't care if it does." He grinned widely. "You're alive!" He suddenly stood, grabbed my hand, and yanked me to my feet, a little too violently. "Joseph?" I squeaked and looked down where he had gripped me. "Oh." He looked embarrassed and let go immediately. It still amazed me how strong he was, and at the same time, it surprised me by how weak I felt. Ever since I had . . . "died," my power had only come in spurts. One moment I felt like I could lift mountains, the next I seemed incapable of shocking an electrical wire. My stomach growled and we both laughed. "You don't happen to have any cereal, do you?" I asked. "I'm starving." He smiled brightly. "I could make you a real breakfast, none of that cardboard crap. Eggs, bacon, sausage? Maybe some biscuits or hash browns . . . or both, if you wish." "You don't need to go to the trouble, really. Cereal will be fine." "Nonsense," he snorted dismissively and started toward the kitchen. I followed. His kitchen was spotless, with dark wood cabinets and granite counters. He had stainless steel everything, and the floor was real, off-white tile. There was an island in the middle of the large kitchen, and a small bar with a couple of stools. A glass cabinet where wine was stored stood against the wall and another one housed the wine glasses. The walls were a tan

color and he had a couple of beautiful paintings of fruit and wine on the walls. I could see the theme he had chosen: "FBI Immaculate." "If you don't want any of that, how about pancakes? Waffles, perhaps? I might even have some fruit in here somewhere, or chocolate chips." Joseph bent down to rummage through the refrigerator. It was knew a smile was playing on my lips the whole time as I watched him rearrange the food on the counter in some sort of order that I couldn't quite understand. Living in such a small town with no fast-food joints or restaurants, I always had to cook for myself. I immediately wondered if Joseph even knew how to cook, or if all this talk of ingredients was just for show and I was actually going to be served some sort of FBI version of an MRE. I guess I was going to find out. Suddenly, music began to play. He had turned the radio on. The kitchen filled with music and the delicious smell of coffee as it dripped quickly into the coffee pot. Once the coffee finished, Joseph poured it into a mug that said "World's Best Uncle" and put it in front of me. "Cream? Sugar?" he asked with a huge grin plastered on his face. "Just cream, please." He practically danced back to the fridge--in sync with the music--got lost behind the door again, and stood up with three different types of creamer. "Take your pick. Hazelnut, Amaretto, or plain." "You drink a lot of coffee, don't you?" He walked over to me, shut the door by kicking behind him, and placed all the creamers before me. "Oh yeah." He nodded. "So, Illuminator, take your pick." I frowned. "Just Gabriella. The Illuminator . . . well, she's dead. It's just boring ol' me now." He nodded seriously. "That's okay with me. I liked Gabriella better." I reached for the Amaretto creamer and poured some into my coffee as Joseph held out a spoon for me to stir. That was the best tasting cup of coffee I had ever had. 2 We sat quietly at the small bar, our elbows bumping into each other as we ate. There was so much food piled around us I wondered if we would ever see the counter again. There were three cups of an assortment of juice in front of me alone, on top of the cup of coffee that Joseph continued to fill for me. "Do you want more bacon?" he asked as he held the plate out to me. "Are you trying to fatten me up so you can kill me and eat me later?" I joked. "I knew you would find my gingerbread house." He smirked. "Ah, I have figured out your evil plan!" I gave my best evil laugh. "Watch your back; I might push you in the oven." Joseph put another pancake on my plate and placed the syrup next to it. "I seriously can't eat anymore, Joseph." I held my stomach and mimicked unbuttoning the top button of my jeans. "Can I help you put food away?" "No!" he exclaimed. "No, no. You are my guest. I'll do it. Just keep me company." He rotated in his stool to face me. "I'm just so happy you're here." My hands automaticalent to my wild hair to flatten the mess it was probably in. His lips twitched up and his hand came up to tuck some of my hair behind my ear. I was sure he was about to explode in laughter at the nest that

was surely my hair. "I thought you'd be mad at me, but I didn't know who I could turn to." I glanced down to my knees, my stomach tying in knots over what his reaction would be to my plea of help. "I really don't want you to take this the wrong way, but I was hoping with your connections you could help me find the Angels." "Lucia, Ehno, and . . . Andrew?" I noticed he said Andrew reluctantly. Joseph's chair scooted out from under him with a grating noise before he began to gather food and dishes. I looked up and heaved a big sigh. "Keeping with the same theme, I kept the fact I was still alive a secret because I didn't want us to get caught with our fingers in the frosting of the gingerbread house and killed by the evil witch." He chuckled lightly before he asked, "The Soul Stalker?" "Among other evil . . . Shadows." He looked over his shoulder and frowned. "I can see why you did it--faking your death." "You can?" "Um, yeah," he said as if it were the most obvious thing on this planet. "Ehno told me about the incident at the cemetery. It was . . . God, Gabriella. You were dead." The refrigerator slammed shut and I flinched. "He said that the Shadow, Jeff, hit you with a spell and part of the tree above you landed on your head and pierced through your chest. I . . . It's just so hard to comprehend that, especially with you sitting right here in my kitchen." "Okay. But why do you understand my decision?" He sighed. "Ehno told me that Jeff promised to kill everyone who stood in his way. We haven't known each other for very long, but I feel like I already know you and I'd do everything I could to keep you safe." He leaned over the bar on the other side, his forearms flat against the counter. "Apparently that is unnecessary, seeing as how you died and now you are sitting across from me." Warmth spread through my chest and flooded my veins like melted chocolate, and I was pretty sure I was flushing a radiant shade of red. Or silver. Maybe I was shining. "Don't think that I can't die. We all saw what happened to Abelie. There has to be a reason why I came back." Right? "And that is why you want to find the Angels?" "One of the reasons--but mostly because I wasn't going to keep my . . . situation a secret for long. I just needed the Soul Stalker, and the Shadows who are under Jeff's thumb, to believe that I am dead." "Trust me when I say they all think you are dead." "I don't know about that," I admitted, a little sheepish. "Why's that?" Joseph asked while he grabbed some dishes and dumped them in the sink. "Well, um, I went to my funeral." A dish clattered in the sink and Joseph whirled around. "What?" For a second he looked angry before he reined it in. "You were there?" "I was worried that something had happened to the Angels. And . . . I have to admit I was curious." Joseph still looked startled as he ran his hand through his thick brown hair several times. His dark eyes shot up to mine, hurt. I dropped down from my perch and circled around the bar. "Listen, Joseph. I'm sorry. I couldn't show myself at my own funeral. That would have been . . . Anyway, I'm here now. Can you please, pretty please, forgive me?" I begged. "I did actually die, you know? Death certificate and all. Imagine waking up in a morgue." I shivered at the memory. "It was a day before I felt like I was fully back to Earth."

He paled. "I . . . I guess I hadn't thought about it that way." His expression quickly turned to sympathy. "I was just so thrilled that you were living and breathing . . ." His voice trailed off as his eyes turned wary and suddenly, a look of total fear crept across his face. He took a step back. "What's wrong?" I asked. He took another step back. I took one forward like we were doing a strange tribal dance. "Joseph?" "Working in our field," Joseph stuttered, "I've come across some freaky things, Gabriella, but the biggest scare of my life was actually coming across a . . . vampire." I stopped in my tracks and stared at him. "Wait . . . you think I'm a--a vampire?" I burst out in laughter. He took another step until his back was flush against the fridge. His eyes whipped back and forth like he was trying to find an escape. "Um . . . yeah?" His voice cracked in panic. I couldn't stop laughing. He was seriously scared of me. "I am not a vampire, Joseph," I said through more giggles. "I didn't even know vampires existed!" I seized his hand and put it right above my breasts, his palm flat. "Feel that? That is called a heartbeat." He jerked his hand free. I rolled my eyes and sighed in exasperation. I reached behind him, our bodies touching for a second and pulled back with a knife he had on the counter and sliced my finger. Joseph made a noise of protest and then silver blood dripped unceremoniously to the floor, right before the wound sealed itself. "I'm an Angel." "The Angels have golden blood," he barely choked out. His expression was that of a mouse cornered by a cat. "If I were a vampire, would I have silver blood? I wouldn't think something that's supposed to be killed by silver bullets would have silver blood." I crossed my arms in challenge. Joseph still looked frightened. "Maybe vampires can't be killed by any of those mythological principles--silver, crosses, holy water . . ." I scoffed. "Only a total pansy would claim ability to survive just about anything. I suppose you think they could survive being ripped apart and burned too." Joseph's brow furrowed. "Okay, well maybe that would kill them . . ." I closed my eyes and sighed. I'd had enough of this meaningless discussion. "I don't know why my blood is silver now. That is another reason why I want to get back to the Angels. Maybe they have answers." When I opened my eyes, I saw Joseph exhale the long breath he had been holding. Panic was quickly replaced by embarrassment. "Of course, I'm an idiot." "Yeah, a bit." "To become a vampire, you have to be bitten by another vampire." I shrugged. I was curious, I had to admit. That was one of my deals, the supernatural. On another day, I might have attacked him with a million questions. I had too many other things on my mind, though. "I don't know how they're made; I didn't even know vampires existed or that more could be made, or how they could be made." Joseph started chuckling insanely. "God, Gabriella." His hand had found his hair again and it was almost sticking on end. "I'm sorry. I'm such an idiot," he repeated. "There has just been this weird case at work, and my head has been everywhere since the Angels and your . . . death and then your . . . life. Gah, I'm just going a little crazy." "No more of this vampire talk!" I narrowed my eyes. Oh, who was I kidding? I was dying to know. "So, there really are vampires, then?" "That would be an affirmative, but from what I can tell, there are hardly any vampires in the world." "Good to know." I backed up and he peeled himself off the fridge, having to turn and rearrange some of the

photos. "So," he tried to say nonchalantly, "why would they think you aren't dead?" "Um, well . . . do you remember that invisible charm Aiden and Lucia used in Italy?" He nodded. "I used that, to keep myself covert. But after the funeral, Ehno was staring right at me. I think he saw me, or he knew I was there. Like an idiot, I forgot about his psychic ability." Idiots all around this time. Joseph turned the water on in the sink, his back to me. "He didn't say anything to me about it, if he did know." He started to wash the dishes and spoke over the running water. "Not that I am part of their little gang of Angels, or whatever, but I figured if Andrew knew, he would go straight to you. I admit I was wary of Andrew at first, but now I know he has your best interest at heart." "I love him," I blurted stupidly. He looked over his shoulder, his expression an unreadable mask, and then turned back to scrubbing the dish in his hand. I grabbed a towel and began to dry them as he sat them next to the sink. "I can tell, and he feels the same." He sighed and handed me a dish to dry. "I have to be honest here . . ." He trailed off, seeming unsure how to proceed. "When we were on the plane, I felt like we had a connection, like maybe it was the start of a new, um, friendship. After the crash, everything changed so sudnly. One second I was with you, trying to comfort you since I knew there was no way to save you; then the next second, this superhero flies in to save the day. I know I can't compete with that . . . I don't have a magical flying cape." I snorted. "Andrew doesn't wear a cape." He ignored me. "But, Gabriella, I do care for you, more than you'll ever know and I'll do whatever is in my power to reunite you with Andrew because I know he is the only person who will ever make you happy. I can see that now, well everyone can; you two are meant to be together. He loves you more than you probably know." I thought I was done with all the tears, but a single silver droplet landed on the tiled floor with a little plop. I wiped the evidence away before Joseph could see it. I wondered if being an Angel meant you shed more tears than a human. Since being an Angel, I had cried more than my whole life before. Joseph turned around, his hands soapy. "When you died, I felt like I had lost my best friend, and now, here you are." His hands waved up and down as if he were doing a magical trick. Abracadabra, I thought dryly. If only I knew what sort of magic had brought me back. "We have been reunited. I could never be upset about that, even if you just came to me for help to find Andrew." "You have got that all wrong, Joseph," I protested and rolled my eyes at his ridiculous assumption. And we all know what it means when you assume. "You have great connections, true, but I would have come to you regardless. I trust you more than I trust anyone else." His lips twitched up into a smile and he turned back to the sink to finish washing the dishes. "I'm glad to hear. Now I won't have to plump you up anymore." We both laughed, soprano and tenor. "And I won't have to push you in the oven." After a very refreshing shower, I pulled on some clean clothes I had brought with me. I had finally started to feel like my old self. As I waited for Joseph, I sat on the couch where I had previously slept. Joseph had already folded the blanket I had used. I could hear his joyous whistling down the hall as I fiddled with the hem of my skirt. I smiled to myself as I waited in my grey and white pin-striped dress suit. It was Joseph's idea to dress as my "normal" professional self before we went to the FBI building. He had some plan up his sleeve; I just didn't know what it was. Joseph's shoes echoed on the cherry wood floor as he walked down the hall. When he rounded the corner he was

a picture. He looked just as he did the first time I saw him before we got on that plane together. The same plane that spun us wildly toward Earth, the same one that brought the Angels back, and started this whole journey. The thought brought my mind to the Illuminator's journey. I didn't want to think about it. In my head, when I died, it wasn't truly me. It was the Illuminator. She died, not me. If it wasn't for the prophecy, my mom would still be alive. I pushed those thoughts aside. I couldn't--and wouldn't--deal with them right then. I let out a low whistle. "Very . . . FBI." I waggled my eyebrows at him. He laughed at my playful side. "Not so bad yourself," he said as he gestured toward my clothes. "Very . . . angelic." Heat raced to my cheeks. "Oh, stop it, Joseph. You sure do know how to make me blush." Or shine? That was still debatable. He smiled down at me as he strode to my side. I felt like covering myself as I followed his eyes which seemed to be meticulously surveying me. The light dimmed from his gaze and his smile slid from his face as if it had melted off. "What is it, Joseph?" I wondered. He held a hand out to me and I took it. "I'm not sure what the FBI are going to do when they find out you are alive." I stood, but he didn't let go of my hand. When I didn't respond, he continued. "They are going to want to know what happened, and you can't tell them you are an Angel. You can't tell them much of anything, really. Of course, they'll need to know some things about what happened in Italy, but let's try to keep most of it under wraps. I need you to understand that and be prepared." I squeezed his hand and looked him directly in the eye. He was so sincere, so real, and he was my friend. A genuine, true, honest friend. Warmth spread through me as if I were standing next to a toasty fire. "I understand." And I did. I knew exactly what it would mean if they thought I was beyond human, even for a second. Joseph's eyes lingered on my face and he let go of my hand and gestured toward the door. "You know, I've never had a true friend outside of my family," I mused aloud. I could feel his eyes on me, as if his intense gaze was a tangible touch. "It's . . . nice." That didn't even begin to cover it, but when I looked behind me, Joseph's grin was back in full force. Go team, I chanted to myself. 3 Magnetic Black> There was a door to the garage in the kitchen. Joseph opened it for me and gestured with his hand for me to enter. I stepped down three concrete steps into the dark before lights flickered to life around me. The garage smelled of gas, oil, and freshly cut grass. There was a lawn mower in the corner--one of the ones you have to push, what kind of salary did an FBI agent pull these days anyway?--and a black sports car in the middle. There were also tools and other things I could only describe as "man stuff." Underneath the fluorescent lights the car's paint practically glittered; you could tell that he kept it clean and in great shape, just like the inside of his house. Maybe he had ObsessiveCompulsive Disorder. If he did, then so did I and I didn't think now was a good time for the pot to call the kettle black. He walked around to the passenger side and opened the door for me; what a gentleman. I wondered how my list of horrible, dreadful dates and short-term relationships all ended up being with unchivalrous pigs. I was lucky to find Joseph and the Angels. My life was better for it. When it rains it pours--and holds your umbrella for you. "What kind of car is this?" I asked, curious. I just didn't peg him as the sports-car type. But I didn't exactly expect him to be riding around in a Lincoln Town car either, and a truck just didn't seem to suit him. He flashed me a smile. "It's a Nissan 350z." Like I knew what that meant; it just sounded fancy to me.

"Because that explains a whole lot," I said with an eye roll. He frowned. "Is there something wrong with it?" At least he didn't try to explain the engine stuff to me. I went on a date with a guy who did nothing but talk about his car. And yes, date, as in singular. I probably said three words to him the whole night that he actually understood and then he tried to kiss me. I had never climbed out of a car so fast before in my life. I looked up at Joseph, grateful. I was sure it showed on my face. "No, no. I just didn't expect . . . this." I waved my hand back and forth to indicate the very pretty black car. Except it didn't exactly look black. More like metallic something . . . "What color is that, anyway?" "Magnetic black." He didn't offer anything else. "Magnetic?" I snorted because all I could picture was people with large belt-buckles gravitating by their waists to the "magnetic" car. I swallowed the sarcastic remark I wanted to retort. "Well, it is a nice looking car," I complimented. I was being civilized because I didn't want to hurt his male ego, now did I? A grin over took his features. "Thanks, Gabby." I froze. He didn't seem to notice as he waited patiently for me to get in. I turned around slowly, my eyes narrowed. The grin slid off his face. "What?" he asked, his face merely quizzical. "Don't call me 'Gabby.' " I tried my best to keep an even voice. The smile was back, amused. "What's wrong with 'Gabby'?" "Nothing is wrong with 'Gabby,' except that it is not my name." I plopped down in the seat, my arms folded across my stomach. "It's Gabriella." Why did I feel like I was repeating myself? I looked up at him as he gazed down at me as if I were a pouting five year old. I relaxed my arms and tried to look more like an adult, though that was all I was going to give him. My name was still Gabriella, not Gabby. Jenna got away with it because she was my sister, but no one else. Okay, maybe Jules could too, but she always tried to say my full name. The memory of her tiny childlike laughter as she tried to say my name and the only thing that would come out was "Gab-ella" made something tighten in my stomach. I missed them more and more. Joseph chuckled, bringing me back to the present, and finally sighed when he didn't gain any ground. "It's just a nickname. Would you rather I call you 'Ella'?" My hand automatically came up to cover my eyes. Talk about strolling down memory lane. Andrew's handsome face with his light stubble as we talked about baseball came flooding back to me. We were normal for just those few minutes that morning. I was hoping to remedy our distance with this trip to the FBI. I shook my head back and forth at Joseph. Oh boy. I really didn't want to have to explain this to him. "What did I say this time?" He made a faux exasperated sound. I peeked between my fingers before I let my hand slide down my face. His amused smile was still there. I rolled my eyes again, which seemed to be becoming a habit around him. "Just get in." He shut the door obediently and walked around the front of the car, obviously laughing at me. He thought he was so charming, which he was, but not when he was being irritating. He slid into the driver's side and shut the door. I was surprised he could fit his long legs into the tiny car. We both automatically buckled our seatbelts. He pressed a button over his head and the garage door sprung to life and moved over our heads to let us out. He turned the key in the ignition and the car literally purred to life. How could a car purr? I didn't know, but this one did. Maybe all cats came equipped with tiny engines we knew nothing about. I'd have to look into it. "You know," Joseph began as he shifted the car into reverse, "the name Gabriella is a mouthful. If you don't like Gabby--" I cringed visibly and he laughed. "If you don't like . . . that nickname, and there seems to be something wrong with 'Ella,' then what can I call you?" He pressed the button over our heads again and the garage door shut in front of us. He backed out of the driveway and into the street before he put the car in first gear.

"I just don't like the name Gabby. There isn't anything wrong with it, I just don't like it--it's not my name. It seems more like a child's nickname than anything," I explained. Petty, who me? "Now you're just making up excuses." "Maybe," I retorted as if I had won the argument. I was determined to win. He shifted the car again and started to drive slowly in his neighborhood. I figured him for the speed-racer type considering his car choice, but he put the car into second gear smoothly and continued at his slow pace. I was relieved that I didn't have to use the handle above my head--what I liked to call the "oh shit" handle--to keep from sliding around. Was there anything Joseph wasn't good at? "And what about 'Ella'?" Oh, wait, there was something he wasn't good at: understanding hints. He continued, "What's wrong with that name?" I instantly felt heat creep up my cheeks. He laughed. Great, he noticed. "So, there is a story behind this one." It wasn't a question. I nodded, embarrassed to be talking about this with Joseph. "The nickname Ella is for people who know me personally." Personally as in . . . I had to stop my mind from drifting to places Andrew and I hadn't been able to go yet. We were at a four-way stop. Joseph looked both ways before he went forward. His eyes never left the road, but I could tell he wante to look at me. "I know you personally," he finally said. His voice sounded rather offended. I chuckled nervously. "That's not what I mean." I sighed. Joseph's eyes finally left the road to give me a brief look of "I don't understand" before he turned back. "But I heard Andrew use that nickname with you once and you didn't seem to mind." "You did?" He nodded. Great, he noticed everything. Observant, know-it-all FBI agent. "Ugh, I can't believe I'm about to say this to you." I paused. Joseph made a hand gesture for me to continue. I huffed. " 'Ella' is more for those I am intimate with." Not that I had been intimate with anyone, really, but I had officially reserved that nickname for lovers only, which basically meant Andrew and no one else. I think Sally knew it and that was why she always called me Ella. Maybe she wanted to be my lover, who knew? I shuddered a little at the thought. The car stuttered and jerked as Joseph grinded the next gear, unlike his other smooth clutch-to-gas movements from earlier. "Oh," he barely whispered as he finally made the car move smoothly again. "I didn't realize . . ." A flush crept up his neck, mimicking my own feelings on the subject. "I mean, I knew that Andrew had stayed in the same room with you for those couple of nights but I didn't think . . . and, well, I just thought that . . . you know, you weren't that type of girl." At least he thought highly of me. It took me a second, but I finally realized what he was hinting at. I started to laugh so hard I was close to snorting . . . again. His fingers gripped the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white. "I don't see what is so funny about this, Gabriella." "I'm not t-that type of g-girl. I-I d-didn't have sex with h-him." I was still laughing; I wasn't even sure if what I said was coherent. I tried to pull it together to explain. "I didn't even tell him how I felt about the nickname Ella. Maybe he read it in my thoughts, but it just felt right."

His lips pressed together in a firm line for a moment and then he said, "Oh. Sorry." His shoulders slumped, deflated and relaxed. I couldn't stop laughing at the whole situation. Joseph continued to turn a deep shade of plum. "I guess we'll have to come up with another nickname to suit you then." "Okay," I said cautiously, trying to contain my fit of giggles. "Should I be nervous?" "Terrified," he said then smiled. He tapped his chin with his right hand in mock thought before he had to shift again. "Let's see here. You don't like Gabby . . . so, hmm." I eyed him nervously in his pristine suit with his dark brown hair and eyes that matched. He looked professional, like someone who would not know humor if it bit him in the ass. But I knew Joseph, and he was always trying to be comical, which I was grateful for. I knew that he was either going to come up with something hilarious or something embarrassing. I was just waiting for him to pick a nickname I'd never live down. "How about Bri?" he asked and returned my gaze. My jaw popped open. "No good?" he asked quickly with a twitch of his lip, a nervous gesture. I shook the surprised looked off my face. "No, it isn't that. I was sure you were going to give me some outrageous nickname like Zinger." "Zinger?" I pointed toward him with my index finger and made a bzzt sound. His facial expression changed from confusion to understanding. He smiled. "Oh, because of your gift of manipulating electricity? Well, it has possibilities, now that you mention it." "I set myself up for that one, didn't I?" He nodded. "But I like Bri. It sounds pretty," I assured him. He grinned. "It'll be your top-secret, covert name while you are undercover." We both laughed at that. "Off topic," I hedged after our laughter died out. "Tell me what my family knows about my death. What happened after I . . . died?" I wasn't exactly sure I wanted to know all the gory details, but we were on our way to the FBI building and I wanted to be fully prepared. "What was the explanation for my empty coffin?" "Your family was told that you died in the plane crash." He seemed hesitant to continue. I didn't blame him; I knew that he took my death pretty hard and, even though I was sitting right next to him, he certainly didn't want to relive it. Neither did I, but I had to know. "I thought I was a wanted terrorist by the government? What happened to that little news story?" The events of the plane crash still boggled my brain. I still didn't know who called the FBI about terrorists before the plane crashed. It had to have been someone who knew about the Angels in the cargo hold, and someone who would have known they would wake up from their deathly slumber. That was one more mystery I still hadn't solved and one I still had no theories for. I didn't think the Soul Stalker knew that the Angels would wake up. Maybe it was someone higher up on the food chain. "There was a retraction in the news and in the paper from the government before we even found you and Andrew in Idaho. Apparently they received some very bad intelligence from a trusted source." Joseph gave good FBI voice--he was so serious. I could just hear the authority that leaked from it. "It was all a mistake. I still don't know who the source was, but when I find out I--" he hesitated then continued on. "It was a mistake. I'm sorry your name was even tarnished for a second."

"A mistake," I grumbled under my breath. "Yeah," he agreed, just as disgruntled as I was. "I'm not worried about Darren, but I am guessing you had to find a way to silence Sally?" I laughed at the thought of Sally's knowledge of the paranormal. There was a reason why I kept her out of the lab. "That is a whole other story. Let's just say that she is working in a government facility where the employees don't leave." "What?" I gasped. "Like jail?" He chuckled. "No, no. We gave her some simple job to do in a government building where the employees eat, sleep, and work in the same building. From what I last heard, she is pretty happy . . . though the others aren't." "I can only imagine . . ." "I'm sure it won't be long before they have to move her again, before someone murders her or there is some catastrophic accident--that she probably caused--and she winds up dead." He laughed as he turned onto the interstate. I really hoped that wasn't going to happen but it was Sally we were talking about. "I know that feeling," I mumbled. "How was the empty coffin explained?" That was what I was more curious about than how others thought I had died. A small town like Oretown loves their gossip. I could already picture the old ladies hanging out at the small grocer's market gossiping away in the soup aisle about how I was the one who flew the plane into the ground. "They didn't," he told me as he braked behind a wall of cars. Great, traffic. It didn't seem to bother Joseph. Maybe patience was a trait all FBI agents had. "What do you mean, 'they didn't'?" "You were in a plane crash, you saw the flames billowing out of the plane," he explained as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. It kind of was. "It would be evident that there wouldn't be any remains to even put in a casket." "That makes sense." I changed my thought process. "So, how was my body explained, then?" I laughed at myself. It wasn't funny, but to me, it could be funny if I wanted it to be, or it could just be morbid. I picked funny. Joseph seemed to be amused by my question too. Glad to see we were on the same page. "The government has their own coroners who are paid to do what they're told with no questions asked, and they requested an autopsy on you. The FBI was suspicious after some of the eye-witnesses came forward with information about your 'accident' in Italy." I wondered what the eye-witnesses saw. I skipped that subject to bring up later. "And what did the coroner find?" Surely there was something. "Nothing. Human. Red blood and everything." "Really?" I didn't see that one coming. "Really." Well, wasn't that interesting. Golden blood, red blood, now silver. Wasn't I just colorful? After inching our way through traffic, we finally made it to the FBI building where Joseph worked. I was impressed that he didn't get angry once during the whole twenty minutes of stop-and-go traffic, not even when some jerk cut him off. We pulled up to a small building that housed a security guard. There was a gate that surrounded the parking lot beyond it. The grey-haired guard stepped out and greeted Joseph. "How are you today, Agent Carter?"

"Things are good, Andy," Joseph greeted with a winning smile. He pulled out his wallet and handed him his ID which Andy scanned. It was the same one he had used when we were in Nevada, the one with the gold stripe. "How are you?" "Same ol', but I see that you are doing better?" Joseph smiled wider, like the Cheshire cat. "Definitely." "That's good. I'm sorry to ruin your good mood, but Sara stopped by again." Joseph's smile instantly turned into a grimace. "Great." "If I see her while you are here I'll call the cops for you," Andy replied in a deep voice. I wondered who this Sara person was and why Andy would need to call the cops. Weren't there big, bad FBI agents all over the place? "I'd appreciate that." Andy the security guard leaned into the window. "And who's this pretty young lady?" "This is Doctor Moretti. She is visiting with me today. We have business with Director Morris." Joseph's voice turned from friendly to protective in a nanosecond. "All right." Andy seemed to get the hint: back off. "Have a good day, Agent Carter." As Joseph put his ID back into his wallet the security guard looked at me. "You too, Doctor Moretti." And then he winked at me--maybe he didn't get the hint after all. I grinned back and returned the wink just as Joseph looked up. He stared between the two of us and I gave my best "serious FBI face." Joseph didn't reply as he went through the now opened gates. I felt a little bit of pride for my serious FBI face because it seemed to have worked. "Who's Sara?" I wondered, trying to change the subject before he said something about my exchange with Andy, just in case I was wrong. "An ex-girlfriend," he replied, his voice giving nothing away. I could feel my serious expression go slack some. Damn, his FBI face was much more impressive than mine. "Why would he call the cops?" I continued. "Is she a psychopath? Should I be worried about being seen with you?" He turned the car off, pulled up the parking brake, and sighed. "She has stalked me for months--I can't seem to shake her. But no, you shouldn't be worried. If Sara ever tried to hurt you . . ." he trailed off, not finishing his sentence. He seemed to do that a lot, not finishing his sentences before threats. I wondered if that was also an FBI thing. "You'd do what?" I pushed, smiling. "I don't know what I would do, but you are important. I'd never let anyone hurt you." There was something in Joseph's voice, almost like an accusation. I let it go; we were both about to be under a lot of pressure. "Thanks, Joseph." And I meant it. He was someone I could count on, a true friend. Hee was, going above and beyond for me, and I was pushing him. I still wasn't sure how to act around him, but the last thing I wanted to do was fight or upset him in some way. Maybe I was getting the hang of this whole friendship business after all. It felt nice. Joseph patted my knee and opened his door. I mimicked his movements, minus the knee pat, and met him at the back of the car. "Are you ready?" he asked. "As I'll ever be, I guess." Joseph took my hand and led me forward. I didn't protest because it was nice, but it also felt wrong somehow. He wasn't as warm as Andrew; his hand just didn't feel . . . right. But it felt comfortable. We'd held hands before as we plummeted to our death. Now it just seemed like a natural protective instinct.

As we approached the building I stepped in a puddle of water, and what was worse, my shoes made loud squeaking noises as we entered through the heavy glass doors. Many people greeted Joseph immediately. You could tell he was high on the totem pole and he was liked and respected. We reached an elevator and he pressed the "up" button. Inside, Joseph scanned his gold-striped card and pressed the button for the eighth floor--above ground. I felt relieved that we weren't going down into a basement. Bad things always happened in basements. 4 I felt intimidated as soon as the elevator doors popped open on the eighth floor. Who wouldn't be? I was practically marching into an FBI building to confess that I had miraculously come back from the dead and to ask for help. Someone like me would have normally ended up in some glass prison cell to be poked, studied, analyzed, probed, and experimented on. Nothing on that list sounded the least bit pleasant. Joseph settled his hand on my shoulder and I jumped. Was I anxious? Maybe a little. He shot me a small twitch-of-his-lips smile, probably to try and reassure me. "Are you nervous?" Joseph asked with a chuckle. "You bet." My lips twitched, unsure if they could form a full smile. "What gave it away?" "You're fidgeting." He seemed to be highly amused by my discomfort as we walked down a hallway with offices on both sides; parts of the walls were made of opaque glass. "I do not fidget," I argued with narrowed eyes. "Um, yes, you do." He thought he was sooo witty, sooo charming. He smiled at me like a kid who'd gotten away with sneaking broccoli under the table to a dog. Well, at least it worked as a distraction for a little bit. We entered a large room with several cubicles in the center. There were windows at the end of the room where the sun glittered down onto the busy employees in their fancy business clothes. It was amazing how efficiently they worked together. I watched as the collective flowed seamlessly like dancers who had choreographed each of their movements. I was out of place, a spy who had infiltrated the hive.People bounced from desk to desk and from computer to computer as if there was some national emergency, completely ignoring our not-so-grand entrance. Perhaps there was some emergency and we picked a really bad day to come out here. You could tell this was a close-knit group that relied on each other. If there was some security threat I'd want these people on my side because they knew what they were doing. Joseph stopped next to an unoccupied, mahogany, L-shaped desk that looked like a paper bomb had exploded on the surface. The desk was ten times worse than Sally's, but the paper was scattered in a way that led me to believe there might be a method to the madness. Was it organized by the number of espresso shots needed to get through the paperwork or how many Valium pills one must consume to deal with it? Maybe it was arranged by hours of therapy billed in conjunction with the case work. Joseph turned to me suddenly and he was so close that our noses practically touched. "Why are you nervous?" he whispered. I was fidgeting again; damn him for being right. I stilled my fingers by folding my arms. "I'm dead, remember? The FBI might find that a little strange, don't you think?" Visions of prison cells danced in my head and I contemplated doing my best Michael Jackson impression so that I might pass for a zombie. My distressed whisper must have been a smidgen too loud because some of the diligent workers in hearing distance stopped what they were doing to glance up at us. Of course, I immediately felt embarrassed under their scrutiny, though Joseph just waved them off with a flourish of his hand like it was nonsense. It didn't take long before they noticed I was a trite civilian and the inquiring glances swiveled back to their computer screens and the business at hand. I lowered my voice. "You saw what they did to the Angels in Nevada. What if they do that to me?" I felt wrinkles

assembling on my forehead like collagen congealing in waves under my skin. Luckily, I would never have to worry about that again. I was an immortal and, as soon as I smoothed my worried expression, those wrinkles would disappear. No need for Botox in this life. Joseph frowned and backed up a step or two. "Hmm," he said as he walked around me like a lion ready to pounce. "You look pretty alive to me." "Yeah," I muttered, "that's the problem." Again, the zombie thing seemed like a good idea. He stopped after completing one circle and just shook his head at me. "I won't let anyone put you in a glass cell. I promise. But please keep quiet as much as you can about . . . stuff. Only tell them what they need to know." I pointed at him; my voice was playful yet anxious. "I'll try my best and you better be right about that." He shot me a devilish smile. "And what are you going to do about it?" I was glad we were joking around. It was either joking or I was going to fall to pieces on the floor. I lifted my hand and flexed my fingers. "Oh, I'll think of something. Maybe I'll try to cook me some FBI agents if they try to lock me away. They don't call me Zinger for nothin'." I poked Joseph in his side and made the "bzzt" sound again. His smiling face twisted into a grimace for a second, but he replaced it quickly with a teasing smirk. "Don't worry, Gabby"--I scowled at him, but he plowed on without hesitation--"you won't have to worry about that. Tom and I go way back. He may be my boss, but he respects my opinion. I never actually told him what really happened in Nevada or Italy; I think now's the time." I agreed wholeheartedly--even though I wasn't really sure myself what the hell happened. "Well . . . just in case . . ." I pointed my finger at a potted plant at our feet and let the electricity flow through me. The pot exploded and Joseph had to cover his mouth to keep from bursting at the seams with laughter. Oops. Several people jumped up while the majority dove to the floor as if a bomb had exploded. Uh oh. I turned to Joseph who had tears in his eyes from the coughing fit he had in an attempt to hold back his laughter. He held up his hand to one of the men that came rushing our way. Joseph shook his head a few times but finally reeled in his chuckles. "It's nothing; I accidently kicked the pot and it broke." Oh, so he had supersonic feet now? Please. The men nodded at him like they would have believed anything he said. I could feel the heat in my cheeks as I stared at Joseph. He looked highly amused with a mischievous smile on his face. I gave him two brownie points for blaming the "accident" on himself. He moved closer to me and leaned in. "How about you don't try any more tricks until we leave the office, okay?" Like he needed to tell me that. I just rolled my eyes and that made him laugh again. Whispers wafted around us and I tried to ignore them as much as possible. "What are we waiting for?" I wondered as we stood next to the vacant desk. "Me," a soprano voice sang behind me. I nearly jumped out of my skin and whipped around. My nerves were not on my side. "Jumpy, are we?" Joseph chuckled and put his arm around my shoulders almost business-like. He was enjoying this much more than he should. He must have been able to read the look on my face because he whispered so low that only I could hear, "I'm just savoring this moment of non-fierce Gabriella." The woman sat behind the desk and typed a few things on her computer. We advanced to the edge of her desk right at the bend of the L. Joseph waved his hand toward the beautiful woman. "This is Emily. She is the Director's go-to for everything. The Director would be lost without her." She smiled and her eyes sparkled behind her glasses. Her teeth were white and straight and she had soft, pale

skin that complimented her long and very naturally blonde hair. "You know how to butter me up, Agent Carter." She stood and shook my hand. Her grip was firm. "And you are?" "Oh," I said, a little flustered. "I-I-I'm D-Doc--" "This is Doctor Gabriella Moretti," Joseph cut in. Thank god for that because I was not going to be able to spit it out. I needed to get it together, maybe have a little pep talk with myself. Emily looked over the top of her glasses before she yanked them off her face and just gaped at me. She looked down at her desk and began to shuffle the papers around until she came across whatever it was she was looking for and then she literally collapsed into her chair. It wheeled away from the desk a few inches. The file must have been under "hours of therapy billed in conjunction with the case." For a few seconds she just sat there in bewilderment until she scooted forward, placed the paper face up on the desk, stood again, and pointed down at it. "You . . . died." I nodded stupidly with no clue what she was even pointing to. "It says here that you are dead." She circled around her desk and walked towards me. I didn't move as she placed her hands on my cheeks and studied my face with her grey eyes as if it contained the secret to resurrection itself. If only I knew . . . "Emily," I barely mumbled between my grasped cheeks. Her eyes stopped their frantic search of my face and locked with mine. "Oh," she said before she looked down and freed my cheeks from her grip. She backed up and Joseph put his hand on her arm but his dark eyes bored into mine. "It's really her," he said. "Trust me when I say that I was just as surprised when she showed up on my doorstep last night." Emily stumbled as she rounded her desk and picked up her complicated looking phone. She pressed a button. "Tom, I'm clearing your schedule this morning--" She was abruptly cutoff and there was a mumbling of a voice on the other end. "Director," her voice grew firm, "this is more important than those old farts." I didn't picture anyone speaking to the Director that way. I looked over at Joseph and raised my eyebrows. He was frowning in an attempt stop himself from smirking--he had smiled more today than I had ever seen. I glanced back over at Emily and watched as she put her hand to her forehead as if the conversation were causing her brain pain. "I don't care what you say about Alexander; he is still an old fart. It doesn't matter. Trust me when I say that this is more important." She sighed and rolled her eyes. And the theme of the day continues! "I don't care if you are eyeballs deep in reports. Get. Your. Ass. Out here!" She hung the phone up and looked at us with a soft smile as if she hadn't had the conversation at all. Joseph rolled his eyes to the ceiling before he looked back down at Emily. "I see you are still keeping him in line." "It's a dirty job but somebody has to do it." Emily turned toward me. "Even if you weren't a walking miracle, you are still far more interesting than some of the political idiots that Tom deals with. 'Old farts' was practically a compliment." The office door we had previously passed flew open and a tall man stomped toward Emily's desk. He froze when he caught sight of me. He was tall and dressed as nicely as Joseph. He screamed FBI. The man's chocolate eyes grew wide as he looked between the three of us; his mouth opened, shut, and then he did his rounds again. He finally settled on Emily after giving us another round of ping-pong eyes. "You could have told me . . ." He focused on me again and he swallowed. "I received the report from the coroner; I saw the photos. One of my agents confirmed your death." The tall man closed his eyes and kept them shut for a few seconds.

"Oh, come on, Tom," Emily said brusquely. "She's alive. Now quit being rude and introduce yourself!" Just one of Tom's eyes popped open before his head snapped in her direction and then back to me. I would be surprised if his brain wasn't scrambled by the time he finished his eye-neck-twisting-dance. "Right, of course. I apologize. I'm Director Morris." He held his hand out to me. I took it and he placed his other hand over mine, not shaking at all. He rubbed my hand and I could tell he wanted to see if my arm was also as real as my hand. His eyes were doubtful, yet hopeful. Those same eyes whipped back up to my face and he spoke softly, "You can call me Tom." "Hi Tom," I said warily as I pulled my hand from his grip. He let go reluctantly. "I'm Doctor Moretti. You can call me Gabriella." He nodded and looked over my shoulder. "Agent, did you know about this?" "She showed up at my door last night," he stated as if he had won a big bucket of money. Match three symbols and you win . . . The Illuminator! Limited time only, some exclusions may apply. "All right. I think we need to talk," he answered. His voice was just as wary as mine. Perhaps those five cups of coffee weren't the most brilliant idea. The way the three of them looked at me made me even more jittery and I was sure I was fidgeting again. But I supposed I would be acting the same way in their position. I could suffer through the scrutiny as long as they didn't start treating me like the second coming. Tom and Joseph escorted me to an interrogation room. That was a bad sign all on its own. I'd watched some of those criminal shows on TV but I didn't expect anything like this. The walls were a subtle silvery grey that matched the silver one-sided mirror. The black, glassy furniture made the inside decor look . . . pretty. There was no other word for it. The interrogation room was pretty. It gave you false hope by making you feel comfortable. I mean, why would they give a criminal such nice interrogation quarters if they were truly going to charge them? Sneaky FBI. "Fancy," I joked as I sat at the table. I placed my palms on the black, glass tabletop. When I moved them away, moisture was left behind, but it evaporated quickly. Great, now Director Morris knew I had sweaty palms. Maybe the decor had a deeper purpose than I thought; perhaps it was meant for understanding suspects, like detecting sweaty palms. Guilty as charged. Joseph had taken a seat next to me, but Tom took a seat directly across from mine. He had the same problem with the glass top when his hands moved away. I guessed we were going to be talking with our hands in our laps. Joseph seemed to be a seasoned interrogator and didn't touch the table at all, but sat back comfortably in the chair. We all just perched in our chairs and tried to avoid eye contact--though I did catch Tom eyeing me from time to time when he thought I wasn't looking. Abruptly, we all startedspeak at once and then grew quiet. Then we suddenly all started talking at once a second time and then went silent again. Before we made the mistake a third time, Tom put his hand up in a gesture to say "quiet" before we spoke. "Doct--Gabriella, how are you alive?" Wow, he came out with guns-a-blazing--I didn't know I needed a bullet proof vest here. "You got me there, Tom. I just . . . woke up." I chuckled nervously. Who needed the decor's help when I gave myself up so easily? Instead of looking to me for answers, he turned to Joseph. Joseph put his hands up in the air in a gesture that said "don't look at me, I'm just as clueless." The fact that Tom turned to him instead of me only made me angry. I was the one who died and came back, right? It didn't seem fair that Joseph got all the credit. "Tom, I can honestly tell you that I have no idea why I am alive. The last thing I remembered was--" I paused, unsure of what my actual story should be. Did I tell the truth? A semblance of the truth? Make something up? What had the "witnesses" seen? Yes, Director, it was my body double? What? You didn't know I had a twin sister . . . "What, Doctor Moretti?" Tom leaned over the table, as if moving closer would give him the answers. I noticed we weren't on a first name basis anymore. Fine by me. I finally decided on the truth--mostly. I was not very good at lying under pressure. "One of those . . . powerful beings

attacked me. He actually hurt me from a distance. I'm not sure how he did it--" "When you say 'powerful beings,' " the Director cut in rudely, "do you mean the supernatural creatures we brought in from the plane crash?" I thought Director Morris was going to eat table, he had leaned in so close. At least the decor would be good for something--lunch. "Yes and no," I said, unsure how to explain. "What does that mean?" "It means he wasn't the same as the ones from the plane crash. Those three were . . . they had morals. Something these other creatures didn't," I explained, or tried to. It was hard not saying "angel" and I was honestly afraid I might slip at some point. I hadn't looked to see what Joseph's reactions were, but Director Morris had slits for eyes they were narrowed so much. Could he even see? I must have said something wrong. "Moral? Those . . . things," he snapped angrily, "attacked my men and escaped from the lab. They took you, Gabriella, and two of my agents including you, Agent Carter. Three of my men were placed in the hospital and two of them were killed. How can you sit here and defend them?" "I didn't know . . . about the other agents," I barely mouthed. Soul Stalker was going down. How could she? "So you need to cut the crap and just tell me what the hell is going on," the Director shouted. "Now!" I flinched. Oh shit. I should have talked with Joseph more about what our story really was before we arrived hereIt's not like that. Yes, they escaped, but there was another creature after them--it wasn't those that escaped that killed--" I choked on the word "--those agents." I held my head down in shame. I didn't even have to try to look sincere; I was truly sorry. "It was my fault. I helped them escape and now two men are . . ." Joseph made a noise next to me and sat up abruptly. "It's not all her fault," he said quickly. "I helped too . . . with the escape . . ." His voice trailed off before he could finish. Director Morris looked between the two of us, all ping-pong-eyed again. They were hard black marbles in his eye sockets now. "You two did what?" I thought I saw spit fly. He was definitely angry. I sighed heavily and Joseph grabbed my hand under the table. My shoulders relaxed as I came to the conclusion that this conversation was about to go downhill and fast if I didn't do something about it. My eyes darted to the side to meet Joseph's frown. "I've got to tell him or he'll never help me," I told him. "Tell me what?" "Gabriella," Joseph warned. "Are you sure?" "Tell me what?" Director Morris repeated, his face growing red. I nodded toward Joseph who sighed in resignation. "All right." "Tell me what?" Director Morris shouted. "They are not 'creatures,' okay? They're Angels." There, I said it: Angels, Angels, Angels. "The Angels in the lab were good. The one that attacked your men was what you might call a dark Angel who wanted to harm me." Director Morris paled, his jaw ajar. He stood quickly, pushed his chair across the room angrily where it hit the wall with a thunk, and turned toward the one-way glass. He cupped around his eyes and placed his forehead against it. "Are there cameras in there? Are we being filmed? Is this some kind of sick joke?" "No," Joseph and I said at the same time. "She's telling the truth," Joseph continued.

Director Morris swiveled on his feet to face us. He leaned over the glass table and put his palms on it. "Are you seriously telling me that Angels attacked my agents?" he asked rudely, apparently thinking that I was insulting his intelligence. "Um . . . yes," I barely managed to squeak out, unsure of how to proceed from there. The Director's scowl moved from me to Joseph--again, seeking his knowledge or approval of some kind. What was I? Chopped liver? Joseph gave a slight nod to show that he backed up my story. Gee, thanks for the backup, Joseph. But Joseph's nod seemed to soften the Director up a bit. His angry, skeptical face slowly turned to confusion. "So . . . what, are you telling me that the FBI is caught in the middle of some kind of spiritual warfare or something?" Director Morris said slowly. Joseph and I just stared at each other, hoping that the other would continue the story, though the Director had summed ip quite nicely. Joseph didn't step up to the plate with any great explanations, so I dove in. It would be hypocritical to expect him to take the lead when I felt so furious every time Director Morris turned to him for confirmation. "Well, no . . . not exactly, sir. The Angels are not the spiritual beings that the Bible talks about. They just assumed the title many, many years ago. They are . . ." I stopped, unsure of what to say and afraid to reveal too much. I looked pleadingly at Joseph, hoping he'd bail me out. He gave me a small nod and continued where I'd left off. "Tom, it turns out that there is a race of supernatural beings that even the Paranormal Investigations department of the FBI has never heard of." Hello FBI voice. "Essentially, they were a group of humans who possessed powerful magical abilities. Thousands of years ago, they figured out a way to combine their magic and make themselves immortal. Most of these 'Angels' have devoted their lives to using their magic to help the human race--hence the name Angels. But there are some who have crossed over to the dark side." Joseph, who had been telling his story with complete confidence, sat still for a moment to allow Director Morris to absorb all of the new information. As I sat watching him come to terms with this new revelation, I thought I saw the dawn of recognition appear on his face for a fraction of a second before he returned to his serious FBI face. What, do they teach that face in FBI training? "Immortals. Magic. Angels . . ." the Director trailed off. "I know it's a lot to take in, sir, but I think I may have a missing piece to your puzzle. I'm sure you've noticed that Agent Austin is missing?" I let the bait sit there for a moment before continuing. "Well, when I mentioned that one of the dark Angels wanted to attack me, what I didn't mention was that it was Agent Austin--she's an Angel, sir." I sat perfectly still as I waited for a response. Several uncomfortable moments passed before I glanced over at Joseph hoping for some reassurance. He took my hand in his again and looked back at Director Morris. "Sir?" Joseph prompted quietly. He answered slowly, hesitantly, "If it were coming from anyone else besides you two, I wouldn't believe you for a second." I took a sharp breath. "You believe us?" He nodded. "The head of Zelko Corporation had nothing but wonderful things to say about you, Doctor Moretti." "Gabriella," I corrected now that we were back on friendlier terms. "Gabriella. He said that you were the biggest skeptic of them all. I can't imagine someone fooling you." He gestured toward Joseph. "And with your track record, Agent, I know that you can tell the difference between a prank and something real. Between the two of you, how could I disagree? I wasn't there, there was no video coverage, and Agent Austin has been missing ever since. We all thought she was taken, possibly dead--but you say that she was one of the bad guys?"

We both nodded in unison. Director Morris shook his head slowly from side to side.Oh shit. I had no idea." "She's a good manipulator," I said. "You ain't kiddin'." "Tom, I need your help. That is why I came here," I said. "There are a lot of things that happened in Italy that are just too difficult to explain. We'd be here for days. Please trust me when I say that the human race is in trouble." Director Morris deflated and practically fell into the last chair standing. "Trouble?" I nodded. "The good Angels are trying to stop the dark Angels, and you want us to help with our assistance?" That summed it up nicely. "That is exactly right. There are some very powerful beings out there that want to enslave mankind." I pointed between the three of us and put my wrists together like I was cuffed. I saw Joseph smirk at me from the corner of my eye. Friendly terms . . . "Those Angels that came back to life on the plane not only saved us from that plane crash, but were also trying to save the world when they were entombed in the mountains of Italy. My counterpart in Italy, Adriana, was the one who uncovered them. She was the one who sent them to my lab in Oregon, but it was me who brought them back to life." Director Morris had taken to pulling his hair out by excessively raking it through his hands. "You?" he asked skeptically. "Me," I said firmly. "I need the FBI's help and resources to find those Angels because they need me." Director Morris was looking a little pale. "Why would they need you, Doctor Moretti?" Great, back to proper names. "Because I am an Angel, too," I said. Joseph kicked my chair and I turned toward him. "What?" "I thought you weren't going to explain everything," he said through his teeth. "I suck at lying. I am great at keeping secrets, but dancing around the truth--well, I am horrible at it. This is necessary if we want the FBI's help," I explained. Joseph's forehead crinkled as he shot me a "when did you become an expert on the FBI?" look. I turned back to Director Morris, ignoring Joseph's expression. "It's true, okay? I am an Angel and I need to find the other Angels so we can . . . stop those dark beings from destroying mankind." "How can you help them?" He was just fishing now. He had already made a decision; I just didn't know what it was. "I am special--different from other Angels." I did a sideways glance toward Joseph who looked nervous now. "I have powers and gifts that can stop this from happening." "And when you say 'this,' you mean them enslaving mankind?" "Indeed, Director." "What kind of powers do you possess?" the Director asked. "I can manipulate electricityI said truthfully and showed him the current running between my fingers. He looked impressed. Glad he didn't know how wonky that particular power had been acting. "And I have the gift of light. I can bring light to those who have fallen into darkness. I am the only one with that gift, therefore I am the only one who can bring those who wish to destroy our world to the light." Director Morris seemed to be frozen. For a moment, I wondered if I poked him if he would just wobble from sideto-side.

"Director Morris?" I questioned eventually. No response. "Director Morris?" Nothing. The poking thing wasn't looking so bad. I could probably put him on my dashboard in a hula skirt at this point and watch him dance as I drove down the road. "Hey! Tom!?" Joseph waved his hand across his face. Director Morris jumped. "Sorry . . . sorry. You're an a-an-angel?" he stuttered. "Truly?" "Yes and I need your help. Please," I begged. "Okay," he relented. "Okay? As in yes?" "Yes. I'll help you," he confirmed. I stood suddenly and Joseph was at my elbow. "Thank you. Thank you, you won't regret this." Director Morris nodded slowly, still dazed by the whole conversation. I was glad I didn't have to poke him or make him into a tacky car ornament. "I'll get back to you, but I'll try to make it quick." He rose swiftly from his seat. "Agent, I will need you to come in and make an official statement about Doctor Moretti and the events that happened in Italy so I can process the proper paperwork. The government will expect some form of explanation as to why my field agents are gallivanting around with a dead woman." Joseph nodded and began to walk towards the door. "One more thing," I said. "I must stay 'dead' until we get this worked out. I was killed by supernatural beings who think my death is their win. They can't know I am alive." "Of course," the Director said. "We can keep it hush-hush." Joseph grabbed my elbow and pulled me toward the door. "I'm going to take Gabriella back to my house and I'll be back after lunch." "Oh no you don't, Agent Carter," Director Morris said. "You will stay with her. If what she says it true, which I honestly believe, then we need an experienced agent with her to protect her from another attack." "That's not necessary," I cut in as we exited through the door. "He has a point," Joseph disagreed. "No, he doesn't," I whispered through my clencheeth and turned toward Joseph with the Director at my back. "Do you want the FBI's help or not, Doctor?" Oh, it was threats, was it? "Of course I do--but this is unnecessary, really," I said as calmly as I could. I liked my independence and all I had been capable of lately was being dependent. Dependent on my Angels, on Andrew, on my parents, and on Joseph. "If you really are the key to stopping whatever it is--which by the way, Agent, I expect the full story from you; I'll send someone to watch her so you can come back in for your statement--I need you safe, Doctor." I sighed, resigned. "Fine, you win."

The Director shot me a victorious grin, marched into his office, and slammed the door. Then Joseph and I were off, down the elevator, and into the parking lot. 5 Wild, Electric Storm> I didn't know what the rush was about. Joseph had practically run to the car, but I figured out what the urgency was once we stepped outside. Maybe he somehow expected the events that would unfold. There was a beautiful girl-tall, leggy, pretty, black hair down her back--leaning against Joseph's car. She had simple makeup and, though she was drop-dead gorgeous, she didn't seem flashy. I would have thought it was just one of his coworkers, or possibly a stranger just taking a break in the parking lot, if it wasn't for Joseph's strange reactions. He stopped mid-stride and grimaced. He immediately snatched my hand in his, almost as if I was being a defiant child. I immediately realized who the woman was and I could completely understand why he would be attracted to her. Sara was, simply put, exquisite. We were still far enough away that she couldn't hear us, though that didn't stop her happy-gaze from turning into a nuclear-missile-glower as her eyes narrowed in on our attached hands. I figured I owed him--big time--so I'd play along if that was what he wanted. With my other hand, I rubbed Joseph's arm above our intertwined fingers. His eyes shot to mine and I gave him a meek smile. "I got this," I barely whispered. His grimace disappeared and his lips twitched with amusement. He understood that I knew who she was. "This ought to be good." He snickered. I bumped my shoulder with Joseph's broad one, though it was more like bumping his bicep he was so tall. "Does Emily always talk that way to the Director?" I asked jovially. Nonchalance was the key. Joseph went into full friend-FBI mode. I bet he could convince anyone he was in love with an inanimate object. His FBI facade was very impressive when he actually applied it. But there was something about his broad smile that led me to believe he was really happy about something I had just said. "What?" I whispered with raised eyebrows. He gavesmall cough-laugh. "Okay . . . I'll play." Joseph's voice went up several octaves so Sara could hear him. "Oh, yes. Emily sometimes has to treat the Director like a child." He continued to stare at me-- my face, over my shoulder, down at his feet--anywhere but at the beauty that was bent against his car. "But that is mainly because he acts like a child. Sometimes he has no manners and Emily has to keep him in line so he won't offend someone." We both gave a small chuckle at Tom, the Director, for his bossy yet unrefined manners. Joseph finally looked up at Leggy right before we untwined our fingers. When we stopped a few paces away from her he put his arm around my shoulder "casually," snuggled me under his arm, and glared pointedly at Sara. Her eyes roamed over the two of us to read our body language. You could interpret in her face that she didn't want to believe what she saw before her. In her eyes, you could literally see the wheels in her head working their magic. It was as if she was trying to find a way to explain my presence. Some people might not have seen all of these emotions flit across her face, but I did. I'd dealt with enough weirdos in my time, even though the majority of them were dead and on my lab table. Sara pushed off the car angrily and stomped toward us in her high heels. We were merely fifteen feet away from the car, so the march was short-lived. I tried not to laugh at her expression of extreme anger because it was utterly ridiculous. We should be the ones angered by her presence. By just looking at Joseph you wouldn't have been able to tell this stressed him out, but his arm tensed around mine and I wondered what kind of crap he had to deal with in the past from this woman. To try and ease his sudden stiffness, I linked my hand with his hand that was around my shoulder. It was odd trying to be openly flirty with Joseph when our relationship wasn't that way, but I

was doing him a favor--I only hoped that it helped the situation. "Who's this?" Sara snapped. Joseph opened his mouth to say something but I thought I could nip this in the bud quickly. At the time, I had no idea how wrong I was. I placed two fingers delicately over Joseph's surprised mouth and gave him what I hoped was a shy smile. I'd seen Jenna flirt a million times and I just hoped that I could pull the act off since flirting was a foreign concept to me. I was either interested and let the man know or I wasn't. And no matter how good-looking, sweet, and kind Joseph was, he was no Andrew and my acting skills were mediocre at best. He was not my kindred soul, but deep down I knew that we had a connection and I honestly didn't know if that was what a typical friendship felt like with a male, or if there was something else between us. Whatever it was, I was willing to potentially embarrass myself to help Joseph. Joseph looked down at me with slight surprise before his face went back to its FBI mask. I stepped out of his embrace and held my hand out to Sara. "Hi, I'm Gabriella . . . and you are?" Truly, I tried to say it as politely as possible. That was when things went downhill. Or maybe catapulting off a cliff was a better metaphor? Sara practically stalked toward me, grabbed my hand, and yanked me down until my nose was merely inches frmeeting the car. The only reason I didn't kiss the trunk of that beautiful magnetic black car was because Joseph had caught me and partially because Sara was now flat on her ass with her wrist held gingerly against her body. Her mouth was slightly ajar in shock. Joseph pulled me into a hug and whispered low in my ear, "You shocked her." Oh, that is why she looks shocked, I realized. I didn't even know my own voltage. I shook in his arms and, from an observers point of view, you would think I was crying, but I was laughing. But the next thing I knew Joseph's shoulder was yanked away from me as Sara tried her best to slam him against his own car. I wasn't sure what to do because I didn't want to shock her to death or hurt her in some irreparable way. Not yet, anyway. So, I came up behind her and kicked the back of one of her heels. The heel broke off the shoe and she dropped down on one knee. She yanked the shoe off her foot. At that point, Andy the security guard had seen the scuffle in the parking lot and ran in our direction. He immediately cuffed Sara and pushed her against the car next to Joseph's. Her breath fanned against the metal and fogged it up in the chilly October air. "He'll just do the same thing to you," Sara spit, half her words muffled against the car she was practically eating. We ignored her. Andy beckoned Joseph forward to hold Sara down. "I'm going to call the police. I'm so sorry, Agent, I don't know how she got in here." For the first time that I could remember Joseph looked livid. "That's Special Agent," he said tersely as he placed his palm on Sara's upper back. Andy backed away and apologized profusely with gestures, words, and even bows. "Come on, give the man a break," I pleaded. I hated to see that side of Joseph, and I felt partially responsible because I knew it was my presence that made Sara go off the deep end. Joseph's eyes snapped to mine and his expression softened a little, but still held an edge of anger. "And what if she had a gun? What if she really hurt you?" I raised my eyebrows. Hadn't I died once and come back? It was wrong to think myself invincible, but it gave me a sense of security; I just wasn't sure if it was false or not. Sara spoke up again. "He'll use you and spit you out!"

I lowered my face so she could see me without straining her eyes. "He can use me whenever he wants!" My eyes flicked over her head for a second. Joseph pinned his lips together as he suppressed a smile and possibly a laugh. Glad I could entertain. "He doesn't really want you, he'll always want me! He's mine and I'll get him back!" she shouted at me. "How could you, Joey?" Joey? Again, my eyes shot up to see Joseph's face. He frowned deeply. Hmm . . . ammunition. Joey--it had possibilities. "He invited me here!" Sara continued in her high-pitched voice. Now she was grating my nerves. I lowered myself to her face again. "I know he didn't invite you here. Joseph doesn't want you, Sara. He's never going to want you. Understand that and let this little obsession go." Some of her hair had fallen in her face and she blew it away angrily. "He talks like he doesn't care about me-telling lies to his friends and family about us, but when no one is around he is always there for me." Her breath was heavy and each time she exhaled her hair would rise up in a cloud around her before it fell back to her face. I placed my hands on the car and lowered myself closer to her. "You're delusional." "It's true," she disagreed and I noticed Joseph's arm flex some as he pushed her further into the car hood. "He loves me! He's just being a typical guy. We see each other all the time and he takes me out to eat and to the movies. I even talk to his mother on a regular basis." At this point, I was expecting the girl to tell me she rode here on a unicorn. "Joseph?" I asked over her head, but continued to look at Sara. "Is what she says true?" He scowled. "No." "Sara?" I barely whispered, irritated. "I really hope you aren't calling Joseph a liar." Lies happen, I realize that, but it was one of my biggest pet-peeves when people say fallacious things about others just to flame them. "He's lying," she said slowly, menacingly. I immediately took my hands away from the car, afraid that with my anger I might shock the car and both of them would go down in a blaze of blue lightning. My posture straightened and Joseph studied my face for a second, his amused face was gone. Sara screamed and fought against Joseph. "Get her away from me!" she screeched. "You freak!" Jeez, someone get this woman a Valium shot--fast! Andy scampered back--yes, literally scampered--and took up his post of holding Sara down. He went through all of his procedures of checking her pockets, asking her if she had any needles on her person, and finally yanked her from the car and walked her toward the guards' station. Joseph looked at me, like really gazed at me, before he grabbed my hand and practically pulled me toward the car, opened my door, and helped me in hurriedly. I didn't know why he was in such a rush--Sara was in custody now. He ran around the car and jumped into the driver's side, slammed the door, put the clutch in, put his key in the ignition, and turned it. The car did its purring-to-life thing. He popped the brake down before he slammed the gear shift into reverse and we were through the gate and on the streets before I could say "hot tamale." I buckled my seat belt and hung on for dear life as he whipped around traffic. He was going so fast I wondered if the cars around us were actually driving backward. "Hey, Joseph!" I shouted. "Why are you speed-racing? Why are we in a hurry to go back to your place to do nothing?" He did a quick glance in my direction as he shoved the gear down lower and the car lurched forward. My head

slammed back into the seat. "What the hell, Joseph?!" He glanced at me for a second, his face apologetic. "Gabriella . . . your eyes." That was all he said to me. His voice was quiet; a scary calm. I popped down the mirror and stared at myself for a good few seconds before I could register what was wrong. It was the strangest, and dare I say coolest, thing I had ever seen. It practically looked like tiny bolts of blue lightning were crashing in the whites of my eyes. My eyes still hadn't changed back from their sad blue color. The effect was rather impressive and scary-looking all at the same time. I looked like some artsy photo where you see the reflection of a storm in someone's eye . . . except this was inside me. Had my rage at Sara caused that or was it something else entirely? This gave a whole new meaning to the phrase "eye of the storm." I sighed and snapped the sun visor back up. "Are you angry, Joseph?" He did his funny sideways glance at me again. "No. You really freaked Sara out . . . and to be honest, me too." I scoffed. "You're joking, right?" He shook his head. "You saw me electrocute a woman when we were escaping from the underground labs . . . but now my behavior is scary and I am not even meaning to do it!?" Again, he did the sideways glance. I huffed. "Gabriella . . ." "Is it going to be like this every time I do something weird? Joseph, I can't help it! This is all so new to me. I'm an Angel. AN ANGEL!" I shouted. "In a matter of days I discovered a whole new world, almost crashed in a plane-which, by the way, you lost many of your colleagues and friends in--was rescued by Angels who were dead in my lab less than a few hours before, escaped the FBI--again, funny, since you are with the FBI!" I chuckled without humor. "Then I became a suspected terrorist, was taken to Nevada to experiment on the very Angels who saved our lives, found out someone I trusted wanted to kill me, was attacked by 'the good guys' who aren't really good, went through a portal--literally a portal!--met my mother who healed me and then who I lost in a matter of moments . . . and I had to lie to everyone when I died and came back. I think I have the right to have flashy lightning-eyes without the scrutiny!" I folded my arms and glared angrily at the passing cars as we flew down the interstate. "It's because you don't realize it's happening . . . that you are oblivious to these changes that scares me, Gabriella. Until we find Andrew, and the other Angels, we need to figure out what you can and can't do and see if you can't learn to control it," Joseph explained carefully. "I'm not scared of you; I am scared for you . . . of what you might do on accident." I breathed in a sigh before I turned in my seat to face him. "Joseph, don't be scared for me--" "How can I not be?" he cut in. "Because'm scared for me and the last thing I need is for you to be in the same boat. I need you to be someone I can count on and rely on. Someone who I know will be there for me--not someone who will pity me," I said, a little snippety. He frowned, deeply. "I don't pity you, Zinger!" He chuckled at what he thought was a clever time to joke. "I might possibly be a little jealous . . . especially with a nickname like yours!" "Your attempt to joke won't save you," I replied dryly. "I need to know that you aren't going to freak out every time I do something weird because, no matter what, it is still me inside. It is always me. If I lift a car with one finger I don't want you to suddenly cower in fear like I am going to throw it on top of you. I need you to be the person I turn to and go 'what the hell did I just do?' and for you do say 'I don't know. That was cool.' or something like that. Not 'I'm scared for you.' That shit isn't going to help me in the least."

Joseph's foot faltered on the gas for a second before he turned his head and smirked at me. "I love it when you cuss," he stated suddenly. "I only cuss when the need arises or when I am dealing with a little shit." I narrowed my eyes at him. "You know . . . like you, Joey." My serious face was gone in an instant as we both cracked up. "You don't wanna play that game, Gabby, because I'll win," Joseph said good-naturedly. "The only people that can get away with calling me that are under four feet tall and share my last name." "We'll see, Joey." I snorted. Once the laughter filtered out and all that was left were our smiles and the heat floating from the vents, Joseph spoke. "I promise I'll be there for you. No matter what, I'll be there." "I know," I told him sincerely. "Now, explain what happened back there with Sara." He sighed dejectedly. "Honestly, things probably wouldn't have gotten so out of control if you hadn't mentioned Emily and the Director." "Explain." "The FBI is my . . . turf, I suppose. It's the one thing that is mine--that I earned. I never brought a woman to my work, to see my office, to meet my co-workers. The only glimpse Sara, or any girl I dated in the past, ever received was the stories I told them. Emily has always taken up post as my second mother so, of course, I spoke of her a lot and it is hard not to talk about your boss and how he can't find his keys half of the time." Joseph shook his head. "And the first words that came out of your mouth were about Emily--my second mother figure that I never let her meet. My mother instantly approves of almost every girl just because she wants me to get married and give her grandbabies ASAP. Emily, though . . . approval from her is actually important to me. So, you can only imagine what Sara was thinking." He chuckled under his breath. "I'm surprised she didn't jump you immediately. Jealousy doesn't even cover what she was probably feeling. I'm really sorry she even touched you, though your shockingpeople-abilities haven't faded much." He smirked. "Well, I didn't mean to. Must have just been my body's emergency response. Fight or flight, I guess. And my body said fight." I paused. "I know we aren't dating . . . but did I get the thumbs up from Emily?" I asked self-consciously. He rolled his eyes and made it obvious to me by moving his head too. "Of course. It's hard not to like you, Gabriella." I sighed. "Thanks. So, what about Sara?" "I really hope we don't have any more problems with her, but I can't promise she won't do a drive-by or even come to the door," Joseph muttered. "I hope the police keep her in custody for a while. If you want to file assault charges, or get a restraining order, I will take you down to the police station after I receive your paperwork from Tom." "No. She's harmless. I hope. If not . . ." I rubbed my fingers together and they sparked. I was ready for Sara and whatever shit she brought with her. Yes, shit--she deserved the word far more than her sweet Joey ever would. "I think she is," he replied. "Anyway, we won't be around here for long. Not sure who they are going to put on your detail, but I believe Tom is going to take your protection seriously. He's seen and heard some weird stuff before, so what we told him isn't as far-fetched as you would think him to believe. It helps that you came back from the dead and that we are both credible people in the world of the paranormal." A memory came back to me suddenly. "Joseph, you said you've seen some weird crap before. Worse than I have ever seen?" He nodded. "Well . . . can you tell me?" I wondered. I was undoubtedly curious. Plus, after the whole vampire debacle, I was ready to hear some of his stories.

"Yes. If you're good," he said through chuckles. "We've got time, Zinger." I folded my arms across my chest. "I should have kept my mouth shut." "Oh, but I am so glad you didn't! And now, after the whole Sara incident, it is even more fitting," Joseph mused. "Hah-hah," I said wryly. We were silent for the rest of the drive, though my brain never turned off. All I could think about was the wild electric storm that raged in my eyes. I just hoped that it would go away before I had to go out into public again; I didn't want to be like Jeff Vittorio and his sunglasses. I shuddered under the memory of him killing me and my short-lived good mood disappeared. Where are you Andrew? I need you. And that was more accurate than I realized. 6 <Surrounded> By the time we arrived at Joseph's, my eyes had returned to their regular sad blue. I wondered how long they would be that color . . . how much longer I would be mourning for my mother and for my own situation. That night, Joseph and Iorked on my ability. And when I say my ability, I mean my knack to burn hot dogs (our dinner) into a crispy pile of ash, leave a streak of grass burned in his backyard, shock a squirrel out of a tree, and catch his grill on fire, all with electricity. But at least my gift worked--even if it was faulty. I actually began to panic when, by the end of the night, I couldn't even melt an ice cube. I had no control over my ability whatsoever; it either worked with horrible side effects or didn't spark at all. I went to bed early. Since my mother's death, I only had one dream from the "sight" that my mother bestowed upon me--and that was back in the Divine Library, which felt like a millennia ago. Since that stretch of time, there had been no dream-memories to keep me from completely falling apart like shattered crystal. Still, I was unceasingly eager to dive into sleep every night because I desired so deeply that the dreamless nights I had would end and I would see her again. There was a time I feared and resented the memories that came to me when I slept, but now I cherished and missed them. That night I did dream, though, or . . . I remembered. Except it wasn't really a dream; it was more like a nightmare. Through my dream-haze I witnessed everything all over again; my mother healed me, spoke to me, protected me . . . loved me. Those were her last moments alive and they were spent loving. And all over again, I saw the last time she would take a breath, speak in her sweet voice, or hold me in her motherly arms. Instead of the warmth of the bed I was cuddled in, I was back in that wind-chilled, fire-blazing field. Shadows--Shadows were everywhere! Flames exploded out of one of their palms and whisked across the darkened grounds. It happened all over again. The trembling flames curved up my mother's legs, spiraled around her stomach, and coiled at her neck. Screams-I heard screams and they all came from me. Even through my shouts, I heard it again; that horrible noise--the snap of bone--as my mother's neck broke in two. Her soul ascended from her body like white smoke as it dissipated, melted, and finally dissolved into the sky above us. Her soul just vanished like fine mist upon sunrise. I could feel my heart shrivel within my chest like a grape turning into a raisin. The words "her soul was severed from her body" whispered across my skin and all I could do was scream and scream. I didn't think I could endure the pain again. But I did. I flew up in the bed, my eyes closed so tightly I wasn't sure a winch would have been able to open them, and felt the moisture on my face. The bed creaked next to me and I screamed and scrambled away like a wounded and frightened animal. "It's just me," Joseph murmured as he leaned across the bed, slowly, cautiously, and brushed my tears away with his thumb. I let out a shaky breath, opened my eyes, and saw him gaze at me with an agonized expression, as if he were afraid I would turn away from him. "What's the matter? Did you . . . dream?" I knew what he meant by "dream" so I shook my head. "No," I croaked. "Nightmare." I wiped my tears furiously

from my face and attempted to compose myself. I reached over, turned the lamp on next to the bed and blinked repeatedly into the sudden brightness that attacked my pupils. When I finally focused, I took in the scene before me. My pillow smoked slightly, like I had electrocuted it, and the bed was in disarray, as if a tornado had twisted the covers into a knot--I knew that I was the tornado. Joseph was in his flannel pajama pants, no shirt, and his hair was disheveled on onde of his head while the other side looked like it was plastered to his scalp. In my attempt to push away that particular memory--that sound--I chuckled softly. A ghost of a smile graced Joseph's lips. He reached out to tuck a wayward strand of hair behind my ear. "What's so funny?" he asked. I was just happy he didn't ask about the nightmare because I didn't want to relive it again. The awful thoughts vanished like shadows exposed to the sun. Joseph seemed to have that effect on me, even in times of crisis. "If I didn't know better, I'd think you went swimming and put half of your head out the window while driving to dry it." I snorted and laughed some more. His whole look almost had me in utter hysterics, which was mainly due to the depression cloud that had made a home right above my head. The cloud finally ruptured and what it set free were absolute, uncontrollable giggles. Joseph's lips formed a straight line as he stood and headed toward the bathroom. I heard an amused cough right before the faucet turned on and water splashed in the sink. A few minutes later, he came back into the room, but what I saw was the last thing on this planet I would ever expect. He'd taken his brown hair and molded it into a mohawk; the hysterical giggles were back. I reached up and messed his hair so it was in wet tangles. "Much better," I mused. After we had both calmed, Joseph placed his big hand on my shoulder and sighed. "Gabby"--I scowled and, again, he ignored me--"it's so good to have you back. I never thought I would hear your voice again, let alone hear that wonderful laughter." I opened my mouth to retort with "my name's not Gabby," but Joseph stopped me with a finger over my lips. "I don't think you realize how many times I thought you died within the first few days I knew you; when the plane crashed, when that Lady of Light attacked you, and when the Shadows surrounded us and demanded that we give you over to them. Each time I thought you were dead or going to die. But every time you amazed me and survived. That was when I realized just how special you were." "I don't understand," I began but was stopped again with his finger over my lips. He smelled like the soap in the bathroom--rosy. "I'm sure you've heard the phrase 'you don't know what you have until it's gone?'" I nodded and he continued, "Of course, I had to study your file before I flew out to Oregon so I already knew a little about you and I was instantly intrigued. Then I saw you and you literally took my breath away. You had this whole . . . witty and frazzled demeanor. When I thought I had you figured out, though, you pulled out a novel on vampires." He chuckled. "Vampires," he repeated. "I couldn't believe it and I knew immediately that there was something different about you." He sighed as if he were remembering something horrible. "I was so happy to have found you and then . . ." he choked up. He was silent for a few moments as he tried to compose himself, but the only words to escape his lips were, "You died." "I know," I said too loud and hugged Joseph to me. "I'm so sorry, Joseph. I'm so, so sorry that I didn't immediately come to you or show myself at my funeral. I couldn't, but I'm here now. I'm sorry!" I was doing the epic Gabriellababble thing again. It d't seem to bother Joseph at all as he hugged me back just as fiercely and nodded his head against my shoulder. "That phrase has a whole new meaning for me," he murmured. "You aren't just special, Gabriella. This world needs you. Without you, everything turned dark and grey. How the clock continued to tick on I will never know because my world stopped. I barely had any time with you, but you had such a profound effect on me that losing you seemed to make everything else in the world not matter anymore. When you showed up on my doorstep, it was as if the world turned from black and white to full technicolor. I think we were destined to meet." I wouldn't have believed in the word "destined" before, but then I met Andrew. "Me, too," I barely whispered over

his shoulder. "You're my best friend." "I like the sound of that." I smiled. "And . . . I've never had one of those before, besides my sister, Jenna," I admitted. "So it's kinda a big deal." His body shook with light laughter. There was something about his arms around me, the warmth he brought to me, and the comfort his touch exuded that told me I was safe. It was completely different from Andrew. There was nothing romantic between Joseph and me--he was more big brother.That was all I had to compare it to, anyway. Andrew brought about those same feelings but with his touch came electricity, intense desire, and overwhelming love. To have them both in my life--I was the luckiest girl alive and I knew it. We let go of each other and I lay back down on the bed, exhausted. Joseph had brought in a small futon so he could sleep in the same room while being a gentleman and I saw that the covers had been thrown across the room. I was sure he did that when I cried out. I yawned sleepily while I stared up at Joseph. "So . . . I wrote Jenna some letters," I said slyly, remembering him opening the car door for her at the funeral. He cocked his head to the side and gave a partial smile. "Your sister. I met her when I went to your funeral." He suddenly grimaced. "She was pretty distraught." My coy attempts at seeing what he thought of her epically failed within two point five seconds. I frowned, embarrassed and upset with myself for not thinking. He sighed as if in apology. "So, what did you write in them? Does she know you are alive, then?" I shook my head and pointed toward the dresser where I had placed them in the top drawer--not like he would know why I was pointing to it. "I haven't sent them. It's killing me not to be able to tell her everything that has happened. We don't have secrets between the two of us besides the obvious job stuff. Even if I wanted to hide personal things from her, she always figures them out. I am just no good at keeping important things from her." I played with the edges of the sheet that I had pulled up to my chin. "If I tell her, I might be placing her in danger." He nodded seriously, as if he were really weighing my words carefully. "I know you are all about protecting everyone but are you really worried that she will be in any more danger than she is in now? I can't imagine her running off to tell everyone about you, especially if you asked her not to." I studied him for several long seconds. "I guess not," I said slowly. There was a tone in his voice, the way he spoke of Jenna, like he knew her better than just meeting her once at my funeral or reading about her in my file. "Did you . . . go on a date with my sister?" I gasped, delighted. He gave me a cocky smile. "No." "Liar!" I said and laughed joyously. "You went on a date with her!" He laughed and plopped down on the bed next to me; we both gazed up at the spackled ceiling, our shoulders touching. "It wasn't like that," he said evasively. "And what does that mean?" I asked while I grinned like a maniac. "It means I dropped by to give her my condolences." I shook my head and bumped his shoulder. "Quit playing coy with me, Joseph. I know my sister and she has a thing for your type. Trust me on that!" I laughed again at the thought. Joseph and Jenna together . . . they were perfect for each other. He shrugged in typical male fashion and left me with no details whatsoever. I sighed. "Fine, don't tell me."

He sat up slightly, put his arm around me, and brought me close to his chest. "Quit playing spy, Gabriella. I truly only stopped by to check on her. She was just so . . . upset." "Uh huh," I replied in disbelief. "Just wanted to pat her on the back and tell her everything would be okay?" "Truly," he said sincerely. "I wanted her to know that the FBI was there to give their condolences." He hesitated. "And I was kind of upset, too." His voice lowered. "It was comforting to be around someone who was close to you, someone who understood how much I was hurting." I nodded against his shoulder and felt like a big pile of crap for keeping such a large secret from them both. The vision of her at my funeral replayed as I listened to Joseph's even breaths. The rhythmic motion calmed me and soon I fell into a dreamless sleep. An alarm clock blared to my right and I jerked up but was held down. There was a warm arm around my waist and when I turned, I realized it was attached to Joseph. He must have fallen asleep about the same time I did. The annoying sound didn't stop, it just escalated in volume. Joseph groaned and pulled me tighter against him. "Joseph!" I pushed against him. "Joseph! Please turn that horrible thing off!" I squinted against the blinding sunlight. Joseph swung his arm behind him and began to swat and smack at the space behind him. He managed to knock over an empty glass of water, a book, and the lamp. Yes, the lamp, which luckily didn't break! It crashed to the ground and Joseph shot out of bed as if strings had pulled him forward. I laughed, shook my head, hopped out of bed, rounded to Joseph's side, and shut the damn alarm off. I giggled and shook my head the whole way to the bathroom. When I finally emerged, fully dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, I caught Joseph shaking his hips to some sixties music in the kitchen while he sang along. He was already dressed neatly in his FBI attire. He flipped a pancake in the skillet and sang into the syrup bottle. I nearly fell over right then, but I contained my laughter because I wanted to see how long it would take before he noticed me. He didn't, but he did put on quite the show. So when the song ended, I clapped and cheered. He whipped around and actually blushed. Who knew Mr. FBI still had the ability to blush? I would've thought they'd trained that out of him, as well as the rump-shaking. "How long have you been standing there?" he gasped. "And how much did you see?" "Oh, for a little while," I replied merrily. "And I think I saw the whole show!" I did a quick mock-shake of my hips. "Well," he flipped the radio off, "now that you know why I am an FBI agent instead of a rock star, how about breakfast?" He held out a plate of pancakes and I had to admit that after the very burnt hot dogs we attempted to eat last night, the pancakes looked like a five-star meal. I pointed down to the empty spot at the bar, where a cup of coffee waited for me. "Pile'em high!" I rubbed my belly and grabbed my fork, ready to dig in. Joseph sat next to me and bumped my shoulder. That seemed to be our thing--shoulder bumping. We shoveled food into our mouths for several minutes in silence, just the random sounds of our forks grating against the plates echoed in the kitchen. "So, Gabby"--I took in a deep breath, ready to retort, and, like always, he plowed on without notice--"I received a phone call from Tom this morning while you were in the shower." "Oh," I said. "And?" "Agent Thomas is outside right now. He's going to watch over the place so I can give a statement regarding the events in Italy. Is there anything you want me to keep out?" He turned toward me and raised his eyebrows. "Just use your best judgment." I shrugged. He scooted his seat back. "Listen, I don't like leaving you here but it's best if you aren't caught by someone who

recognizes you as 'that girl' who died that they saw on TV." I rolled my eyes. "Yeah, yeah. I understand." I hated it when he made sense. "Just the one agent, right?" He gave me one of his exasperated sighs and hugged me for a second before he left. Right before he shut the door, he yelled out, "Make yourself at home." To be nice, I washed all his dishes, but I had no idea where to put them all so I stacked them neatly on the counter. He seemed to have a method to his kitchen and I didn't want to disrupt that. I know I'd be upset if I couldn't find stuff in my kitchen. After an hour of trying to read a book that Joseph had on his small bookshelf, I decided I would go meet Agent Thomas. I peeked out the window to see him sitting in the non-descript, obviously government, vehicle. He seemed to be very alert to his surroundings as he constantly darted his head around to watch the surnding area-kind of like a meerkat or a groundhog in a suit. When I opened the front door, chilly October air rushed across my skin and goose bumps arose immediately. I dashed across the lawn and knocked briskly on the agent's window. He rolled the window down. "Doctor Moretti," he greeted. Of course he'd know who I was. FBI agents are nosy! "So, um, Agent Thomas, is it?" I asked Agent Groundhog nervously. He gave a curt nod and continued to scan the area. "Would you like to come inside?" His head snapped in my direction like I just told him that I was giving birth right there on the sidewalk and needed him to deliver the baby--hah; I wondered if they covered that in training. His expression only gave a flicker of nervousness before his FBI mask covered it back up. Jeez, they must have taught that look in FBI school, or whatever the hell it was that they had to go through. "My orders are to watch the perimeter for any threats, Doctor Moretti." That's when I saw it. He placed his finger over his ear piece as if someone were speaking to him. Why would someone be talking to him? And how could he watch the perimeter while staying in his car . . . "Dammit, Joseph!" I muttered angrily. Agent Thomas looked at me carefully. "Is there something wrong, Doctor?" I took in a deep breath because I knew it wasn't this agent's fault. There was another agent, though, that came to mind. A sixties music singing, hip shaking, mohawk wearing FBI agent! "You can call me Gabriella, Agent." Another deep breath. "So, how many of you are there?" I wondered casually. His eyes narrowed at me for a second. "Only me, Doc--Gabriella." "Bullshit," I yelled and pushed off the edge of the stupid government vehicle. I did a small circle in the yard before I lowered myself back down to the window but the agent was gone. When I stood he was next to me. FBI agents and their magical tricks! He must have popped up out of an underground tunnel like the groundhog he was. "You need to go back inside, Doctor." I glared at him. "I'm sorry for my inappropriate language." And I really was. "Please just tell me how many of you there are?" The agent grabbed my arm and practically had to drag me toward the house. "Doctor, you need to get back inside," he said sternly. "Fine," I muttered and jerked free. I knew I probably overreacted, but seriously, more than one agent? What was Joseph so worried about? Everyone thought I was dead, right? So I decided to figure out how many agents there were. How concerned was Joseph? It was time to find out, so I

devised a plan. First, I ordered a lot of pizza at noon, hoping to lure them in, but Agent Thomas stopped the man before I explained to him that it was just food. The count was still one. At twelve fifteen, I called a tree service and explained it was an emergency. I told them to go straight to the back of the house and I would meet them there. At one, the tree service showed up. At one-oh-one, three FBI agents escorted them away from the house. I didn't recognize any of them as Agent Thomas. I paced the length of the house several times before I attempted anything else. There were four agents outside the house. Could there be more? At three, I resolved that I needed to go on a walk and was followed by two agents, only one that I had seen before. By the time Joseph arrived back home, I had come to the conclusion that there were five FBI agents surrounding the house and one at the end of the block. When Joseph walked in the door, he gave me a questioning glance. He must have noticed my "I know what you did" stare. "Sorry it took me so long. I hear things here were pretty eventful." He chuckled like he knew what I was up to. "Oh yeah," I said with a laugh. "There's cold pizza in the fridge. Hope you like pepperoni." He turned his head to the side so all I could see was his profile and his eyes glanced sideways at me before he smirked. He sucked in air with the smirk never leaving his face--the look between humor and exasperation. "How many did you find?" he asked. "I have no idea what you mean, Joseph," I answered in nonchalance. "Gabby!" He looked at me like I was the biggest liar on the planet. "Joey!" We stared each other down for a few moments. "Agent Thomas gave me a bill for a tree service estimate for the tree that fell through my roof." His eyebrows rose in question. "There is no tree through my roof." "Must have been the wrong address," I lied coolly with a wave of my hand. He shook his head while laughing. "And how was your walk?" "Delightful. I met an agent named Agent Jack Sparrow. How about that?" I chuckled. "I was always a big fan of those movies." "You are full of it, you know that?" Joseph shook his head back and forth. "Me?" I asked in faux surprise. "Nooo." "What was the final count?" "Six." I shrugged. "Seven if you count your nosy neighbor. Almost as bad as the six FBI agents combined." He groaned. "Are you mad?" "I was," I admitted. "I understand that you worry about me, but next time, only send one and give them permission to come inside." I stood and gave Joseph a hug to welcome him back. "Any of them except Agent Thomas-talking to him was like chatting it up with the pile of leaves in the backyard. Wait, no, I take that back, the leaves could probably hold a better conversation." "Okay," he relented. I narrowed my eyes in disbelief. "Do you mean it?" "Yes. Only one agent," he promised.

"And not Agent Thomas?" "Not Agent Thomas," he confirmed. "Good. I just wanted to get that on record before you go into the kitchen," I said with a sly smile. He pursed his lips. "What's wrong with the kitchen?" "Nothing's wrong with the kitchen," I told him seriously. "Okay," Joseph said slowly, "what is in the kitchen, then?" I smirked and followed behind him as he entered the kitchen, not waiting for my answer. He flipped the light switch. "Jesus, Gabriella! How am I supposed to eat that much pizza?" I tried to hold in my laughter. "Um . . . very carefully?" Joseph began to count the boxes of pizza on the counter. "Don't forget the ones in the fridge!" I reminded him cheerily. After he finished his inventory, he turned to face me. "Twenty boxes?" "Like I said, I hope you like pepperoni or you are just out of luck. Well, we could order more pizza, but I suggest going through a different company. I think Agent Thomas scared the poor kid to death. I tipped double." His head fell back as he looked at the ceiling and muttered under his breath. When he was done with studying the ceiling, he looked at me and said, "I deserved this, didn't I?" I nodded. "Absolutely." Then I grabbed a piece of pizza out of a box and took a huge bite. "Mmmm," I mumbled. 7 Letters> I was going absolutely stir crazy after five days of being locked indoors with nothing to read except a small collection of military and political books. Day one consisted of eating left over pizza and playing Scrabble. Surprisingly, Joseph was quite good at it and totally kicked my butt. Well, until I accidently caught the board on fire when I lost. We spent the rest of the evening attempting to figure out my power. Attempt being the key word. It was nice just hanging with Joseph, even though he snored like a freight train at night. Day two was bad because I had a lot on my mind--mainly my mother. Abelie graced my dreams again, but it was just like before: the fire literally screaming across the grass and snapping her neck, her soul departing. Or as Andrew had so eloquently put it, "Her soul was severed from her body." I had awoken to Joseph again and he let me cry it all out on his shoulder until I fell to sleep listening to him whisper reassurances about the Angels. He was quickly becoming a rock in my life, someone who knew the real me and acceed it. Day three was better, though that was when I met Agent Croft. Agent Croft was about five feet, nine inches with short blonde hair, dark blue eyes and a small sturdy frame. He seemed nice, but at the same time you could read something behind his eyes that spoke of the horrors he had witnessed. He was quiet and kept to himself, even after I offered to send him home with five pizzas--even though they were leftovers. When Joseph left for the day I wasn't alone, but I was. Might as well have been considering how much Agent Croft spoke--which was not at all. I think I scared him when I lit the grill without a lighter. Or maybe it was the fact that I made a gun out of my hand when I did it and then blew the smoke away like it was a real gun. Joseph laughed while Agent Croft decided that the bushes on the other side of the yard were potential threats to my safety. Day four was the worst of all. Joseph was gone the whole day and I was left with nothing to read and no one to talk to. All I had were my thoughts, which were not very appealing. Andrew was on my mind: who I thought of, who made my body tingle just by the mere mention of his name. That was what day four was all about: Gabriella and

her aching heart. I just had to keep telling myself that it would be remedied soon. And if the FBI didn't get the ball rolling soon, I was going to ask Joseph for the address and go by myself. I knew he would never let me do that, but I also knew he wouldn't dare try to keep me against my will. Boy did I have loads of will, too. The will to get the hell out of D.C. and run straight to my lover's arms, to my father's, and to my Angels. By the time Joseph came home, I was huddled on my bed with bright blue eyes. There were no tears, but it didn't stop the sadness from showing. He brought me hot cocoa and rubbed my back until I calmed down. By day five, Joseph finally accepted a booklist of mine and headed to the nearest bookstore. He didn't want any more "episodes" when he was gone. Still, I hated when he left me alone in the house again because I wasn'ttruly alone. Agent Croft floated from room to room and said very little to me, actually, he practically ignored me. Joseph explained it as "You're too distracting." Whatever that meant. I begged and begged him to take me out. I'd settle for hanging my head out the window like a dog as he drove down the road. Yeah, that was how stir crazy I had become. Daytime TV held little interest for me so, while he was gone, I did the only thing I could think of: I wrote to Jenna. One last letter, I decided. This letter would be difficult to write because I finally reached the toughest part of my story; the part that hurt me so deeply I had to stop and cry in the bathroom for thirty minutes before I gained my composure back. But I wanted to finish. I hoped one day I could send them to her--or give them to her directly. Jenna was important to me and I needed her to understand why I did what I did. The thought of her reading the letters about Angels brought me back to a discussion we had a long time ago. The phone rang three times before Jenna picked up. There was a screaming Jules in the background and a muffled hello. "Oh! Sorry. You are probably really busy but I have good news," I said excitedly. There was a lot of noise before I heard her grip the phone firmly. "Gabby." She sounded relieved. "Please give me some good news. It's been one of those days with Jules and Dave has been on my mind." My heart gave a small jolt. Dave was her husband that died in the war before Jules was born. After Jenna isolated herself for a few months with a newborn Jules and her grief over her husband's death, she moved to Portland for a fresh start. "I'm so sorry Jenna, but maybe this will cheer you up. I just got a job in Oretown, Oregon." There was a pause on the other end. "Never heard of it." I smiled into the phone in hopes that it would transfer into my voice. "It's about an hour from you. I'll be able to visit all the time." There was a sob on the phone and I frowned. It wasn't exactly the reply I had hoped for. "Oh my god, Gabby. That is so wonderful. I've missed you so much and I just--" I cut her off. "I know it's been hard, but I'll be there for you now." I heard her take a shuddering breath in. "What's the job?" "Top secret! I'll be working in a lab." "Doing what?" she asked suspiciously. "Something that has to do with the supernatural," I said honestly. She snorted. "You're joking, right?" "No." "Of course you'd find a position like that." She laughed. "The supernatural doesn't exist." "We'll see about that . . ."

If she ever read the letters I wrote, she'd most definitely think I had lost my mind. I smiled at the thought of her reactions and it only made me miss her more. It also made me think about Jules and her tiny curls bouncing as she slid across the floor in her socks the last time I saw her. There was one thing, though, that Jenna would understand, and that was Andrew. I had never lost someone close to me before Abelie, so now that I had gone through that loss and found my kindred soul, I could better understand and appreciate the pain that Jenna went through. The way she handled her loss was impressive. Though she isolated herself for a while, she never let it interfere with her being a good mother to Jules and I envied her bravery and strength to deal with such loss. I sighed, flipped my notebook open, and pulled a pen out to write my final words. It was raining and cold outside and the swish of the wind swirled around the soaked grounds. The trees swayed wildly from side-to-side in the backyard. I stared out of the window for an hour as my eyes followed the line of the wooden fence to the small green bushes that brightened the otherwise gloomy fall day. This was my view--my only window to the outside world I felt comfortable enough to look out of because it was protected from peeping eyes and nosy neighbors. Joseph had no idea how nosy one of those neighbors could be. Agent Croft, the one who had ignored me for days, came in to inform me that Joseph had been called into work and would be back later in the evening. His voice was surprisingly soft compared to his hard exteri. Three days and that was the most he had said to me--actually, I couldn't even recall what his voice sounded like before. I gave a nod and put my pen back to the paper. I had written many things to Jenna in my letters during those few days after my funeral, before I found Joseph. They contained everything from the small bit of information I knew about the Angels, all the way down to my feelings for Andrew. I explained that even though Abelie--my biological mother--passed away, I still had a dream that included her memories but hadn't had one since. I explained that through her memory I saw the Shadows had once been part of the elite Angels. They were part of the Halo of the Sun, a brotherhood that directed and led the Guardian Angels, and their memories were erased while the other Angels had their minds altered to forget them. There was a whole letter that included the Ladies of Light and the Soul Stalker. How corrupt the Ladies of Light were when they attempted to kill the Halos, but instead created the Shadows. And though I wasn't one hundred percent sure why the Soul Stalker was after me, I knew the Shadows were falsely warned that I would be the one to destroy them--when in reality I knew I would bring them light. I'd save them. But most importantly, I wrote down in small script that I failed by believing the deceptions all around me and that was why I had to deceive everyone. It was the only way to fix it. So when the Shadow killed me, I made the difficult decision to stay dead. I ended my last letter with "I miss you. It's been difficult not being able to call you or to tell you everything that has happened to me. More importantly, I am alive. I thought about coming to you, but I knew I couldn't. They said they would go after my loved ones. I couldn't lose you. I love you." With a great sigh, I signed my name, licked the envelope, and sealed it. It'd just be another letter that would never be sent. With a graceful move, I rose and strode toward the room I had been sleeping in. When I moved with an angelic elegance, it still surprised me. It was things like that that made my heart ache worse than ever. In the past few days, I still had not been able to figure out my powers. Sometimes they didn't work and other times they worked too well. I needed guidance . . . I needed Andrew. The bedroom was more spacious without Joseph's futon bed. After two days of him sleeping in there with me to make sure the sight wouldn't harm me, I told him to go back to his bed. I didn't voice my thoughts to him, but I was sure I had lost everything my mother had given me. The sight was gone. Plus, he did snore, even though he argued he didn't. When I opened up the drawer in the dresser where I'd placed my completed letters, I gasped. They were gone. All of them! Immediately, I shoved the letter in my back pocket and started to yank the contents out of the drawer. I threw my clothes over my shoulder as I dug into the drawer. I couldn't find them and began to panic. I tore through every drawer and still they were empty of any evidence of those letters. When I whirled around in panic, I saw Agent Croft gawking at me and the disaster of the room with raised eyebrows. The room looked as if a clothes bomb had exploded. "Is everything all right?" the agent asked. "I, uh--" Again, his voice surprised me. Well, not really his voice, but that fact that he even spoke. The doorbell rang

and we both broke our focus off the room and turned toward the hallway that led to the front door. Agent Croft turned back to me. "Stay here," he commanded. He walked out of the room with a purpose as he pulled his gun out of its holster. I poked my head around the corner and saw a glimpse of brown hair and a beautiful face through the window next to the door. I ran toward the agent. "Wait! I know who it is. It's okay. Put your gun away," I tried to explain, a little breathless. "Stay in your room," he ordered without glancing at me. "Really," I protested, "your gun is unnecessary." Agent Croft stopped suddenly, whirled to face me, and frowned. "My job is to protect you, Doctor Moretti. You are making it awfully difficult." I made a noise of annoyance, pushed past him, and ran with angelic speed to the door. In a quick motion, I unlocked the door and flung it toward me. I stood frozen for a few seconds as I took in her beauty. She was shorter than me but still had legs for days. Her pink dress flailed in the wind and rain before she pulled her long, black coat around her firmly, a black umbrella in her left hand. Her big green eyes surrounded by her curly brown hair stared at me in shock. Her pink lips were parted slightly as her eyes fixed on me. "Jenna!" I said in relief. She said nothing, just continued to focus on me. "What are you doing here?" I practically yelled at her. Agent Croft grabbed the door behind me and yanked it from my grip. I looked at the small table next to the door where his keys and my purse were beckoning me and snatched them up. He shouted from the door as I grabbed Jenna and ran toward his car. Jenna didn't object--she still hadn't said a single word. Agent Croft's footsteps pounded behind us and I turned, running backwards, and made a gun out of my hand. "Don't even think about it!" I shouted. He froze, as if someone had shot him with an ice cannon. The fact that a paranormal FBI agent was petrified of a hand gun, literally made me internally snicker. I turned back around flung my door open. "Get in!" I commanded to Jenna with a smile and she hopped into the car. Just as I shut my door and locked it, the agent reached us and banged on the door. "What are you doing?" he shouted. "Get out of the car now!" I stuck my tongue out at him like a little kid, turned the car on, put it in reverse, and peeled out of the driveway. Jenna and I flew down the street and I randomly turned from street to street with a smile on my face. Jenna was still silent as she held onto her seatbelt. "Jenna! Say something, please." "I thought it was a joke," she barely whispered. "It had Joseph's return address on it and I didn't know if he wrote them or what! It was your hand writing though. Then I thought that maybe you wrote those letters while you were alive and he was just now sending them." Realization hit me like a twenty ton truck. "No, Jenna. I wrote those after I died," I explained as we got on the highway. I reached out and grabbed her hand which she gripped back fiercely. "It was me all along." She began to cry profusely as she laughed hysterically. I was going to kill Joseph for sending those letters without my permission. He just placed Jenna in huge danger. "What the hell is going on?" she finally uttered through her sobs of joy. Jenna gained a dirty mouth after living on a military base. I smiled at her curse word.

"You read those letters, right?" She held onto my arm, her fingers intertwined with mine. "Are you telling me that what you wrote was the truth?" "Yes," I said wearily. "You've got to be joking," she said with a shake of her head. "This isn't real. It can't be real. This must be just a crazy dream and you really are dead." I pulled my hand free and pinched her hard on the arm. She yelped and covered her arm up. "That hurt!" she accused. "You're awake. I'm alive. This isn't a dream and those letters were not a lie." I sighed heavily, still angry at Joseph. For some reason, I didn't feel an ounce of guilt for stealing the agent's car. She rubbed her face as more tears came. She shook her head back and forth and muttered obscenities under her breath. For a few minutes the only noise was her hysteria and the pounding rain. "Can we get a drink?" she finally asked. "Yeah, I think we both need one." I took a random exit and we finally found a bar a mile away called "The Dive." The name was fitting since it really was a dive. Before we got out of the car, we hugged for a whole five minutes. I held my tears back because I wasn't ready for her to see the evidence of my silver tears. It was one of the things I actually left out of the letters. It seemed so small and I had truly just forgotten. She stepped out first, ran to my side, and held the umbrella over my head. We walked toward the bar with arms around each other. When we walked inside, several people looked up at us or stopped their pool games to see who it was. I gave a meek smile as I led Jenna to a bar stool. We immediately ordered drinks from the bartender, who introduced himself as Joe, and then we stared at each other for several minutes. It was so good to see her and I was sure she felt the same. I was going to take advantage of every second I had with my sister again. Jenna spoke first. "First let me start by saying wow." I nodded. Wow was an understatement. "You're alive." That I was. 8 Liquid-Sterling Blood> Jenna had one elbow propped up on the dark wooden bar. The side or head rested against her hand; her dark, curly hair draped over her shoulders like a veil as she stirred her Washington Apple with the tiny straw the bartender gave her. "So"--she smirked at me--"what's up with you and Joseph?" Her green eyes were amused and more interested than the polite conversation indicated. At least she was going the light route instead of diving into the Angel conversation. Maybe we both needed a little alcohol in our systems before we spoke about it. "Nothing," I answered dismissively. The last thing I wanted to do was to think of the conversation Joseph and I had over breakfast the first morning together--or the incident with Sara. Joseph was a friend--even if, at one point in time, we thought it could be different. It wasn't, though. He was my best friend. "Nothing? Or is it something and you just don't want to tell me?" She gave me the stare, the one that said "I know you are hiding something from me." Imagine that. "He was the only one I could trust with my secrets." I faltered and realized my oversight. "At the time," I added. I did trust Jenna, but the knowledge of my existence would have put her in danger--life-threatening danger. Even now, I felt a weird prickle about her knowledge of this entire new world that I didn't even know that much about. Would this cause her harm or follow her back to Jules like an evil black cloud? I could only hope her visit would be short and would leave her undamaged. Anger toward Joseph bubbled to the surface but I shook it off quickly. He was

just trying to help me. I tried to hide my depression over everything but he saw right through me. Jenna frowned and took a sip of her red liquid courage. "You didn't send me those letters, did you?" She must have seen the look on my face. There were too many emotions, too many thoughts to hide from everyone. I sighed and put my head in my hands. "No," I moaned. "I wrote them because I wanted to talk to you, tell you what was happening. But I couldn't. It would have put you at risk." If only she knew. . . Jenna didn't say anything as I stared at the inside of my hands and waited for her reaction. The only noise in the bar was the light chatter of voices, the clicking of pool balls, and the ball game on the television. I felt Jenna's warm hand touch my shoulder and I turned my head to gauge her reaction. She pulled me into a tight hug. "Is it all true? Everything you wrote in those letters?" How could I deny her the truth? If anyone would be on my side, it would be her. And after all the lies, she deserved the truth. Plus, I didn't think I could hold it all in any longer. I nodded against her shoulder. She pulled away from me though her hands stayed on my arms. "Why do I believe you?" Her eyebrows knitted together as if she were trying to figure out a complicated math problem. If only a calculator would help. "I don't know." I sighed as words piled up in my throat, begging to be free. "I don't know either." Jenna laughed like it was funny to her. Not funny hah-hah, but funny peculiar, strange. It was time to show her what I really was--who I really was. I just hoped that it wouldn't scare her off. "Let me show you something," I whispered and turned toward the bartender who faced the other direction. "Joe?" He pivoted and smiled at us. "Need a refill, ladies?" Oh, I needed a lot of things and alcohol wasn't one of them . . . though it would have been nice to have felt the numbing power of a margarita or three. "Sure," I said with a smile. "But I also need a knife. Do you have one I can borrow?" He raised his eyebrows at me but continued to smirk. He was definitely amused. He wouldn't have that grin on his face if he knew what I planned on doing with that knife. "Sure." He reached under the bar and handed one to me. "Don't start any bar fights, okay ladies?" Again, not what I had in mind. Jenna and I laughed at him though there was an edge to it. She was probably wondering what the hell I needed a knife for and I was nervous to see what her reaction would be. She had a curiously scared expression on her face, like she literally thought I would start a bar fight or was going to do some wild kung fu move. There was no crazy fighting technique to show her and it wouldn't be the knife these patrons would be scared of; it would be me. "I don't think that will be a problem," I replied dryly. Poor bartender Joe had no idea that I planned to cut myself instead. A little blood never hurt anyone, right? He winked at us. Joe really wanted a good tip, no matter the blood spillage. Not that he knew. Once he turned away from us, I swiveled toward Jenna again. I took a deep breath and held my arm out across the sticky bar, my forearm facing up. I traced one of my blue-red veins, though my skin had the pleasant glow that the other Angels had. "It looks human--normal. But I'm not . . . normal; not anymore." Jenna traced her finger over my arm too. "You're an Angel," she murmured. I nodded in assent, though she said it as a statement of fact, not as a question. That was just the way Jenna was--accepting. No matter how many lemons life had thrown at me, Jenna had always shown me how to make lemonade, or at the very least, throw those lemons back. Here's to hoping she doesn't throw them at me, I thought with the knife's handle turned toward me. I played with it on the table as Jenna watched me. She surveyed me with a stunned and horrified expression on her narrow, beautiful face when she realized what I was going to do. I lifted the knife and put the blade against my

skin as Jenna sat, frozen, looking as though she wondered if she should stop my suicide attempt. Of course, that wasn't what I was doing. I pressed the knife into my skin, the indention not yet breaking the flesh. Jenna snapped out of her trance as her eyes immediately darted around the room, probably to see if anyone was watching my little demonstration. As her eyes fell back on me, a look of trust slowly spread over her face. I almost wanted to giggle. Joseph had the same reactions when he was thrown into this world. He just . . . trusted. Fancy that. I tried not to smile at the image of the two in my head. I didn't want to look sadistic while I pressed a blade to my skin . . . though I think I had already failed when I put the knife to my arm in the first place. In a hushed-whisper, Jenna said, "Gabriella, what are you--" but her voice cut off as I bit my bottom lip in anticipation of the pain. Regardless of being an Angel, the pain didn't go away. The blade sliced through my skin and it was more painful than it should have been. Stupid, dull blade. The liquid-sterling blood spilled from the incision and pooled around the indention the knife made as we both watched it trickle down to the bar like lustrous melted silver. The blood caught the sunlight and reflected back at us like a light in a mirror that shimmered. I made a little noise, a gasp of pain, as I dug the blade in deeper. My eyes closed under the pressure and I almost bit a hole in my bottom lip. "Gabriella," Jenna barely breathed in awe. She placed her hand over mine--the one with the blade--and gently tugged at my arm. "I get it. No need to cut your arm off." It really hurt, so I had to agree. I dropped the knife onto the bar where it bounced against the wood twice before there was no noise but the background sounds of the bar patrons. I opened my eyes to see Jenna's reaction. It was like staring at a cartoon character. She was perched at the end of her stool with her eyes popping out of her skull as she watched the blood continue to seep from my wound. Her mouth was opened so wide, I thought she might have added a weight to her bottom lip like someone from some remote tribe in Africa. I put my finger under her chin and pushed up. My eyes followed the path of her eyes. Silver blood dripped down the edge of the knife, like tear drops, and plopped onto the wood. As I looked at it, I actually thought: It's beautiful. When I glanced back up, Jenna just blinked at me. Her mouth opened and closed like someone had stolen her voice and she was eating the air in hopes she would regain it. It must have worked because she suddenly said, "Beam me up, Scotty!" I raised my eyebrows at her reaction. She shook her head as if the movement would realign her thoughts. "Sorry, that was the first thing that came to mind. What I just saw was just as ridiculous as if you would have literally been beamed up into a spaceship." I supposed anything was possible, but I didn't say that to her. "Seriously, Gabby." She seized my arm and waved her other hand over the damage I had caused. "What the hell? You can't just cut yourself, have silver blood gush out, and expect me to just say . . . well, I'm not even sure what to say." "Beam me up, Scotty," I grumbled under my breath and turned away. She was right, of course, but it was either all or none. I couldn't keep secrets anymore. There were just too many of them. "What did you say?" My eyes snapped up to her green irises. "Oh . . . nothing." I didn't think she bought it, but she let it go. Smart woman. She dropped my arm and went for her red drink. She probably needed the courage. I knew I did. "So . . . silver blood, eh?" "That's not even the half of it," I muttered.

The wound on my arm began to heal itself, as I expected it would. The cartoon character look was back. I thought I was going to have to push her eyes back into their sockets. After a few seconds, there was only the silvery substance that gave me my timeless immortality left on the wooden bar. "What the hell?" Jenna had grabbed onto the bar as if she were going to throw it at someone. I sighed. What else would I have expected from this revelation? She stared at the knife like she was thinking of asking me to do it again. Her finger grazed the blood and she brought it close to her eyes to examine it. "Gabby, maybe there is more to being an 'Angel' than I realized." I nodded in complete understanding and mimicked her movements by swiping my own finger through my blood. "It was gold." "What do you mean 'it was gold'?" "I mean"--I snatched the knife off the bar and cut down my finger--"this"--I pointed to the sparkling blood that began sliding down my finger--"this used to be gold. I just can't figure out what happened. It's silver now. I don't know what it means." There was silence between us. The wound healed again and I wiped the blood on my jeans which made them shimmer as if I had doused them in metallic paint. I figured I could probably market those to teenagers. "Perhaps it's just another one of my . . . gifts? Powers? I'm not sure what to call it." Jenna gaped at me as if I had grown three more arms and turned fluorescent green. "First, stop cutting yourself! Second, what do you mean another one of your gifts? What other gifts, or um . . . powers, do you have? Can you fly? Where are your wings? Have you met God?" I giggled and placed a finger over her mouth before she could continue her questioning. "I can't fly, that is Andrew's special talent. No wings that I've seen. And God . . . well, I've never met Him." Jeez, this was sounding an awful lot like Karen explaining this to me. I shuddered but brushed it off before Jenna could sink her proverbial claws into that one. "Honestly, I'm not sure he even exists." My fingers drummed madly on the bar as Joe-thebartender plopped another drink before me. Yum, Yum. Pumpkin beer. 'Tis the holiday season to tell your sister that you're an Angel with magical abilities. "Tell me about Andrew! I have never heard you speak about a man like you did about Andrew in those letters." I sighed and opened my mouth to answer but she was already onto the next topic. "Hey, does Joseph have a special talent? Is he an Angel, too?" A soft blush crept up Jenna's face as she waved Joe down for her fifth drink. "Andrew is . . ." How do you describe the person who means everything to you? "He's my Angel . . . my everything." I sighed as I took a sip. Oh, liquid courage, you are my friend. "As far as Joseph is concerned," I began. Jenna gave me a peculiar look. "Wait, do you . . . like Joseph?" I laughed. "Do I like Joseph, or do I like like Joseph?" She giggled as she obviously felt the alcohol slowly turn her into a giddy school girl with no brain-to-mouth filter. "Why do I sudden feel like we're on the play ground in elementary school?" Another giggle escaped. "But, really, what's not to like? Hello? FBI Agent, tall, dark, handsome, successful . . . will you put in a good word for me?" "Sure, Jenna." I laughed. Jenna literally jumped from her bar stool. "Oh, and Andrew . . . oh my god, Gabriella, are you really in love?" Ignoring her drunken state--one I was surely falling into myself--I let out the breath I didn't know I had been holding. "I don't know if love is the appropriate word." Her checks flushed. "Did you make it to third base?" I gasped. "Jenna Rae Moretti-Freeman!" Freeman was her married name. She rearranged her features in a faux-sheepish-grin. "What? We're sisters; we're supposed to share all of our gory details--although gory might not be the right word in this case. Spill the beans, Gabriella. Come on, I haven't

had a man touch me in ages--give me the dirt!" I eyed her for a few seconds. I truly missed these kinds of conversations. "We had some hot kisses in a library in Italy." Jenna grinned. "You made out in a library? How cliche is that?" "Best cliche ever," I reminisced. "His hands . . . his body. Oh, the things he could do with just a simple touch." I sighed at the memory. I took a swig of my beer in an attempt to use it as a shield from my insane blushing. I didn't want to meet my sister's eyes before I continued on. "He slept with me for several nights." She cocked her head to the side and narrowed her eyes in good-humor. "Slept? Or slept? Do not hold back the details." "Well . . . the first night I didn't have any PJ's so I slept in the bed with only my underwear on . . ." Jenna's mouth hung agape. "But," I rushed on before she thought I had done something besides sleep . . . and dream, "he slept on top of the covers." "Seriously?" she asked disappointedly. Jenna popped up straighter in her seat and leaned toward me. "Oh my god, is he from the 1950's or what? Slept on top of the covers?" She laughed. "What was that about?" "It was the first night that he . . ." was alive? Came back to life? "He was just being a gentleman. He could probably tell how nervous I was." And I was nervous. Unbeknownst to Andrew, that had been the first night I had truly shared a bed with a man. When I told him later, he was surprised. Regardless, it was so easy to cuddle into his shoulder with his arm draped around me that first night. I was on my third drink and my brain was beginning to do that whole "I need to do something right this second or I'll burst" ordeal, in which I wanted to leave and find Andrew--to hell with waiting for the FBI. Jenna spoke and pulled me from my memories and longing. "Okay, so you slept in a bed--without intimate contact--then kissed in a library. Why is he your Angel? By the way, is Joseph seeing anyone?" She literally gave me the "sorry, it's all the alcohol's fault fomy stupid filterless comments" look. I understood, though. We were both lonely. "He did cuddle with me the first night, Jenna. Anyway, he is kind of like my protector . . . my Guardian, I suppose." I sighed. "It's complicated." That was an understatement. Well, everything was an understatement it seemed. "Angels have their own Guardian Angels?" She sighed. "You do realize how poetic that sounds?" "Yeah, it does sound pretty sappy," I replied with sarcasm. "That's so romantic," Jenna continued, ignoring me. "Can I have a Guardian Angel too? Is Joseph taking applications? I think he'd make a perfect Guardian Angel for me." I laughed, loudly. A few guys looked up from their pool game and winked at us. I turned away quickly. "Joseph isn't an Angel. But as far as I know he's on the market." I elbowed my sister playfully. "I'm sure he'd be flattered if you asked him to be your Guardian Angel . . . and as far as Angels having Guardians; they do. It is just, like I said before, complicated." My eyes shot down to my beer again. Oh frothy goodness, how you distract me . . . "Apparently I'm . . ." the Illuminator. No, she's dead. I'm Gabriella. "Special." I put my head in my hands. "But that isn't the problem right now. The thing is . . . Andrew doesn't know I'm alive," I admitted, ashamed. "Wait," Jenna choked and threw up her hands like she was stopping a ninety mile-per-hour train. "How does he not know that you're alive?" "Because . . ." I trailed off. "Jenna"--I placed my hand on her arm--"there was a fight and Andrew tried to save me, but it was too late. I . . ." "Died?" she whispered in shock. Realization blossomed on her face as she grew somber. "Gabriella," she asked tentatively, "if you were not really dead, who did we bury?"

"No one . . . an empty casket." The thought of my funeral actually made me sick. I saw the hurt in everyone's eyes-hurt that I couldn't take away without putting them all in danger. My Angels risked everything for me. My mother died protecting me and I would forever have to live with that horrible, gut-wrenching guilt. I just hoped it would lessen over time. "If you died, how are you here now?" Jenna glared down at her red beverage. "Seriously, no more alcohol for me-I think I'm going crazy here because I was pretty sure you just told me that you died. I thought that maybe you faked your death." "I didn't fake my death. And I don't know why I'm alive," I told her honestly. "One second I was barely conscious, the next I was dead--which I don't remember any of--and then, suddenly, I woke up in a morgue. Scariest thing that has ever happened to me." I omitted the part where I saw my mother for just a few seconds as I stumbled around naked and blind, thinking I had been kidnapped. Jenna didn't even know I had found my mother . . . oh crap, she did! Those letters were going to get me in a lot of trouble. Note to self: give Joseph a scolding later. "So, you've . . . um . . . crossed over? Is that an Angel thing? Is this normal?" Jenna quit glaring at her drink and instead took a deep swig of it. Great, I'd driven my sister to drinking. The sounds of the bar filled the silence between us for a few short seconds as we both took gulps of our drinks. "I haven't the slightest clue," I finally said. "I have yet to tell any Angel what has happened to me. I did it to keep them alive because, you see, there are those who will protect me and then there are those who will kill everyone who stands in their way to get to me--to kill me. I did it to protect them." Jenna's body trembled and in a small, shaky voice she asked, "Kill you?" Her words were met with my silence and the heartbroken expression I knew I was wearing. "Gabriella, I get the feeling that there is more to this story than you are telling me. Spill the beans, please." "You already know the story. Didn't you read all of my letters?" I wondered. She nodded. "There are obviously things you left out while writing them." Dammit if she wasn't right. The final letter was still in my back pocket and I knew it would tie up all those loose ends that the other letters left hanging open. "Please, tell me. I want to be there for you, but I can't if you don't tell me everything." I hated that she was pleading with me. I almost growled at her. "That's the thing, Jenna, you can't be here for me. Danger surrounds me at all times--even if you can't see it. It will only be a matter of time before someone finds out the truth and I am suddenly number one on their hit list." "Fine," she snapped. "Put me in danger, I don't care! Just tell me." "What about Jules?" I whispered and glowered at my empty glass. "Are you willing to put her in danger, too?" "Well . . ." Jenna's voice softened, "of course not, you're right." She sighed heavily. "Just give me the basics, please. Gabby, I grieved for a sister I thought I'd lost forever, so you kind of owe me." I sighed and reached into my back pocket. I pulled a sealed envelope out and passed it to her. "This is my most recent letter to you. It explains why I decided to keep my 'being alive' a secret. I just hope this isn't too much for you to handle." I placed it on the bar and slid it towards her with one finger on it. Jenna stared down at it like it was going to bite her. I remembered what I had written. It was about the Shadows; how they had lost their memories, and though I wanted to help them, they thought I wanted to kill them because of the prophecy that was actually an altered version of what the Angels had previously read. Also, inside the envelope was information about the Ladies of Light and how they were supposed to be good, but had become corrupt. And, most important, how the Soul Stalker was after me and was so good at lies and pretenses that I fell for her deceit--hook, line, and sinker. It was about my failure.

I failed. "Um . . . okay." Jenna cautiously reached for the envelope. As she read it, all sorts of emotions rolled across her face; confusion, terror, disbelief, and finally she semed to settle on horror. She was horrified. "Gabriella, we've always known that you were, um . . . different. But what's written in here"--she held the letter up and shook it like I needed a reminder of the monstrosities that were contained in the letter--"it is beyond reality. We need to get help; call the FBI or the CIA, or the um . . . who do you call for something like this?" I shrugged. "Ghost Busters?" she asked, absolutely serious. I burst into laughter while I shook my head back and forth. I knew she was being serious, but the Ghost Busters line almost made me fall off my bar stool as I imagined Karen morphing into a giant Marshmallow Man. Or maybe it was the alcohol. Whatever it was, I knew that the two J's might just be meant for each other. She deserved someone like him. Jenna deserved everything and I knew Joseph was good with kids, he told me so on the plane, so long ago . . . "Are you laughing at me because I'm drunk, or because I love the Ghost Busters?" I raised my eyebrows at her. "Okay, forget the stupid Ghost Busters. Honestly, Gabriella, your life is in danger! Does Joseph know about this? Is there someone he can call--someone to offer you protection? Geez, I'm terrified, so I can't even imagine how this all feels to you." "Joseph and I had a similar conversation," I said through strained giggles. I finally composed myself and looked at her face as it grew serious. "Joseph is FBI, remember?" I ignored her other questions; there was no need to answer them. "I mean . . . come on, Jenna, what would you do in my situation? Do you really think that the cops would not send me straight to Crazyville?" Jenna stared at me in understanding. "Yep--one way ticket to the Funny Farm." A strange expression crossed her face, like she was considering what she could do to help. "NO," I yelled because I knew what she was going to ask or offer. The bartender, who was leaning over the counter and speaking with a pretty woman, looked over his shoulder to see our very empty drinks. We'd been downing them pretty quickly. "What do you mean 'no'?" Jenna asked in a strained whisper. After Joe-the-bartender replaced our drinks, I turned to stare directly at Jenna and didn't even bother to lower my voice. "I will not put your life in danger. You are already risking it by coming out here with me." I lowered my voice. "I am supposed to be dead." Jenna finally turned angry. "I'm not just going to sit idly by while some crazy Soul Stalker stalks the soul of my sister. You and I might not share a blood bond, but I think of you as my sister in every way, shape, and form. I will help you in any way that I can," she concluded stubbornly. I jerked my beer off the counter, took a long drawl of the thick concoction of wheat and pumpkin before I answered honestly. "The best thing you can do, Jenna, is go home to Jules. She has no father"--I hated playing that card, but it was the only thing that would make her see reason--"and you are all she has left. You must do everything you can to stay alive for thatttle girl. You know I am right, I can read it across your face." I stood, not angry, but upset at just the thought of Jules without a mother and me without a sister. "I have to pee." I marched off toward the bathroom. "Supposed to be dead?" Jenna half shouted after me as I stalked off towards the bathroom. In the bathroom, I splashed cold water on my face and knew that I needed to quit drinking. How was I supposed to get us back to Joseph's? It would be embarrassing to have to call him to pick us up, though I was sure Agent Croft had already called him.

I dried my face and walked out the door, calmer. As I exited the small hallway that held the bathrooms, I noticed that Jenna was surrounded by a few of the guys who were previously playing pool. A sleaze-ball had taken up post next to her. I could overhear their conversation from the other side of the bar and it wasn't pretty. A tattoo-covered man had one hand on the bar and the other on the back of Jenna's stool, cornering her. His tattoos were nothing like Lucia's--with their beautiful, intricate markings and symbols of protection, strength, and wisdom. I didn't know much about tattoos, but his looked faded like prison tattoos. There were skulls and naked women tattooed on one arm and a creepy serpent on another. His hair was greasy and pulled back into a ponytail. "Miss, you look troubled," the man said and breathed in her face. "Can I help take your mind off things?" Tattman leaned on the bar where I had been moments before. "Must be some interesting thoughts you have there, miss," he said in an off-hand voice. "Excuse me?" Jenna snapped at him. I faltered in my steps to see what she would do. The man smirked at her and his cronies laughed. "You have this look on your face between horror, humor, and amazement. You know, I would recognize that face anywhere. Many of the women I take to bed end up with that kind of look." The man had no idea who he was messing with. "That look, huh? That look that says 'really--you think that little tiny pecker is going to satisfy me?' I know that bars like to serve peanuts, but trust me, peanuts don't satisfy. It takes real nuts to satisfy a woman." Jenna glanced back at her drink with a smug expression on her face. All of his friends guffawed like crazy hyenas until Tattman put his hand up in a gesture that said "shut up." I had hoped his public humiliation would send him packing. It didn't. Tattman's smile immediately turned into a frown. He leaned into Jenna's ear. "Oh, I could do some nasty things to you in my bed, little girl. Don't you dare talk to me like that." Hah! I think she might have struck a nerve with her peanut remark--must be true. Jenna smiled smugly to no one but herself and I knew what she was thinking. She had taken self-defense classes with me and Nicole when we were younger. We were women of the twenty first century and we knew how to handle a drunken pervert. Jenna was going to let him play his game. She leaned in closer. "Nasty things, huh?" As I walked around the bar to help her out, Tattman leaned down and kissed her. Passionate fury raced down my arms and my fingers sparked. Without thinking, really--hell, I was in a public place--I zapped the guy on his shoulder with electricity as soon as he let go of Jenna. Then she punched him. He toppled the bar stool and took my drink with him. He cursed the whole way down. It didn't take long before his friends crouched at his side. Jenna turned to gape at me. But honestly, we had worse problems which mostly included four muscled men ready to get physical with little ol' us. "Jesus, Gabby, what the hell was that?" I grinned. "Is it another one of those power things you were talking about?" I nodded, but hissed at her to keep her voice down. One of the guys that stood around their buddy--who was looking more and more like a bar floor mat--turned to face me. "What did you say, bitch?" Another one of the guys laughed. "She said she had powers." Oh shit, I thought. Jenna looked like she agreed. Joe-the-bartender had turned to face the commotion. "Stop it, Jackson, not in my bar and not today."

My bar? The guys didn't pay him any attention. Another guy, who had been silent, came up behind Jenna and grabbed her ass. Jenna gasped and turned quickly. When she whipped back around her face mirrored mine: rage. "Gabby," Jenna whispered, "I think it's time for us to go. Joseph will be worried." Jenna turned toward the gang of half-wit morons. "Thanks for the lovely proposition tonight, but I'm going to have to pass." I jumped in the air as someone grabbed my ass. Fury ran through my bones as I turned to face him--I was no damsel in distress; I was a walking self-defense machine. But I was too late. Jenna threw her knee right into his very sensitive area before he could even get one word across his lips. The blow sent him into a heap on the floor. Two floor mats. Jenna smiled in satisfaction and turned to me. Another guy went for the grab but he aimed a little bit higher. It felt like a powerful storm itched to unleash its wrath deep inside my body. I knew Jenna could take care of herself but she didn't notice him because she was smiling smugly at me. I couldn't help it. The storm decided to grace my fingers; lightning rushed through my veins. I breathed heavily and narrowed my eyes. Electricity shot out from my hand and sent the guy flying halfway across the bar until he landed haphazardly on a pool table. Pool balls ricocheted around the table as two stripes and one solid plopped into the pockets. Jenna gave me two thumbs up. I saw Joe talking rapidly on the phone. He hung up but not before I heard something about the police. Joseph was going to be so mad. "Holy--Gabby! You kick ass." "Don't know about the holy part, but yeah, pretty good for a corpse. We have to get out of here." I reached for the car keys. Joe-the-not-so-nice-anymore-bartender/owner yanked them up suickly I thought he had stopped time, stolen them, and restarted it. "Please, Joe." I batted my eyelashes like a crazy drunk woman. "I can't be here when the cops show up. I won't drive . . . I'll call a cab!" He frowned and the flirty exterior disappeared. "I heard what you said about you being dead . . . I think you staying here is exactly where you should be." Stupid eavesdropper! This is not good. "Gabriella, let's just go outside and call a cab . . . leave the keys or we can call Joseph." Jenna turned towards Joe. "Joe, thank you for your concern, but my sister doesn't drink very often; she's really not acting like herself. I'll just take her home and put her to bed." A growing angry mob of men--minus two floor mats and one pool table decoration--started our way again. "Is there a back door?" I asked Joe nervously. He frowned more deeply. "What did I say, Jackson? Back off," Joe ordered. Before anyone could act, the front door flung open to expose three cops, all in their black uniforms. 9 Jenna and I didn't put up a fight as we were escorted to the back of the building with the cops. At that point, we were thoroughly feeling the burn of the alcohol in our heads and, for some reason, we suddenly found everything funny. I had to wonder, as we sat in the small room, why the bar had a room much like one you'd see in a police station. There was a small table inside with a couple of chairs. That was all. They must have these kinds of problems all the time--what more could you expect from a joint called The Dive? Jenna and I sat next to each other and continued to fight off our giggles at the fact that we were being held until the cops came back into the room. They were busy attending to the creeps who touched us both. When Joseph finds out about this, he is going to kick my ass . . . for more than one reason. First, I left the house without telling him where I was going. I opened the door, saw Jenna, grabbed her, and we fled in a stolen government vehicle. That

alone left me in a heap of trouble. Second, I was about to be arrested. Possibly for assault charges or maybe for attempted murder because I was sure the fact I electrocuted two men to the point of smelling like crispy bacon would carry some weight in our situation. Third, I was supposed to be "dead." Fraud would not look good at this juncture. Well, Joseph had it coming after his little stunt with the letters. I still felt no guilt. Even under the circumstances, Jenna and I were in a fit of uncontrollable silent giggles. Joe-the-bartender didn't look too happy with us as he leaned against the far wall. No winking and flirting now, huh pretty boy? Yup, I was buzzed, absolutely and irrevocably so, when the cops give me a sobriety test--officially. I felt so reckless and it was so freeing. After being cooped up in Joseph's house with a body guard for a week, I thought I deserved a little bit of fun. This wasn't exactly what I had in mind but I'd take what I could get. Joe folded his arms like he could read my thoughts. Maybe they were just as plain as vanilla pudding on my face. Someone knocked at the door. Oh boy; I truly wasn't prepared for the cops. I'd never really dealt with city officials before and I wasn't sure if we were considered part of the guilty party or victims. Three police officers strutted in with a medic who followed in their wake. The three officers were in pristine uniforms--I'd bet their clothes could stand on their own they were so starched--though their looks had no uniformity. One was tall and thin, one short and plump, and the third was about six feet tall and as big around as the dough boy. The tall one took a seat while the other two stood behind him like sentinels. Great; good cop, bad cop. I could play this game--if I was sober, which I was not. I bit my lip to try and keep from laughing again. I stole a glance in Jenna's direction and her eyes watered under the strain of trying to keep her act together. She coughed a few times and I turned back to the officer that was perched in front of us, hoping that would alleviate any extra smiling from the both of us. He looked as serious as a heart attack. My laughter stuck in my throat. "I'm Officer Coolie. You can call me Bob." Jenna snorted next to me. Bob's eyes snapped in her direction and he frowned. While he wasn't glaring at me, the laughter came back as I did a little silent head-bob. Pun intended. Wow, I am buzzed, I thought stupidly. He finally looked back at me and I attempted to compose myself, though the officer behind him was trying to stop his own laughter which made it doubly difficult to rein in my humor. Bob pointed over his left shoulder angrily. "This is Bob." He jabbed his thumb over his right shoulder like he was stabbing something. "And this is Bob." At that moment, I couldn't hold it in any longer. Bob, Bob, and Bob? It had to be a joke. Jenna and I burst into laughter. Tears streamed down her face as we chuckled it up. Oh man, I am going to be in so much trouble when Joseph finds out about this. I knew what happened in the bar was wrong of me. I knew it, but I didn't do it for fun. The damn guy touched my sister without her consent and the electricity grew inside me. I thought it was self-defense but Joe had other ideas. Honestly, though, how could they prove I did anything? Um, excuse me officers, I shoot electricity out of my palms. Yeah. That wouldn't go over real well. Bob One's serious expression didn't falter. So, it wasn't a joke? They really were all named Bob? Bob One slammed his fist into the table as if it were a gavel, calling us to attention. "That's enough, ladies." It took every sober blood cell to keep myself from snapping to attention and saying "Yes, sir!" I was proud of my sudden self control. We both abruptly stopped our insatiable laughter, though Bob number two still had a grin the size of Texas across his face. He wasn't helping matters. Was he supposed to be good cop or bored cop? I couldn't figure it out. "We've had problems with these men before, Miss--" "You can call me Bri." I bet Joseph didn't realize that the first time I'd have to use the nickname he came up with would be to explain this to the cops. "Bri." He rubbed his eyes like he was tired. "This isn't looking good."

The medic shook his head at us like we were disobedient children and he was disappointed in us. "The men are fine, but I am still requesting they go to the hospital in case of any unseen damage." The medic folded his arms and frowned at us condescendingly. Jenna snorted again. "Is your name Bob too?" The medic didn't answer her, only glared. I was going to kick Jenna if she made me laugh again. Luckily, for her shins' sake, I held it in. The medic spun on his heel, turned the handle of the door, and flung it open. "I'm going to take the men to the hospital," he announced. Then he was gone. When the door shut, Bob Two chuckled and Bob Three flicked his ear furiously. Bob One sighed in exasperation. "Please explain to me what happened," he prompted. Jenna and I both went into our story, minus how I shocked Tattman. We gave each other high-fives in the appropriate places as the three cops listened intently; rolling their eyes over Tattman's pick-up line, eyebrows scrunching up when we told them about his dive to the ground, and giving angry faces every time Jenna and I highfived. Really, though, when she said the line about nuts how could you not give credit where credit was due? When we came to the part where Jenna kicked one of the guys between the legs, all three of them flinched and had identical faces of pain and hilarity. "And that was when you lovely officers showed up," Jenna finished with a flirty smile. "How did they get electrocuted?" Bob One asked. We both shrugged and then I said, "I honestly didn't know that anyone had been electrocuted until you told us." The lie was smoother than it should have been. The alcohol did one thing--it made me relax to the point of easy lying. Bob One sighed again as if he really didn't want to say what he was about to. "We are going to have to take you ladies into the station. Just to make sure we have covered all of our bases." This was so not good. "Bob, sir," I said sweetly. He looked at me as though he didn't believe my act for a second, but he gestured for me to continue anyway. "Could you call someone for me before we go?" I asked, being very sincere. Bob Three narrowed his eyes at me. He was, no doubt, bad cop. "You can call someone at the station, Miss Bri." That seemed to piss Bob One off who immediately countered his words. "Of course I can. Who do you need me to call?" Was it possible he was grateful the idiots got a little shocked? Or maybe he was pulling rank on Bob Three. I smiled at the thought. I gave him Joseph's contact information and everyone left us alone in the room--even Joe. Jenna and I were full of nervous giggles; maybe they were just alcohol induced fits of amusement. If Bob really called Joseph, I knew that we would be rescued and this whole thing would just go away. It was ridiculous that, as the victims, wewere being treated like criminals. The Bobs came back into the room a few moments later and cuffed us. That stopped our laughter immediately. Did he not call? Surely Joseph would get us out of this predicament? Or was he "getting me back" by not helping? I could picture his face now: the stern, disapproving look. I groaned, but obeyed, when they yanked me from my seat. Bob Three seemed to be pretty angry with me; he was not gentle as he pushed me out the door. The bar patrons stared at us as we did our walk-of-shame out the front door. Jenna began to sing, "Bad boys, bad boys, whatcha gunna do? Whatcha gunna do when they come for you?" Bob Two was escorting her and he laughed boisterously as Bob Three pushed me to go faster. He really hated me for some reason.

We didn't exactly get very far, though. A tall--and I mean rounding six and a half feet tall--stunning black man, in a finely tailored black and white suit, stopped in our path. He had a shaved bald head and was very intimidating. He wore black sunglasses and held out a hand in a gesture to get the officers to stop. I could smell the FBI from here. Bob Three became hostile immediately. "Step out of the way, sir." He removed a hand from my arm and I was sure he had placed it on his gun in warning. "Oh, the big-bad cop is going to get you." I laughed again. None of the Bobs seemed particularly happy at my giggling state. I had truly lost my mind at that point. Another point of alcohol--it made me act inappropriately, which, surprisingly, felt wonderful. James Bond to the rescue, Mister Black Suit whipped out a badge so fast I thought maybe I spaced out for a second. "FBI. They are currently under witness protection. They are coming with me." Wow, his voice was deep. It possibly made the ground vibrate. Impressive. Regardless, I had a bad feeling about this. His glasses hid his eyes and I immediately pictured the fire burning within. "I don't think so," one of the Bob's said angrily. "This is our prisoner--you have no right." "Prisoner?" Jenna and I asked at the same time, baffled. "Actually, I do," the tall man said as his voice grew deeper. "And if you don't uncuff them and hand them over right now, you'll know what it is like to go against someone who actually has skill with a gun." I gawked at the tall man and his words. Yeah, I was definitely impressed and scared all at the same time. "Don't threaten me, Bureau." "It's not a threat," the agent said coolly. "We don't have time for this." Bob Three pushed me forward and the tall FBI agent flung his arm out and caught the guy at his neck. Bob flew backward and hit hard against the concrete; the sound of air leaving his lungs was loud as the breath was knocked out of him. "Go badass!" Jenna cheered. Then she started to sing the Cops theme again with a slight lyric change. "Bad cops, bad cops, whatcha gunna do? Whatcha gunna do when the Bureau kicks you?" Bob Two was no longer laughing. He seized the back of Jenna's cuffs and jerked her backward hard. "Ow!" Jenna exclaimed seriously. "I said to uncuff them now," the FBI agent commanded heatedly. "I won't ask again. These ladies are important to the U.S. government and the FBI will not tolerate your insubordination." The agent bent down to grab the key from Bob Three and uncuffed me. Bob One let Jenna free as Bob Two stood frozen. We both grabbed for the other's hand. "Have a good day, gentlemen," Mister FBI said. The FBI agent put his hands on both of our shoulders and directed us toward a black SUV with all tinted glass. Now that was cliche. He opened the back door for us; Jenna and I were both reluctant to get inside. For a second, I wanted to question why she was, but then I remembered the letters. It was strange that she knew everything. Realizing we had no other options--I was pretty sure zapping another man today would not go over well with the FBI--we both pulled ourselves inside. He shut the door and strode around the vehicle and slid in behind the wheel. I felt anxious because he still hadn't removed his sunglasses and, well, it was cloudy and sprinkling slightly outside. There was no sun for him to be shielding. My friend, paranoia, had come to visit me again--strongly. Until I saw his eyes, I wasn't sure I could trust him. As if he could read my mind, he removed his sunglasses to reveal green eyes with gold flecks. Not a Shadow. I breathed out a sigh of relief and Jenna's stiffened posture deflated too. Through his expression, I could read the disappointment for our behavior. It was still better than being taken to the police station by the Bobs. I could handle that look compared to being pushed around by three

uniforms, all named Bob. "I'm Agent Salantro," he said softly as he turned the key in the ignition. "Like the herb?" Jenna asked with a giggle. "Yes, but spelled differently." From the rearview mirror, I saw him smirk at Jenna before his eyes darted to my face. "You can call me Patrick if it makes you feel more comfortable. I'm officially your bodyguard, Doctor, for your trip to Italy. Agent Carter sent me." A breath of relief flooded out of me. "Oh, thank god!" I exclaimed. I liked Agent Cilantro so much in that moment; I could have crushed him up and eaten him in salsa. "So when are we going to leave?" The thought of seeing Andrew again sent waves of joy through me. The feel of the alcohol subsided immediately and all I could picture was Andrew's arms around me, his lips to mine. A flush ran up my cheeks but they didn't notice. "Tomorrow," he said gently. "Tomorrow?" I repeated. The agent nodded. "Yes. It's important that we hurry. Pushing the paperwork through was more difficult than it should have been. Director Morris and Agent Carter worked hard to make this happen." "Oh." "I heard what happened to you, Doctor Moretti. There has been some speculation about why you are alive but no one has the answers. From what I was told about the Illuminator, it is paramount that you are still alive. I am honored to be given the chance to protect you." His words surprised me--Joseph must have told him I was the Illuminator because I didn't remembering telling the Director. "Oh, um, thank you." Jenna just gawked at me. "So the FBI already knows about everything?" "Most of it," I admitted. "I needed Joseph's help to find Andrew again. They still think I'm dead, remember?" Jenna nodded. "Are you going to seek out the Soul Stalker too?" I turned to her. "Are you insane? I want to stay far away from that woman. I suppose we'll have to work in secret until I am better with my powers. I'm supposed to Illuminate the Shadows, but I have no idea how to, nor do I know where to start. The Angels have the answers so I'm going to them for help." I hoped they did, at least. Of course, there were other reasons I wanted to seek out my Angels. I waved my hand toward Patrick. "And he's going to help me find the Angels." "Oh," she whispered. "Is Joseph going with you?" I nodded. "Yes. He knows where Aiden's house is and . . . I don't." Patrick spoke up in his deep voice. "We couldn't force Agent Carter to stay if we wanted to." Jenna smiled warmly. "He's so brave." I rolled my eyes. "Man, Jenna, you've got it bad." When Patrick pulled into Joseph's driveway, I noticed that Agent Croft's car was there already. Those FBI were good; I had to give them that much. The garage door was open and another car I recognized was parked there. The magnetic black paint sparkled under the fluorescent lights. The day was gloomy but the car was still shiny. Amazing.

"Joseph's here." I groaned. Jenna smiled widely but I ignored her and looked toward Patrick. "How mad is he?" "Mad?" he repeated. "Oh, I don't think he's mad." "He isn't?" "Definitely not," he assured me. I let out a shaky breath and dragged myself across the seat to open the door. It was locked and for a moment I panicked when I couldn't get the damn thing to unlock. "Doctor, give me a minute," Patrick said calmly. "I need to scope out the area to make sure there is no danger." He opened the door and the lights came on as the incessant dinging began. He shut the door and the sound cut off abruptly. I noticed that he kept the keys in the ignition and that made me feel better for some reason. The overhead lights faded and Jenna reached for my had. The sun had begun to set and it was quickly growing dark outside. "You have a body guard," Jenna said suddenly. "Yeah, I know. Weird, isn't it?" She nodded solemnly. It started to rain again and it was difficult to see through the tinted windows and streaming water. Suddenly, my door was flung open and Joseph was standing there with an umbrella. I couldn't read the expression on his face and I tried to convey everything into my half smile. It was an apology and "I'm happy to see you" all in one. He seized me and hugged me tightly. "Don't you ever do that again," he chided. His body stiffened suddenly and I pulled back to see what the matter was. "Jenna?" His voice was quiet, unsure. "Joseph," she said softly. I stepped back from Joseph and Patrick was suddenly there with an umbrella of his own, holding it over my head. Jenna scooted herself across the seat and Joseph held his hand out to her like he was a prince and she was a princess. They both smiled at the same time and embraced for a second. It was the way they looked at each other, the way their bodies seemed to fit perfectly together, and how they both were strangely shy all of a sudden. That wasn't like either of them and I smiled inwardly because I recognized the signs of the beginnings of love. It was exactly how I looked at Andrew for the first time. Joseph had it just as bad as Jenna. The four of us made quick work of the space between the vehicle and the house due to the hammering rain. We went in through the garage and entered the kitchen where Agent Croft sat, glaring angrily at the stove like it burned his dinner or something. "Sit," Joseph commanded as soon as the door shut. I did as I was told and parked myself across from Agent Croft at the bar. Joseph pulled out a stool for Jenna and she took a seat next to Agent Croft who had not looked up at us yet. Patrick stood behind me with his hand on the back of my stool. Joseph perched next to Jenna and turned to her slightly. "I see you got the letters?" he asked and Jenna nodded. "Then you probably know more than I do." "About that," I began but was silenced by a look that Agent Croft sent me. His gaze was literally like a heat wave. I recoiled a little and Patrick put his huge hand on my shoulder in a calming gesture. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you, Gabby,"--I glared but was ignored like always--"but you don't understand how hard it was for me to see you suffer. You weren't sleeping well and you'd wake me up crying and shaking. When you first came to my door, you just looked . . . lost. I felt desperate and though I am your friend, I knew you needed someone here with you that you have a history with."

I stopped him with a wave of my hand. A tear slid down my cheek and I wiped it away quickly. "Yeah, I've been torn up about everything--who wouldn't be?--but you had no right to put Jenna in danger like this." I stood swiftly and gripped the bar. "If anything happens to Jenna or to Jules I will never forgive you." Joseph's eyes darted to the bar, hiding his emotions. "Nothing will happen," he said softly. "Besides, this isn't about that. We have business to attend to." "Right, business." I lifted myself back onto the barstool with Patrick still at my back like a huge shadow. "You stole Agent Croft's car and took off without telling anyone where you were going. What were you thinking?" His voice rose substantially. "I'm fumbling around with my keys and your books and my phone rings. I couldn't get to it but before I had the chance to check, my phone it was ringing again. Agent Croft was frantic, Gabriella." He used my real name which made me flinch; he may as well have used my middle name too. "I was frantic! You took off and you are so lucky that his car had GPS on it! What were you thinking?" "I was thinking 'here's my chance to escape' as I stole an FBI agent's car," I replied sarcastically. "What do you think I was thinking?" "Hell if I know," he snapped back. "Do you think your safety is a joke?" "No but being a prisoner defeats the purpose." "It was only temporarily!" he shot back. My eyes narrowed. "I tried to be reasonable!" "So did I!" In the heat of the moment, I yelled back, defensive. "I've been trapped for days, Joseph. Then Jenna shows up on the door step as Agent Croft here is creeping around with his gun out. It was just instinct--get her out of here. I saw his keys and we ran." I took in a deep breath. "I've been frantic, too, ya know?" I was shouting. "I lost everything, Joseph. Everything," I said slowly. "It was inexcusable for me to steal his car, but it's been inexcusable for you to make me wait to go to Italy." I placed my palms on the bar and rose slightly. "My Andrew thinks I'm dead--dead," I added again for emphasis. "How much longer do you think I will let him suffer?" He opened his mouth, closed it, and repeated the movement. He reminded me slightly of an angry blowfish. He finally spoke. "I've been trying my best. You wanted help and you knew I wouldn't let you leave without protection-though I know human men aren't really going to stop the Angels, it made me feel better to know that you weren't alone." "But I was alone!" He sighed apologetically. "We're going to Italy tomorrow so you don't need to worry about any of that stuff anymore. We're going to go to Andrew." "Jenna isn't going!" I shouted angrily. His hand reached out and covered both of hers which were intertwined on the bar. "No," Joseph said quietly, "she's not." "Good." I sat back down and felt relieved. Jenna's eyes grew wide when she looked back at me. "Your eyes!" I closed them suddenly and took in a deep breath. "I know," I whispered. "Open your eyes," she demanded. "No, Jenna. You are just going to be more freaked out."

Large, warm hands circled me around and, slowly, I chanced a look. I was staring directly at Patrick's massive chest. He grabbed my chin gently and moved my face up to look at my eyes. Recognition flitted across his face for a second and then his expression went neutral. "Interesting," he whispered. "Indeed, you are powerful. What I was briefed on wasn't a lie." I pulled free and turned back to the rest of the table. Agent Croft looked away quickly, Jenna gawked, and Joseph looked ashamed. "I'm sorry," he said. "Me, too." Jenna stood, leaned over the bar, and ran her finger around my eyes. "It's gone. That was sooo cool." I snorted and took my seat again. All I needed were rosary beads and you'd think I was in a Catholic church with all my ups and downs. "Now, what's the plan for Italy?" 10 Agent Croft left before we delved too deeply into the Italy discussion and soon we were in the living room just enjoying each other's company. We had established a plan and felt relaxed. Tomorrow afternoon we would be flying to Italy to meet up with a CIA agent. Director Morris really did have to pull some strings since two of his FBI agents would be leaving U.S. territory. Then, we were going to drive to the outskirts of a little town east of Naples called Avella where, apparently, my parent's house was located. Agent Croft wouldn't be joining us and for that I was thankful. He didn't care for me much and, honestly, I think my abilities scared him. Hell, they scared me so I didn't blame him. Agent Salantro, aka Patrick, would accompany us on our trip. He was a very quiet person, but when he spoke each word seemed to have weight to it. I really liked Patrick and was pleased that he would be there to say weighty things. As the evening progressed, I noticed Jenna and Joseph had officially hit it off. They attempted to be coy about the whole thing, but I saw right through it. She was the magnet and Joseph was a piece of steel. Where Jenna went, Joseph followed, even in tiny movements. At first, it irritated me because Jenna had a red-eye flight and, if things went badly in Italy, tonight would be the last time I ever saw her. But as I watched them interact my irritation vanished and was replaced with delight. I had never, ever seen Jenna react the way she did around Joseph, except when she was with Dave. Just the way she smiled was enough to know how she felt about him; it was like the sun shone from her glowing face. If I didn't make it through my "journey," and the last I saw of Jenna was when she was happy, I'd be content with it. Jenna took two Advil to help with her headache from sobering. I didn't have the same problem, luckily. For the first night in a very, very long time, I was truly happy. Patrick was like a comfortable shadow as he stood all guard-like in the room. The rest of us laughed our way through childhood stories. We found out that Jseph was a swimmer in college in southern Florida and bulked up too much to make a career of it. He was interested in law enforcement and decided to look into the FBI requirements. One of the regular cases he was involved in turned supernatural and landed him in Paranormal Investigations. Jenna sat stunned for quite some time as we told different stories that I had always kept secret from her. Joseph was still tight-lipped about many things, but he had the weight of the FBI on his shoulders and I didn't. Jenna reluctantly brought up Dave, her dead husband, and Joseph held her hand as she relived one of the hardest times of her life. When she spoke about the worst day after his death, the day she received a letter he'd written just before he died, Joseph eased her under his shoulder. He didn't run from her past and that earned Joseph brownie points. Jenna and I had both been through difficult times in our lives and that was one of the reasons why we were so close. She was more than my sister, honestly. There really was no word for what she was to me. All I knew was that Jenna and Joseph were in the same categories in my head: special, important, family. I finally understood the connection I had with Joseph. It was love, but it wasn't that kind of love--it was the wonderful bond you have with someone you truly care about and would do anything for. He was family.

When ten in the evening rolled around, Jenna had to go to the airport because Jules was waiting for her back in Oregon. We stood awkwardly in the doorway as I argued with Joseph. "It's just to the airport. Please let me go!" "No," Joseph said firmly. "Haven't you had enough fun today?" I put my hand to my forehead. "Yes, stealing a car, going to a bar, being harassed by some jerks, and getting ourselves arrested was way fun," I snapped back sarcastically. Joseph laughed and I ignored him. "I just want to spend as much time with Jenna as I can!" Jenna put her hand on my arm and I turned to her, surprised by her look of agreement. "He's right." Yup, right on cue. "What?" I made a noise of exasperation. "Don't you want me to go to the airport?!" The hurt leaked into my voice before I could stop it. She smiled sweetly in understanding. "Of course I do, Gabby." Joseph grinned broadly at the nickname and I wanted to stomp on both of their toes. "But if it is safer for you to stay here, then that is exactly where you should be. I had no idea what kind of risk you were taking by leaving earlier." I glared at Joseph and he shrugged, slightly smug. I didn't see the risk, but everyone seemed to think at any second I would be attacked and someone would find out I was supposed to be dead. "Fine!" I relented and raised my hands in surrender. Jenna pulled me into a bone-crunching hug that I reciprocated and we just held on to each other for several long seconds. "Don't tell anyone about me." "I won't," Jenna said through sobs against my hair. "It's great to know you're alive. And you're a freakin' Angel!" I laughed. "That's what they call us pesky immortals." The sweet Jenna smell--like a field full of lavender--attacked my nose as I squeezed her tighter against me. Then, we let go and I placed a kiss on her cheek. She reached up and wiped away a silver tear that had escaped my eye. "I love you, Gabby. You take care of yourself . . . and it wouldn't hurt me one bit if you continued to write to me, Bri." We both laughed and Joseph raised his eyebrows. "I love you too, pumpkin," I said. "Pumpkin?" Joseph cut in. Jenna glared at me. "It's a long story. I'll tell you on the way to the airport." Actually it was a short story that included three pumpkins, a pirate costume, and spiked Halloween punch. The tale was legendary back in Ohio. Patrick opened the front door and handed Joseph an umbrella. We all walked out onto the landing and Joseph popped the umbrella open and held his arm out to Jenna. The rush of the wind and rain swirled around my ears as she turned back to me and gave me another tight hug, crying now. I pulled her into me and tried to send as much love through the one touch as I possibly could. "Give Jules a kiss for me. Tell her it is from me, her Angel." She reluctantly pulled out of the hug. "I know you are right, about not letting me go along with you, but it is still killing me knowing that you are out there while everyone else I know thinks you are dead." She sniffled as tears streamed down her face. I sighed. "Jenna, you are my sister and my rock. I don't know what I would do without you. But you need to think about Jules right now. She needs you, now more than ever," I told her and gave her another hug. "Now get going. You'll miss your flight." Jenna wiped a tear from her eye, turned, and stepped toward the tinted-windowed, black, cliche SUV with

Joseph's arm wrapped around her. Watching her walk away was so strange. Soon they were lost like a ghost in the mist. Headlights flooded through the rain like a river. Patrick held the door open and gestured me inside just as the SUV backed away and sped down the road. There was something about saying goodbye to Jenna that made me fall apart. Everything hit me at once. It wasn't like my life was fantastic before, but it was still my life, my job, my house, my career, my family . . . it was all mine. And I had lost it all. But then I gained this amazing life filled with wondrous people. And then I lost that too. I ambled numbly to the couch and instead of being that FBI shadow that Patrick was excellent at being, he sat caddy-corner to me on a love seat. I didn't cry; I just stared forward at a huge clock decorated with bronze colored wrought iron. The second hand ticked on by in a soft, rhythmic sound. Patrick's voice penetrated the silence. "Anything worthwhile is gained through sacrifice." I leaned over, placed my elbows on my knees, settled my chin on the palm of my hands, and tilted my head toward Patrick. He had one arm draped over the back of the love seat and the other on the arm rest, absolutely relaxed, though his green, gold-flecked eyes were fully alert. "When do the sacrifices outweigh the good?" He shrugged. "Only you can answer that question, Doctor." He angled forward some. "Think of all you will achieve, all the lives you'll change, with the sacrifices that you have made." "I know." I sighed. "But that doesn't mean I can't mourn for all that I did sacrifice in the process." "Of course," he said softly. The sound of the clock ticking filled the silence and I once again watched as the hands moved around the clock. "You can call me Gabriella," I whispered and glanced over at Patrick. He smiled and, from the curve of his lips, you could tell that he didn't do that often. "Well, Gabriella, I think you are brave and loyal. From what I've read and discussed about you in our meetings this week, you are one of a kind." "Thanks," I replied sadly. "How much more will I have to give of myself?" "I don't know," he said honestly. "Will you not do everything that you can to help the Angels? When the sacrifices become too much, would you leave mankind to fend for themselves while you hold the power to save them?" "Well, no, of course not." He smiled again and it made his eyes light up. "Then it shouldn't matter how many sacrifices it takes, how long you'll have to suffer, because you'll do what it takes. And that is what Agent Carter likes about you and how he convinced the FBI and even the CIA that you are worth the risk." Patrick scooted to the edge of the love seat, took my hand right out from under my chin, and wrapped his huge hand around mine. "You are worth it, Gabriella. Just remember that." His words brought a small smile out of me. I remembered Andrew and Joseph both telling me the same thing, but for some reason hearing it from Patrick gave it more credence. "Thanks, Patrick." He nodded, rose from his seat, and went to the window. I guess he was back on duty. "Goodnight," I said as I stood and walked toward the hallway. "Everything will work out," he said without turning away. "I hope you're right." And with that, I went to bed. There were no dreams that night and I felt a mixture of sadness and elation when I woke up. Sad because I wanted my mother's memories to come back and elated because I didn't have to witness her death again. There was another emotion that had me literally skipping through the house in the morning: excitement. In less than

twenty-four hours I would be in Italy with Aiden, Andrew, and my other Angels. Of course, everything would grow exponentially harder, but I'd be with those who could help me, be there for me, and guide me. I packed my suitcase with vigor and rolled it down the hallway and into the kitchen. When I entered, Joseph was taking a huge bite of pancakes while Patrick drank from a steaming coffee mug. The whole kitchen smelled delicious and I went straight to the coffeet and the clean mug next to it. "Is this for me?" I asked. "Sure is, Gabby. Drink up." I twisted around to see Joseph's smug smile distort as he chewed his food. "I think I like Zinger better," I muttered. Patrick choked on his coffee. I walked toward him and patted his shoulder lightly. "You okay?" Patrick nodded and I sat at the bar where Joseph scooted me a plate piled high with pancakes. "Are all of these for me?!" I eyed the stack carefully and counted. "Six? I can't eat all of this." Joseph reached his fork across the bar, stabbed two of the cakes with his fork, placed them on his plate, and poured syrup over them. "You should have seen the massive pile Agent Salantro ate earlier." Patrick shrugged wordlessly. "Ignore him," Joseph said. "He ate twenty pancakes." "You're full of it!" I accused. "I was hungry," Patrick said over his shoulder as he rinsed out his coffee mug in the sink, dried it, and put it away. I gave him five big gold stars for cleaning up his mess. "Glad to see that you are packed, Doctor." He looked down at his watch. "We've got to leave earlier than we had previously planned. There was a wreck on the interstate this morning and part of it is blocked off. There is a delay, but going around will take just as long." I nodded because I had a bunch of food in my mouth. When I swallowed I asked, "Do you know this CIA agent we are meeting with in Naples?" "Not well, but he is aware of the case. It's a stipulation when we leave the country. But don't you worry, Doctor, we'll make sure you get back to your Angels," Patrick assured me. "What did I tell you, Patrick? Call me Gabriella." "Gabby," Joseph pretend-coughed. I threw the stick of butter at him and he dodged it. It slid across the floor and smacked against a cabinet. We burst into laughter and I reached over the table and hit Joseph's arm. He held his bicep like it really hurt, even though I barely tapped him. "Watch out for this one, Agent. I saw her put an immortal flat on her ass." Joseph snickered and Patrick raised eyebrows at me. "She was going to murder me!" I defended. "Just giving you a hard time," Joseph said with his hands up in surrender. "Gabriella," Patrick cut in as he bent toward my suitcase, "is this all you have?" I nodded. He picked it up, left the kitchen, and the front door opened and closed. "So, what do you know about Patrick?" I asked Joseph. There wero FBI agents that came to mind, making me a little wary of trusting someone I didn't know. Karen was very sweet and kind to me and turned out to be the Soul Stalker. Literally someone who stalks souls. Then there was Jeff Vittorio, who hurt my wrist and was cast out by

the Elders. He obviously didn't stay gone forever since he ended up accomplishing what the Soul Stalker failed at: killing me. Honestly though, I wasn't sure how much I could trust the Elders either because of their easily manipulated minds. I really liked Patrick and I didn't want that blindsiding me down the road. "He has an outstanding record with the FBI and he works strictly with the paranormal. He usually doesn't work with others, but he specifically asked to join this case. He seemed to be particularly interested in you." Joseph shoved another fork-full of pancake into his mouth. "You did come back from the dead like Jesus," he mumbled through the mouthful of food. I dropped my fork and it clamored loudly against the plate. "Please don't use that comparison. I . . . I'm not Jesus, okay? I woke up in a damned morgue; I didn't miraculously make my way out of a sealed cave!" Joseph swallowed his food and laughed. "Contrary to popular belief, I can't actually do anything," I continued, latching onto his humor. "I doubt I could walk on water." Joseph stared at me for a moment, another fork-full of food held close to his mouth. I could almost see the wheels turning in his head. "Want to take a trip to the beach?" he asked eagerly. "Seriously, enough with the Jesus jokes." "I know, sorry, but who else can I compare you to? It's not like I know anyone who rose from the dead." "I don't know." I sighed. "Anyway, that's all you know?" Joseph opened his mouth to speak but was cut off. "That's not why I'm interested in this case," Patrick said as he strode into the kitchen. "How'd you hear--oh, never mind." I took another bite of breakfast while I waited for him to explain why he requested my case. He didn't. I chased my breakfast down with the rest of my coffee as I watched Patrick. He was like one big tall muscle that made circuits around the house. I gave up when he left the kitchen. I washed the dishes as Joseph went back to his room to pack. 11 We loaded into the car and buckled our seatbelts. Patrick drove while I laid my feet out across the backseat, enjoying the sunshine compared to yesterday's rain; not like the ultra-dark tinted windows let much in. Joseph fidgeted with his sun visor so he could look at me through the mirror. We laughed and joked the majority of the drive until we hit the interstate and immediately ascended upon the long line of bumper-to-bumper traffic. Joseph groaned. "We were expecting this, Agent." Patrick tapped his thumbs against the steering wheel to the beat of the low music that came from the stereo. I patted Joseph on the shoulder. "Don't you know the rules of passenger etiquette?" "Scream when we're about to hit another car?" he joked. "Well, the number one rule, my dear Joseph, is you can't complain about other drivers on the road unless you're the driver." "I like that rule, Doctor," Patrick agreed. "It's Gabriella," I said at the same time Joseph said, "It's Gabby." I sighed, resigned. Jenna had officially embedded the nickname "Gabby" into Joseph's brain forever. I leaned back against the door and picked out a book that was in the Barnes and Noble bag on the floorboard next to me.

The cover didn't look familiar, but the title did. I opened it up and started to read the book anyway. It was about a werewolf boy and his struggle of loving a human girl. A deluge of memories overwhelmed me and I felt like I would drown in them. Andrew reading the books at the library; our banter as I teased about the same werewolf boy in the book in my hands; the way Andrew made my heart race and my blood boil. Everything was so vivid that I lost my vision for a moment and the noises around me disappeared. The memory changed and distorted until all I could see were my Angels being attacked at my parents' house, the scattering of clear marble-like stones across the marble floor, the rush of Shadows. I came out of the strange . . . whatever you want to call it and gasped for air. "Gabriella?" I heard distantly as I panted. My name was being called over and over but I was still grasping for reality and couldn't quite respond. There was a blast of electricity that exploded out of my body, the screech of tires, and the jerk of something around my torso. My head slammed against something and my vision came back to me, as if a hypnotist snapped his fingers and I woke up from a trance. The car moved slowly for a moment before it stopped completely. The annoying dinging sound a vehicle makes when the door is open and the vehicle is still on was going off. Both Patrick and Joseph's doors were open but they were missing from their seats. "Joseph?" I called out as I put my hand to my head, dazed. There was a sore spot at my hairline and it was wet. I pulled my hand away and looked down at the blood. It wasn't silver, but it wasn't red either. It was a strange shimmering, pink-tinged mixture that made my heart thud forcefully against my ribcage. My door opened and I fell backward, my seatbelt catching me. Joseph was at my ear. "Are you okay? Oh shit, your head." "I'm fine," I assured him. "Sure ya are, Zinger." The nickname surprised me and I gave a low chuckle. Joseph reached over and unbuckled my seatbelt. I rested against him for a few seconds. I recognized Patrick's deep voice. It grew louder along with a voice I didn't recognize. "Really, it's no big deal," the guy said. "That's what insurance is for." "Is she okay, Agent?" Patrick asked, holding his hand up to sthoever was talking from coming closer. "I'm fine," I repeated. Joseph's chest shook with laughter. "She's bleeding, but she'll be okay." "Can she walk?" "Guys, thanks for the concern but I'm fine." I rose up in my seat and swung my legs around so I could climb out. Joseph held his hand out and I took it gratefully. When I was on my feet, he let go and my knees went out from under me. Patrick caught me, moving so quickly I blinked up at him a few times, confused. He had this look on his face that I couldn't quite place. I'd say it was concern, but it was a deeper emotion, one I couldn't quite understand. "Thanks," I said softly. "I--" he cut himself off and his eyebrows came together. "I'm sorry. I wasn't paying attention and I just ran right into another car. It's all my fault." "It's okay. I'm--" "Fine?" Joseph chimed in. "Obviously not. You need to be checked out by a doctor." "I am a doctor." I rolled my eyes at him, but that didn't deter him from his train of thought. "Not that kind of doctor." "What is 'that kind of doctor' going to say when they see my shimmering pink blood, Joseph?" I changed my voice

to mimic one of a concerned doctor. "I'm sorry ma'am, you appear to be suffering from a mild case of Pretty Pretty Princess syndrome? Have you ingested any magical woodland faeries recently?" I tapped my fingers on the top of the car. I could tell he was trying not to smile. "Oh, and I suppose you've examined your share of supernatural head trauma cases?" He raised one eyebrow at me and then pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and began to practically shout orders at someone. I was sure he called someone at the FBI headquarters instead of a regular ambulance. Patrick let go of me but kept his arms outstretched, as if he were about to catch me again if I went down. Luckily, I felt like I could understand the concept of gravity again and my head began to clear. Patrick quickly pulled a handkerchief from his suit and wiped away the evidence of my blood before the guy, who I assumed spoke to Patrick earlier, came into view. He wore faded blue jeans low on his waist, and a purple polo shirt with a white shirt underneath. His hair was in perfect disarray and his face was pierced many times. He had both hands covering his mouth, his brown eyes wide. I was sure his mouth probably had a piercing or two, also. For some reason, I was too busy thinking about how funny it was that Patrick carried an actual handkerchief with him to speak. Purple shirt guy removed his hands from his mouth and I was right; his lip was pierced and, when he spoke, you could see a tongue ring. "Oh my god!" he screeched. "What?" I asked, suddenly feeling self conscious. My hand automatically went for my forehead as I remembered my strange looking blood. I felt around my hairline but I wasn't in any pain and I couldn't find the source of the blood; actually, there was no blood at all. Joseph walked away as he argued with someone on the phone, trying his best to keep the conversation private from the guy I assumed Patrick rear-ended. Patrick, on the other hand, grabbed my hand to stop my movements and gently tugged my searching fingers away from my forehead. He brought his massive hand up to my face and bent down some so he could look. Actually, he had to bend over a lot since he was so tall. His palm cupped the side of my head like a basketball while his thumb rubbed across my hairline. "Gone," he whispered, baffled. "I thought they informed you in those meetings that I was . . ." I looked over to the nervous guy. I lowered my voice. "I thought you knew that I healed quickly." His eyes stopped their frantic search of my face and darted to my eyes. He looked confused and I wasn't sure I understood why. "I knew," he answered suddenly before he let go of my face and straightened. Without everyone blocking my view, I finally saw the damage. The vehicles had obviously been moved to the side of the road. Steam rose from the engine of the black SUV with a hiss, and the back of the small green Toyota truck was bent at the funniest angles. The sickly sweet smell of antifreeze was thick in the air. There was some plastic on the interstate from the broken lights, and some chipped paint, but for the most part the vehicles were intact, though damaged thoroughly. Two state troopers pulled over behind us with their lights flashing and climbed out of their vehicles. They were both dressed in grey uniforms with large black hats. One had a small pad of paper like a reporter would carry while the other had a clipboard with paper that flapped in the wind produced by the passing vehicles. Before they reached us, an ambulance and three black Cadillacs pulled in behind them. A passerby might think we were doing something illegal and expect to see drug-sniffing dogs. I sighed, sat back down in the backseat of the SUV, and waited for the crowd to gather around. Joseph walked back toward me, snapping his phone shut, and shook his head. "Nope! Get up. We're going to the ambulance. Don't worry, they're our men." "I'm--" "If you say 'I'm fine' one more time I'll make you ride coach to Italy," Joseph teased. "I just want to be certain, okay? Just humor me."

"Not coach!" I gasped in mock horror and then held my hands up in resignation. "Okay, okay. I'll go." "Atta' girl." He pulled my coat out of the backseat and draped it over my shoulders as he led me to the ambulance. There were a group of suits speaking rapidly with the two state troopers who looked absolutely haughty. I was sure there was some kind of power struggle going on but I didn't care to get involved in it. I was busy dealing with enough power struggle crap in the Angel universe to worry about something as small as a state trooper versus FBI agent squabble. I sat on the back bumper of the ambulance next to the purple polo shirt guy. A stunning blonde paramedic began to clean my forehead. "I have to say that this is a first." She smiled sweetly at me. "It's a first for me, too," I replied, though I was sure she was talking about the healed cut and I was referring to the ambulance. Patrick walked toward me and Joseph. "The tension is so high over there I thought I would suffocate." "Why do you think I wimped out and acted like I needed medical treatment?" Joseph replied with a smile. Purple shirt guy looked up at Patrick and grinned. He had his left hand out which was cut and the medic had moved on to him. "You must be important," purple shirt said to me, interested. "Huh?" I replied stupidly. "To cause such a stir for just a fender-bender." "Oh, right." I shrugged in nonchalance. "Someone"--I nodded my head towards Joseph--"tends to overreact a bit, that's all." Patrick loomed over us. It was hard for him not to loom because he was so tall. His shadow blocked the sun from my eyes and I was grateful. "Hey Patrick, how's the weather up there?" I asked playfully. "Doc-Gabriella?" His forehead crinkled in confusion. "You're so tall I figured the temperature might be a degree or two cooler." I laughed and guy in the purple shirt laughed along with me. Patrick smiled and it was blinding; his teeth were white against his rich, dark skin. Purple shirt guy held out his unhurt hand. "I'm sorry I didn't introduce myself earlier. I'm John." Patrick shot his hand out and they shook. "I'm Agent Salantro." "Like the herb?" John asked as his tongue piercing clinked against his teeth. I choked on a laugh and Joseph bumped his shoulder against mine. It was nice to be back to shoulder bumping, our thing. "Yes," Patrick confirmed. "But spelled differently." I wondered how many times he had to explain that to people. He should probably just tell people his first name instead. Much simpler. "Well, if you don't mind me saying"--John smiled shyly, his cheeks turning pink as his voice went up a few octaves-"if I got hit in the rear-end by a guy as hot as you every day, my life would be perfect." Patrick blinked for a second as he stared down at John. "No offense," John added quickly. "You are just a very beautiful man. I'm sure you don't 'swing' that way, so I'm not hitting on you . . . okay, maybe I am. Anyway . . ." Patrick's lips twitched like he wanted to smile at the man but suppressed it. He nodded once, twisted around, and

walked away. I patted John's leg sympathetically. "Don't let it bother you, John. He's pretty quiet." He turned his head to look at me and smiled broadly, his eyebrows moving up and down. "He totally wants me." Joseph and I burst into laughter and even a small female chuckle came from the front of the ambulance. The blonde medic hopped down to patch up John's hand. "He sure does, dear," she said to him. When she finished, she said, "You and Gabriella are both fine to go." She looked toward Joseph and blushed. "Do you need any care, Agent?" Joseph shook his head. "Nope, I'm great. But if any of the suits ask, tell them you checked me out." He winked at her and the blush turned from rose to almost crimson. I smacked Joseph's shoulder playfully when we stood to go toward the crowd of people. "Stop flirting!" He grinned. "Why?" he asked innocently and literally waggled his eyebrows. "Because . . . Jenna likes you and if you break her heart I'll cut yours out!" I threatened him, half playfully, half serious. He put both of his hands to his chest and gave me an expression of horror. "I wouldn't dare." "Better not!" When we came upon the crowd, they suddenly dispersed. One agent stayed behind and handed keys to Patrick before he made himself scarce. Patrick shook the keys. "We've got a new ride. Someone should be by to pick up the SUV sometime today. We've upgraded to a new Cadillac." Patrick and Joseph started walking toward one of the black cars behind the ambulance. "Um, hey guys. What about our stuff?" I asked, not moving. "Already been transferred," they both said at the same time, not even faltering in their strides. I ran to catch up but again, my sudden burst of speed surprised me and I was suddenly ahead of them. "Been working out, Zinger?" Joseph shouted as I flew by. I slowed. "I didn't mean to run that fast. It comes and goes and I never expect it." It wasn't like I could suddenly run some insane, superhero speed, but I bet I could run a two minute mile. Record breaking, I was sure, but not supersonic speed or anything. "You'll get the hang of it," Patrick said seriously. "Freak," Joseph teased. "You're just jealous," I taunted. "Maybe," he relented. "So, Patrick," I said casually. "What'd you think of John?" His serious face, if possible, grew more serious. I was thinking of nicknaming that face his "weighty face" because he usually said something full of meaning afterward. Joseph, smartly, didn't say anything about it. The three of us opened our doors and sat down like we were synchronized swimmers. Once in the backseat, I bit my lip as I tried to stifle my giggles at Patrick's expression. Patrick and Joseph stared straight ahead, looking toward the interstate. Patrick hadn't started the car yet. I glanced at my watch. "Um . . . guys? We kind of need to get to the airport before our plane leaves." Joseph's

shoulders trembled like he was withholding laughter too. There was just something about Patrick's discomfort with the whole situation that made it more hilarious. I held my breath to contain the giggles that begged to explode out of me. No one responded in any way for several seconds. Suddenly, Joseph burst into laughter, unable to contain it any longer. The car slightly shook with it which made everything exponentially funnier for some reason. Patrick turned his head slowly, his eyes narrowing at Joseph. "It's not funny," he grumbled. "And you call yourself an FBI agent," I teased Joseph as my own laughter joined his. "I lasted longer than you!" "Still not funny," Patrick replied dryly. His weighty face made it funnier for some reason. "Yes, yes it is," I disagreed through my fits of laughter. "I mean, seriously, did you see him?" I hiccupped as I tried to rein in my almost-snorting giggles. Joseph chimed in. "Yeah, Agent." Joseph's voice went up an octave to imitate our new friend. Or should I say Patrick's new friend? "If I got hit in the rear-end by a guy as hot as you every day . . ." he trailed off. I fell over sideways in my seat at that juncture. What was the point in sitting up straight when every time I did I collapsed in giggles again? Patrick, on the other hand, didn't find it very funny at all. Go figure. "It's not his sexual preference that bothered me," he replied coolly. We waited for him to expand on what he meant but he didn't. Instead, he turned the key in the ignition, put the car in drive, and flipped on the turn signal. We eased into traffic and, instead of inching our way through traffic when we were already late, Patrick flipped a switch and a siren began to blare as lights flashed all around us. He was such a cheater, but it wasn't like I was going to complain. As we flew through almost standstill traffic, I was thinking that I should look into this whole flashing lights/siren business. It was like we were a modern day Moses, parting the sea of cars. "Gabriella?" Joseph broke the silence first. "Yes?" I answered warily because he used my full first name. "What happened before we wrecked?" "I'm not sure. Why did you buy that book about werewolves?" I asked, curious since it wasn't on the list of books I gave him. "I don't know. It seemed like a good idea at the time. The other books were fantasy type books and you being you and all . . ." he trailed off. "Well, I started to read it and suddenlymembered that it was a book I picked up at a library in Idaho when I was with Andrew. I read the first little bit of it when we were at the library." "You guys went to a library?" Joseph asked, skeptical. "Well, yeah. Andrew was really confused. He'd been dead for a few hundred years and--" "What do you mean a few hundred years?" he cut in. "Whatever information the lab in Italy sent us was incorrect. Andrew remembers being alive in Europe in the 1700's," I explained. "Sorry, I thought you knew." "I did." I had a feeling his question had nothing to do with the time period, though I wasn't sure what it was about. "Sorry, continue." I gave him a confused expression before I continued. "Anyway, he wanted to go to a library to 'catch up' and so I took him to one and while he read a huge pile of books, I read the one about werewolves."

"I see," he said. "That doesn't explain what happened earlier." "The memories of that night came back so vividly that it was like I was there again, but then I was suddenly back at Aiden's and the Angels were being taken away by some Shadows." I shivered under the . . . vision? Thought? Dream? "It was so real, intense, and my anger and fright must have triggered the electricity. I didn't hurt you, did I?" Joseph shook his head while he flipped the mirror down again to stare at me, his dark eyes searching my face. "You scared me because you screamed and I turned to find out what was wrong. You shot electricity but it didn't go into anything--it was like a big ball of energy." Patrick cut in. "I saw it in the rearview mirror and instead of looking where I was going, I was watching you. I'm sorry." I opened my mouth to speak but Joseph spoke first. "You're fine. Yeah, yeah, we know. Don't make me switch your seat to coach. Now, explain to me why your blood was almost pink, like a silvery pink." "I can only guess that . . ." My heart strummed in my chest. Was I becoming human again? Was my blood becoming as faulty as my powers? Fear gripped me at the thought. "I don't know," I concluded quickly. "We'll get it all figured out when we get to Aiden's," Joseph said soothingly. "If he doesn't have the answers, I hope the Timeless book does," I added. "The Timeless book?" Patrick asked. His voice made it sound like he knew exactly what the Timeless book was and the question was more of a "why do you have it?" "Yes," I said slowly. "It contains information that could help me with my journey." A thought came to me suddenly. "Joseph, I also need to get those keys back, especially the one that I had no idea where it went to." "The one you had in the Divine Library?" he asked. "Where?" "Zola's prison," I said. "Remember how I found out the Soul Stalker was keeping her prisoner?" "Yes," he said slowly. "How do you know that?" I gave a humorless chuckle. "You're going to think I'm insane." "No doubt," Joseph joked. I rolled my eyes at him. "I woke up in the morgue and I saw my mother. She was a ghost and only appeared for a few seconds, but she told me that the other key went to Zola's prison." "So," Joseph began but stopped for a second. "You are definitely insane." I kneed the back of his seat. "Ow!" Patrick laughed and the sound seemed so rare, almost precious, that I absorbed it in like a comforting blanket. "Well, Gabriella," Patrick said, "I guess we know the first thing on our agenda will be to find out where this Zola's prison is and to free her." "Bingo!" 12 Honeysuckle Dream> The FBI are fancy pants. We arrived late to the airport so the SUV was taken away by the valet. As Patrick picked our luggage up from the curb, Joseph handed me a passport. Wow, saying the FBI were fancy pants was putting it

mildly--they were miracle workers. I flipped open the passport and gaped. They had my driver's license picture with the name Briella Branson printed on it. I stared at Joseph in disbelief but he just waved it off; his FBI face on in full force. Once inside, the fanciness of the FBI did not fail. As we walked through the airport door we were met by three airport security guards that escorted us to the check in counter so we would make the flight. While my fake passport was not questioned, there was a hold up due to the fact that both Patrick and Joseph had guns on their persons. As the airline security stood by us with their oh-so-serious expressions, I watched in amazement as Joseph unloaded his weapons. I say weapons because it wasn't just two guns; there were two guns, one knife, and a taser. To say I was surprised would not do any justice to the shock I felt, as if I myself had been tased. Where had he been hiding all of that stuff? Joseph put the taser down on the white table in front of the security people and one of the guards looked a little green. Patrick followed suit and it was the same deal. By the time they were both done there was a small arsenal of weapons spread before me; it was as if I'd been transported into some late nineties alien movie, complete with black suits and sunglasses. Joseph and Patrick began to disassemble their guns with speed and precision while the rest of us stared at them. When they were done, the security people placed the disassembled parts in fancy cases with locks on them. I probably looked like someone had hit me upside the head with a stupid stick as my mouth hung agape. When they finished divesting themselves of several pounds of combat-worthy artillery, they turned back to me. Patrick's expression was as serious as ever. His gold-flecked green eyes shone through his hard facial expression as if they were smiling at me. Joseph out-right grinned, nothing subtle about it. Behind them, the line of security guards seized the weapon cases and walked through a restricted access door. We still had to go through the regular security check points but all went smoothly, except for the fact that our plane was a few minutes from leaving. Whoever invented flat escalators should receive a big fat kiss. Walking briskly felt more like gliding on skis on a steep, snow-covered mountain. Our gate came into view as we brusquely marched down the long stretch of gates. As we passed by windows, the sun gleamed off of Patrick's head and I had an overwhelming urge to rub it and make a wish. I gave a small chuckle and Joseph looked behind him, smiled broadly even though he had no idea what I was chuckling about, and grabbed my hand to guide me to the lady that was taking tickets. "You're lucky, I was just about to close this shop up," the lady said to us as she took our tickets, ran them through a machine, and handed us our ticket stubs. "Thanks for keeping it open," Joseph replied. We all rushed down the hallway as cold air filled my lungs. My nerves suddenly came alive and I stopped midstride, which made me trip. I grabbed onto the railing next to me to steady myself and held my chest because my heart felt like it was trying to escape. It made my breathing harsh and turned my knees into jelly. The weight of the sensation was like being placed into a vise to slowly be crushed. Patrick suddenly stopped and whipped around. "Gabriella?" His voice was low and rough, but his panic was clear. "What's wrong?" Joseph followed behind him quickly as a look of understanding flashed in his eyes. "I'm sorry, I forgot about what happened last time you flew." "There's no Andrew to save me this time," I barely whispered as I melted into a pile of anxiety on the floor. They both reached out at the same time to catch me, but Patrick was first. "I can promise you that you will be safe from harm." Joseph nodded solemnly behind him and said, "I'll be there with you and I know exactly how you feel. Remember, there is no Lucia to open a portal for me this time--we're in the same boat . . . or um . . . plane. We'll get through this together." My eyes grew wide. I hadn't realized that Joseph had explained that much to the FBI. At my reaction, he gave me a similar look-of-panic face, like he hadn't meant to say it. We both quickly looked toward Patrick whose expression of concern hadn't changed. I thought that Joseph gave good FBI face, but Patrick blew him out of the water.

One of the flight attendants looked down the hallway to see what was taking so long. "Oh my!" She rushed toward us and started asking Joseph so many questions that I missed half of them. "Is she ill? Has she been in a foreign country in the past ten days? Is she pregnant? Does she need a glass of water?" The woman rambled on like a broken record of concern. "She's scared of heights," he explai coolly. No need to call paramedics. Nope, no reason at all . . . I hoped. The flight attendant let out a breath of relief as she switched her weight from one foot to the other. Then she gave a noise of impatience. "We can't hold the plane much longer, sir. We need to go." She waved her hand wildly behind her because we obviously didn't know there was a huge plane at the end of the extended hallway. "You're going to have to board the plane or return to the gate." Patrick, who stayed kneeled at my side, rose to his full height. His six feet, six inches filled the hallway like a massive bear rearing up. I watched as the flight attendant's head followed his growing frame until her head was almost all the way back. "A few minutes will not hurt anyone, miss. Have some compassion. The last time this young lady flew her plane crashed and she was one of the only survivors." I noticed Joseph had walked a little way down the hallway and was on the phone again. His hand dove in and out of his hair as he paced angrily from one side to the other, which was a very short space. He snapped the phone shut and within ten seconds the door to the airport opened and a medic ran down to us like Satan himself was at his heels. He dropped down to where I was at the same time Joseph did. "The flight attendant is right, we can't hold up this plane. What happened last time was awful, I know." Joseph's hand drifted over my cheeks like a calm wave to quiet my nerves. As soon as his hand moved away my panic rose to double and I struggled to keep tears out of my eyes. I was having a panic attack. "The medic is going to give you something to calm you down. Is that okay, Gabriella? I don't want to do anything against your will." I nodded, my eyes closed. I hated the thought of being sedated, but I'd do whatever it took to get on the plane . . . to get to Andrew. My breathing slowed as I waited for the medic to give me instructions. "I need to get to your arm. Could you lower your coat some?" I did as he asked. The medic was definitely full of anxiety and I opened my eyes to see his worried face. He seemed to be concentrating on a stain in the carpet. I touched his arm lightly. "Don't let Mister Overreaction make you nervous." I nodded my head in Joseph's direction. Funny how I was trying to talk the medic down when I was the one having the anxiety attack. There was silence as the man gulped. "It's not Agent Carter," Patrick said, his voice as deep as the ocean. "It's me." "Just think of him as a genie and you'll be fine," I said. Everyone started to laugh, even Patrick. The medic, before I knew it, had wiped my arm with an alcohol swab and stuck me. It was over in seconds but I still winced in pain. I hated needles. When the medic reached for a band aid, I grabbed it from him, opened the wrapper quickly, and slapped it over the tiny drop of silver blood that had escaped; I couldn't let him see my blood. "I'm ready to get on the plane," I said as I raised my hand for someone to help me up. The medic took his gloves off ad held his hand out. "But the medication hasn't had time to start working." "I know," I replied sweetly as I stood. He let go of my hand and I pulled my coat up to cover my arm again. "I am hoping it will be working by the time the plane takes off." "Right." He nodded, then stared up at Patrick, apparently asking permission to leave--man this guy was truly afraid of Patrick.

The flight attendant gawked at us as Joseph put his arm around me and led me to the airplane. My legs still resisted each step, but as soon as Joseph touched me, I was calm again. "Who are you guys?" I heard the flight attendant ask Patrick. "FBI," he revealed. The plane was huge for a domestic flight. No, that wasn't the right word. It was massive. First class had these amazing seats that could lie all the way back with warm blankets, as if they microwaved them first, and the attendants severed you free champagne. There was only one problem: they were all full. Trust me, the irony was not lost on me. "You jinxed us . . . again!" I accused Joseph. "Again?" His eyebrows rose. "Yeah, remember when you told me the plane wouldn't crash?" He nodded. "It did," I reminded him, like either of us really needed the reminder. He gave a low chuckle, in between humor and mirthless, and turned to face the flight attendant that was behind Patrick's massive frame. "Miss? We have seats A1 through A3, but they are all taken." He moved his hand back and forth to the three people in our seats. Each of them looked up with big innocent eyes. The flight attendant bent sideways to see us around the mountain in the middle of the aisle. "Everyone must show their tickets to me to sit in first class and these passengers all had valid tickets. We have some coach seats available." I snorted and Joseph glanced at me before his eyes flickered back to her in slight anger. "We paid for first class seats, and we will sit here. Do you really want to put Agent Salantro"--Joseph's hand waved up and down the huge man between them--"in coach? Where would he put his legs . . . or his head for that matter?" "Just because you are FBI doesn't mean you can bully me into--" I cut in, the drugs gliding through my veins like silk over my skin. "Agent Carter can do amazing things with his phone." I gave her a face, my eyes trying to send a message. Just fix it. "There isn't anything I can do. You were late to the plane and held us up. We can't give you seats that are already occupied by ticket holders." The flight attendant huffed angrily. The other attendants seemingly decided to stay out of the disagreement. Some were watching with amusement, and I could have sworn that I saw two males exchanging money like they were betting on the outcome. "I thought you liked your job," I said sweetly to the attendant. Joseph gasped. "Gabriella!" "Sorry," I said to him, not sorry at all. My body felt like it was floating on a cloud through calm currents of clear air. "It's the drugs." Kind of. Before anyone could say anything, Patrick turned around and stood to his fullest height--he sure knew how to use his body to intimidate people--and the attendant backed away a few paces so we could see her just outside the cockpit's door. I wondered if she was going to escape to the cockpit. "Offer these three passengers a refund or kick them off the flight. Either way, we are sitting in our designated seats. We're on FBI business; lives depend on us reaching our destination." Patrick flashed his FBI badge like that would make his words more threatening--it probably did. "These tickets were bought with government money and I would really hate to make a call to my superior." Joseph chuckled softly in my ear and whispered, "The government doesn't allow us to purchase first class . . . we paid extra. Shhh."

It was official; the drugs had finally taken full effect and everything was fantastic. I felt like I was a swan with beautiful sleek feathers, flowing smoothly through a still, calm lake. Maybe I'd just fly to Italy. Wow, these were good drugs! I smiled broadly. "Agent Carter," I spoke loudly, "I think you need to make that phone call." Without missing a beat, Joseph reached for his miracle working phone but hadn't even flipped it open when the attendant paled slightly and bent at the waist to whisper to the three people in our assigned seats. Maybe it was my placid state, but I could swear there was something wrong with the three she spoke to. They had dead-looking eyes and exhibited signs of a group of hypnotized audience members at a magic show. What was even stranger was the fact that they all nodded at the exact same time, both whispered back in complete synchronicity, and the attendant didn't seem fazed in the least. Like robots, the three lifted from their seats and filed past us wordlessly. Joseph sat in the seat next to the window, looking proud of himself, and patted next to him for me to follow. I took my seat, my smile growing to the size of something unnatural. "That was weird, wasn't it? Right? I'm not going crazy," I tried to convince myself. Patrick's eyebrows arched like someone had hooked them, his face as serious as ever. I glanced toward Joseph and odd giggles erupted from my mouth. "That was weird," Joseph replied seriously. "How do you feel about flying now?" The plane had begun a nice rhythm against the landing strip with a tha-thump, tha-thump, tha-thump. There was something itching in the back of my head, like a nightmare just beyond sight, but the happy-drug had turned my insides into velvety goodness. "I feel . . . like I should sing!" Joseph's head hit the headrest as he sighed heavily. "I should have asked him to give you a sedative instead," he whisper-teased. I elbowed him. "If you'll hand me my book"--I pointed toward the carry-on bag we all three shared--"I'll read it and be quiet. And I'll be really happy about it." Joseph made sure not to bring along the werewolf book--in fact, I bet he threw it away--just in case there was another "incident" and I made the plane go down. The thought didn't bother me; I was content and grinning, literally from ear-to-ear. There was definitely something wrong with me, but I decided to ignore it and just read. The title of the book was Whisper Wings and was obviously about angels. My interest was piqued and I submerged myself into the book until I became the leading character. Then I fell asleep. There were wings that spanned fifteen feet in each direction with feathers that flexed and whispered lightly in the breeze. They were attached to a man who, regardless of the obvious wings, was angelic in nature. He had richly tanned skin and his chest and abs were knotted with muscles. His jeans looked faded and comfortable, which was surprising to see on my Angel. The Angel's face was in shadow, but I could see his golden eyes burn through the darkness and right into me. I knew who it was just by the way my body reacted to his presence. Electricity simmered around my skin and left my body in a rush as the current closed the distance between us. The blue sparks turned a brilliant and stunning white as they swirled around his feet right before they soared and surged around him. He glowed with the power I sent down the electrical line like a hot piece of metal. He rocketed into the air, his wings giving two languid strokes before he landed only a foot away. He looked at me with the most tender expression as his wings slid around my body and enclosed us in their warmth. I felt all my muscles relax as I stared into his captivating eyes. My breath hitched and he brought his lips down to mine, gentle, sweet, like honeysuckle. Suddenly, a hand thrust into his enclosed wings, seized my shoulder, and yanked me out of his grasp. Terror shot through my body as my eyes flew open and my heavenly dream was ruined by Joseph attempting to wake me. "Hey, Gabriella," he said quietly. "We have another plane to catch." I groaned. "I was having a good dream."

As my happy-drug wore off, I began to feel the opposite. I was sluggish and the fear was back ten-fold. This short flight would be nothing compared to twelve hours we were about to spend over the ocean. As we waded through the thick crowd in the JFK airport, Patrick led us and parted the great sea of people. Joseph placed his hand on the small of my back. The gentle touch soothed me, just as it did before. When we arrived at the gate and he removed his hand, I could feel the fear creeping back into my system. I snatched his hand up so quickly he gave me a startled look. We stared at each other for a few moments before the words tumbled out of my mouth. "I'm sorry, but something is different. When you touch me I feel calm . . . and wow, that sounds really bad, and cheesy, but it's true." I suddenly pulled my hand out of his and he looked down at where our hands were once joined and back up to my eyes. Maybe he saw the fear and anxiety slither across my face the same way I felt it tingle down my spine. There was no Angel to save me if the plane went down again and, though it was rare for a plane to actually crash, the irrational terror drifted through me like a river of darkness. Joseph reached out, took my hand into his, and the anxious sensations seeped away from me as calm quickly replact, a soothing balm. "I could see the difference in your eyes," he said tenderly. Joseph led me to the ticket lady and we went through the same drill we did in D.C., minus the medic with the happy-drugs--Joseph was the happy drug this time. Patrick followed behind us like the looming shadow he was. First class is the only way to travel, I decided. My seat turned into a bed and I was determined to sleep the whole way to Italy. When I finally went into a semi-coma, Joseph kept a hand laid gently over mine. Patrick and Joseph took shifts staying awake to play bodyguard, though I wasn't sure what they expected to happen on the plane, only waking me to make sure I didn't need anything. My dreams were absent of the beautiful winged Andrew. I didn't mind, though, because when the plane landed, I would be out the door and racing toward Andrew, with my arms wide open. Andrew would be a reality again--solid in my arms. Even in my sleep, excitement for what lay at the end of this horrific plane ride sunk deeply into my body. I'd be with my Angels, friends, loved ones, and family. When Joseph woke me up for the millionth time, all I could manage was a mumble of "are we there yet?" "We are," he answered. I sprang forward like my seat had become a sling-shot. 13 My steps could only be described as skipping, or bounding, as we walked toward the baggage claim. The drug I was given had worn off, so I was solely using my jubilation at what my prize would be at the end of this trip to keep my spirits up. Joseph placed both feet onto the descending escalator first and I followed suit with Patrick shadowing me. I had forgotten we were supposed to meet a CIA agent in Italy, so when I looked out over the crowd and my eyes immediately landed on woman who held a sign with Joseph's name on it, I was taken aback. This woman was absolutely stunning, and the closer I got to her, the more beautiful she became. She had long, wavy brown hair with huge almond eyes, accented with a thin line of black eyeliner and brown eye shadow. Her jetblack, high class business suit hugged her waist and elongated her bare legs. As men walked by her--and some women too--their heads literally trailed from her black high heels to the shiny brown hair that flowed like a whisper down her back. I was immediately in awe of this woman . . . agent. Especially when she opened her mouth to greet us. "Welcome to Italy, Doctor!" She reached her hand out to mine and I accepted. "I've read so much about you." Her eyes darted to Joseph and her voice turned from friendly to business-like. "Just because I know who you are does not mean you don't show me your identification, Agent." He fumbled in his pockets for a minute and produced a card with a microchip and a piece of water-marked paper. She inspected the paper carefully, pulled out a device to scan the card, and nodded at the screen before she handed both of them back. She reached into her inside jacket pocket and pulled out similar identification. Patrick and the CIA agent exchanged information and then everyone seemed to be satisfied.

"Um, doave to give identification?" I asked, curious. "Of course not, Doctor," the beautiful woman replied. "You are here under the protection of the FBI and, now that you are in Italy, under the CIA. I'm Agent Azenet, but you may call me Layla." Derek and the Dominoes immediately played in my head and I wondered if Clapton's Layla had garnered such attention from everyone around her. "It's so nice to meet you, Layla. You can call me Gabriella. I hate to be pushy, but can we grab our bags and get the hell out of here?" My body literally sang with excitement as I stood there, antsy. Layla raised her perfectly manicured eyebrows and gave a tinkling laugh. "Absolutely, Gabriella." Her phone rang and she held up a finger as she took the call. "Sebastian?" Pause. "That idiot! Well, don't wait around here, go back to the office." A longer pause this time. "Yes, okay. That's fine." She pressed a button on her phone and the light turned off. She looked back to me. "My intern had to go back to the office, but he already collected your bags and there is a vehicle waiting out front to take you to where you will be staying while you are visiting Italy." What? We aren't staying at Aiden's? "Ah--" I opened my mouth to protest but Joseph shook his head behind her in warning. "That sounds great. Lead the way," I insisted and gestured toward the exit. Once the car pulled away from the airport, Layla driving, she began her intense questioning. It wasn't just the report about our mission she had read about; she had followed my scientific research since I began work at Zelko Corp. She was actually willing to exchange horror stories of some of the strange things she had come across since being sent to Italy as I retold some of my more famous cases--from the bird man all the way to the leopard woman--really, she even had a plastic surgeon make whiskers for her. A multi-billion dollar company based out of South Africa had sent her body to us after she caused a riot outside a theatre and was killed by police when she became violent; she even had claws that were actual leopard claws--I pitied the poor leopard that was roaming around, clawless. The company was highly disappointed when I found the plastic surgeon who'd made her into a kitty-cat, because they had found another woman just like her and were holding her. I didn't know what they wanted her for--did they have a secret Catwoman breeding operation in mind?--but she seemed to rejoice when she was let free after I flew down to South Africa for a taxing four hour meeting at their offices. I actually enjoyed sharing stories with Layla. She was like the female equivalent of Joseph. When the conversation died down, my eyes roamed out the window and I immediately became absorbed with the beauty that was Italy. The sun lay shallow in the sky and everything flared a flaming coral. The houses and businesses were piled upon each other as if, over time, people tried to be closer and closer to the water, regardless of how near they were to their neighbors. We passed rows upon rows of sand-colored houses, tourists with cameras around their necks, and children playing in some of the fountains we passed. Most of the people we saw had brilliantly colored eyes, tanned skin, and dark or sun-drenched hair. Ping. I glanced to the front of the SUV to see Joseph pull his phone out of hnner coat pocket and tap away on the screen. From his profile, I couldn't read his expression on what the message could possibly be about. The FBI mask of indifference always surprised me when I saw Joseph wearing it. I knew him so well that he didn't hide his feelings from me often--though Layla was in the car and I was sure he wanted to keep his expressions in check. He clicked a button on the top of the phone and the screen turned off. There was a string hanging from my shirt and I fiddled with it until it was long and needed to be cut. Patrick was in full FBI mode, scanning every inch of the surrounding area as we drove through the streets. Joseph was occupied with his phone again and I was grateful because I knew he would call me out for my fidgeting. After snapping the string, I ran my finger along the top of the pocket on the back of Layla's seat. Though I was able to sleep some on the flights here, my eyelids began to droop. Not even the sights interested me anymore. The rush of excitement that overwhelmed me earlier dissolved quickly--especially when I realized we were not going straight to Aiden's. Layla turned down a tiny alley made for one car at a time, street and pulled between two tall leather-colored houses. She threw the SUV into park.

"Stay here," Layla said sternly. Her voice was less friendly and more agent-like. All three of them stepped out of the vehicle at once. I laid my head back and closed my eyes, exhausted. The length of dreams and the passing of time are not the same. It only took me seconds before my body relaxed and I was asleep. Knotted muscles bunched on the tan, bare back of Andrew. He faced away from me, moisture on his skin glistening like dew in the early dawn. He turned his head to the side so I could see his profile. His hair was a tangled black mess as the wind sliced through the heat and swirled the tall grass in a frenzy. The golden irises I remembered so well were hidden behind his eyelashes that caught the sun's rays. "Come to me," he said softly and held his hand to the side, palm up. Andrew's eyes--the windows to his soul-were melting honey which ignited passion within me. "Let us get lost in the clouds." The long, violet dress I wore slithered over the tall grass as I stepped closer to him. When I was next to him, I placed my hand in his; he was so incredibly warm. As soon as we touched, a whirlwind engulfed us, storm clouds accumulated up above, and lightning fire-bolted down to our grasped hands. I gasped in the sensation of the wind, lightning, and love that spread through me like a rush of scalding water. "When the time comes, will it to happen." Andrew glanced up into the stormy grey sky and closed his eyes as water droplets landed on his handsome face. They trailed down his tan skin in rivulets of dazzling liquid. "Together we will fly away." On tiptoes, I palmed his cheek so he would have to look at me. His face turned slowly to mine as his worried expression softened. His intense gold eyes dissolved into a burning affection. Rainwater dripped from my eyelashes and he wiped the water away so I could see more clearly. He didn't hesitate as he swept me up into his arms and placed a kiss on my lips. I dissolved into his arms as he held me agat him. He gently sucked on my bottom lip and brought it between his teeth. I disintegrated into a heaping pile of hormones as I latched on to him and kissed him deeper, longer. His lips were scarlet silk that trailed across my jaw bone in a blazing heat. His warm breath caressed my skin and tickled my insides. "We'll never be apart," he whispered into my ear right before he made another path across my jaw and back to my mouth. He licked my bottom lip right before he placed another kiss on my mouth. "I'm going to find you," I breathed against his lips as he moved away a centimeter. Wings as silky as delicate flower petals appeared from his back and spread wide to show their expanse. The feathers flexed for one quick second before they engulfed me and then I was lost in Andrew's touch, soaking in the rain and electricity that gathered around our bodies like an intricate spider web. I finally felt at home as I nestled in closer to his naked chest. He was warm and smelled of the thick texture of earth, rainwater, and smoky fire. His arms pulled me tight against his body and I rested my head on his chest, enveloping his wonderful scent. I needed to be closer still. Wrapping my arms around him and trailing my hands down his back, I could feel his muscles tense from the electricity that flowed from my fingertips. We pulled each other closer as if we were trying to become one person, as if it were the last time we'd be able to be this close, but all the while knowing this was exactly where we should be. But like all good dreams, they end too quickly. Ping. I knew that sound . . . "Hey Gabby, it's time to wake up," a voice said right into my ear. I jerked awake and my eyes jumped open. I'd know that nickname anywhere . . . My eyes narrowed automatically. I groaned loudly as I glared at the shadow of Joseph's face, surrounded by a ring of fading sunlight. "Couldn't you have been a gentleman and carried me into the house?" I joked. "Or Patrick. He's a big, strong guy." Layla gave a tiny chuckle from behind him. "I tried to tell them to let you sleep." I already really liked the CIA agent

but she just earned extra brownie points. Ping. Joseph's phone went off again. Jeez, does that thing ever stop? You'd think the FBI would give him a break already! If it was the FBI . . . "Aren't you going to answer your phone?" I asked with a smirk. Joseph backed away from the door and I hopped down and looked around quickly. The road beneath my feat was a mixture of old cobble stone and newer brick. The buildings to my left and right cast long shadows all around us. To my right was a tall, tan house where we would be staying. "I'd like to call this Casa di Vestiti!" I said in an Italian accent. "Huh?" Joseph asked. Layla snickered. "House of Suit. Clever, Gabriella. I didn't know you spoke Italian." I blushed but didn't answer. "I don't get it," Joseph said with his eyebrows coming together. "Because of the FBI and CIA and all their . . . suits," I said with the word duh obvious in my voice. A smile spread across his face as he draped an arm around my shoulder and mimicked giving me a noogie. I pushed him away playfully as we rushed into the house like the sky was about to rain down fireballs. Even in Italy, the boys were nervous about my safety. Patrick followed with several bags of luggage and dropped them in the entryway to the adorable house. Truly, it was charming. There were beautiful paintings and photos of the Naples area on the walls, with real flowers on the windowsills and a fruit bowl full of fake, artful grapes, apples, and oranges on the kitchen table. I was in love with the tiny house before I even checked out the rest of it. "I live just down the road from here and there are others that live nearby who are aware of your situation as well, Gabriella." Layla dropped her keys on the scratched up kitchen table. I grumbled choice words under my breath--it was Joseph all over again with the over-protective crap. Didn't they realize that the Angels could knock down even the CIA's defenses if they wished to get to me? The only thing I had going for me was the fact no one knew where I was . . . or the fact that I was alive. Joseph had pushed for the FBI protection--all I wanted was their help to find Aiden's so I could tell my Angels I was alive after all. Every time I thought of the agony that engulfed Andrew's face at my funeral, my gut twisted sickeningly. Even the thought of it now had me a little choked up, so I held my tongue as Layla led us through the house. "This is the most secure room in the whole house," she said as her arms gestured into a room on our left. She vaguely reminded me of a game show host: You could win this fabulous bedroom with absolutely no windows . . . "Let me guess," I finally said, swallowing any remorse I had for Andrew, "this is my room?" "Bingo!" Layla flipped on the light switch and a soft golden glow filled every crevice. There was a bed that was a little larger than a twin, a desk that looked to be a hundred years old with a lamp on it, and an unmatched chest of drawers, which also showed signs of age. "The closet is tiny"--Layla pulled the door open while giving an apologetic look--"but this wasn't put here for your clothes, this is an escape tunnel that leads two ways. Remember this, all of you. Left is to my house, right will lead you two blocks away from here to a street. Both doors are secure from either side to protect from intruders, but they will open with just the touch of your palm on the scanner. If there is a threat and you believe my house to be unsecure, go the street route." Ping. I glared over my shoulder at Joseph. It was amazing how his face could go from whatever his current emotion was to absolutely nothing when he replied to his phone. His fingers rapidly touched the screen and then he pressed the top button again and put his phone in his pocket. "Your phone is starting to annoy me," I said to Joseph, my exhaustion turning me into Medusa. I envisioned snakes slithering on top of my head, hissing in Joseph's direction as I directed my glare at him. My face softened

and I charmed the snakes as I tried to show apology. In typical Joseph fashion, he smiled broadly. "What if it's important FBI business I'm replying to?" I immediately looked sheepish and turned back around. I took a step inside the closet to see a door in the floor Layla had uncovered during her speech. She dropped the rug that had been covering it and stepped back. A cloud of dust exploded out of it making me cough while I swiped at the air. "This is just a little bit ridiculous, don't you think?" I said with the biggest eye-roll to date. I was facing away from them all, but I was sure my tone let them know exactly how I felt about it. Of course, when I pivoted to face them, their faces were all serious, though I saw humor sparkle in Patrick's strange eyes. "It's unnecessary," I defended. What I meant was: If anyone's coming after me, they'll find me--tunnel or no tunnel. I just hoped it would be Andrew and not one of the many enemies I seemed to be accumulating. Joseph shook his head but kept his mouth shut, knowing that I got revenge in the strangest--and funniest--of ways. Pizza anyone? Layla walked between the boys, her high heels clicking on the worn, wooden floor, and continued her commentary of the house while pointing out the bathroom--that's right, one bathroom--and the three other bedrooms. I was still having issues getting over the singular bathroom in the four bedroom house when we ended in the living room that was actually one big room that housed the kitchen, too. "There's a TV." Layla draped her arm over it like it was her best friend. "It's tiny, and about twenty years old, but I didn't figure you three would be watching much TV," she concluded. "Nope," I said with a pop to the "p". Who had time for TV when Andrew was close by? "Thank you, Agent Azenet," Joseph said sincerely. I nodded in agreement. "What's on the agenda for the evening? Are you just settling in?" she asked. "We actually planned on going out, maybe do some reconnaissance on a known Angel's house," Patrick admitted. My ears and eyes perked up like a fox in a hen house. "I'd love to come along, but I have my own plans this evening." With the way her eyes glittered, I was sure she had a date. Women's intuition. "I'm sure you boys will get along just fine without me. Of course, if you need backup, there are several CIA agents who are on call just for this particular job." Layla eyed me, like she was telling that specifically to me and not the two FBI agents at my side. I didn't need any more blood on my hands--there was no way I would invite anyone else into this insane world. "I don't think that'll be necessary," I said before anyone else could. "Okay," she relented. "I've got to go now. I'll be back tomorrow so we can decide on a plan to . . . stop the Ladies of Light." The boys shook her hand and said their goodbyes. "Gabriella, do be careful. I know your personality type--don't be a martyr." Layla placed a hand on my shoulder. "I won't be," I defended--lied. I'd sacrifice myself if that meant everyone else was safe. No need to spread that information around to the FBI and CIA--they were already too protective as it was. "It was nice to meet you. I'll see you tomorrow." I used the same tone I had to use a thousand times on Sally so she would understand that it was time for her to leave. Layla got the drift and nodded. She turned and walked away, Joseph escorting her to the door, and soon I heard it click shut. I collapsed onto the couch and propped my feet up on the coffee table that looked new compared to the rest of the house. With my wild, vivid imagination, I pictured a brawl going down in the kitchen and ending in the living room as a CIA agent and a terrorist struggled for the only gun left with bullets. Then, suddenly, they flipped over the couch where the CIA agent was able to gain control and slammed the terrorist into the table, leaving nothing but a bunch of match sticks behind. Before I knew it, I was drifting back into sleep. Right before I lost all consciousness, I saw Patrick's reflection in the small TV screen as he sat next to me. Either I was so out of it I didn't feel the couch move, or he was one hell of a stealthy dude for his size.

There were no amazing, Andrew-laced dreams, nor Abelie memory dreams; only dreams of agents fighting against time to protect innocents from terrorists. When I thought about it, though, that was exactly how the Ladies of Light were acting. They were the immortal equivalent of terrorists, which was more terrifying. When the thought hit me, I woke with a start and my feet and arms flew up so quickly they almost touched. I sucked in a deep breath of air as my heels smacked the coffee table they had just flipped off of. "Ow," I grumbled. "Are you okay?" a deep, resonate voice asked. If I wasn't startled already when I awoke, his voice did it. A hysterical little noise escaped my lips as I recoiled. "Jesus, Patrick! You scared the hell out of me!" "I apologize." "Have you been sitting there the whole time?" I asked self-consciously. What I really meant was: Did I snore, drool, or embarrass myself in anyway? "No, you weren't snoring." Wow, he was good. He looked at his watch. "You've been asleep for about thirty minutes. I was reading a magazine." He held up the magazine Guns & Ammo. Figures, I thought dryly. "If you feel rested, the sun has set and now would be a good time to go to Aiden's house." Patrick leaned over and dropped the magazine onto the coffee table and rose. I didn't know how I missed it earlier, but his head practically grazed the ceiling. He'd never be comfortable in one of these small Italian houses. "Not just reconnaissance, right?" I checked. "And torture you some more?" Joseph asked behind me. My hand seized the area above my heart as I made another sound of wild hysteria and jerked sideways. "Enough with the stealthy crap please!" I begged. "And I'm ready whenever you boys are. I've been ready for the past two weeks." Patrick he his hand out for me to grasp. I took it, rose to my feet and, when I let go of Patrick, I rapidly fixed my hair. An airplane ride across the Atlantic and sleeping in random places for the past twenty hours usually meant incredibly unsexy bed hair. "Um, give me five minutes, guys." I ran off toward the bathroom and shut the door before I realized I didn't even have a brush. There was a soft knock on the door and I opened it up a sliver to see Joseph. He had my toiletry bag in his hand. "Thought you might want this." His hand ran through his hair. "You know, since you'll be seeing Andrew again." A small smile escaped me in my frantic "my hair looks like I played in tornados" look. "Thanks Joseph. You're always on top of things." "Yeah," he said slowly. "You aren't going to . . . you know . . . forget about me once you are with your Angels again, right? I mean . . . I know I'm only human, but I'd like to help stop the Ladies of Light and the Soul Stalker." His eyes shot down like he was a puppy waiting to be popped on the nose with a newspaper for peeing on the floor. I let the door fall open as I placed the bag on the counter. Without even thinking about it, I gave Joseph a huge hug. "After everything you've done for me, I'd do anything for you!" We pulled apart and I gave him a stern look as I continued. "Though I worry about your safety. Still, if you want to fight with us, I won't kick you out of the club." I winked at him and started to dig through the bag. He smiled widely at me. "That's good," he said and shut the door. Since Andrew wasn't up on the style of 2009, I figured he wouldn't mind me wearing exactly what I wore on the plane: a black button-up shirt with a white tank-top underneath, and blue jeans with black boots. Not the most

stylish--and slightly wrinkled--but I didn't want to waste any more time. Two weeks was too long. After freshening up, I bounded down the hallway, excited about finally seeing Andrew again. We were on the road in fifteen minutes, Patrick behind the wheel, Joseph's favorite sixties music blaring through the speakers, and the city lights disappearing behind us. My world was starting to get a lot brighter even though, as we drove, it grew darker and darker. Things were going my way, finally. That was until we hit a huge pot hole that sent the SUV skidding to a halt on the side of a deserted road. We had a flat tire. I jumped out of the vehicle, angry, and shouted at the sky. "What the hell? Can't you give me a break or something?!" And the answer was no, because we sat on the side of the road for fifteen minutes and there wasn't a single soul in sight--nor did any of our phones work. "No spare tire underneath," Patrick announced. Joseph was piddling around on his phone as he held it high in the sky, praying for a signal. Several times, I caught him glaring at the screen using a facial expression I nicknamed the "Death Stare." "I thought that thing was a miracle phone," I muttered under my breath to Joseph. He raised his eyebrows at me as I sat in thekseat, the door open, my legs hanging outside in the cold. I waved him away and he obliged by going to the back of the vehicle where Patrick was searching for the spare. It wasn't like there were many places to hide one. Maybe they were operating an ultra-expensive-super-savvy GPS to send out a distress signal so we could get some help. Ping. That didn't sound like a GPS distress signal . . . "Joseph!" My head collapsed into my hands. "What?" came an innocent voice. Patrick chuckled. "My phone won't send out a call, only a text message." "Then text one of your FBI buddies so they can have someone come and fix our tire!" I knew I was using my exasperated voice, but I was tired and my good mood about seeing Andrew had disappeared like food does when you place it in front of Patrick. "I'm all over it," he replied. "Thank you, Joseph." I attempted a sweet voice, but I didn't have much left in me. Exhausted, I fell back into the SUV and lay across the back seat. "What else could go wrong?" I mumbled to myself. That question had a longer, more complicated answer than I ever thought possible. 14 Mojo & Revelations> If it wasn't for the "Miracle Phone", we would have been stranded on the side of the road for a while. Though it wasn't completely deserted, no one wanted to stop and help a couple of strangers. "Someone should be here shortly with a replacement vehicle," Joseph announced as he clicked his screen off. "Hallelujah!" I rejoiced. You know, since I was an Angel and all. Headlights grew larger and larger as a tiny car stopped behind us. At first I thought maybe some bystander was actually going to be nice and help us out, but instead we were greeted by a CIA agent. I stared at the car with apprehension, trying to imagine Patrick actually sitting behind the wheel of that . . . car? It was more like a clown car it was so small. Joseph and Patrick spoke with the agent as I stayed in the shelter of the SUV. The night was

turning from chilly to downright bone-chilling. The wind blew in my direction and seemed to bring their conversation to me for just a second. "It's Halloween and the streets are crowded with people tonight. Everyone is partying and drinking," the CIA agent informed them right before the wind shifted and the conversation was nothing more than a low, incoherent murmur. Jeez, was October really about to be over with? Well, the air definitely felt colder than before. I was beginning to worry that the tiny vehicle--one I couldn't ever remember seeing in the states--was our ride. Before I could worry too much, a large SUV pulled in behind it. I sighed happily and made my way over to the three men. The CIA agent acted like I wasn't even there as he turned and jogged to the SUV, opened the passenger door, and closed it firmly. Whoever was behind the wheel put it in drive and they drove away. My mouth hung agape as I watched them speed past me, leaving us with the toy car. "Can you even fit inside that thing?" I asked, bewildered. Joseph choked on the air as Patrick held the keys out like it was a snot rag. He continued to glare at the keys as he spoke. "They said it was all they had left. And they said the tire we needed couldn't be purchased at this hour." "I swear, you'd think that someone was trying to stop me from getting to Andrew," I barked. "A car accident? My insane freak-out in the airport? And now this? Ugh!" I threw my hands up in the air. Joseph approached me like I was a bomb about to detonate and gently put his hand on my forearm. My body literally sighed under the simple touch as I relaxed and looked up to his face. "Minor setbacks. It's a tiny bugger," he said in a faux British accent, "but it'll get us to Andrew--that's what you want, right?" I sighed and nodded. "I'm just grumpy and tired. Sorry--both of you." Joseph put his arm around my shoulder and gave me a sideways hug in forgiveness. I reciprocated. "Let's go." Patrick did fit into the car . . . eventually. Any grumpiness I had disappeared as Joseph and I had a riot over Patrick squeezing his large knees behind the wheel. After I informed him that I thought the seat could go back farther, he fumbled around to try and find the lever. When he finally gripped it, the seat slammed back, and the vertical part of it went horizontal. I looked down at Patrick's frustrated face and laughed out a "I don't think you can see the road from here." He couldn't help but smile at me right before he shifted the seat into a semi-comfortable position. It must be true, what people say about laughing, because my spirit lifted and I was immediately happier. Soft music played through the speakers in the car. I laid my head against the window in the backseat--at least the car had a backseat--and stared out into the night. The sky was clear of clouds; stars sparkled and twinkled down at me like Carmela's diamond eyes against the velvety blackness. Nighttime held something sinister for me now. I remembered that same dark sky after the soft, warm hues of twilight had disappeared from it. Anytime I caught the flicker of light in the liquid darkness of night, my mind would flash to my mother's death: the cold rush of wind, the fire that streaked across the ground like a snake ready to strike, the loud snap that ended the life of my beautiful mother. I swallowed thickly and hoped my tears would not overflow at the torturous memory that occasionally stalked my worst nightmares. "Gabriella?" I popped up in my seat, peeling my skin from the cold glass. "Patrick?" "Are you all right?" Joseph twisted in hiat to gaze down at me. His six foot frame made the European car seem trinket sized; the vehicle just wasn't made for that kind of height. I couldn't see his face in the dark, just his silhouette, which

consisted of some serious bed-head. When I thought about everything that unfolded today, I noticed he'd ran his fingers repeatedly through his hair so many times that even in the dark it looked as though I had electrocuted him. "I'm fine. Why do you ask?" I wondered. "Now that's a silly question! You haven't been cracking jokes or making fun of me or complaining about Joseph's phone exploding for the past hour. You've been very quiet. Are you sure you're all right?" Patrick asked in his rich, deep voice. Weird, I had honestly not noticed Joseph's phone pinging. My mind had been deeply stuck in the past I couldn't change. Maybe the fact that we were actually in Italy, close to her house, made me even more restless. Joseph still hadn't turned back around and it bothered me that I couldn't see his face. I didn't want to tell them how the night made me feel, how anxious I became, how memories flooded into my mind like a dam had broken. Or about the awful ache in my chest--mainly in my stomach--where my nerves turned it into a knotted mess every time the sun rounded the Earth, leaving me in the shadows with thoughts of fire and death. It was unfounded, but I had the worst survivor's guilt, and I wasn't sure how to stop the feeling. It probably wasn't until I saw Abelie's ghostly beauty in the morgue that it really hit me. Her nervous glance over her shoulder, the clear message she issued, and the way she was just sucked away from me only made it worse. Where was she now? Would I see her again? Was she okay? Happy? I didn't know. My legs, thrown across the backseat of the car since I had given Joseph room to push his seat back, were now pulled close to my chest. My teeth dug into my bottom lip as I held back the feelings that swelled within me. Will these feelings of loss ever fade? was what I wanted to say. Instead I lied. "Yeah, Patrick, I'm fine." By the silence, I could tell they weren't convinced. A car passed us and I saw Patrick's eyes light up briefly in the rearview mirror. He was gazing intently at me. The side of Joseph's head flooded with light for a few seconds, just long enough for me to see the concern etched in the lines of his stubbled face. I hoped to change the subject without either of them realizing it. "Why do you think my magic has been all wonky?" Joseph was not swayed so easily when it came to my attempt to change topics. His arm outstretched until his warm hand cupped my chin--again, I felt calm. He lifted my face up so he could see it better, though I honestly wondered how he could see anything in the darkness of the car. His expression was hidden in the night, but when he breathed out a concerned "hmmm." I guessed he was worried about me. He shook his head slightly before he let go and pivoted back into his seat so he faced the front. Patrick seemed mollified by Joseph's retreat and answered me. "Maybe it's not something that can be forced. Perhaps your magic is limited--maybe you need to be in a desperate situation to wield it . . . will it, I suppose." "Will it," I repeated under my breath, remembering te dream I had with Andrew telling me to will it to happen. "But it was so easy before, around the Angels. Now it just seems to have a mind of its own." "Will it" sounded so simple, but I knew it couldn't be that simple. I really hoped someone knew why everything had changed so drastically. I didn't even try to touch on the questions I had about the silver blood. "From what you have told me, Gabriella, you were in nothing but extreme, life-threatening situations." I nodded silently to his thought process, though I was sure he couldn't see me. He continued, "I read Joseph's report and every time he saw you use your abilities, you needed them." "The other Angels used their abilities so freely, though," I argued. But as I shuffled through my memories, I honestly couldn't remember a time when the Angels used their magic without there being some need for it. "Were they in trouble, or in a situation where using their magic was essential for survival?" he asked seriously. "Possibly to protect you or to fulfill an obligation of some kind? Perhaps even the thought that they needed something desperately enough might help them wield their magic, if you will." He made a lot of sense. I wondered what was in the case file. What did Joseph tell them? Everything?

"Well . . ." Karen, before I realized she was the Soul Stalker, used her empathy ability to calm me, which I was sure she had felt was a necessity. I had felt like a victim of some sort of natural disaster when I was first introduced to this world-I bet I looked like I was the disaster to everyone else. Hurricane Gabriella. Same with the wooden chest . . . if it was true she couldn't use her powers unless there was a need to, then she either needed, or desperately wanted, what was in the chest. The memory of her hand reaching into the chest and meeting resistance seemed to take on a whole new meaning now. Why would she need to get into the chest? For a single key to the Divine Library? Doubtful. For the key to Zola's prison? Definitely not; the Ladies of Light were holding her prisoner--and Soul Stalker was on their side. Did one of those keys go to another place, perhaps? Or was there something else in the chest that was hidden? Maybe a secret compartment? Was the chest destroyed in the plane crash? A blinding realization hit suddenly. "Oh!" I said with a jump of surprise. "What?" both men asked. She used her powers to call the Elders who were needed at my house to meet their Darkness Illuminator. On the plane, the Angels awoke to find the plane crashing--and, as the one they felt they needed to protect, they had to use their magic to save me, and to save those who they thought were dear to me. Even when it came to them using their magic in small ways, it was always as if the situation had called for it. Andrew murmuring Italian to turn on a light when I awoke, shaking and scared in the middle of the night, or when he used magic to protect the pages of the Timeless book. Surely those situations were considered necessities? "What?" they both questioned again. I held up a finger. "Give me a minute. I think I am having an epiphany!" There was a question that had been doing laps in my brain for some time about Karen, the Soul Stalker. She was sweet, kind, and caring towards me. Everything changed in a matter of a dream, in the space of a few seconds. Why did she so desperately want to kill me now, when before she actually wept golden tears when the plane was about to crash to the ground? Why did she keep me alive? She could have murdered me any time before that. She had me eating out of the palm of her hand, believing her lies, her sweet face that turned sinister within seconds of a dream-memory. "I know!" I practically shouted. "Know what?" Joseph asked at the same time Patrick said, "Spit it out!" "The Soul Stalker needed me. That was why she kept me alive--why she didn't just off me when she had the chance. She wasn't crying because I was going to lose my life on that plane. She couldn't have cared less." I literally tapped my chin like some of my professors did in college when they were thinking. Then I assumed the position of The Thinker. The statue had nothing on me right now. I remembered my feelings from the day my life changed. I was scared out of my mind at what was in the lab: dead bodies regenerating at a rapid rate, the sudden need to go back to them, the compulsion to remove their necklaces, the strange sensation of power leaving the necklace and entering my body, and the way she pointedly asked if there was anything else we needed to take. She knew the chest was there, she had been playing me like a damn fiddle the whole time! Abelie had been the one to send me the chest, but someone had tampered with it, lacing it with what I thought was a Shadow, but now I knew it was just magic. It was a clear warning, and after realizing the Ladies of Light weren't chosen, but awakened, the warning brought on a whole new meaning. If it wasn't Abelie, the Ladies of Light, or the Soul Stalker that messed with it, then who was it, and why were they warning me? Who else knew about me? Who else was on my side? But that wasn't the biggest revelation that seemed to have literally fallen from the sky. It was the realization that the Soul Stalker no longer needed me--she got what she wanted and now I was at the top of her hit list. The irrational

excitement I felt at my revelation disappeared as suddenly as it had come on, leaving me paralyzed with fear. If she went to such lengths to get whatever it was, then it couldn't be something good. "We can only be so patient, Gabriella," Joseph said, amused. His voice jarred me out of my frantic thoughts. "On the plane . . . she was upset because whatever it was she needed, she wasn't going to be able to get because I was going to die." Literally, puzzle pieces connected in my brain. "But now she has what she needed or she wouldn't have tried to kill me." "Are you saying she was keeping you around because she was going to use you for one of her . . . 'Evil Plots'?" Joseph asked seriously. "Yes, but something happened between her dropping me off in the lab and me having the dream about who she really was," I explained. "It all makes sense now." p height="0pt" width="2em" align="justify">The car went completely silent. Tension rolled through the tiny, enclosed space for a second and then Patrick said, "Well, we'll be at Aiden's shortly; perhaps he will have the answers you seek." He was just trying to comfort me; all three of us knew that Aiden would be just as stumped as we were. It wasn't guilt that hit me then, it was just a fierce need for my mother to hug me--hold me. I could have really used her guidance right now. Joseph pointed ahead and murmured something to Patrick that I couldn't hear through my screaming thoughts. The car slowed on the road, which greatly reduced the white noise in the car. Patrick hung a right and the road turned from smooth to bumpy in an instant. "Is this a driveway?" I asked, keyed up. "Yes." Patrick turned the music down, even though it was just a hum in the air anyway. After everything we had been through together, the crunch of gravel on the driveway beneath the tires was a glorious sound. "I know you are excited, but you can't jump out of the car when we arrive. We need to check and secure the area first, just to be safe." "That's fine," I relented because waiting a few more minutes wouldn't kill me. My spirits brightened and intensified at what lay at the end of the drive, regardless of my newest ah-hah! moment. We wound our way through a forest that looked ancient, as if through all of time it had never been touched by people or industrial machinery. Our headlights illuminated the rocky road before us as we took a sharp turn. It seemed as if the trees were migrating closer and closer to the vehicle, which made it feel like we were driving through a narrow, confined tunnel. After what felt like an hour, the lights of the vehicle shone brightly on Aiden's large stone mansion with its arched windows and superb shrubbery. Several lights were on inside the house which made yellow squares across the lawn. My heart jumped in my chest. Was Andrew in there with Lucia and Ehno? Would Aiden look out the window and see us and rush out to hug me? Regardless of the elated feelings that flowed through me, there was trepidation, as if something was horribly wrong, coursing through my mind. My old companion, paranoia, was back in full force. There was no movement inside that I could see. Patrick parked the car parallel to the house and lifted himself out of the vehicle. Joseph mimicked his moves. I, on the other hand, was frozen in my seat as told. When I pictured this moment, I saw myself torpedoing toward the house like a linebacker. I looked down in my lap where my fingers were twisting together nervously. Something was wrong, I just knew it. Joseph moved toward my door which cast the inside of the vehicle into shadow. He opened it and placed one hand on the top of the car, the other outstretched to help me out. I took his hand gratefully, stepped out of the car, and drank in the scene before me. So many emotions hit me while I stood there and basked in the glow of the lit windows. Last time I was here we were burying my mother. We had just survived an attack from the Ladies of Light and the Shadows. That was when I actually had mojo which seemed to be lost to me now. Silver blood, silver tears, no mojo; seemed to go hand in hand.

Patrick took two steps and then waved to the side to gesture us frward. He also looked suspicious of the quiet house. I followed behind him and each of my steps made the gravel shift beneath me. With my head down, I watched my feet until I was on the sidewalk. My head snapped back as I ran right into Patrick. It was like I had walked into a brick wall and, if it weren't for Joseph behind me, I probably would have fallen flat on my ass. With Joseph's steady hands on my waist, I peeked between Patrick's large arm and side. I froze. The door was ajar, just slightly, but enough to cast a long, eerie sliver of light across the lawn. I seized Patrick's huge forearm and noticed his eyes were on the door too. Both of them had their gun holsters on and I watched Patrick pull his gun out. Joseph came up next to Patrick with his gun drawn too. A giggle almost boiled over and out of my mouth when I thought about them trying to actually shoot and kill an immortal. I remembered when I had helped Andrew pull bullets from his back after he rescued me from the plane, and then from the trigger-happy FBI agents. I didn't say anything, though, as they held their guns out. Patrick's was pointed toward the door; Joseph's gun faced the other direction to point towards the woods, his gun angled down. It felt like we were stalking the house like it was our prey or circling our next meal like a pack of hyenas. Was it terrible that in the midst of this very serious situation that I wanted to start humming the James Bond theme song? Probably. Patrick strode up the steps as if he was floating. His agility and grace always amazed me. You'd never realize he moved like a whisper on the wind just by looking at his sheer size. With his left hand, he reached under his right-which still held the gun steady--and pushed the door open. Patrick pushed me behind him as Joseph took up flank on the left side of the door, his back to the wall. I gazed at Joseph under Patrick's large bicep. He nodded at me like he knew I wanted to call out, which I did, desperately. I wanted to know if everyone was all right, if we were just over reacting. Paranoia does strange things to your psyche. "A-Aiden?" I called timidly. Nothing, silence. Joseph gave another nod for me to call out again. "Andrew?" The wind picked up, whipped, and whistled through the doorway which nudged it open a little more. The squeak of the door was the only noise I could hear. My eyes followed the line of light to watch for any shadows passing across the opening. But there was no disturbance of the light, just the glimmer of frost on the neatly trimmed grass winking back at me. I glanced back up toward the house. Really, I just wanted to tear my way into the house and search every room until I found my Angels. Joseph gave me a "do what I say, not as I do" look before he pivoted and pointed the gun into the house. "Stay outside, Gabby," he whisper-commanded. I grimaced. Even in our current predicament, I hated that nickname. I was going to give Jenna "the lecture" about my name again . . . if we ever got out of here. I was sure her presence in D.C. didn't help with the whole nickname debacle. They both moved as sleek as cats as they infiltrated the house, their guns pointed in different directions. Their movements were so coordinated that I wondered if it was another one those FBI things. Reading Minds 101 or Synchronized Stalking 402. I peered around the doorway, gasped, and clamped my hand over my mouth before I received "the look" that I knew Joseph was about to give me. What lay inside the house was total devastation. A table that dominated the center of the entryway, below the massive staircase, was tipped over. The scarlet flowers that were in the vase atop of it were scattered across the ground like wounded soldiers. Water glittered under the large chandelier above it. A table that was once against the wall had its small drawers ripped out and the contents thrown in several directions, along with the drawers

themselves. I bit my lip so hard that blood gushed in my mouth. Before either of my FBI guards could stop me, I flew through the door and down the hall like I was a missile, and slammed my fist into each door as they swung open to empty rooms, offices, bathrooms that had been raided. My heart thudded angrily, sadly, frighteningly against my chest. Bookcases toppled, clothes hanging from weird places, mattresses flipped off beds or hanging at funny angles . . . behind every door was a different devastation, but that was not what made my panic heighten; it was how devoid the rooms were of my Angels. They were gone. I didn't even hear the sneaky, stealthy FBI agent, but suddenly Joseph had one arm around my waist as his other hand smothered my mouth. Out of instinct, I struggled for a few seconds. "Gabriella!" he snapped in a harsh whisper. That was the first time I had ever heard Joseph speak to me like that. "You made enough noise to wake the dead. Are you trying to get yourself killed?" I shook my head and he finally let me go, kind of. He pulled his gun back out and held it in his right hand. With his left hand, he seized my hand and pulled me back to where Patrick was bent at his knees in the entryway. Patrick's fingers trailed across the floor as if he were checking for dust. He had a grave, thoughtful expression on his face. He looked like one of those people on a crime scene show when they are checking for evidence. My stomach lurched at the thought of Aiden's house being a crime scene. What happened? Then I heard it. Ping. I took in a breath, much deeper than normal, and realized I had been holding the previous one for some time. Then I glared at Joseph for being a hypocrite about the whole noise thing, even if it was not as loud and purely an accident. Joseph froze and was wise enough to blush and look embarrassed. Finally, some emotion. Patrick rose from his crouched position and holstered his gun. I guessed the coast was clear, at least on this floor. I raised my eyebrows at him and he explained quickly. "The water from the vase has dried significantly. This happened several hours ago, possibly a day." "Oh," I mouthed. "And you made enough racket that if someone was he, they would have shown themselves or ran off." Patrick laughed nervously before he turned toward Joseph who was holstering his gun. "Joseph, you know the drill. Your phone should be on silent. No exceptions." Joseph mumbled something about authority and who was in charge of the current operation and Patrick laughed, but my brain had zoned out and my eyes had focused upon the Timeless book that was poised perfectly on the bookshelf in the living room. The only reason I saw it there was because every other book had been thrown to the ground or tossed carelessly across the room. Books were bent at funny angles, pages ripped and torn, and a large pile of them sat in the middle of the floor like a strange looking pyramid. Why did they pass this book up? I stood on tiptoe to grab it when I heard a familiar voice behind me. "Illuminator?" I tripped and nearly toppled over to join the pile of books when a hand snapped forward to steady me. When I got my feet under me, I gazed up into the strangest eyes I had ever seen. They were a shocking violet that peeked through a bit of bronze hair which had fallen in his face. He looked confused, flustered, and elated. 15 "Leo? What are you doing here?"

He smiled a big cheesy grin at me, his eyes shining in the incandescent light of the chandelier. "I should ask you the same." Over Leo's shoulder Joseph and Patrick came into focus. They both had their guns out, not raised, but definitely ready for action if the need arose. Leo turned around and Patrick immediately holstered his gun. It surprised me that Patrick didn't even wait for me to give the okay. Not that I was his boss or anything. "It's all right," I said with a hand gesture for Joseph to put his gun away, still giving Patrick a strange look. "He's an Angel." Before I could say another word Leo engulfed me in his arms, lifted me off the floor, and spun me around wildly, all while laughing with unsuppressed joy. "It's really you!" Hope bloomed in his eyes when he sat me back down. For a few seconds I forgot about the disaster that was Aiden's home and giggled like a little kid. I hugged him back and let the warmth of his embrace make me feel safe, even if it was just an illusion. He was one of the first to introduce me to this world and I would forever remember him and the other Elders that appeared in my house. My soul felt a connection with all of them. As he placed me back on my feet, still keeping a firm grip on my arm because I was a little dizzy after my spin around the room, I heard several gasps as more Angels glided over the threshold and spotted me. It was the rest of the Elders. The air turned into a blur of motion as hands gripped me, people hugged me, and thanks to the "Divine Spirits" were whispered in my ear. The Elders surrounded me with the fervor of a thousand raging storms in one swift moment. They weren't who I was looking for, but their presence brought out the emotions I had been carefully hiding. I exploded in a fanatical disorder of grief, elati and outright confusion. "What are you doing here?" I collapsed onto the nearest couch. Carmela took a seat next to me, folding her legs beneath her in a gracious movement considering she had on a knee-length skirt. She draped her arm over the back of the couch and leaned in to me. Her eyes shined like the diamonds they were. "You look . . . alive." "I am alive!" I exclaimed. "But you were dead," Stone Man replied. Even Paolo's dispassion could easily be read through as joy. "I was," I admitted. "But then I woke up in a morgue . . . and the rest is history." The words sounded simple but they weren't. I opened my mouth to explain further, but I could barely force a word through the stranglehold of the truth of my resurrection, for lack of a better word. Paolo knelt before me, his head bowed low. "It's truly you, Illuminator." The rest of the Elders all clasped their hands together in front of their bodies and bowed their heads before me. Even Patrick joined in, surprisingly, though Joseph was still staring, his mouth agape as he stood in the doorway. The room literally pulsed with their power. I leaned forward and placed my hand on Paolo's forearm, electricity jumping from my skin to his. His black eyes shot up to mine, deep wells of trust. For Paolo to express trust in me was humbling considering his attitude toward me when we first met. "Don't kneel before me like I am your queen." I tried to keep my voice soft. His mouth opened to speak, but snapped closed quickly. It was Eleanor, her silver hair tied in a complicated knot, who spoke for him. "We don't bow before you because we worship you, Illuminator. We are only showing our respect for your sacrifice. The sight of you brings back the hope we thought we had lost when the news of your death spread through the Angel world. It was a blow to us all, and several Angels went into hiding afterward, afraid of what your death might mean. Words like apocalypse are being thrown around." I swallowed thickly as I took in the sight of them all. Leo looked down at me with deference, his violet eyes shining gold with unshed tears beneath the disarray of his bronze-tinted hair. Eleanor and Paolo shared similar expressions, though they looked as though they were waiting for me to command them to do something. Carmela

smiled as bright as the sun. The look that took the cake was Luke's--he didn't hide his relentless tears as he glanced down, not meeting my eyes. For some reason his dejection made something inside me snap, like the elegance of his face shouldn't ever be graced with such intense sadness. I rose to my feet and took several small steps in his direction. Placing my thumb under one of his eyes to wipe the tears away, I whispered, "Why are you so incredibly sad?" The blue in his eyes was natural, but not the intense indigo that flared there. His eyes found mine and it was like I could strip away the layers of masks that hid who he was, down to the core of his being. "Lucia," he choked. Just the one word made realization dawn on me. "She was supposed to be here, but she isn't. The rumors were merely that . . . rumors." His eyes darted around the foyer and back to the destroyed living room before they came back to me, and inside those eyes I saw a hollow enormity that frightened me. I shook my head adamantly, trying to spill the words to fix the emptiness I saw there. "Not rumors. Your twin is very much alive. But"--I arched my arm across the room--"something obviously happened here." It was hard to keep a straight face as disappointment settled in my stomach, too. Deep down I had hoped the Elders knew what had happened here, but it was obvious they were just as oblivious as I was. He glanced down at me from his six-foot-one, towering frame, eyes now a consuming green. I looked around and all the Elders stared back at me with the same green depth in their eyes. I knew when an emotion was extreme or intense that the Angels would show it in the color of their eyes, but I had only been unlucky enough to see the deep blue of sadness. Patrick and Joseph had left the room and I figured they were discussing what to do next. "Your eyes. Why green?" I asked, curious. "Hope," Luke said. "You give us hope." Speechless, I rested myself back down onto the couch and let everything settle into me. "Are you here because of the Angels?" I finally choked out. "No," Carmela replied. "Though we hoped to finally see the ones who were missing for so long. We are actually here to collect the Timeless book for Karen." Panic flared in me and her eyebrows furrowed at my expression. "Speaking of Karen," Eleanor spoke up, "why haven't you tried to seek her out? She is your Guardian after all." "No!" I shouted and backed into the couch like a scared puppy. "No. Not Karen." Flashes of my last moments of life exploded behind my eyelids as I pictured Jeff, the Shadow, attacking the ones I loved while Karen . . . the Soul Stalker, sat idly by with a wicked smile on her face. She wanted my death as much as the Shadows did. My voice lowered to a scared whisper. "Not the Soul Stalker." Joseph was suddenly at my side, his arm around my shoulders as he helped me to my feet. I backed away from the Elders, suddenly feeling untrusting. I could hear the front door slam open and I jumped out of my skin, just knowing that it was the Soul Stalker come to find me. "It's just Patrick checking the perimeter," Joseph assured me, his body tense. "Soul Stalker?" Leo asked with a look of dread spreading across his face like the plague. "She's been dead for almost fifteen hundred years." "Almost two thousand," Carmela added, her face set in grim lines. "Not dead," I whispered. They all heard me, super-angelic hearing or whatever. Whispers broke out between them as they all shared looks of panic. Patrick finally came in, signaling to Joseph that the coast was clear. The tension in his body had melted away. "Karen is the Soul Stalker," Patrick explained. Silence enveloped the room, swallowing all sounds like a big, black hole. A tension filled second ticked by. Then another.

Eleanor's hand went up to her throat before she choked out, "K-Karen is the . . . Soul Stalker?" I nodded, though I wished I could say it wasn't true. "It can't be true, she's dead." Carmela's eyes narrowed, as if trying to read the lie there. "Besides, we were sent here because we were told Shadows were trying to steal information about us." "Whatever you were told is a lie." My statement was a sobering one. "I would never lie to you. If you believe me to be the Illuminator, you'd know what I was saying is true." "We must leave, now!" Leo came forward, horror written across his face. He reached down to give me a hug but Joseph pulled me away from him. Leo stopped mid-stride and put his arms back down, sorrow replacing his panic. "Sorry," Joseph muttered, "but if you are working with the Soul Stalker we can't trust you." "But the Ladies of Light trust Karen," Paolo countered, still not believing. "And the Ladies of Light can't be trusted either," Patrick said firmly. "I have The Sight . . . my mother, Abelie, gave it to me." There were several gasps at my statement, but no one interrupted. "The Ladies of Light have altered all the Angels' minds to think the Shadows are evil; they aren't. They were once Angels like yourselves--protectors." "Which is exactly why we can't trust you," Patrick added. "Your minds could have been altered, too. And you might not even be aware of it." The Elders exchanged several looks, their eyes turning an array of colors as several powerful emotions spread through them. Eleanor looked distraught and grabbed Paolo's arm. "We must leave to protect the Illuminator. If Karen--Soul Stalker wants the Timeless book, then we won't find it for her. We won't even try." I opened my mouth to apologize because I felt horrible for treating them like they were the enemies when they were just stuck in the crossfire. Carmela waved her hand to hush me. "Don't, Illuminator. There's absolutely no need for you to apologize to us." Joseph had taken up stance in front of me, refusing to let the Elders give me a proper goodbye. The Elders, one by one, left the room and, ultimately, the Timeless book. As they each passed, they ducked their heads and murmured kind words and some apologies. Luke was last and stopped in front of Joseph, but spoke to me. "Find Lucia. Make sure she is okay." Luke's words choked slightly and I stepped around Joseph's protective position to hug him. "I'll walk across a field of fire if I have to." And I meant it. Patrick followed the Elders outside and I watched them through the window, Joseph at my side. Their skin was lit under the moonlight that was chopped and scattered wantonly due to the heavy trees at their backs. They spoke for several long minutes until the Elders walked into the woods and disappeared. Patrick's eyes flew to the ground before he heaved a deep breath and began to walk back to the house. Joseph didn't try to stop me as I walked away and down the hallway. I looked again, less frantic this time, for my Angels, or signs of what had happened to them. When I came to the third door on the right, I saw a bed that had not been torn to pieces, though the sheets were scattered. On top of it was the black dress I had worn to Abelie's funeral. I wondered if this was the room Andrew had been staying in and walked toward the bed, sat on it, and snatched the pillow up. I pressed it against my nose and inhaled deeply . . . I sighed and relaxed as my suspicion was confirmed. I could smell his alluring scent all over the pillow, his natural cologne with a slight twinge of sweet honeysuckle. I pulled the pillow in close and let several silver tears slip through. I was too late and Andrew could be . . . dead. They all could be. I hunched over in pain, unable to imagine it. Patrick and Joseph poked their heads into the room and I could see the look of sorrow displayed on their faces.

"We need to leave before the Soul Stalker comes back," Patrick said gently as he strode into the room. "I don't care! Let her take me. I'm sure she was the one who destroyed the house in the first place!" I shouted at the ceiling, feeling defeated. "Trying to find the Timeless book," I grumbled under my breath. "We won't let that happen." Joseph lowered himself next to me and took my hand. Calm fluttered through me with his light touch. "We'll find your Angels, I promise." "Gabriella, we really need to leave. She could come here at any moment." Patrick had a look of panic on his face. "Okay," I agreed and stood. I let the boys leave the room first, and then took the pillow case off the pillow to take with me. Quietly, we all made our way down the hallway. When we passed the pile of books, I hopped over it and lurched forward to pluck the Timeless book off the shelf. Joseph and Patrick's faces were painted with surprise when they saw the book in my hand. "What?" I asked, eyebrows raised. "I didn't see a book there until you pulled it off the shelf," Patrick explained. "Is that the Timeless book?" Joseph asked. "Yeah, it sure is. Now let's get out of here before Soul Stalker shows up. She won't be happy that the Elders failed." I smiled, but it wasn't a happy smile. It was a "I did something very bad and it's going to piss a lot of people off" smile. When we arrived back at Casa di Vestiti, I put the Timeless book down on the old, dusty desk in the dark room I was forced to stay in. The room made me want to mark the days I had stayed there on the wall like a prisoner. The book was just as ancient and worn as I remembered and the words were still in the very unfamiliar Italian. I couldn't understand what it said any better than I had before. The prospect of actually speaking with Zola again made my stomach jerk uncomfortably. Jumping right into the whe memory-in-a-book thing would have to wait until my overanxious nerves settled, so I decided to read it instead. I placed my hand over it and spoke the words that would translate it to English. Nothing. I tried again . . . and again. But I hadn't been the one to translate it before; it was Andrew who used his magic. Plus, my magic had been as unreliable as Sally with an unlocked office door. My fingers tapped lightly against the desk as I thought, almost absentmindedly, about what I could do different to make it work. After several attempts, and many failures, I was resigned to flipping through the pages distractedly. I couldn't read Italian, but it wasn't too different from English, right? With each gentle page-turn, I felt discouraged because I couldn't find anything that made even the tiniest bit of sense. Either the Italian wording was different from present day language, or my translating skills were lacking. Probably a little of both. I even tried speaking it aloud so I could hear the words because I understood it when it was spoken usually. But not this time. Frustrated, I tried again and placed my hand over the page it was opened to. Nothing. I sighed, closed the book, and sat back against the uncomfortable chair for a second, staring a hole into the book's cover. I just wanted to scream or cry or . . . I didn't know. Throw something? My Angels were gone--just taken away, and all that was left was the disaster of Aiden's house . . . Abelie's home. I moaned and put my head in my hands, sighing in a mixture of anger and grief. Regardless, I knew I had to have some form of hope; there was the Timeless book after all, and I was positive there was something important about it. Why would the Soul Stalker rip the house apart looking for that particular book just to pass it up when it was literally resting on the bookshelf, all by its lonesome, like it had never even been touched? And why couldn't the Elders or Joseph and Patrick see the book that was right in front of their eyes? And why would the Soul Stalker send the Elders to bring the book back to her if there wasn't a reason? The only motive for protecting the book, and for everyone searching for it, would be because it held an imperative message. So I decided I would go "back in" and talk with Zola like I had the first time. I put my hand on the fragile cover and thought about diving into the book. Just diving in like it was an Olympic-

sized pool. What happened next was so strange. It was as if the Timeless book just sucked me up like a big vacuum. At the same time, it felt like I was drowning or wearing a wet suit because I wasn't exactly wet, but I could feel a coldness wrapping around me just like cool water would. I took a deep breath and didn't suck in water-which was a good sign: no drowning. My vision wavered for what felt like forever before the scene before me began to focus and come into view. I immediately recognized where I was; it was Aiden's--his foyer to be exact. It hit me suddenly . . . I am back at Aiden's! My head went on a roller coaster ride as my neck whipped back and forth, up and down, inspecting the house. There was no mess, no war zone. Nothing seemed wrong; the bookshelves were orderly and full of books and the table with the flowers was intact. I followed the line of the staircase as I peeked down the hallway--it was empty and upon further inspection, I realized the rooms were empty, too. I stood perfectly still and listened carefully but couldn't detect a single soul. As I turned the corner and walked into the kitchen--the kitchen where I remembered having a very silent meal after my mother's death, what felt like a lifetime ago--I fond my Angels. My Angels: Andrew, Aiden, Ehno, and Lucia. They sat silently, staring at me expectantly as if they were waiting for me to juggle the salt and pepper shakers on the table or something just as entertaining. Did my Angels leave a memory in the Timeless book? If they did and were expecting me . . . did that mean they thought I was alive . . . knew I was alive? I gripped the book tighter; even though I couldn't see it, I could feel the binding against my fingers, the soft leather across my palm. My throat tightened at seeing them, especially because I knew they had been taken by the Soul Stalker. The thought of something happening to my family made my eyes water--and if someone did hurt them, I wasn't sure what I would do in revenge. I loved them more than I realized. Love had always been a strange concept to me because that emotion was few and far between. Now I was so full of love I was positive that if I lost another loved one, I would do something very uncharacteristic of my personality. Possibly snap. The fiery consumption of devotion had me taking a seat and placing my hands on the table in suspense, though I was really holding the book. It was a bizarre feeling and as I perched at the edge of the kitchen chair, they all stared at me and smiled. They grinned so brightly, so angelically at me, that I felt a little unhinged. I didn't think I had ever seen them all smile like that, mainly because everything we had been through so far was difficult . . . but that was why we were connected, why I loved them so much. When you fight side-by-side with someone to stay alive, and grieve together during a tragedy, you gain a certain kinship with them. That was exactly why I felt the way I did toward my Angels. Regardless of my unease with their smiles, I loved them--felt bonded with them. Aiden placed his hand over mine, though I couldn't truly feel his touch, the sensation was still there. Like a dream . . . but I knew I wasn't dreaming--at least I didn't think I was. It took him a few seconds to collect his words and then he finally said, "I'm so glad you're alive, honey, but we are in danger and have little time to explain." His words surprised and terrified me. Danger. They were definitely in danger . . . but how did they know when they implanted this message into the book that they would be snatched like stray puppies? Why didn't they flee or run . . . or do something to prevent the events that unfolded? Aiden continued to speak when I remained silent, answering the question in my mind. "Ehno has predicted that if we aren't here when the Soul Stalker arrives, she will stay to look through the house and you will be caught instead. We couldn't have that so we stayed. She wants the Timeless book because there is something in there that she needs--if we don't give it to her, she will torture us." He fixed a steady gaze on me, full of meaning. "We don't give into terrorist demands." I could read between the lines: they refused to give her the book, therefore they were taken away to be tortured. A sharp pain hit my nerves and rushed to my legs, turning them to jelly. It was a good thing I was sitting down, because I didn't think I could've stayed standing when the images of them being tortured leaked into my overactive imagination. Or was it overactive? They obviously didn't give in--I was touching the Timeless book as we spoke. "Ehno also saw something else," Aiden continued, "something he knew all along but didn't tell anybody." He paused and his eyes dartever to Ehno. A look I could only describe as failure rippled across Aiden's face. Ehno glanced down quickly, but not before I saw a similar expression on his face, more like defeat than failure. Andrew was sitting across the table in complete silence, but his rich-blue eyes never left my face. The sadness literally poured from his soul when our eyes locked. His intense emotions burned me like a hot iron--it was my fault

he wore that expression. I surveyed every last inch of him and wanted to apologize and spill my guts so he would understand. I wasn't sure he could fathom how sorry I was, but he wasn't eyeing me like he was angry or hateful. There was no animosity there even though I had done something horrible: I had lied; I mean a really big, nasty, hurtful lie. His eloquent eyes bored into mine, but all I could see was his tender love. Even with the frightened look on Aiden's face, and the way Lucia's hand grabbed Ehno's in concern, Andrew just watched me like he couldn't believe I was in the chair across from him. I wondered if in real life, outside of the Timeless book, if he was aware of our conversation when I touched it. Or if everything was just a reaction of what he would have done and said if he was really there. I had a feeling it was just to deliver whatever message he needed to give to me. Disappointment spread through me at the thought. I stared back at him with devotion and he smiled in response. Actually, he smiled so hugely that he had dimples I didn't even know existed. How was it possible I had never seen him smile so widely before? I hoped that this wouldn't be the last time, only the first of many dimple-filled smiles. He ran his hand across the table and snatched up mine. I couldn't really feel him either and I was immediately disappointed. It was like a promise broken, or a kiss unfelt. There was no electricity, none of the warmth or tenderness that usually accompanied our touch . . . it felt wrong. But I didn't care--in my imagination he felt so right. I'd just pretend it was real because it was all I had, and pretending was better than facing reality at the moment. He whispered low and happy, "I am so happy that you are alive . . . no"--he shook his head and his voice rose-"happy isn't right. The word I'm searching for doesn't exist. You're alive and that is all that matters. You're alive! I can't believe you didn't come to me, but Ehno told me that you were on your way back here, that you were going to come and find us. Find me," he barely whispered. "That you were going to save us." He paused. My eyes glanced down reluctantly as I thought about grabbing the table and throwing it out of my way--I didn't care if this Andrew wasn't real, I needed to hold him. The very unreal touch wasn't enough. Swallowing back my desire to destroy kitchen furniture, I looked around the table at the rest of the Angels. Ehno finally peered up at me, his white hair styled perfectly in spiky disarray. "I've known you were alive since your funeral. I didn't see you; I just knew you were using a spell. It was . . . intuition . . . one of those moments when I just knew. You were there and watching us, but at the same time I wasn't actually sure if you were really alive or if you had truly become a genuine Angel. A real Angel. Not what the humans have named us, but a messenger from the Divine Spirits." He looked at Lucia who nodded and turned to me. "We hope you'll help us, please." Lucia squeezed Ehno's hand. "Ehno communicated to me what will happen. He showed me through his mind." I raised eyebrows at what she said, not sure if I understood her correctly, but she prattled on, not noticing my look of huh. "I saw wha to come, Gabriella. We need your help. Right now we are sitting here and we're fine . . . but this isn't real." She waved her hand around. "This kitchen is not real. This is all just magic . . . don't let it fool you; please don't think that we don't need your help." I could see her blue eyes imploring me to listen, which I was--intently. "I saw you arrive here in his vision. Since you are here, you already know we've been captured. You will find the Timeless book, and the Soul Stalker wouldn't have been able to locate it because Aiden will have placed a spell on it. And as you know, the Angels can't penetrate Shadow barriers. But you can--you are part Aiden, part Shadow. You're the Illuminator . . . our Illuminator. Our hope and salvation! Please help us." It was Aiden's turn to speak. "If you are here, then we have been taken by the Soul Stalker. I don't know where we will be imprisoned--Ehno doesn't know. But it will be in an old prison where we used to keep immortals. I just can't bring myself to use the word Angels on those creatures that stayed in such a place. It's protected with magic, spells that are almost impossible to penetrate. But you . . . you're different. You can do things that other people can't, that other immortals can't. You died and came back. That has to mean something. There has to be some reasoning behind it and you need to stop the Soul Stalker. I have complete faith that you'll figure out how to do it!" I closed my eyes and Andrew squeezed my hand, the sensation just as strange. I didn't know what to do so I looked back up at them with a painful expression. "Help me! Help me find you." Ehno didn't quite smile, but his lips twitched a little bit. "Gabriella, I cannot tell you where we are, but I know someone who can--Zola. You have her key--" "How?" I interrupted. "How do you know?"

"My gift," he admitted, "but you possess it. It's the extra key you had--the one we didn't know anything about." "I know," I barely whispered, trying to stop myself from remembering the scary day I awoke in the morgue. Ehno nodded as if he already knew the answer I would give. Lucia held his hand with vigor as he gave me an address and explained it was not exact, but it was near and told me to use my magic. I knew I would have to find a way to make my abilities work so I could find where she was. Or maybe the FBI had some cool, new technology that will point me in the direction of Angels--I wondered just how miraculous Joseph's Miracle Phone was. At this point, I wasn't ruling out any possibilities. "Okay," I whispered. "Of course I'll come find you, you don't even have to ask."Andrew gripped my hand tighter and I could almost feel it that time . . . the spark. I looked into Andrew's eyes and vowed, "I won't leave you alone. I'll find you Andrew, I will." And I meant it. He just stared at me with all of his love pouring out of him in waves, and it was so peculiar . . . I'd never had a man love me like that, like he wanted to be with me forever, hold me forever. I didn't know if I would ever get used to it and realized suddenly that I may never have the chance to feel it again if something happened to them . . . I gripped the Timeless book tighter. This could be all I have left if they are . . . dead. The thought senile into my throat and I swallowed it down. I stood from the table. "I'd love to stay here and chat, you know that I just want to see you, but if this is really magic, truly magic, then it isn't real and I want the real Angels; the real Aiden and Andrew and Lucia and Ehno." I pointed at each of them as I spoke. "I want the real you. I am going to find Zola, bring her to where I am staying, and we will find a way to get to you. We'll find a way!" Before I could turn around and walk away, I felt arms, dream-like arms wrap around me from behind and a chin touched my shoulder. There was warm breath on my neck and it was almost real. Almost. "I love you--forever. You don't know how much I wish I could be with you--help you fight the Soul Stalker, but I know you can do it. You have the ability to do it. Just be careful because you mean more to me than my own life," Andrew murmured with affection. The way he looked at me, like I was more precious than all the gold in the world, made me feel more loved than I ever had. I would not let him down--at least I'd try not to. "I will," I tried to reassure him, which was stupid because it wasn't like it would really reassure Andrew. It was just magic. Stupid, stupid magic! Why couldn't it be real? Why couldn't he just know what I was thinking and feeling. Why couldn't I talk to him? He sighed and let go. Briefly I thought about turning around and giving him the kiss of the century, except I truly wanted to give that to the real Andrew, not some other dimension version of him. I started to walk away, but before I walked out of the kitchen, Ehno called back to me. "Make sure you bring food." I pivoted back around. "Food?" "Yes," he said. "Zola will be hungry--ravenous actually. She has been mistreated for a really long time." I nodded stupidly. "Make sure you bring her something good." Ehno smiled and Lucia chuckled. I stared at them curiously. Lucia answered because I obviously didn't get the joke. "She was like our grandmother. She used to cook these huge meals and make all of the Guardians get together with their girlfriends or wives, and other family members. She tried to fatten us up and, if we didn't finish eating everything on our plate, she would sit there and tap her fork against her own plate until we ate every last bit. She's been kept prisoner all this time because she had information and they didn't want the word to get out. She will be hungry. She will be really hungry. Pasta should suffice." I nodded again because I didn't know what to say. I didn't know Zola at all. The last time I talked to her, even though I didn't talk to the real Zola, it was just like this: magic. Not real. She would never even know what our conversation entailed. Last time I retrieved a "memory" from the Timeless book, I sprang to my feet and yelled at her as the Ladies of Light--of old--all stood beside her, covered in their tattoos. The silent warriors looked like goddesses the way they stood all superior and supreme. I sighed. Maybe I would learn to love Zola too. Maybe she would become a part of my family.

"Okay," I relented. "I'll find her and bring food--lots of food." It almost made me laugh at the thought of bringing food to a rescue. If I was rescued after practically starving for a couple hundred years, I'd be hungry too; I'd want to eat a lobster, or a big juicy steak, or something ridiculously outlandish. I didn't walk out of the room--it was too hard. Removing my hand from the book was much easier. They all swirled into unrecognizable colors. When I lifted my hand, magically transported back to my room, the pages were translated to English. Maybe I did something while I talked to them? Either way, I wasn't going to question my good fortune. 16 < Apocalypse> I glanced down and began to read through their history. It was all quite interesting: where they lived, how they lived . . . how they used their magic before they became immortals. They weren't that powerful before, but they were strong in heart, mind, and body; they just weren't powerful in their magic. But it didn't take too long for them to become the stuff of legends. Once their bodies had been used and abused, they had nothing left but enslavement. Their wives and children had been taken away by their enemies and their magic grew quickly out of pure desperation. They decided it was time to become the Senza Tempo; they would become timeless, and forever be timeless. I read about the king who enslaved them, about the deaths, and the horrifying, atrocious things the king did. That wasn't all that the book contained; there were also really amazing things, too, like the major flood they recovered from and the drought they thirsted through. It was all about their triumphs over disasters. There were also simple day-to-day tasks like how they farmed and harvested, and the type of equipment they used to accomplish their goals. I couldn't help but imagine Andrew working out in the fields . . . shirtless, of course. As I flipped through the pages my eyes grew heavy with sleep, but when I turned to the front of the book, I noticed a page that didn't have a story on it and my curiosity piqued. It was almost like a copyright page. It listed all the translations it had been through. The first translation was in Italian from the original language of Latin. I wondered why the Angels didn't speak Latin instead of Italian. It is probably because Latin is a dead language, you nimrod, I thought stupidly. Well, maybe I could convince Andrew to speak Latin to me; I always thought it was a beautiful language. I shut the book and walked out of the room into the kitchen to search for a beverage. Something about that book made me want to drink a gallon of water, especially after reading about the drought. I opened the little fridge and it was bare besides some sodas. As I reached for one, Joseph snuck up behind me. "Hey Gabby." I whipped around quickly and put my hand to my heart. "Holy crap, Joseph! You scared the hell out of me. I thought everyone was asleep." "Not me," he replied with a grin. "I'm on watch right now." "Are you boys seriously still watching me? We aren't even in America anymore!" "Obviously we aren't in Kansas anymore, Toto." He drummed his fingers on the fridge door. "But I do take my duties seriously." "Oh, I know you do. Remember those six FBI agents that I caught around the house?" I remind him with a smirk. He chuckled. "You know, we sure did waste a lot of pizza." I shook my head. "That's not true! Patrick probably ate ten boxes by himself." "True." "Can I have one of these sodas in here?" He raised one eyebrow and stared at me as if I was slow. "We bought those for all of us, Gabby."

"Oh, thanks. Just for future reference, I don't usually drink a lot of soda," I teased. "Water, juices . . . you know." "Oh?" he asked, playing along. "Ya know . . . fattening." I feigned a horrible Italian-mafia accent and poked myself in the belly. I wasn't fat at all, that was what made it funny. Cue symbol crash. Joseph stared at me incredulously. "Whatever; you're an immortal. Do immortals even know what fat is?" "You're an FBI agent. Do you even know what fat is?" I countered. "Not the same." I shrugged. "I don't really know much about the immortal thing yet, but I guess we'll find out soon enough." He nodded at the same time a sound came from his pants. Ping. I glared at him, knowing the sound all too well. He gave me Innocent Face so I decided I'd play along. "What was that?" "Just the apocalypse," he joked and pulled his phone out of his pocket. He looked at it and started tapping the buttons like crazy. His face was too serious; the FBI mask was back again. Everything just seemed incredibly important and grave when he wore that mask. I figured it was the FBI or maybe it was Sara--she was a stalker after all. It seemed that Joseph and I both had stalkers in our lives; I had a Soul Stalker, and he had a girl stalker. Either way, they both equaled a pain in the ass. I patted him on the shoulder before snatching a can of soda out of the fridge. "Well, I'm going to bed." He glanced up and smiled before he looked down at his phone and started typing away again, the serious expression back. As I walked down the hallway, I heard another little ping. I was going to throw that phone out the window if I heard ping all night. He'd better learn where the vibrate button was. I went to bed and prayed and prayed that Abelie's memories would return to me, but they didn't. However, I did have another dream with Andrew in it. He was different again, like an Angel with big wings that spanned graciously behind his back. The feathers were pearly white and when light caressed their smooth expanse, they shone like iridescent opal. I wanted to reach out and touch those silky feathers. He wrapped his massive wings around me and placed a gentle kiss on my lips. It was as if he could read my mind. I sighed contentedly, tho not fully at peace. I really missed Abelie. Her memories were real, and sometimes scary, but I missed the feel of her mind and the flow of her thoughts. Andrew held me in comfort, lightly placing kisses here and there. It never went past that and didn't last long enough for my liking. There was always something else going on . . . Ping. . . . Like pinging phones. I couldn't believe that stupid Miracle Phone, soon to be the Broken Phone, woke me up out of my dream. Ping. Again. I grabbed the pillow, put it over my head, and gave a little scream of frustration. Not a high-pitched scream, but a scream of anger because I was awoken from my fantastic dream by Joseph's need to text in the middle of the damn night. Joseph opened the door with a bang and rushed in. I guessed I didn't muffle my scream as much as I thought I had. Or maybe I did and that made it worse because he thought someone was suffocating me. He rushed in, gun drawn and on high alert. I sat up in bed, knowing my hair was sticking up in different directions, but I couldn't find any reason to care. "Will you turn that damn phone off?" I barked, highly irritated.

He stared at me like he didn't recognize me. "Gabby, are you okay?" His eyes squinted in the dark. "I'm fine," I replied crisply, "except for the fact that I was having a fantastic dream and it was ruined by you." I pointed at him accusingly. He blinked at me, confused, but put his gun away. "I don't understand?" "Your phone!" I snapped. He glanced down at the device in his hand. "Oh," he said and blushed. Suddenly, it was like he sucked the blush out of his face. Did they teach that in FBI training? His FBI mask was back. I glared back at him, grumpy beyond belief. "What?" he asked innocently. "You sure are grumpy in the morning." "Stole the words right out of my mouth," I grumbled under my breath. "Huh?" "I don't know who you are messaging, or what it's about: the stalker Sara, the FBI or CIA, or if you are text messaging God . . . I don't know, and I don't care. But turn your phone on vibrate, please, while I'm sleeping!" "Okay." He looked sheepish, and rightfully so. "I'm sorry for snapping," I said with a yawn, my anger abating quickly. "But it was a damn good dream." "Don't be sorry, it's my fault," he admitted. "Must have been about Andrew, huh?" He gave me a knowing smirk, all tension evaporating from the room. "None of your business Mr. Text Message-a-holic." I blushed, completely giving myself away. "And were you just standing outside my door?" I asked, trying to takee focus off me. "Maybe." "Why are you right outside my door? There are no windows in my room, nobody can look in and I can't look out. There isn't even an air vent big enough for my hand to go through. So, why in the world are you sitting outside my door?" "I--" He paused for a brief second. "I don't know. I just thought if something was to happen, why should I be walking around the perimeter when I could be right outside your door." I sighed and put my hands up. "Okay! You win. I'm going back to sleep and you're going to turn your phone on vibrate." He nodded and started to walk out of the room. "Joseph?" I called to him. He turned around with his eyebrows raised in question, probably preparing for me to verbally attack him again. "I'm sorry I snapped at you, truly. I'm just really tired--emotionally and physically. Thank you for being here, really. You're the next best thing to having my Guardian Angel . . . you're my Guardian Agent." He stood there for a second, looking like my words touched him deeply. Suddenly, he burst into laughter . . . and a second later I joined him, realizing just how cheesy my words sounded. "Gabby, I think you're delirious. Go back to sleep," he ordered and walked over to my bed to give me a quick kiss on the forehead. When he left the room, the door sighed quietly behind him as it clicked shut. I grabbed my pillow, punched it a few times to fluff it up, and laid down, pulling the covers around me and hugging them close. I was back to sleep in no time. It was early when I woke up and, even through the walls, I could hear the birds chirping all merrily. The smell of

breakfast wafted underneath my door; my stomach growled a hallelujah. I didn't know why I was so hungry, but I felt ravished, like the whole trip out to Italy made me burn a thousand more calories than normal. I wondered who went to the grocery store. I knew Joseph liked to cook breakfast; it was his favorite meal so I was sure he went. I didn't even know if he ate during the day. Maybe it was just breakfast all the time. I hopped out of bed and put some decent clothes on. I ran a brush through my hair, brushed my teeth, and grabbed the key to Zola's prison for safe keeping, then padded out to the kitchen, feeling slightly refreshed. Patrick sat at the table. It just didn't look right--the table was too small, obviously made for two small, elderly people. Patrick dominated the space and I wasn't sure there would be room for the rest of us or any food if he put his elbows on it. He glanced up and his bald head shone back at me from the light overhead. "Well, sit down Gabriella." I sat down obediently while Joseph greeted me with a small wave of a spatula. "So, did you take a look at the Timeless book?" Patrick asked seriously. Straight to business. I nodded slowly. "Yeah, I did. Um . . ." I breathed out a sigh. It was a lot to take in, and I still wasn't sure what the hell happened. "Yeah, but it wasn't Zola that I taled to in the book." "Oh? Who was it?" "It was Aiden . . . and Andrew, Lucia, and Ehno." Joseph stopped cooking and turned around. "What?" "Yeah, I guess Ehno knew I wasn't dead at the funeral but he didn't tell the other Angels. You know . . . because he didn't know if I wanted Andrew to know. He knew that if I hid myself, it was for a good reason and that I would come back. So he kept my secret, but then he had a vision that the Soul Stalker would show up at the house to capture them. They could have gotten away, except whenever he looked into the future, we always showed up at the house when the Soul Stalker was tearing the house apart." Joseph dumped bacon onto a plate that was adorned with paper towels, turned the stove off, and took a seat next to Patrick. "Okay so, what did he say? What did they say? What happened?" "They stayed at the house so the Soul Stalker would capture them and leave before we showed up. They sacrificed themselves for us." I pulled the key out of my pocket, knowing this conversation was inevitable. I held it out. "Do you remember this key?" "Yeah," Joseph replied. "I sure do." "Well, this key is to the door to Zola's prison." "Okay? Which one was Zola?" he asked. I wanted to bang my head against the table. "She was the one who I saw in the Timeless book the first time," I reminded him. "Oh! Yeah, I remember now." "She . . . she used to give the Angels assignments sometimes. She has the really powerful psychic gift. I knew the key was for Zola's prison but I didn't know how I was going to find her. Ehno told me how. Not the exact location, but close enough, I think. We need to go out there and find Zola." "You know I'm all in favor of rescuing an Angel, but, um, why is it so important? How will it help Ehno and the other Angels?" Joseph chomped on a piece of bacon, refusing to let any crisis stop his breakfast feast. "Because she can tell me where they're being held prisoner and if they're alive. She can help me rescue them!" I ate a piece of bacon and almost moaned; it was so good. Yesterday really took a lot out of me and I was grateful

for some real food. Patrick finally said something. "Well, then I think we should go find her today." Before I could reply, a knock on the door interrupted me. Joseph and Patrick pulled out their guns swiftly. One second they were sitting and chatting casually, the next they were up and pointing their guns to the door. They took up flank on both sides while I sat there with a half-eaten piece of bacon in my hand. "Who is it?" Joseph called, his voice lowered like he was some macho-man. Well, he was macho, but I expected that deep voice to come from Patrick instead. "It's Layla!" "Oh! I forgot about Layla." I put my bacon down and rose from my seat. Patrick opened the door cautiously while Joseph peeked through the crack. Layla pushed the door open, strode in gracefully, and managed to look just as stunning as yesterday. I didn't know how she could pull off wearing such boring clothes, although she could probably wear her business suits on a runway and be the envy of all the models at the show. There was something empowering about her being a CIA agent and knowing she could probably kung fu me into next week. Or whatever type of martial arts they trained CIA agents. Maybe some kind of special CIA-fu. She sat at the table, seized a piece of bacon, and began to devour it. We all gaped at her because we didn't know her well enough for her to just make herself at home and eat our bacon. She began to talk happily, either not noticing our stares or just not caring. "So, I wanted to check in to see what the plans are for today. You know, since you are supposed to be finding these Angels and no one called me or reported back to me last night." "Oops," I said. I wasn't used to having to report back to anyone about my every day actions. Joseph shook his head behind her, silently telling me to shut the hell up. I had a feeling it was one of those CIA versus FBI rivalries. Joseph marched over and decided he would do the speaking. That was fine by me; I didn't want him to be in trouble because I'd said the wrong thing. I still wasn't sure what he told the FBI or what the FBI told the CIA. "We went to Aiden's house--Gabriella's biological father--and they weren't there. The house was torn apart, but we found a clue that will lead us to a psychic named Zola. This psychic will be able to tell us where they are," Joseph explained. "And what's the plan from there?" Layla asked, eyebrows raised. Save the world. Hello? "After we find Zola, we are hoping she will be able to locate the Soul Stalker so we can rescue the Angels who were taken. With them on our side, we will seek out the Ladies of Light and stop them before they are able to put their plans in action." Layla stared at him, confused. "The Ladies of . . . Light?" "Darkness," I coughed, but they didn't pay me any attention. No one understood my humor when the crowd was all agents. "Don't let the name deceive you," Joseph barked. "They were once of light, but not anymore. They want to control mankind. Don't think that just because we are FBI that we aren't involved in important missions." Layla's nose scrunched up. "I don't think that!" "Oh," Joseph replied, and by his face, you could tell he didn't believe her.

"I respect FBI agents. Actually, I was one when I first graduated. Don't think I am prejudiced." "Oh," Joseph said again, but more believable this time. "Anyway . . . once we find them, we will have immortals on our side that are powerful. How do you kill someone who has been alive for four thousand years? You ask someone who is four thousand years old." Again, Layla raised her eyebrows like she had no idea what he was speaking about. "Oops," he replied sarcastically. "Maybe I didn't mention that in the report, but, yeah, they are four thousand years old which means they are very wise, very clever, and very powerful creatures. So we need to have some of their knowledge on our side." I didn't believe the "oops" act; Joseph didn't make those kinds of mistakes. She nodded in agreement. "What you're saying is that we need to find this psychic so we'll be able to rescue the missing Angels . . . I'm guessing they were taken, from what you mentioned about the house?" I nodded and Joseph didn't shoot me any evil looks for it. "When we find the Ladies of Light, we do what?" she asked. "Stop them! Whatever it takes!" Joseph practically shouted. "Unless you want to be enslaved?" "Enslaved?" Layla's voice was weak. "Did you not read the report at all?" Joseph snapped. I was surprised to hear the steely note in his voice. It was very un-Joseph like. "I did, but I thought you were being overly dramatic." She chuckled, humorless. "So I didn't go over it again." I almost snorted because I wished it were true. "I am not overly dramatic when it comes to my reports," Joseph defended angrily. "Have you read some of your reports on your paranormal cases? Some of it's over the top." Joseph glared at her. "I have never lied or exaggerated on any of my reports." His face was so serious that Layla was taken aback. "Never?" "No! And if you think that I have, I'm very sorry. Most of my reports are backed up by my colleagues or by scientific fact." "I am very sorry. I apologize if I was out of line," Layla said quickly. "Apology accepted." "Do you need any help on this mission to find the psychic?" Layla asked, seemingly out of obligation because she felt she was rude than the fact that she actually wanted to go. "It won't be necessary unless you want to come." Patrick raised his eyebrows. Layla shook her head. "No, I have paperwork I need to get done today." She sounded disappointed. "But count me in for some of your other missions." She rose from the table, snatched a piece of bacon from the plat as she walked past, and opened the door. "Don't cause too much trouble!" She shut the door behind her and we all stared at it for a while. Layla was like a tornado of energy, leaving a trail of deadly silence in her wake. "Well, let's finish eating because I'm ready to rescue Zola." I bit a piece of my bacon and grabbed for the toast, breaking the expanding silence. "Good idea," Patrick said with a nod and they both sat and began to devour their food. Patrick practically ate the

plate, too. 17 After cooking enough Italian food to feed a small army of Patricks, we began our trek in the fixed SUV to find the address Ehno gave me, which happened to be one that the CIA's GPS couldn't even locate. And it wasn't just any GPS, it was high-tech with a less-than-one-foot margin of error when connected with eight satellites. We ended up out in the middle of Nowhere, Italy. I thought Italy was full of homes everywhere . . . I honestly believed that all of Europe was densely populated. But this whole area was beautiful, mountainous, with luscious green grass even though it was the fall. All the trees were orange and gold, just like they were two weeks ago, though more of the leaves blanketed the ground. The sun started to fade in the distance which made the clouds seem to catch on fire, but I didn't feel like panicking . . . not quite yet. We still had time before the sun rounded the Earth to leave us, to light another part of the world. I had a feeling that we were closer to Zola. I didn't know how exactly, but it was there, like a soft whisper in the back of my mind. Turn right. Turn right, a voice spoke in my head. "Hey Joseph, turn right." He turned without asking. Hell, we were so lost it didn't matter if we turned left, right, pulled a U-turn and did the hokey pokey. Honestly, I was surprised we hadn't already stopped the car to do a Chinese fire drill. Yup, that was how lost we were . . . it wouldn't matter who was even driving. The mental picture of Joseph and Patrick running around the car like a couple of teenagers almost made me laugh. The road Joseph turned on was not paved, but covered in gravel. He hesitated for a moment but then he shrugged and the vehicle lurched forward, the gravel crunching loudly beneath the tires. You could tell by the size of the dust cloud we made that it hadn't rained in a few days. The white powder clung to every surface of the car, which lowered our visibility. Joseph sped up and left the cloud of dust behind. Twenty-five miles an hour doesn't seem that fast, but on the gravel road it felt like we were flying as the rocks slipped out from underneath the tires and clanged against the vehicles undercarriage. We hit several potholes and I held on as each divot in the road seemed to produce a larger cloud of dust. We passed a pasture full of cows on our left and a vineyard on our right. For some reason, I didn't picture the Ladies of Light holding Zola captive on some farm or vineyard in the middle of Nowhere, Italy. Actually, I wanted to go back to the main road and keep looking. But the voice in the back of my head continued to coax me forward. Keep going . . . keep going . . ont> So we did. Joseph continued to drive on the bumpy lane, while Patrick--the quiet person that he was--sat up front calmly. Though he usually wore his grave FBI face, it was different this evening. Occasionally, when he didn't think anyone was watching, he would secretly smile. We hit a big pothole and I literally came off my seat for a second and when I finally steadied myself, I caught Patrick smiling brightly. Suddenly, the road ended and Joseph slammed on the brakes as we skidded to a halt in front of a wall of trees. It was a dense forest with summer shrubbery that had yet to die out due to the cold. Vines had over taken several trees which made it literally look like a solid wall of plants and wood. My Spidey sense was tingling again, and I had an inkling that there was something behind all of that undergrowth. Joseph stared straight ahead, as if he was waiting for the vines to part and a pathway to suddenly show itself before us. Or maybe he was waiting for me to do or say something. Bibbity, bobbity, boo. "Well," I said cautiously, slicing into the silence. "I think this is where we need to be." Joseph glanced over his shoulder at me, his face cast in shadow. "This is where we need to be?" he asked incredulously. "Yeah," I said softly. "I mean . . . I don't really know why I know--or how--but Ehno told me that I would. And I think he's right, so I'm going to take his word for it."

Joseph nodded while Patrick opened his front door and stepped out of the vehicle. The dome light lit for a few seconds before it faded and Joseph and I were left in the dark. I jumped out of the car quickly as Patrick rounded the vehicle. "Patrick, where are you going?" I called out. "We obviously can't drive any further," he said with a raised eyebrow. "If you want to go somewhere we're going to have to hike from here." Joseph joined us. "You're right. Driving's out of the question." Patrick didn't waste any time as he strode languidly toward the forest. "Um, Patrick," I called to him tentatively. "We don't have any flashlights and the sun's setting. Just in case you didn't notice." The way the sun was facing, light beamed all around him and I was blinded, but that didn't stop me from seeing his obvious eye-roll. "I know." "Oh, he knows . . . okay, so we should just go into the dark woods, unprepared," I whispered sarcastically under my breath. Patrick stopped and pivoted back around, his expression earnest. "Gabriella, do you trust me?" I thought about it for a moment, one, to see if I could make him fidget while I took my time to answer and, two, because I truly thought about the answer. Did I trust Patrick? He didn't seem to be of the deceitful type, or one who would try to manipulate you and make you trust them like Karen did. Patrick never overtly extended himself in a show of trust, nor did he ever attempt to coax me or be all sweet. He was just Patrick. "Yeah, I guess I trust you," I replied while a coy smile. Joseph chuckled. "Took you long enough." I shrugged. Joseph walked around the big SUV; it was so much better than the tiny clown car from the night before. I didn't know what it was with the FBI, CIA, and government types, but they loved their black SUVs--cliche! Joseph snatched the latch of the back door, swinging it up into the air. "What are you doing?" I asked, annoyed that everyone seemed to know what they were doing and all I could do was tell someone to take a right on a gravel road that left me with sore bones. "Getting flashlights," he said in his duh voice. "We actually have flashlights?" I didn't even know why I bothered to ask--weren't they always prepared? Didn't he have a fancy flashlight on his Miracle Phone? A look flashed across Joseph's face as he glanced around the back. He had plastered on the serious FBI mask. "An FBI agent never goes anywhere unprepared." His voice was as serious as a traffic accident. "Right." I could feel my face fall out of amusement. Joseph disappeared behind the back of the vehicle again and I heard him rummaging through equipment? Guns? Rubber ducks? I had no idea what was in the back, but suddenly Joseph had managed to find us three flashlights . . . really small, teeny-tiny flashlights. I was afraid if we actually lost our way in the dark that those lights wouldn't even provide a tunnel of seeing distance. The thought of being lost in the woods made me nervous and I wasn't sure insulting his skills on picking out the best flashlight would do me any good. "Will these be able to light a path for us?" I ask cautiously. "Through the woods? In the dark?" I failed miserably at not making my questions accusatory. He shrugged a backpack onto his shoulders and the look he shot me was one of disbelief before he shook his

head quickly. "So, what is in there?" I asked, trying to make my voice light. "You can never be too careful, Gabby." And his playful side was back. "Joey," I replied in dry humor. Joseph sighed in resignation; I sighed in annoyance; and Patrick sighed in exasperation. I thought Joseph would laugh at us, but his face turned somber as he reached into his back pocket and pulled out a tiny gun. I tensed, looking around to find the threat when Joseph grabbed my arm and slowly pulled my hand away from my body. He set the gun gently in my hand and I looked at him questioningly. "What's this for?" I asked with wide eyes, trying to hand the gun back to Joseph. "It's . . . um . . . just in case." "Just in case," I mumbled under my breath as I checked the gun out, making sure the safetwas on before I placed it in my jacket pocket. "Let me show you how to use it," Joseph said. "I know how to use a gun, Joseph. Can we just go now?" I pointed toward the woods that were growing darker and darker. The frigid air nipped at my skin like a warning. Patrick answered by going on ahead, his shoes crunching on the dead leaves as he tore down some of the bigger vines. When he let go of the wall of green it fell back into place and Patrick disappeared behind it. With my hand outstretched to pull the vines back, I heard the grinding of gravel behind me. My boys were fast. Patrick was a flash of lightning through the trees and into the open. When I whipped around, Patrick and Joseph had already braced themselves for an attack and had their guns out, pointing toward the vehicle that was coming our way, and I was flat on my ass. I had no idea how it had happened until I saw Joseph holding his palm flat above me in a signal that said "stay down," as he gripped his gun with the other. Was he always that fast? When I thought about it, he kind of was; when we were attacked by the Shadows and Abelie died, Joseph held his own. From what I could remember, he didn't survive because he possessed some superhuman strength, but because the Shadows just weren't interested in the human. In their eyes, they were probably thinking "What could the human do?" I knew one of the Shadows surely found out when Joseph gave him a good punch or seven. Dim headlights appeared around a curve, the windshield reflecting the brilliance of the dying sun; the color as rich as wine. When I finally got a good look at it, I realized it was another big black SUV. Well, that was easy enough to figure out: it was a government somebody. The SUV stopped, the engine cut off, and the door opened to reveal Layla. Her normal attire--high heels and a classy business suit--was missing and blue jeans, sturdy, knee-high boots, a zipped up jacket, and a hat replaced it. She also had a backpack strapped to her. The boys lowered their guns, though their hand muscles didn't relax. "What are you doing here Agent?" Joseph asked. "Isn't it obvious?" She pointed toward her clothes and backpack as if that explained it all. When we all gave her clueless looks, she explained, "I've come out here to help you rescue this psychic." "Is your work that boring that you have to follow a couple of FBI agents?" The venom in Joseph's voice surprised me. She raised her hands in surrender. "Hey, don't get haughty with me. I'm just here for backup. You never know what could be lurking out there." Patrick snorted. I glanced in his direction because I was pretty sure Patrick, the king of Serious Face, just snorted with amusement. That was truly a first, not a Kodak moment, but at least an MP3 ringtone moment. "Whatever is out there--if there is anything out there--you really think you can stop it?"

"No," she snapped. "But I'm surely not going to leave you two out here without backup and have Gabriella exposed, or worse, for you two to be injured with only Gabriella left to watch your back." The boys laughed. "What is so funny about that?" I barked. "I'm a strong woman!" I felt like flexing a bicep or something. "Sure ya are," Joseph joked. I pointed my finger at him. "Bzzt." Joseph chuckled. "Just remember I could put you flat on your ass too. Anyway"--I turned back to Layla and pointed to the woods-"you want to go out there where there are possibly immortals that want to either kill or enslave you?" She shrugged. "Why not? It isn't like I have anything better to do. I finished my paperwork early and everything's been quiet around here." It wasn't like I knew anything about international affairs, so I decided not to comment because that was what the CIA and FBI were for, right? "Plus," she added, "I might be your last hope if one of these bozos die." She pointed between Joseph and Patrick. "Whoa, whoa, whoa!" I jumped in. "Who said anything about dying?" I made an effort to glance at each of them, then stepped forward and poked Joseph in the chest for emphasis. "There will be no dying on this mission, is that clear?" I practically had to stand on my tiptoes to poke Patrick in the chest as I repeated my warning to him: "No dying!" "They can't make that promise," Layla responded when the boys didn't. "Uh, yes they can, and they will! Right boys?" They both nodded sheepishly. "Well, shall we go?" I asked. "Just keep in mind, Layla, I can't promise that we will actually find Zola - the psychic or any immortals for that matter. Nor can I promise there won't be any kind of trouble when we find her." "Fine with me," Layla said with a shrug. "I'm just looking for an adventure." "It's your neck," I replied crisply. Not because I didn't want her to come, but because I knew I would feel guilty if she were to get hurt or killed during her "adventure." The wind blew softly through the trees, rustling their leaves. Our shoes shifted on the gravel for a few seconds before our steps became muffled on the soft grass. Patrick arrived at the line of trees first and moved some brush away like it was a veil exposing us to another world. He didn't even flinch at the thorns that scratched along his skin, though I was grateful he held it for me because it looked painful. Plus, I wasn't sure how much Layla knew about my silver blood and even a pin-prick might bring it to her attention. All it would take was a glimmer of the setting sunlight and I was sure Layla would notice, her being a CIA agent and all. She would be all over it like salt on a cracker and I didn't need the extra attention. I just needed to rescue Zola and get her back to the house as quickly as possible. Find Zola. Find out where the Angels are. Rescue them. Be with Andrew . . . that was what I needed. The sun melted into the horizon and, by the time of day, you could tell winter was just on the proverbial heels of fall. We weren't near any cities or homes, so it wasn't just dark, it was cave-dark by the ti we stepped a few hundred feet into the trees. Stars or the brilliant moon would normally break the dark of night, but it was a moonless evening so far and the trees created a shroud to keep the stars' light from penetrating down to us. Flashlights flipped on all around me and when I turned mine on I was pleasantly surprised. The itty-bitty bulb flooded the forest full of light, literally spilling light through the trees like I had turned the sun back on. When more than one of us had our flashlights on, you wouldn't have known it was night. To conserve energy, we only used two

flashlights at a time; one person in the back and one in the front. Though I hoped nothing happened, it was a good way to conserve battery life since the nights had grown longer with the coming winter. I was without a compass, so I wasn't sure I'd be able to find my way back after we found Zola. I could only hope the extra sense that led me toward her would also lead me back. For some reason, it didn't surprise me to find that Joseph was prepared when I came to his side. He had his phone laying flat in the palm of his hand, staring at a compass on the screen. Patrick was holding a pen and waterproof paper and he made several notes while Joseph kept him on a course. I stared at him until he met my gaze. "What?" he asked, confused. "I think I may get a job with the FBI just to get myself a fancy Miracle Phone. I bet that thing automatically orders flowers for your mom on Mother's Day, doesn't it?" He snorted. "Wait," I lowered my voice as a thought popped into my mind. "You were a Boy Scout, weren't you?" Joseph suddenly became enthralled by his compass, obviously ignoring my question. "You were, admit it!" "We need to keep going, Gabby." Oh, two could play at that game. "Whatever you say, Eagle Scout." Joseph choked on nothing, but continued on the path that he'd been laying out for Patrick. I decided to drop the subject; his refusal to answer told me that he was, and that he had been in it for life. I wouldn't be surprised if he was still a troop leader. The thought made me giggle, but Joseph refused to acknowledge it so I followed behind him, laughing silently from time to time. I wasn't sure how far we had walked, but there wasn't even a sliver of light left from the setting sun. The sounds of insects filled the air and I was surprised they were still out considering the temperature drop from day to night. Frost would soon cover everything. The sounds distorted into croaking and I realized they must be frogs. Regardless of our lights, the darkness seemed to move in closer and closer, surrounding us. The murmur of night seeped into my veins, crept up my spine, and filled my lungs like it would swallow me whole. I shivered and was glad I brought a coat, though it wasn't that kind of shiver. I didn't let the creepy feelings stop me, though, because I knew we were headed in the right direction. A noise ahead of me made me look away from the darkness and toward Patrick who was in the lead. I snatched the flashlight from Joseph's hand and pointed the light down to Patrick's shoes and realized the noise I heard was gravel beneath his feet. Joseph put a tentative hand on mine and I surrendered the light to him. He placed a hand at my back and led me forward until we were all walking on gravel. Had we made a circle? Surely Joseph, Mr. Iwo't-tell-you-if-I-was-a-Boy-Scout, knew how to work the compass. My other sense was still telling me we were on the right path. Layla and I both flipped our flashlights on at the same time and, in what seemed like a choreographed move, we all pointed our lights in different directions out into the forest. My light landed on a small wooden building--so small that it couldn't have housed anyone. It looked like a place to store gardening equipment, or a well shed . . . possibly an outhouse. It had obviously not been kept up because it was weathered by the forest; the wood was rotting and it smelled terrible. My heartbeat skipped a little in my chest and I knew that I was exactly where I needed to be. The thought that Zola might actually be kept captive there made me sick. It also crossed my mind that she should be able to escape a place like that . . . but if it was true that she couldn't, how many years had she been here? Wouldn't the Ladies of Light have to let her out at some point so the other Angels wouldn't become suspicious? Or did they just act as her conduit? Over my shoulder, the others watched me with rapt attention. Hesitantly advancing toward the rotted building, I pulled on the handle to the door. The handle broke free and pieces of wood crumbled to the ground, little bugs scurrying away from it. "Eww." My nose scrunched up in disgust. The sight was horrible and the smell was worse. It wasn't just spoiled wood, it was like something had crawled up in there and died. The others gathered around the door and all at once they said "Eww" right along with me. Layla even gagged. I covered my nose with my shirt and my eyes began to water.

"God, I hope there isn't a rotting body in there," Layla said in concern. The thought hadn't crossed my mind and I became worried immediately. Was Zola's body rotting in the shed--could an Angel's body rot? Joseph put his light to the hole I made and bent to look inside. "I don't see any bodies. I don't know what that smell is though." Mimicking his movements, I looked inside. Annoyed that I couldn't see a thing, I pulled on the hole in the door--with great disgust, I might add--and yanked it open. I moved forward and stepped on something metal which made a strange echoing sound. Beneath my foot was a sheet of metal. I tapped my foot against it and listened again before turning to the others. "I think there is a door here." I pointed down with my light. Joseph stepped forward, put a cautious hand on my shoulder, and hauled me away with the lightest of touches. "Let me check it out first . . . you know--" " 'You know' what?" My eyes narrowed. "He's just being chivalrous," Patrick explained behind him. "Plus, I wouldn't let you open it either." "Fine," I surrendered and stepped back toward Layla. She didn't have any qualms with the men doing the dirty work. Maybe this adventure was too much for her, which was odd considering she was a CIA agent. She, at least, turned around and watched our backs as Joseph's hand swept over the metal in an attempt to open it. "There is no handle. I need a stick or something strong to use as leverage to lift this." Joseph tried to yank it up with his fingers but he couldn't get a good enough grip. He even tried using his Swiss Army knife, to no avail. The rest of us looked around for something that could work. We tried several sticks, but with the rainy fall upon us, most of what we found was rotting wood. After several failed attempts, Patrick finally found a sturdy stick. Joseph wedged the wood underneath the metal sheet and pressed down. The metal lifted and after the whole ordeal with trying to open it, I thought holy trumpets would play or maybe the heinous screeching of a thousand third graders on violin down in the depths of hell. Patrick and Joseph both dragged it away from what looked like a bottomless pit. Even Layla wasn't playing perfect CIA agent as we all pointed our flashlights into the hole. We couldn't see the bottom and my fear of heights made me sway a little. Joseph wrapped his arm around my waist and pulled me away from it. "There's a ladder," Patrick informed us. "But it's really rusted. Probably not safe." Joseph let go of me and went to Patrick's side. They both stared down. Maybe it was a test for me--to see if I could overcome my fear and save the Prophetess. "Joseph?" I asked uncertainly. He looked over his shoulder and his flashlight came around to point at my chest. At least he was considerate enough not to point it in my eyes. He must have read the look there because he said firmly, "You are not going down there!" "Joseph," I whispered, "listen." My voice was careful. "Listen to what?" he barked. I couldn't see his face because I was blinded by his light, but I could imagine the look that was displayed there--all surly and rigid. "Listen," I repeated. "Shhh!" I put my fingers to my lips for emphasis that I wanted him to shut up! Everyone grew quiet; even the sounds of the wilderness outside became ominously silent. The wind quieted, the rustling of leaves calmed, and not a single branch cracked under the weight of a person--which was good because I would have probably screamed if one did. "Uhhhhhh." There was a soft moan of pain sighing on the air. Joseph jerked his flashlight back toward the hole. The cry of despair had barely squeezed out--a strangled sound.

"Did you hear that?" I asked in a hushed voice. My heart beat out a riotous heartbeat, a deadly vitality spreading through my veins. Joseph's flashlight spun around and into my face. I held my hand up to protect my eyes and he finally lowered his light. All I could see was a big, white ball imprinted into my irises for several seconds. "What was that?" he asked in a low whisper. "I think . . . I think Zola's down there!" I choked. 18 Coins and Chivalry > Patrick leaned over the black hole with his flashlight and called out. "Zola? Is that you?" His voice echoed back at us. There was another cry, a whimper. I thought it was Zola, at least it felt like it was her. I wondered if she was alone down there, because it wasn't like there were locks on the doors. Where were the guards? What would we encounter when we made our way down the rabbit hole? Patrick called out to her again. Another cry. Another moan. "Joseph, we're going down there," I decided, my voice laced with determination. His expression must have been one of disbelief because his tone spoke clearly of how he felt about my statement. "You aren't going down there! Patrick or I will go down there"--he pointed between the two of them--"or even Layla will before you do. We're supposed to be protecting you, not the other way around." He made a noise of exasperation, because he knew I could be difficult. "You are the Illuminator! You're supposed to save the Angels so they can protect the world. How are you supposed to do that if you die?" The conviction in his voice was surprising and made it ridiculously difficult to argue with. He was right, and I hated that fact. "Fine," I barely mumbled in concession. There was silence for a second. "You aren't going to argue with me?" Joseph asked skeptically. "No. But someone has to go down there . . . so, are you boys both going, or do I need to flip a coin?" My voice was a mixture between sarcasm and seriousness. If I couldn't argue, then I could at least be sarcastic. Patrick volunteered first. "I'll go." Joseph turned to him quickly, and I could swear I saw his chest puff out. "No, I will." Layla gave me an apologetic look as they argued. I didn't have a watch with me, so I wasn't sure how long their argument went on for. Each of their disagreements became more and more . . . pointless. "I'm more fully equipped than you are," Patrick said testily. "My gun is the same size as yours," Joseph snapped back. "It's not about the size." "Do girls always tell you that?" Joseph countered with a smirk. "I'm stronger than you, therefore I should go first!" Every second that passed made me more and more irate because it was all so damn futile! We were above ground while Zola moaned and cried below this disgusting, rotting place. The two of them arguing was a first for

me and I was surprised it was about something so petty. The testosterone was thick in the air and I even made a gesture as if I was waving it away from me. Layla grumbled angrily, marched over to the two year olds, stood between them, and decided to stop their petty argument. She put a hand on each of their chests and looked at each of them pointedly like she was their General. "Enough boys!" She pulled a coin from her pocket and showed them. "I'll toss. Now pick a side." They both said Heads at the same time . . . and then they argued over that. I didn't know why they were fighting; it was completely useless. The three of them were so involved they didn't notice as I inched closer and closer to the big, black hole in the ground. My body trembled and the light that flooded from my flashlight jerked on the ground, reflecting how nervous I truly was. My breath formed a heavy cloud as I sucked in the air greedily. That didn't help because the air was thick with rotting wood, feces, and decay. "Zola, I'm on my way." My voice quaked back at me in the echoing hole. "Pleeease," I heard from down below. The three arguing fools didn't hear Zola--at least they didn't act like they did. The confrontation between the three of them had escalated, but I didn't listen because I was so frustrated with them for not going down there immediately. I shoved my flashlight in my back pocket. With my heart marching to a scary beat, I circled around, put my foot on the first step, and bounced on it some to test it while I held onto the disintegrating wood to keep my balance. I had to chant to myself that touching the wood was better than falling down into the hole and never getting out again. The ladder was sturdier than I thought it would be and a sigh of relief escaped me. I added my full weight and bounced again before I let go of the wall. With each step I repeated the process because I didn't want to make a mistake and hurt myself. My flashlight lit the tunnel above me as I climbed deeper and deeper into the pit. It provided little light below my feet, but enough that I knew there weren't snakes or something worse down there. How many steps were there? I had lost count--maybe there was twenty? Fifty? More? However many, the hole was deeper than I had originally thought. When my foot hit solid ground--it felt like concrete--water splashed as I stepped into a puddle. I automatically reached for my gun and then the flashlight and pointed it around me right before I flashed it above my head. I couldn't believe Patrick and Joseph didn't stop me. Something must be wrong for them to be fighting-they never argued. Turning around in a circle, I found a hallway that slopped down farther into the earth. There was no light besides mine. Zola's cries magnified and echoed all around me eerily. It made the hair on my arms stand straight up. Between cries, I heard water dripping down from several places. Making my way down the hall--which wasn't very far--I came to the end which led me to a square, concrete room, about fifteen by ten feet. Zola, with long, scraggly grey-silver hair that fell down her back--her very boney back--was huddled into a corner. Her clothes were torn like a monster had attacked her, but I didn't see any blood. I flicked my flashlight up to her face and she held her hand up to cover her eyes. Her fingers looked like thin skin over bones, shaking violently. She was weak. Tears threatened to explode out of me at the sight of her. "Zola?" My voice was low and gentle, non-threatening. I moved the light away from her eyes and she finally looked up at me withite eyes. "Luminous one." Her voice was a sigh of relief. "Yeah, it's me," I choked. "I'm here to get you out." Without hesitation, I moved forward until I ran into a barrier of sorts. It flung me backwards and I slammed against the wall behind me with a thud. All the air from my lungs escaped me for several painfully long seconds. "Ow!" I cursed under my breath, officially naming whatever the hell it was with a not so pleasant word. Zola's face lit from underneath as my flashlight rolled on the ground until it came to a stop. Without picking it up, I rose to my feet and reached my hand out to touch the barrier. When I touched it, I realized it was some sort of electrical force--it reminded me of Andrew's protective spells when he was trying to stop the Ladies of Light from

harming me. But they were able to break through. Did that mean the Ladies of Light could produce a protection spell beyond my abilities because they were more powerful? I wasn't sure, so I settled with touching it lightly to see if I could find a weakness in it. Wherever my fingertips touched, the barrier lit a horrible red and made a buzzing sound. It wasn't like an electrical red, but a seeping, finger crawling, dripping red. Just like blood. I shivered again as arcs of electricity from my powers met with the current from the barrier between us. "Zola, how do I get you out of here?" I asked quickly. "Do you have the key, Bright One?" I nodded profusely. "Yes, but there is no door . . . no lock. How am I supposed to break through this barrier?" Zola lifted herself from the floor on wobbly knees, her gown shaking with the movements. Her eyes were just as they were when I saw her in the Timeless book's memories. But there was no comparing her between the two times. "How do I open this?" I pleaded with her as I reached down to snatch up my flashlight. She walked surprisingly steady over to me and put her hands on the barrier between us. She didn't have any effect on it like I did. "Bright One, you need to move over three feet to your right." Her eyes were cast down, staring at what I assumed was where I should be standing. Three feet later I glanced up at her face. "Okay, what do I do now?" "Look below your feet," she explained simply. Pointing my flashlight at my feet, I peered down and all I saw was concrete. "I don't understand," I cried. "Of course you don't, Bright One. Where is your kindred soul?" My heart squeezed uncomfortably in my chest and my stomach knotted. I was sure my face was scrunched up in pain when I asked her, "My kindred soul?" "Have you not found him?" She looked surprised. It was like our conversation in the Timeless book and I almost forgot she didn't actually have that conversation with me. "Yes, I have," I admitted and sorrow resonated in my voice. "He was taken by the Soul Stalker." Her white eyes grew wide. "Are you weak?" I asked. She nodded. "Help me get you out of here." "Bright One," she said firmly, "I'm trying to tell you. Get down on your knees." I lowered myself to the ground. "Now put your hand over the ground in front of you." Again, I did as she told me. The ground was cold and a little rough, like fine sandpaper. "Okay." I waited for further instructions. "Move your fingers along the ground," she commanded. For a moment I felt frustrated until suddenly the ground gave way where I was touching. Cement doesn't give. "I

think I feel something!" I exclaimed. "Yes, Bright One," she said in relief. "Now take your key and stab it into the concrete where you feel it give way. There is a lock there, you just can't see it. You have to trust your instincts; when you are around us, you must realize that things are not always how they appear. You should know that . . . you saw it, didn't you?" I glanced up at her before I put the key in. "Saw what?" "You witnessed the army . . . the fight. You saw our Guardians, our Halo's--the Brotherhood: our sons and husbands--you saw them turn to Shadows." Her words surprised me. "I did," I admitted. "It's a tragedy. They were our protectors. We women are strong--stronger than the men, usually--but there is a difference in the strength that we each possess. We lost that strength." "I know." My voice trembled. "I'm going to fix it," I promised. "Of course you will," she said sweetly. "But first, you have to get me out of here. We need to bring you to your kindred soul, because if we don't put you two back together, you won't be able to save anyone. He cannot die." The firmness in her voice had me shaking my head passionately. "No, he can't," I agreed. She bent down on her knees in front of me with the invisible force field between us. "Okay, put the key in," she whispered. I jabbed the key down into the cement and began to turn it. "Wait!" I froze. "Don't turn it that way," she informed me quickly. Our eyes met. "What way?" "Do not turn it to your right--turn it to your left," she commanded. "What happens if I turn it to the right?" Of course I wouldn't turn it to the right because she told me not to, but I was curious. "Just trust me--turn it to your left." Slowly, I turned the key to my left. There was a spark and a sound like water being dumped from a bucket. With a sizzling noise, I watched as the barrier lit on all ends until it shrunk to nothing and disappeared before our eyes like a dream washing away. We both stared at each other and simultaneously reached out to each other. We touched hands--she was so cold, boney, and weak. "Are you okay?" I asked in concern. She shook her head no. "How long have you been down here?" "Too long," she whispered. "Too long, Luminous One." "Of course you have," I said. "Look at you, so skinny and frail. I brought you something." "You . . . brought me something?" she asked, surprised. "I didn't see that."

"Well"--I laughed--"you aren't always all-seeing." She closed her eyes, her grey white orbs disappearing, and she swallowed thickly. When she opened her eyes, I could read humor there. "You'd be surprised at all the stupid things I do see. And all the important things I don't-which is very, very little." "Oh," I said stupidly as I put my arm around her and pulled up from under her shoulders. She felt so light and it worried me. "You do realize there is a ladder we have to go up to get out of here? Are you going to be able to climb that?" She shook her head. "No, I'm too weak." "Then I don't know how I am going to get you out of here," I admitted. "Didn't you bring someone with you?" Her eyebrows rose. "Yeah I did but--" I paused. The three of them had not come down here the whole time I was trying to rescue Zola. They were above ground arguing about coins and chivalry. Then Layla tried to stop them but ended up joining in. There must be some sort of spell that didn't affect me. As if on cue, several voices shouted into the hole. "Gabriella? Are you okay?" "I'm fine," I yelled back. "I've got Zola. Someone has to help us out." With Zola leaning on me, I helped her down the hallway as freezing cold water dripped on us. I could only imagine how cold she was being down here this whole time. I removed my jacket and wrapped it around her shoulders. She pulled it tight and snuggled into it--she was almost like a child, though I knew better. At the end of the hallway, Joseph was waiting for us. "Zola?" Joseph queried. "I do not know you, Son." Zola pulled the jacket even tighter around her. "I'm here to help Gabriella," he replied cautiously. "I'm Joseph." Zola nodded. "No, that's not what I mean." "What do you mean?" "I mean I have not met you before," she said. Joseph looked confused and curious in the dark. "I still do not understand." "I have met many of your kind, but I have never met you." Zola made a hmmm sound. "Many of my kind?" Joseph asked. "FBI agents? But I thought you were imprisoned for two hundred and fifty years. There weren't any FBI agents before . . . you know." He shrugged. I sighed. "Can we talk about this later? I just want to get out of here--this place is awful." Joseph literally carried Zola out of the hole in the ground. An amazing feat, I might add. She clung to his back as Joseph held her with one hand behind his back and gripped the ladder with the other. I crawled out last and before I breached the surface, a large hand reached down, seized me around my forearm, and pulled me out. It was Patrick. His skin was really, really dark . . . in the dark. It was hard to see him and I mused that he could probably hide in the forest at night. Well, until the moon came out and hit his skin--his bald head would reflect the light and give him away. Laughing internally, I felt a huge relief that we were able to rescue Zola with no fighting and proudly relinquished the gun to Joseph. The trip back to the SUV was quick and I suddenly realized I hadn't seen Layla. "Where did Layla go?" "I think she was freaked out when we started arguing and couldn't stop," Joseph explained.

"Too much adventure for her." I chuckled. "Still, it was really weird. Must have been a spell because you two didn't even notice when I walked away." Patrick nodded. "Yes. It was really strange." "Really strange?" Joseph asked sarcastically. "That wasn't strange. That was absolutely out there like aliens." "Aliens?" My voice was incredulous. Joseph nodded. "We were arguing about the color of a leaf." I blinked a few times before I burst into laughter. "And? What were you arguing about?" Joseph had a huge smile plastered on his face. "Well, I said it looked golden, Patrick said it looked more yellow. Then we began talking about colors that I didn't even know the names of--or I didn't think I did until tonight. It was like the eccentric names women have on their lipstick. Like bisque or saffron." My laughter doubled. "Beam me up, Scotty!" I repeated Jenna's reaction to the whole Angel universe. "What?" Joseph asked, but was laughing too. "Oh nothing. Let's just get out of here," I said as I hopped into the back. Patrick cradled Zola in his arms and brought her to the SUV. He placed her in the back next to me. The FBI really were prepared as Patrick grabbed blankets from the back and placed them on top of her. I bent over the seat to reach into the bag I brought with me and pulled out some Tupperware containers, and a plastic spoon and fork. I brought pasta, drinks, and bread. After sitting in the cold vehicle, it might not be that delicious but it was better than nothing. "This is for you," I said as I held it out to her. Upon opening the first container, Zola breathed in the scent of garlic and butter for a long moment before she stabbed her fork into the first bit of pasta and then she plowed through it. I had never seen anyone try to engulf a whole bowl of pasta in one bite, but I was pretty sure Zola was attempting it. "How long as it been since you've eaten?" I asked, worried at her enthusiasm. She peered up at me as she chewed her pasta and swallowed loudly. "One hundred years." "A hundred years?" I asked, aghast. "How did you survive without eating anything?" "Luminous One, we are immortal. We don't die because we don't eat . . . we just wither away." "Then why aren't you withering away?" Of course, I was glad she wasn't. "The Ladies of Light are cruel and used several spells to keep me alive. It was torture because every time I thought I would die and finally find peace, they would use a spell to bring me back to start the whole torturous process all over again." "Oh my God, that's atrocious!" My hand covered my mouth instantly, beyond horrified. The boys were silent as Patrick thrust the key in the ignition and started the SUV. "I can't believe they did that to you," Patrick whispered. "I didn't think they were capable of such . . . things." My revolted expression shifted toward Patrick. I couldn't really see him in the mirror because it was too dark. He reversed the SUV and turned us around until we were crunching down the lane again. "What do you mean?" I asked finally. Joseph was staring at Patrick the same way I was, he just didn't seem to be able to convey his words. After

several uncomfortable minutes of silence, Patrick finally spoke. "I was sent to you, Gabriella." He said the words slowly, cautiously. "Oh shit," I replied, my blood turning to ice. "You are not going to deceive me like everyone else! You can't be like everyone else. You can't be like Karen! You can't be like the Ladies of Light!" He didn't reply, confirming my words. "No! Patrick! I I trusted you. You can't turn evil on me," I cried out. "You can't--you just can't!" I saw his amused expression in the rearview mirror. It was one of those moments when my angelic power seemed to work and the dark slid away and all was cast into a bluish tint. After I stared into those green, gold-flecked eyes for a heart-pounding second, it was dark again. "I was not sent here to hurt you," Patrick explained. "I was sent here to protect you." "You were sent here to protect me?" I repeated, disbelieving. "By who?" "By Ehno." 19 <Secret Discovery> I looked fixedly out the window as if I had been struck dumb. My mind tried to understand his words. Ehno . . . sent Patrick . . . to protect me. How did that work? How did Ehno contact Patrick or the FBI? Ehno had just awoken from some deathly slumber. I was pretty sure that my Angels had died around 1750 . . . when there were no FBI agents. Zola hadn't said a word because she was too busy stuffing her face with garlic bread. The Italian food's aroma filled the SUV, but after Patrick's statement I didn't think I could eat even if I was hungry. "How do you know Ehno?" I finally spit out, my eyes finding their way to the rearview mirror. Joseph's mouth was slightly ajar as he gaped at Patrick. He was in shock too . . . and tense. You could tell he wanted to pull his gun, unsure of Patrick's intentions. At least I wasn't the only one out of the loop. "Ehno and I go way back, from a really, really long time ago," Patrick explained, quite pathetically. "What do you mean 'go way back from a really long time ago'? How old are you? You aren't an Angel, though, are you?" Panic rose in my throat. "I--I am," he admitted. It was the first time I had ever heard him struggle for words. I was waiting for the other shoe to drop after learning this secret discovery. "You are?" I whispered to myself in a heavy thinking stupor. "Then how can I trust you? How can Ehno trust you enough to let me be in your care? I just can't imagine he'd be okay with that because the Angels' minds have been manipulated and . . . were you--are you a Guardian?" I clamped my mouth shut to stop the Epic Gabriella Babble. Silence filtered its way into the conversation for several long seconds. It was broken by Patrick's thumbs tapping on the steering wheel like he didn't know what to say. He was a man of few words anyway, but this was ridiculous. Another minute passed before he spoke. "I am not the same as the other Angels." "Explain." I folded my arms and waited. This should be good. Again, silence. "Please," I begged. "Just explain it to me. I'm nervous and scared and you need to tell me why I shouldn't be! Because I want to make you stop the car so I can walk." Or run.

Joseph pivoted in his seat to face me. I could see the intensity in the lines of his face. "If you want to get out I'll walk with you." Was he just as nervous as I was? Zola was either oblivious to the high tension in the car, or she truly wasn't worried because she just kept eating. "Gabriella, I would never, ever hurt you," Patrick replied seriously. "I think that you're our savior." "I swear if someone makes another Jesus reference you'll see sparks fly," I snapped. When I'm afraid, I become angry because anger can push my fears away. "That's not how I meant it," he replied sternly. "Maybe you haven't realized this but my skin is dark . . . it's black. I am obviously not Italian." And the man of few words gets a cookie for that one. "And I still don't understand what you are getting at!" This was one of those pull-your-hair-out-in-frustration moments. "Quit dancing around the subject and just spit it out . . . Please!" "It's complicated, Gabriella! I can't just spit it out! So, just be quiet and let me explain," Patrick commanded. "And if you are not satisfied when I am done, I'll stop the vehicle, I will get out of the car, and you, Joseph, and Zola can drive wherever you want." "I don't believe that for a second," I said, a little hysterical because I was so anxious. "If Ehno really told you to protect me, then you would follow us, wouldn't you? And if you weren't, you'd do it anyway!" He didn't reply and I took his silence as confirmation; I knew he would still follow us. "That's what I thought!" I made a little hmpf noise. "Okay Gabriella, just listen to me!" I stayed quiet so he would continue. "When I was a little boy, my parents fled from our tribe in the middle of, what you would now call, Africa." "Africa?" I interrupted. "Yes, we traveled north and stayed in Egypt. Our old tribe sent a warrior after my parents because they committed an unforgivable crime against the tribe. You see, I was the illegitimate son of the Chief's daughter and was taken by the Medicine Man who birthed me. It was for my protection because the Chief wanted to murder me. I was given to a family who couldn't have children and they ran away with me. "The warrior came in the night and fought with my father as my mother fled with me. The warrior was supposed to bring them back so they could be humiliated in front of everyone, not killed. I was just a little kid, roughly seven years old, and didn't understand. My mother refused to allow me to witness their humiliation and sent me on a boat to what is now called Italy with several men I didn't know. "At that time there was a lot of migration to that part of the world. The men used me as a slave--they put me to work sixteen hours a day. Maybe my parents knew . . . maybe they didn't, but regardless, they had put me on a boat with a different type of warrior than our tribe. They put me on a boat with an army of merciless soldiers. As they conquered city after city, I was drug along with them. My childhood was filled with cruelty, war, and death. "We traveled through Southern Europe for some time. One day we came across a village that was well hidden between mountains. It was simply chance that we found the small village called Divina, which means Divine." I opened my mouth to speak but was cut off. "Please just give me time to explain. I'm not the bad guy here, okay? I'm not." His voice sounded hurt. "Okay, I'm listening," I relented. "You must remember that I was a slave . . . and you must also remember that the Senza Tempo--the people of Divina--became slaves too. I was such a young boy and this family took me in--under their wing as some

Americans put it--even though I was of a different color, a different race. I didn't even speak their language, but still they took me in and cared for me. They actually taught me how to speak several languages--the Senza Tempo were very intelligent. They even had a dialect of their own that isn't found in any history books. It was a very complicated language and I never really learned to speak it very well. Mainly they spoke Latin and an older form of Italian. Anyway, Gabriella, I am not the bad guy. I was turned into an Angel with the rest of them, but the Senza Tempo were a magical people before they became immortal and I wasn't. I didn't have any magic, though my adoptive parents told me that I was full of spirit and there was something special about me. They would not leave me behind. When the Elders came together--the ones who protect knowledge--they came up with a plan. They turned us all into timeless beings. "That was how I became an Angel. I am different than the other Angels because I am not magical in nature, but I learned to wield magic. I'm not as strong, nor do I have the intellect as some, but I do have one ability the others don't have: I have my own mind; no Angel can penetrate the shields in my mind." We all sat in silence--except for Zola and her chewing--for a very long time. But even that noise, along with the wind the SUV produced while moving, was drowned out by my thousands of thoughts pinging around in my brain like a pinball machine. Patrick is an Angel . . . but the other Angels can't penetrate his mind. The thought hit me like a ton of proverbial bricks. "So . . . you know everything that happened?" He gave a tiny nod. "You--you know!" I exclaimed. "And you didn't do anything to help?" Bitter resentment colored my tone. "I tried." He sighed sadly. "I tried for so long! But I am just one man, Gabriella and there are thousands of--well, not anymore. There are about fifteen hundred Angels, maybe a little less now. The Ladies of Light kill them off if they don't behave 'properly.' Of course, their minds were altered but that didn't stop me from having a small following at one point. The Ladies of Light found out and altered one Angel's mind to the point where she went crazy and killed herself. I didn't know how she did it--I didn't know an Angel could use their own magic against themselves. Maybe it was the madness that took her over--that made her body just want to die. "After that incident, I didn't feel comfortable trying to coax people to my side, because as soon as the Ladies of Light found out, they would hunt them down and hurt them by altering their minds. Having your mind altered is not pleasant and eventually your brain turns to mush. I couldn't do that to the Angels I loved. "I had not moved up in rank to be a Halo, but I was a Guardian; a top ranking Guardian. I moved up quickly because nothing could infiltrate my mind, therefore I was without distractions. It made my tasks easier, even though I lacked some of the strength the others possessed--of course, this was before the Ladies of Light turned all of my brothers to Shadow." "Oh." Words failed me. Joseph had become very still and quiet next to Patrick. He no longer looked like he was ready to pull his gun cowboy style. "I tried," Patrick said again morosely, guiltily. It wasn't his fault, though. He didn't do anything wrong; he tried and I truly believed he did. My wavering trust settled immediately--I trusted him with my life. I had a sudden overwhelming need to comfort him. I couldn't hug him while we were driving, so I simply reached up front and rested my hand on his broad shoulder, giving him a gentle squeeze. "I trust you Patrick." He let out a breath, like he'd been holding in anticipation for my reaction. "Now explain to me how Ehno found you--connected with you." "Like I said before," Patrick began, "my mind cannot be altered. To be a Guardian or Halo--in the brotherhood--you give yourself up to their minds by opening your own. I willingly shared my thoughts with them, which was strange. The Halo of the Sun were afraid I wouldn't be able to be a part of the Guardians because of my closed mind. But it worked and I think it was because I was willing to share those thoughts. "You should understand, though, that all of the Guardians and Halo of the Sun, except for me, were destroyed or

turned into Shadows. And those Shadows fight for their lives every day because of the altered perceptions of the Angels. They think Shadows are the enemy, but they aren't--they're victims." He sounded angry, like he wanted to throw something. I could see his knuckles tighten on the steering wheel, even in the darkness. "It was horrible," he continued, "watching everything--being a witness. But the Shadows cannot die. They can't." His voice had lowered to barely a whisper. "And because they can't die, I believe my brotherhood will come back: the Halos, the Guardians, my leaders and friends will return. And you, Gabriella--Illuminator, will bring them back. You will!" He said it with conviction. He believed and hoped so strongly that something grew inside of me--ached deep down because I didn't know how to save them. I wanted to, but I didn't know how. He continued, bringing me from my thoughts. "As time went on, and I couldn't be around the Angels anymore, they forgot about me because the Ladies of Light erased me from their minds. I was a menace and the Ladies could never quite catch me. They tried not to kill Anls anymore because the numbers were dwindling down so quickly from their malice that they were hurting themselves. They just altered Angels' minds so they would think whatever the Ladies wanted them to, which made things worse. "Back in the sixties, I was in America. My whole life I tried to continue my Guardian duties without the others, but I was called a freak and, because of my black skin, I was treated unfairly for many years. It was weird being equals with the Angels for thousands of years and then coming to America and being treated like mud and dirt or something they could step on. Though I had saved thousands upon thousands of lives in the past, I was nothing-something to spit on. "One day I went to the FBI building and tore the place apart in utter frustration and desperation to get their attention while they shot me, and shot me, and shot me. My golden blood spilled all over the FBI building that day. When I finally stopped, and they were out of ammo, I demanded to speak to someone in charge. A man came out and I explained to him what I was and that I didn't want to hurt anyone but I didn't know what to do anymore. I offered myself to them." I gasped in shock. I knew exactly what the FBI did to the things they didn't understand. It was a well-known fact that anything they didn't understand would be thrown in a lab to be tested. "You . . . you offered yourself to them? In what way?" "To be experimented on," he said clearly. "Experimented on?" Horror was clear in my voice. "Yes." His voice grew low, a whisper. "I was hoping they could find something when they experimented that would help me bring my brothers back. But they found nothing that would help. I'll admit that I was afraid the Illuminator . . . you . . . would never come. I had monitored the Angel world. The prophecy was changed, manipulated, and many parts burned and forever destroyed." "Why did they do that?" I wondered aloud. "They wanted to act like you didn't exist because it was prophesied that you would defeat them." "Oh." There goes another brilliant response. "Yeah, I uh, kind of figured that out. Why did they keep any part of the prophecy?" "The Ladies of Light aren't idiots. They knew if they continued to modify the Angels' minds there wouldn't be much left of them. It had definitely become an issue. So they had to be really careful about what they did at that point. Instead of completely erasing the memory of the Illuminator, they changed it around so it would be less pressure on their minds. So . . . here you are, supposed to kill the Shadows, but you aren't." "I know," I cut in. "I know you know," he said wryly. "Ehno informed me." "How did Ehno find you? That is what I want to know!"

"Remember, Gabriella, that we are linked mind to mind. But you have to understand that it isn't like you just hear someone's thoughts. You have to think them and let the other person know you want them to hear it. I can think all day and Ehno wl never hear it until I want him to." "Which means," I interrupted, "that one of you had to reach out to the other. So who reached out to whom?" "He reached out to me," Patrick informed me. "I didn't know that he was . . . alive. I thought he was dead and forever gone. But he's alive, and so are Andrew and Lucia!" "Abelie's not," I barely whispered. "I know," he choked out. "I read the file." He paused and I mulled that over. "Joseph," I accused, "you told them? About Abelie?" He nodded solemnly. "Oh," I cried. I could feel the tears welling up behind my eyes, but I held them in as best I could, though I wasn't sure how long I could hold them back. "Abelie was one of a kind," Patrick finally said, breaking the intensity. "She was amazing, and she and Aiden were so good together." "They still are . . . were together. Well, they were separated for some time, but you know how love is--they found each other again." "They did? Well, that explains it," Patrick said. "Explains what?" I asked. "Why you are the Illuminator, because he is a Shadow and your mother is an Angel." "Huh," I said brilliantly. "It's weird talking with someone who has been around this whole time and knows everything." "Yeah," he said softly. "It's been really lonely." "So," I said quickly, wanting to change the subject, "how did you go from being experimented on to being an FBI agent?" "It wasn't like I caused problems for them and they didn't have to lock me up. I was willing to do everything they asked of me," he explained. "I always listened to them and after I was with them for roughly twenty five years it was to the point that they either trusted me or they didn't. It was decided they did trust me after all. They gave me an identity." The conversation didn't warrant laughter, but I couldn't help it as I asked, "Were you the one who came up with your last name?" Joseph snorted and the strain in the air broke like someone had thrown a whoopee cushion in the middle of them and stomped on it. Patrick chuckled low and throaty. "Yes. I love cilantro." "Really?" I chuckled. "Yes, but I didn't want to be named after an herb so I spelled it differently." "I'll keep your secret." Another snicker. "Wait!" I said suddenly. A thought crashed over me like a tidal wave of reality. "Can you connect mind-to-mind with Ehno right now? I thought that we needed to rescue Zola so we could rescue them?" gave an apologetic look to Zola but she shrugged and continued to eat the breadsticks heartily. "It's true, we do need Zola. Ehno let me know they were being taken," Patrick explained.

"So you knew the whole time Aiden's house was clear?" There was tightness in my chest as I thought about them being taken away from me. "Not for certain," he confessed. "Ehno shut himself down from me. He didn't respond after he was taken because the last thing he told me was he wanted to protect his mind and protect you. If he isn't careful, the Soul Stalker can find a way to link between our minds and find you with her empath abilities. We've been very careful to make sure that you are safeguarded from her." "But I thought your mind was protected?" I protested. "Yes," he said quickly, "but it is opened to Ehno. How am I supposed to know if it is Ehno or someone else in his mind manipulating him?" "Good . . . question," I relented. "Why didn't you tell us beforehand that you were an Angel?" I asked Patrick. I shot Joseph an accusatory glance, even though he seemed just as surprised about the revelation as I did. "Ehno explained to me that you were in hiding after your death. He said he wasn't exactly sure why, but he asked me to keep being an Angel a secret until the appropriate time was revealed. That time is now," he explained simply. "I'll put myself in harm's way before I ever let anything happen to you." As we drove closer to town, orange orbs of light bubbled up and became larger and brighter. The shadows flashed back and forth through the car as we went under street lamps. Zola had fallen asleep, wrapped in her blanket and sighing contentedly. Joseph still sat quietly up front, taking in all the information. "Patrick," I said slowly, "I'm glad you are on our side, but don't play the martyr." Everything I had ahead of me was scary, new, and dangerous. "Don't worry, it'll take a lot to kill me," he replied with a wry smile. 20 Whimsical Plague> After we had Zola tucked away in bed, complete with a feather top and down comforter--we wanted her first night in a bed to be memorable--Joseph, Patrick, and I sat around the kitchen table. "So boys, is everyone an Angel or what?" I asked acerbically. They both stared at me like I was a car crash they were gaping at. I wondered idly if I moved away from them, would they do the "rubberneck" move so many motorists did while passing an accident scene. The image was entertaining. "I'm not an Angel," Joseph said proudly. I glared at him. "Yeah, I know you aren't. But even Zola acts like there is something super special about you! Is everyone some sort of supernatural person? Am I the last person on this planet to realize everyone is an Angel?" My voice had risen in volume, overwhelmed. Patrick chuckled softly. "Not everyone's an Angel. In fact, there are very few Angels in the world. They just all happen to be around you, Gabriella. You do understand that you are the Illuminator? Angels will automatically gravitate toward you. They want to be near you, for one reason or another . . ." I sighed in acquiesce. "What's the plan, then?" They both shared a puzzled expression, as if I was talking Yiddish. It was obvious they had no idea what "The Plan" was either. Well, neither did I, but I knew I couldn't stay in this house while my Angels were in trouble-prisoners.

"We have to find the Angels. We. Have. To." My hands slammed on the table, frustrated. "And I'm worried about Zola because she is so weak . . . and I don't even know if she knows where they are." Patrick snorted for the second time in one night. His eyebrows scrunched up in a way that said don't be stupid. "Of course she knows where they are. She's Zola, she knows all." He waved his hand back and forth like he was sweeping away my previous statement with disgust. "She knows all?" I asked, chagrined. "That's an exaggeration; even Zola admitted it to me. Plus, wouldn't she have known that she was going to be captured and taken?" The words spilled from my lips before I actually gave them any thought. I covered my mouth in apology. Joseph, with raised eyebrows, lightly grabbed my wrist to remove my hand. "Never mind . . . she did know. She told me in the Timeless book that she would be captured and taken. She warned me and told me that I had to find her." I paused as they both waited. "But why would she just let someone take her?" "Maybe," Joseph chimed in, "it was just inevitable. Maybe she surrendered--maybe she fought for a long time before they caught her. Sometimes fate is what it is--it's fate, it's going to happen no matter what." "Thank you, Buddha. Let me go light some incense and meditate so I can see my fate," I teased. "So . . . it was just like when Ehno said that no matter what happened one of us would be captured? They decided to protect me and accept their fate." "Exactly," Patrick said. "I believe we can find them and save them from any . . . torture." "Are you sure about that?" I asked nervously. "Are you sure they aren't already being tortured right now? If what you say is true, and the Soul Stalker can literally see into people's heads, then she will know I am alive; she'll know I'm not dead." "This is true," Patrick conceded. "This is exactly why we need to think about this carefully. If she knows you are alive, she'll probably know that you are going to try and find them. Any attack on our part won't be a surprise." My fingers traced the grooves in the table. "So we need to be prepared . . ." I glanced up at Patrick. "How can we be prepared? I mean, last time I was able to shock the Soul Stalker, but I really do believe it was because she wasn't expecting it. She was still using her Karen facade--being all sweet and nice and . . . full of shit." Joseph grabbed my hand, stifled a smile, and said, "Don't worry, we'll think of something. I'm sure Zola has some idea and I'm sure she's seen what will happen." As always, with one touch, he calmed me. "She's asleep right now, so until she gains some of her strength back we need to talk about what we're going to do." I wanted to groan at the thought of waiting. We sat there for a minute, though it might have been longer, as I tried to come up with a plan--I was sure Patrick and Joseph were doing the same. Finally, we all spoke at once and immediately shot each idea down. This continued on for thirty minutes as we circled around different suggestions. At one point, I thought we were just making up such ridiculous and ludicrous scenarios that we were wasting our time. "Ah-hah!" I exclaimed. They both jumped and then stared at me, waiting in anticipation. "Well, I think we should just go after them and quit trying to come up with some super badass plan that could get us killed." They both grimaced at me. My idea wasn't exactly what they expected. "Honestly boys, do you really think the Soul Stalker won't know we're coming? At this point, I'm convinced she's keeping them for bait. There will be consequences no matter what we do, so let's just storm the place. That's one thing she might not see coming." "I don't think that's a good idea," Joseph and Patrick said at the same time. "Well, it isn't like you boys are coming up with any better ideas, so you better think of something and fast," I snapped. I immediately felt bad and looked down, sheepish. "I'm sorry. I just want to find my Angels. It's just . . . just . . . hard to think about. These are people that I love and care about and they're possibly being tortured. I just--I

need to get to them." "I have an idea," Patrick said slowly. "Great! Let's hear it." I waited. "The Soul Stalker can't see into my mind, nor can other Angels access it. And I'm sure the Soul Stalker has figured this out if she's tried to ensnare any of Ehno's thoughts. But maybe . . . maybe I'll let her try to gain access into my head." Patrick rubbed his chin in thought for a second. "I could tell her things about you and our plans. I'd lie." "Will that actually work?" I wondered, intrigued. "If Ehno lets me in, it just might." He nodded to some thought he had and continued. "Or if she tries to look again-maybe. Of course, this isn't a fool-proof plan and we won't actually know the results until we show up." "It could be our Plan A. But we would still need a Plan B," Joseph declared. "We could fight, as Gabriella suggested," Patrick said simply as I nodded in reluctant agreement. "Fight? With what? Our good looks?" Joseph laughed. "We could always ask the Elders for help," Patrick suggested. "The Elders?" Really? This was getting ridiculous. "I like the Elders, don't get me wrong, but their minds can, and have been, easily manipulated. If they help us in any way, all the Soul Stalker has to do is change their minds to fight against us, and then we would seriously be up the creek without a paddle." "That's not entirely true," Patrick disagreed. "It isn't the Soul Stalker that is modifying their minds and memories, it's the Ladies of Light." I sighed, exasperated. "But isn't the Soul Stalker working with the Ladies of Light? I know she called the Ladies to us when we were trying to escape in Nevada." "Actually, I'm not one hundred percent positive this is true. It's a possibility. The Ladies of Light and the Soul Stalker do work together, but I think Soul Stalker is only working with them out of convenience. You must understand Soul Stalker was banned from society--thought to be killed. She has stayed hidden and away from people for several hundred years . . . possibly a thousand or more. You might have heard rumors of her before in the . . . ancient human news--being called this or that, some supernatural thing or another. Have you ever heard of a succubus?" I gasped, though Patrick continued. "Regardless, she was tossed out of our society. So why would she want to help the leaders of the Angels who were partially responsible for casting her out of the Angelic society in the first place? Even though the Ladies of Light today are not the same as the Ladies back then, there were still no Angels that stood up for her, except for her brothers--her family. Her brothers' support didn't help, though the Angels eventually forgave them for their reinforcement of their sister. Being on the side of someone who did the horrible things she did would make you a traitor in the eyes of the Angels." "Even if you weren't the guilty party?" I confirmed. "Yes." "Oh. Do you think they have been helping her the whole time?" "Since she 'died'?" Patrick asked, making quotation marks with his fingers. "Yeah . . . since she died." I mimicked him. "More than help," he alleged. "Her brothers worked their way up from the bottom of Angel society; most Angels choose to try and live a somewhat normal life. Only few decided to dive into the political aspects of our world. If you aren't strong and powerful enough, you'd be wasting your time. Actually, many Angels decide to go through what I'd call a cycle. One century they are out saving the world, the next they are trying to live like humans. It's a

difficult life to live, so change is inevitable. We may be immortal, but we are not unchanging. So it wasn't unusual for the V brothers, her brothers--Vittorio, Vasco, and Vito--to earn respect again. They became Guardians, swore an oath, and protected humans. They did a lot of good, believe it or not. Now that I know the Soul Stalker is alive, thanks to you Gabriella, I think it was all a facade. "So, if you ask me, I would say that I'm pretty sure the Soul Stalker had her brothers infiltrate the Guardians. Just think of the possibilities with access to thoughts of the Halos and the trust they had to establish. There is not a doubtmy mind they were working against us from the beginning." "Jeff Vittorio?" Joseph asked as I nodded in agreement to the question. "Yes, the Shadow you met as an FBI agent." Patrick shook his head in disgust. "I never worked with him before, so I had no idea he had gone as far as to infiltrate the FBI, too. The Soul Stalker has been a busy little bee, it seems." "But then the Ladies of Light . . ." I trailed off. "Yes, the Ladies of Light." Patrick rubbed his chin thoughtfully. I could hear the soft scratching sound as his fingers ran over his stubble. "They ruined the Soul Stalker's plans when they turned the Guardians and their leaders, the Halos, into Shadows. Imagine it--the Soul Stalker's brothers no longer remembering they had an older sister, a sister they once called Eva, or as we all know her: Soul Stalker." "Eva?" "Yes, that was her name, so many years ago," Patrick affirmed. "That's great." Joseph waved his hand around impatiently. "Continue, please. How did they find each other again?" "Yeah," I said. "How?" "I've thought about this a lot, actually. She probably went to them and explained what really happened. Another reason why she was called the Soul Stalker was because she could reach into peoples' souls." "Like with Ehno and the head thing?" I leaned forward, placed my elbows on the table, and rested my chin in the palm of my hand. "Exactly. Since they are working with her again, she might have been able to find a way to open their souls to the truth." He sighed in resignation. The green that washed across my vision was ridiculous, but I still felt envious of her ability. Here I was, supposed to Illuminate the Shadows, and didn't even know where to start--hell, I couldn't even access my powers half the time. I also sighed and Joseph put his arm across the back of my chair and rubbed my back gently. Patrick reached across the table like he wanted to comfort me in some way, but he gave up halfway, unsure. "It's not the same," Patrick whispered, like he could read my thoughts. "You will turn the Shadows back to Angels . . . the Soul Stalker doesn't have that power--she'll never be powerful enough." His voice was low and calming, and Joseph's soft stroking of my back was soothing. I inhaled sharply before I exhaled in one big gust. "She can give them the power to see?" "I honestly don't know much about her power," Patrick admitted, "but I do know she can look inside someone's soul. I'd say she could easily mirror back what she sees to someone else. Of course, I can't be certain. Normally a body is just a vessel for your soul." "If she is truly soulless, then who is driving her body? That is the question I want answered." I rubbed my hands over my face--just the thought gave me the heebie-jeebies. "It might not be a soul . . . it might be something else, not quite sure."

Something else . . . The way he put it made the hairs climb up my back. "Do you mean a demon possessing her body--or something like that? Does that mean the Soul Stalker used to have a soul and it was pushed out of her body? Sorry, it's the best terminology I can come up with at this ungodly hour." Patrick hummed for a second. "I guess that could be a possibility--not sure." "That still leaves us without Plan B," I muttered, frustrated. "We need to be prepared that there might be Shadows with the Soul Stalker--like before, according to Joseph's story about Italy. And her brothers, they are going to be on her side, along with whoever they can convince to join their campaign." Patrick paused for a few seconds, his strange goldish-green eyes intense. His voice grew low and deep. "I think it is time you learn to Illuminate the Shadows." I tried my best to hide my "you've got to be kidding" face before I said, "Regardless if I can Illuminate them or not, the V brothers will still be on her side, won't they? They'll still be evil, just wicked Angels instead of evil Shadows. Really, how will it help?" Joseph nodded in Patrick's direction and they had a silent conversation just by that one quick glance at one another. They both turned to me and held the same expression of tension. "True," Joseph agreed. "But," Patrick chimed in, "then we could kill them." I gasped, shocked. "Not the killing thing again." I shook my head. "I mean it's not right-- I don't feel-- I just can't kill someone. I don't have it in me to take someone's life." Patrick shook his head quickly. "You don't have to worry about that, Illuminator. I'll do it for you if I have to. Your job is to bring light--not death." Joseph brought his arm from the back of my chair to grab my hand. "But you would, Gabby"--I didn't even bother to glare anymore over my nickname--"if it meant your life. Would you sacrifice the innocent part of yourself to save your Angels?" I thought about it. How much would I sacrifice for my Angels? Of course I'd sacrifice myself in a heartbeat, but could I sacrifice another's life for them? Even if that life was as worthless as the Soul Stalker herself? I honestly didn't know. I glanced up at Patrick's dark face and his green eyes glittered in the light above us. "I'm not really sure. I don't think I could kill someone for anyone, really. I could sacrifice myself--but to make that decision for someone else . . . to sacrifice someone for my Angels . . . I don't think I can do that." "I understand," Patrick said truthfully. "Then we have no solid Plan B. Let's just hope Plan A works out; if not we will be fighting. I wish we had time to work on your magic, Gabriella. At least for protection." "Good luck with that," I muttered. "I've tried. Sometimes it doesn't work; sometimes it works too well. I don't know what's up with my magic. Whatever it is, I want it to work again. It makes me nervous being without it, even though I haven't had this power for very long. It feels like it is a part of me, like I've had it my whole life." Patrick nodded. "I'm not sure what to tell you, but I'll be happy to help you work on any defense spells." Joseph squeezed my hand and it made me jump because I had forgotten that he had even grabbed my hand. "What do you think, Joseph?" I asked. "I think we'll have to stick with Plan A until we come up with something better . . . and it wouldn't hurt for you to practice some." "If we come up with something better," I mumbled under my breath.

There was a soft voice behind me and I sprang up in my seat, startled. "There is one thing, my dear, that Patrick is leaving out about the Soul Stalker and the V brothers." I whipped around to see Zola in a clean cotton nightgown. Her grey hair was shinier, like she had taken a bath. "Tell me? What isn't he telling me?" My eyes shot to Patrick quickly before they swung back around to catch Zola's lips lifting into a smile. "The Soul Stalker was thought dead, therefore they didn't alter her mind because, to them, she didn't exist." Realization burned like the Shadows' steely fingers around my wrists. "I tried to warn the Ladies of Light about the Soul Stalker returning for her brothers. It ended up being a huge mistake." She sucked in a breath. "I realized I had admitted that I knew what they did. And they didn't like that at all because, the thing was, they also altered my mind. They didn't take into account that I don't just see the future; I also see the past and the present. Ehno, who was once my apprentice, is much like me in that way. Sometimes he just knows things like I do, and that scared the Ladies of Light. "Instead of heeding my warning, they sought out the Soul Stalker because she was the only one they really needed to worry about after they locked me up. She was the only one who knew all the secrets. They thought, instead of making an enemy of her, to make her their ally." "And," I cut in, "they sent her to kill me." "That's true, but that isn't exactly what happened. They sent her to you because they thought you were the Illuminator--they weren't sure. She was told not to kill you at first because they wanted to know if you were the Illuminator or not. They actually wanted to use you, not kill you." Her words shocked me. "Use me? Why? How?" "It was told you would be this powerful woman--Angel--that would defeat them. It was just like with the Soul Stalker: keep your friends close, but your enemies closer." Zola leaned in the doorway. "They were hoping to make you an ally also. Understand, though, the Soul Stalker has no soul and has her own agenda." "And that would be?" Now we were finally getting to the goods. "It wasn't to kill you, either . . . it was for you to get a soul for her." "Hold on!" I exclaimed and held my hands up in a stopping gesture. "The Soul Stalker actually wants a soul?" My thoughts from the night when we drove to Aiden's house came back to me in a torrent. I wasn't sure what the Soul Stalker wanted from me, but now Zola was confirming all of my thoughts from that night. "Explain to me, please, how the Ladies of Light convinced the Soul Stalker to become their ally?" "They promised her you would be able to get a soul for her. A soul that was in a box, a soul that was protected by the Shadows' magic that only you could penetrate." "Why didn't the Soul Stalker just have her brothers help her?" I asked. "Because it was also protected with magic by your mother, Abelie." Zola's face twisted into anguish. "That's right," I said. "Abelie sent me that box with the keys in it." "Yes." Zola nodded. "It was tampered with by the Ladies of Light. They forced a Shadow to put magic on it to seal a soul inside. If you could take the keys from the box in front of the Soul Stalker, it would prove you were the Illuminator." "Was there really a soul in that box? Was there a soul for the Soul Stalker to take?" My voice had risen to hysteria levels. "Yes," Zola said quickly. "There was a soul in there. She was so desperate for one that she would have done anything to have it. She put on her biggest, happiest, nicest face for you because she was hoping you could release it for her. Then the plane that the two of you were on crashed. The box was destroyed and the soul was set

free into the atmosphere. She became angry when she lost the soul. The Ladies of Light promised to provide her with another . . . they promised her your soul just to keep her on their side because she wouldn't accept any other. You intrigued her." "I don't understand." I felt aghast, afraid. "The Ladies of Light wanted to give her my soul? Why didn't they just kill me themselves? That--" Zola cut me off. "The Ladies of Light wanted to use you and realized that would be harder than they thought. The Soul Stalker was going to kill you after the soul escaped the box because you were no good to her anymore. The Ladies of Light approved because they realized your goodness and that you would never go along with their plan. They were hoping you would be evil and corrupt like many humans are. Honestly, they should have known better. The Illuminator would never be normal. If the Soul Stalker was successful, she would have been rewarded with your soul." "I thought they didn't know I was a human at all!" I replied. "They didn't know you were a human, but they thought maybe the Illuminator would come in human form when you sent a beacon out to the Angel world. Even after that, they still weren't sure if you were truly the Illuminator because you were human. But then you changed after the plane crash and they knew. Then they wanted to destroy you . . . or use you. If you were just a human, they would have let you be--they would have never messed with you after that." "This . . . stuff is just really--" I groaned. "I just don't know how much more of this I can take! All of this crap just piling on top of me. Zola, tell me what to do. Please, just tell me," I begged. She smiled at me and stepped out of the shadowy doorway and into the light of the kitchen. "Wow," I proclaimed and stood quickly, nearly knocking over my chair in the process. She wasn't skinny or pale anymore, the looks of starvation had left her skin. She was aged beautifully, glowing, and had long silver hair with white eyes that surprisingly didn't freak me out. Joseph and Patrick both followed my lead and rose from their seats, their jaws slack with awe. Patrick circled around the table and positioned himself in front of Zola, placed a hand on her shoulder, and bowed low. "Prophetess," Patrick proclaimed softly. "Am I supposed to do that too?" I asked, not quite sure. "I still don't know the rules or etiquette of the Angel world." "It's a sign of respect," Patrick told me. "Oh." I peered down at my feet, feeling sheepish. "No, no." Zola waved her hand to grab my attention. "You do not have to do that." She walked over to me, and though she was shorter, she placed her hand on my shoulder and bent low at her waist, bowing. "Illuminator," she whispered with respect. Tears sprang to my eyes, turning the whole world into a blur. Patrick followed behind and repeated exactly what Zola did. "Why are you two bowing to me?" I asked, tears swimming, ready to bubble over. Joseph stood awkwardly behind them, a small grin splayed on his face. I choked at laugh at his expression. "Because you are going to save us." Zola stared at me with trusting white eyes. "You are going to take all of these conspiracies, all the hurt and pain, and you are going to fix it. I know you will." "Even though you are sarcastic." Patrick cough-laughed. "No pressure," I mumbled. "Does this mean you will tell me where my Angels are?" She smiled at me again, her almost toothless grin. "Yes. I'm also going to tell you that it is going to be really difficult. It won't be easy and there will be hard times ahead. All I request is that you take me with you."

"But Zola," I protested, "you are still recovering from being held captive." She waved a dismissive hand before me, like it was no big deal. "I have recovered already," she stated matter-offactly. "Though the years I was kept locked away will forever be a burden on my mind, physically I'm fine--it does not take much for an Angel to recover. Plus, it helped that you brought all of that food for me." She grinned her toothless grin. I put my hands on my hips and stared down at her. "So a little Italian food and you're all better?" I scoffed. "Slap a band-aid on it and everything is aright?" "Not exactly. The emotional scars will probably forever be there, but I know that you will save me from that too." It felt so weird, her saying those things to me. She was so much older and wiser, and I was young, so young compared to her . . . thousands of years younger. Emotion attacked me and I wanted to cry again. Not because I was sad or happy, but because I was overwhelmed. "All right," I relented. "When do we leave?" Zola traced a finger under my left eye and a flashback of Andrew doing the same thing hit me. "Bright One, you need to sleep." "You're probably right. I'm just having a really hard time sleeping. I see strange things in my dreams." And amazing Angel-Andrew in my dreams, I added mentally. "Sometimes I dream of Abelie's death." "I know Child, I'm sorry." Zola's eyes pooled with golden tears. "You shouldn't have to see that over and over again." "I'm not quite sure what to do when we actually find the Angels. Zola, if this plan of Patrick's doesn't work, I'm not strong enough to defend us. On top of it, my power isn't working correctly." "I didn't figure they would be," Zola said simply. "What do you mean?" My eyes grew wide as I looked down at her matter-of-fact face. "Why wouldn't my powers be working?" "Because your kindred soul is being held captive." She said it like I should have known all along. "I don't understand . . ." I trailed off as I watched Patrick and Zola exchange a look. I was obviously out of the loop about something. Again. "Did you not tell her?" Zola raised her eyebrows at Patrick. "I didn't realize Andrew was truly her kindred soul." He looked down, ashamed. "He is," said Zola. "So what does that mean?" I asked, exasperated. Everyone knew everything about me except me. "Someone please enlighten me." I looked between the two Angels in the room, while Joseph did the same. Nice to know I wasn't the only one oblivious. Zola had a heartbroken expression splashed across her face. "When you find your kindred soul, yet are away from each other, your powers might fail because you need the other's presence in your life. They make you stronger; they make you stay alive longer. They make you whole." "Stay alive longer?" What did the word immortal mean if not forever? "Mentally they . . . make you better," Zola explained in the most enigmatic way. "Lo non comprendo," I said.

"Did you just . . . speak Italian?" Joseph asked with a smirk. My hand rose to my lips. "Um. Did I?" They all three nodded. "Don't change the subject," I petitioned. "Luminous One, I am trying not to make this complicated for you. Without your kindred soul with you, your powers will not work correctly. His powers aren't working correctly now, either." "What do you mean his powers aren't working right now?" I asked, my voice surprisingly made of smooth hysteria. "He needs his powers! He needs to be able to fly to get away if needed." "He may be able to fly some of the time," Zola tried to soothe. "Just like with your magic. He's having the same problems." A ridiculous laugh violently broke from me. I felt an irrational fear of what this could possibly mean for the both of us. "If one of us dies . . ." I rubbed at my eyes, soaking in the thoughts. "Does that mean we will forever be without our powers?" "They won't ever work correctly when you are away from him and vice versa," Zola confirmed. My hand went straight to my mouth to hold back the bubbling hysteria. "Until you consummate your relationship." "You mean . . . sex?" I asked, laughing now. "Exactly. You need that connection with your kindred soul--to unite your souls." Zola's face was serious, but for some reason I couldn't keep a serious face. Actually, I was sure I turned a brilliant red, my heart a whimsical plague of excitement and fear. "And if one of you ever dies, the power will shift to the other. It protects both parties. But keeping your relationship platonic will only hurt you." To change the subject ASAP I said, "You really are a know-it-all." She smirked. "I've been around for a while"--she pointed at her eyes--"and I see a lot more than others." "Does this mean The Plan is still on?" Joseph interrupted. "Hell yes it is," I said before anyone could speak. "You do have quite the journey ahead of you," Zola said. "It's going to be wondrous and great. You'll have some missteps along the way, but it will be amazing." She smiled so brightly I thought light would explode out of her. "Excellent." I clapped my hands together. "Let's get some sleep, then. Because first thing in the morning, we are going after our Angels." "I think that's a wise idea, Bright One," Zola said. 21 <Exquisite Agony> That night I slept deeply, but not soundly. I had vivid dreams. My hope of them being pleasant with an encore of Andrew was wasted. There was no pleasantness to them. The scars of battle were deeper than any superfal wound. My mother was standing only yards away; I could reach her with a few small strides. She smiled at me sweetly, love pouring from her eyes, only to be devoured by fire. Seeing her like this was a twisted form of exquisite agony. I knew what was going to happen next. This was the scar that ran deep into my very being and haunted my dreams.

The world spun on its axis one last time before it stopped altogether--everything changed. Midnight dread swept across the flowing, tickling grass. The ebb and flow of horror riding the soft wind. I was in that nebulous field again . . . with the fire and the flames and the smoke . . . and a body on the ground, the moon lighting her up like the perished Angel she was. There was just the body . . . only one. Of course, it wasn't just any body, it was Abelie. As always, I was the witness to the death of the one person I had dreamed of meeting ever since I could remember. Over and over she was there, a limp, crumpled form on the damp grass. The irony wasn't lost on me--I got my wish, I saw my mother all the time now. I hated that dream; A hate like an internal inferno of torment. Hated it. But I experienced it again. And again. The sound . . . the horrible sound. Reality ripped and tore until it crashed into place. I awoke with a thundering heart. It could have been morning or night for all I knew. The windowless room felt like a cold, dry cave. There was the faint chatter of voices on the other side of my door as I stared into the impossible dark. I guessed everyone else was awake too. Maybe it was morning . . . or bodyguard shift change. After I slowed my breathing and the pounding between my ears quieted, I listened to the voices outside my door. It was Patrick and Zola. They were lightly murmuring to each other, but I could hear them more clearly than I should have been able to. It was an Angelic power I sometimes possessed: enhanced hearing. They were discussing plans of what they should do when we finally faced the Soul Stalker. It felt wrong listening in like an eavesdropper, so I decided to just meet them out in the hallway. If there were any plans, I needed to be a part of it anyway. Knowing my FBI agents, they would no doubt try to figure out a way to keep me here--out of the action. I opened the door to the blinding light in the hallway and their shadowed figures went rigid. "All right," I said with force, "I'm ready to go." What I meant to say was There is no way in hell you are going without me! Joseph came around the corner with a cup of coffee in his hand, sipping it gingerly. When I looked over my shoulder, he stopped dead in his tracks and burst into laughter, spitting some of his coffee all over the floor. Everyone was looking at me so I immediately assessed my face and hair with my hands. Without a mirror I was hopeless. "What's so funny?" I asked, turning to him./font> "Oh . . ." He smirked knowingly, wiping some stray drips of coffee off his chin. "Just the sculpture on top of your head." I was sure my eyes grew as wide as bowling balls and my hands instantly pressed down over my hair in an attempt to cover it. My face grew hot and I ran into the bathroom saying, "Oh crap, oh crap!" Laughter erupted behind me. "Laugh it up!" I shouted as I looked in the mirror. My hair was literally sticking up on end, knotted in all different directions. I must have really tossed and turned last night. Sometimes when I had dreams about Abelie, I would tear the bed to pieces because it tore me to pieces. I knew what kind of disaster my bed would be in when I finally turned on the light: the sheets would be ripped off and my pillows would be tossed across the room. Last night had been rough, the nightmare more vivid and real than

normal. Poking my head out of the bathroom I said, "I'm just going to take a quick shower." More laughter. "But then," I continued, ignoring them, "we're going! So be ready." No one argued with me, which I was grateful for because I didn't think anyone could take me seriously with the cat-or was it a ferret?--that had made itself a home on my head. I pushed down on my hair to flatten it, but it popped right back up. During my shower, a rush of feelings flooded over me like a torrent of whitewater rapids. I was nervous, excited, and scared. But more than anything, I hoped. Hoped that everything would play out with no more death on my hands. Most of all, I hoped Andrew and I could get close enough to each other that our powers would work again, so we could work together to defeat the Soul Stalker and finally stop her. To stop all deaths, not just ours. Anticipation was literally singing through my veins like an unearthly harmony. A battle song. Following my shower, I wiped the steam away from the mirror and stared at my reflection. A raging lightning storm was igniting in my eyes again. They were a deep blue, still the color of sorrow after all the atrocious events in my life. I noticed, when Jenna was around, they were their normal green. But now that she was gone, and my Angels were taken, the strong emotions were back. Anger had consumed me. Hence the lightning. As I brushed my hair, I tried to think calming thoughts so the others wouldn't see the tempest in my eyes. I thought of Andrew mostly. How he looked at me with pure adoration in his golden eyes, how he held me tightly to comfort me, and believed in me and my ability to Illuminate the Shadows. Thoughts of our past slowly turned to thoughts of our future--what our life would be like when I'd accomplished my mission as the Illuminator. Would we live in Italy and carry on our duties as Angels? Would we settle into a house? Would we finally take our relationship to the next level? My face flushed at the thought of being intimate with Andrew--desire raced through my veins and I swore I felt a tingle of electricity run through me. I suddenly wondered if an Angel's eyes turned a special color when they felt passion. I peeked in the mirror and saw that my eyes were back to their enveloping blue of grief. So much for that theory. Satisfied that I'd ditched the lightning bolt eyes, I headed off to get dressed. I wore tight-fitting jeans and a grey tank-top with a long-sleeved black T-shirt over it. I slipped on my black boots made for fieldwork and wore no makeup. Who needed it for a rescue attempt anyway? By the time I was dressed, my tangled wet hair brushed, I felt ready to go rescue my Angels. The smell of breakfast guided me to the kitchen where Joseph had made a feast. Typical. After breakfast, there was light chit-chat. No one wanted to truly talk about the possible disasters that might implode if The Plan didn't work. Patrick tried to contact Ehno, placing the lies there, but Ehno didn't send any thoughts back so we had no way of knowing if they were received. There was nervousness so thick in the air you could slice it and serve it up on a platter as we all made our way out to the cliched SUV. Zola slid into the backseat as Patrick held the door open. I moved forward, but Patrick stopped me with a hand on my shoulder. "I have something for you," he said softly. I glanced up at him, the morning light dimming as a cloud passed overhead. His eyes sparkled down at me as he pulled something from behind him and held out a knife. It was silver and gleamed in the light. The handle looked old and was carved with great care into the same beautiful, intricate patterns of symbols I had seen on Lucia's amazing tattoos. Markings I had also seen on the door to Abelie's room in the Divine Library. I still had no idea what they meant exactly, but I knew they were powerful. There were Latin words inscribed through the middle of the symbols on the knife. It said Servo Quod Vallo. "What does Servo Quod Vallo mean?" I wondered, brushing my fingers over the stunning knife. "It means 'Protect and Defend.' It is a dagger that was given to me by the Halo of the Sun when I became a Guardian. It's made with metallo fenomenale and was blessed by the Ladies of Light of old. It holds magic, but will

only be usable if the person bearing it is worthy." Patrick's fingers traced lightly over the words. I looked up at his serious face and tried to guess what he was thinking. "You're worthy, Gabriella," he said with complete sincerity. Now was not the time to make the Illuminator cry, so I opted for a change of subject. "What is that? Metallo . . . whatever?" "It's stronger than steel and has the ability to meld with magic to kill even an immortal." He left out the obvious part about the Soul Stalker being an immortal we were about to run into. "It's metal from another dimension," Patrick informed. "Something you won't find here. It's extremely rare." I was amazed. In my hand was something not of this world, literally. "I have my magic intact Illuminator, but you do not. So I am giving this to you for protection. It will be undetectable to all unless the wearer wishes otherwise." His big hand rested on shoulder and he bowed to me like he had before, with respect. "Thanks," I whispered and held the dagger in my hands like it was the greatest gift on the planet. "It's . . . magnificent." I looked around my waist, trying to find a place to put it. Patrick took the dagger from me and spun me around. He slid the dagger above the back of my jeans; the cold metal glided up my skin until I couldn't feel it anymore. "Remember," Patrick said, "it's magic. You won't notice it at your back until you reach for it. It's undetectable." I tested it out by moving my torso and bending up and down. I literally couldn't feel it at all, but as soon as I put my hand to my back and grabbed for it, I could feel the metal against my skin, the handle facing down for an easy grab, the tip touching my bra strap. "How does it stay in place at my back? It's not even touching the top of my jeans." I removed my hand and moved around, the dagger undetectable once again. "Magic," Patrick said with a smirk. "Cool," Joseph said from the passenger seat of the SUV, looking extremely impressed. "Are we ready?" As I climbed into the back, I noticed that Zola was even more beautiful than before. Her wrinkles, her white eyes, and the long grey hair that flowed down her back was healthy, just like it was the first time I had seen her in the Timeless book. She held herself with such elegance it was hard to think she was imprisoned just yesterday. Actually, I never thought she would be beautiful again after the way I found her in the strange prison cell. Plus, I had to give her props because it was hard to look that elegant without any teeth--but she did it. Zola directed Patrick where to go with a quiet murmur here or there, though I wasn't paying too much attention because I was mentally preparing for what we might find. I laid my head against the glass and stared out the tinted window. The sun peeked out from between moving clouds. All the structures and marvelous buildings we passed as we drove through one of the cities near Naples were something I should have been taking in. Instead, I stared blankly out at the scene. My thoughts were too unwieldy, too blanketed in what could, or would, happen. We drove until there was no city and the road wasn't even a road anymore. We were driving through fields, through trees, and on strange paths. I was incredibly nervous as Patrick parked the SUV and we all hopped out. It was quiet outside and the click of our doors shutting was loud. There was a huge, harvested field to our right. On our left, a dense clump of fall-colored trees engulfed a small pathway which had recently been cleared of leaves. At the end was a couple of buildings that looked as though they were worn down, had been rebuilt several times, and were possibly only being held together by mud and spit. Patrick pulled the three of us to the side. "All right. Here's the plan. I've tried to instill lies into Ehno's head in the past twelve hours. I don't know if he opened himself up enough to receive them or not, but I really hope so. In any

case, this prison is difficult to escape from. Practically impossible." My eyes glanced that direction and I raised my eyebrows at the thought. "Because of the magic," he added when he saw Joseph and me eyeing the place with cfusion. "I don't know of anyone who has tried to break into the prison. Honestly, I'm not quite sure how that will work." I looked to Zola for help; she was the psychic after all. "We have two problems: getting in, and getting back out. You're powerful, Illuminator, and I know you'll get through this." "And with Zola here, most definitely," Patrick added confidently. Zola glanced down. I placed my hand on her shoulder, worried. "Is there something you aren't telling us?" "No," she said softly. Patrick jumped back in. "Here's the deal. We are going to have to be as sneaky as possible. We can't make any mistakes with this, but I assure you that our SUV has probably already been spotted. Let's hope they think we are civilians checking on the land. We'll have to circle around the building to throw off any suspicion." "Okay. Let's get going." I almost wanted to do a clap like football players and shout "break." My nerves crawled all over my skin, making everything feel very, very wrong. I just wanted to shake them off, though no matter how hard I tried to, they seemed to cling to me even more. We all began to walk around the trees, and slowly we infiltrated them. We were really far away, but I still tried to be as quiet as I could. Every step was calculated with precision, but no matter what, even the lightest of movements seemed to make some sort of noise. The crackling of leaves was hard to hide, the rustling of Joseph's feet, though quiet, was still like a gunshot through a deep gorge. Each of my steps became premeditated, measured. But it didn't matter. None of it mattered because as we got closer, we were spotted and surrounded in seconds. Shadows. Everywhere. They surrounded us like a black ocean. A battle call in the rustling of leaves that made a wave across the ground. Wind screamed through the thrashing trees as it rained autumn's red and yellow leaves all around us. The Shadows overwhelmed us, encircled us, confined us. They were pulsing with power, their eyes deep wells of searing fire. With everything in me, all the cells in my body vibrating together with urgency, I tried to make my powers work. I tried desperately for the electricity to come to me, to not fail me. There was nothing. Not even a tiny spark. I had hoped Andrew would be close enough that my powers would work, but it was obvious we were still too far away from each other. Or he wasn't here at all. Zola grabbed my forearm quickly with her cool, wrinkled and twisted fingers. I glanced down at her, a storm probably raging in my eyes. Remorse was painted across her face. "I'm sorry, Child." Zola stared up at me with such sorrow in her eyes. "What do you mean 'you're sorry'?" The words came out as snarls and understanding hit like a bucket of ice water splashed in my face. "I kneis was going to happen," she whispered, her white eyes begging me to understand. Oh, I understood all right. She was a traitor. We'd just been shoved into the lion's den. Instead of my anger releasing, I almost melted into tears. "You knew?" "Yes. It has to happen this way. It's the only way to get inside." I tore my arm from her grip and stepped several paces back before I felt Patrick's looming figure behind me,

protecting me. "Quit dancing around the subject, Zola. Why? Why would you put us in this situation?" I cried out in horror. "There has to be another way." In the corner of my eyes I saw the black tide of Shadows tightening their circle, moving closer. Many of them were probably scared of what I would do. Previously I had knocked a whole army of them down to the ground. Rage rippled out from me, absent of power, but probably felt all the same. Zola spoke quietly, urgently. "You will never set Andrew free if you are not captured now. I will help us out of this situation. Just go willingly." Her voice lowered so much I had to take a step closer, which was mimicked by Patrick and Joseph. "Do not fight against them, we need inside." I peered over my shoulder to Patrick who nodded in agreement. My eyes shot to Joseph who stared wide-eyed, obviously not realizing that this was "The Plan." It felt like such a betrayal as I literally felt devoured in terror. I had just been betrayed by the only people I could trust. Joseph reached for my hand and his touch calmed me, though there was open panic on his face. "Zola, I got you out of your prison. I saved you from the Ladies of Light . . . and now you're helping them?" I waved my hand toward the Shadows that grew closer and closer, fire feasting on the dried leaves like an insatiable beast. Zola's voice grew frantic with the need for me to understand. "No Child, just go with them, peacefully. Go with them peacefully, they will not hurt you." Her eyes darted to the ground. "At least not badly." Joseph squeezed my hand with obvious anger. " 'Not badly'? What kind of crap is this?" His hand jerked free of mine as my rage came back. He'd reached for his holster and pulled his gun out to start shooting. Patrick put his hand on Joseph's forearm and shook his head as he lowered his hand down to the ground. I could tell that Joseph was fighting him. A thick cloud of smoke surrounded us. "Your gun is no good here, Joseph." "You were in on this too?" Joseph shouted to Patrick, his face turning red with rage. Patrick nodded. "Zola explained it to me. I am supposed to protect Gabriella, and you are my partner. If we fight, we die. I trust Zola and you should too. Please believe us, go with the Shadows. This is the only way." Fire exploded from the Shadows as they finally surrounded us fully, only a few feet away from us. "I can't believe you," I said, my voice swallowed in the roar of flames. "If any blood is spilled, it won't be on my hands!" I could see the tide of confidence in Patrick's face fade into a ripening despair. We were cornered. Leaves above us caught fire and began to rain down upon us. Smoke saturated the air in swirling wisps. I could not believe this. I could not believe it. We were going to have to surrender; we couldn't survive if we didn't. Forfeiting, giving up . . . those words were not in my vocabulary. But we had no other options. I decided to surrender. There was nothing I could fight with, except the dagger which wouldn't help much with the sea of Shadows surrounding us, and Joseph's gun was useless. It was all futile. The Shadows could not die, so what was the point? Then I remembered Patrick telling me to Illuminate them because we could kill them if they were Angels again. I couldn't imagine killing them now, and I most definitely couldn't imagine killing an actual Angel. Even though they were surrounding us. Threatening us. And I still didn't even know how to do it; at best I would electrocute them. I swallowed thickly. I didn't know how we were going to get through this and I wasn't quite sure if I could forgive Zola and Patrick for putting us in this position without telling us. There was a possibility I would have accepted it all if Zola would have just explained it to me beforehand. There wasn't anything I wouldn't do to save the ones I loved. "Okay," I relented. "Joseph, put your gun away, it isn't going to help us. Just put it away."

His face showed disbelief. "Gabriella?" "If this is what we have to do get my Angels back, we'll do it Joseph." He shook his head like he couldn't understand what I was saying, and he could shake the words to mean something else. "We'll do it. So put your gun away," I pleaded. "Put it away, please." His eyes narrowed for a moment before he holstered his gun. "Are you sure about this? Are you positive this is what you want to do?" I shook my head. "No. Actually, I am pretty sure this is something that I do not want to do." I took a deep breath. "But I think . . . I think we need to consider our options. Zola is on our side, she has to be. And Patrick . . . I trust him. I have to trust somebody, Joseph. You know I already trust you, but I've got to have more people on my side and I can't let what happened with Karen affect me forever." Joseph gave a tight nod like he was trying to accept my little speech but didn't want to. "Okay Gabby. I'll do what you tell me to do because I trust you." "Thank you," I said because I didn't know what else to say to that. He was risking his life for me, yet again. Joseph grasped my hand and the calm returned. I wasn't sure what it was about him, but he seemed to calm me down. He made those little tingly nerves--the ones that felt like bugs crawling all over me--settle, calm, and almost disappear. At the moment, I didn't have time to think about why that was. The Shadows had us trapped. Many of the darkened faces showed slight distrust in the fact that we were behaving. The lasme they saw us I did fight back and won the battle--but not the war. Thoughts of Illuminating them crossed my mind again but I didn't even know how to begin because I knew that there were only three Shadows that were on the Soul Stalker's side. If I Illuminated the rest of them, would they become my warriors? Become my Guardians? The thoughts weaved through my head like a complicated wicker basket. It was starting to sound more and more like a good idea. Suddenly, hands clasped around my wrists, burning with an unbearable intensity I screamed out in pain and all my thoughts turned to how to stop it. It was an automatic reaction to jerk away, which only caused the Shadow to pull me out of Joseph's grasp. "Joseph!" I screamed out. As soon as our hands parted, the fear and panic rushed over my body like a scalding hot shower of fire. The hands tightened around my wrist like hot iron bands and I felt the burning deeper as my flesh cooked. I could even smell it. Suddenly I was being held against the ground, my nose pressed into the hard-packed surface. I spit leaves out of my mouth and swallowed a mouthful of scorching smoke. My eyes watered with the silvery substance of my tears as I tried to blink away the harsh, burning air. Zola and Patrick were also against the ground, not even fighting back. Joseph had a pained expression on his face, his arms held behind him by a Shadow who delivered a massive thrust into his back with his knee. His face smashed into the ground and blood bloomed across his face and out of his nose. His looked toward me and his silence spoke volumes. We shared the same look of hope--hope that we were doing the right thing, hope that this would work, hope that we weren't going to die. I wasn't one to give up and neither was he. We had both decided to trust. The branding heat from the Shadow's palms disappeared, but I couldn't move my arms. I was bound, though there was no pain in the feeling which made me think it was magical. My wrists ached and I was glad there was nothing rubbing the tender area. Leaves clung to my face and clothes as they pushed us forward, the ring of fire parting for us to walk through. Heat penetrated the cold air as we were yanked past the fire and guided roughly to the ancient, stone building. The huge sandstone blocks were crumbling with old age, a mixture of newer materials here and there to keep it intact. Inside the building, we passed a desk with opened leather-bound books scattered across it. Light from a window overhead made the room look more bright and cheery than the exterior. We passed a doorway and I felt the electricity in me flare like it recognized the magic surrounding me. There was no control over the energy; it was more like a meeting of two magics.

"Invisible prison bars," Zola rasped. "Once you pass it, you can't go back without the permission of the one who put up the spell. Very special magic." We were shoved into a windowless room with a floor so dirty you'd think it was made of dirt. Maybe it was and we could dig our way out. There was a single light bulb that hung by its cord from the low-lying ceiling. We were shoved to the ground and thrown against the wall. The same Shadow that burned my wrists snapped the magical binds and put my arms above my head only to put them in real metal cuffs connected with chains. It was like we were thieves being thrown into a dungeon. I hissed at the sensation of my burned wrists rubbing against the metal. My nerves came alive and I whimpered, trying my best to swallow down the scream. The Shadow smirked at my discomfort and clasped the metal even tighter around my wrist, wanting me to shout out. And I did, cries exploding out of me without my permission. The Shadows all stood, one of them clicking the light above us off. The door opened and another Shadow was silhouetted in the light from the hallway. "Eva wants to see us." His voice was cold. The Shadows exited one at a time, and each time they crossed the threshold, the air rippled like a pond absorbing the shock of a rock passing the surface. More magic. The one who smirked at hurting my wrist turned around before he shut the door and I could see his fiery eyes mocking me, even in the dark. "No, Vito." It was the same crisp voice. The Shadow moved his hand like he was shutting the door, but he didn't touch it. The door moved slowly, the hinges desperately needing some grease. There was a tiny click and the room went dark, all except a tiny line of light from the bottom of the door. Dust weaved in and out of it and all was silent apart from the small whimpers I couldn't help but release. "I don't care how old you are, Zola," Joseph whispered, his teeth gritted together, "if anyone else hurts Gabriella I will make you hurt double." I could feel a silver tear slide down my face, around my lips, and down into my lap. 22 <Water on Fire> When you are in a dark room time seems to run away. You don't really know if it's night or day; if it has been minutes, hours, or days. No time. Time loses all meaning. Almost like the Angels themselves: Timeless. Being in the dark was timeless. We stayed hunkered down silently, our wrists bound uncomfortably. The Shadows came in a few times, once taking all of Joseph's and Patrick's weapons, but luckily missing the dagger at my back. After an amount of unknown time passed, Patrick began to fill the silent air with his humming. The melody was not one I had ever heard before, but Zola seemed to appreciate it. She told him she missed the songs of old. I was sure it was music their people sung a long time ago. Well, they were my people now even though I was new to them. Brand new. Shiny. "Zola," I whispered, the noise breaking through the humming. "Andrew's not here, is he?" She shook her head dejectedly. "No Child. He was here, along with the other Angels, but when Patrick opened up his mind to Ehno again, the Soul Stalker found out about you. She knew about our plans to come here and rescue them." I wanted to scream in frustration; the muscle below my eye began dancing. "Why did you make us come here? Why? . . .Why, why, why? WHY?" I cried out in desperation. "Because something else is going to take place and you need to be here when it happens." "Okay," I said slowly. "I'll bite. Explain it so I will understand."

"The Soul Stalker . . . she's not going to help you. Neither are the Shadows. But there is someone else who will, but if you're not here, they won't rescue you, and then you won't find your Angels." She paused, her words dying in the darkness. "There are many things that are about to happen, but they must go in order. If the future is rearranged in any way things won't work out and they will not be okay. So you must listen to me," she demanded, "and stay on the path I point you on. Every time you think about not listening to me, not doing what I tell you, events will go horribly, terribly wrong." "What do you mean?" My voice was breathless, uncertain. "There are special people in your life, Gabriella. Your Keepers and your Angels. You don't want to be responsible for losing them, do you?" I wished I could see Zola in the darkness so I could attempt to read her face. "No, of course not." "Then do as I say." "What are Keepers?" I asked, confused. "Bright One, I'm not sure who your Keepers are exactly, though I believe Joseph might be one of them." She sighed as I contemplated her words. "But Joseph is a human!" I countered. "Keepers are human," Zola explained as if I was a child. Joseph must have been asleep because he didn't say anything, or he was eavesdropping on the conversation. "When I have to deal with the Timeless Oblivion or the Ethereal Eternity . . . my visions do not extend to otherworldly dimensions or realms. They only work for this world, so I'm not positive, but I'm pretty damn sure that Joseph is one of your human Keepers." Timeless Oblivion? Ethereal Eternity? Dimensions . . . Realms. "I still don't understand." I seemed to be saying that to Zola a lot. A broken record, really. I don't understand. I don't understand. Because it was true, I didn't understand anything and she had a hard time explaining it. Frustrating didn't even begin to cover it. Hell, I was chained to a damn wall like I was some thief or beggar, or some vagrant on the streets. Trying to keep my voice in check I said, "Just explain it to me the best you can Zola, and I'll try not to interrupt." I couldn't see her; I could only hear her soft, slightly shaky, voice. "I always knew that, as the Illuminator, you would need some sort of protection beyond the Angels. Well, it's not really the kind of protection you are thinking of. You needed people in your life to keep you on the right track so you could find your way." My chains rattled slightly as I shifted positions on the floor. "Find my way?" I whispered under my breath in contemplation. "Yes," she said firmly. "You have two Keepers. They . . . keep you. They keep you rational. They keep you together. They keep loving you. They just . . . keep you emotionally safe and grounded." "Okay," I breathed into the cold, damp air. If what she said was true, and Joseph was one of these Keepers, then everything he has done, especially risking his life, has all been based on a lie. My stomach lurched and I felt sick. "Don't think that these humans have lied to you, Child," she responded as if she plucked the thoughts straight from my head. "Why? There are two people who are my Keepers and they didn't even tell me." If I wasn't chained to a wall, I would have folded my arms in defiance. "And you're telling me now? While I'm chained to a wall, wondering if I'll ever find my loved ones?" My voice turned raspy and shaky. "Don't hold it against them; they don't know they're your Keepers." "They don't know?" My voice was incredulous. "No," Zola confirmed. "They will share an undeniable connection with you; whether it to be friendship or love. They

will want to bathe in your presence." I hmpfed. "So, if Joseph is one of these 'Keepers,' " I said with a lilt in my voice, "then--" Joseph made a coughing noise. "Don't talk like I'm not here." We both ignored him. "So if he is a Keeper then he doesn't know it and he just feels this connection with me because he's supposed to?" "No Child," Zola scoffed. "They aren't born to be Keepers, they become Keepers because they feel that connection." "Oh." At least there weren't two humans who loved me solely because I was the Illuminator. It would really bother me if Joseph didn't have the free-will to care about me in his own way and not in some strange, supernatural way. "I tried my best to look into your past, your future, the present . . . everything." Zola took in a deep breath. "I've tried to find out as much as I could about you since before you were born. I've tried to figure out everything so I could help you when the time arrived. "I know you are supposed to have two Keepers, so far there is only one person I realize is your Keeper. And that would be your sister or, should I say, your adopted sister Jenna. Joseph, of course, is the other possibility." "Jenna is a . . . Keeper?" My world, the one that was so steady before, aligned perfectly with excellent grades, a great job doing something amazing, and full of late night TV and popcorn with Hercules, was now upside down. Angels blew into my life, with their power and beauty . . . and Andrew with his sweet words and strong arms. And when I thought my world had aligned into something that made a semblance of sense again, it had been squashed like a huge bug beneath the Almighty's shoe. I was in an Angel prison, being held by the Soul Stalker and her band of Shadow followers who I was supposed to Illuminate. My burnt wrists were shackled to a wall while I sat on the dirt-infested floor. Anger consumed me and I tried to hold it back, but any second it was about to explode. "Are there any people left in the world who aren't supernatural in nature?" Zola gave a raspy laugh. "We all have supernatural potential. If humans learned to use a larger portion of their brains they could do extraordinary things." She sighed as if she were about to deliver bad news to a waiting family in an emergency room. "Jenna is still human, she just has the Divine Spirits behind her, keeping her alive, helping her emotionally so she can help you emotionally." "And Joseph is my other Keeper?" My voice held a challenge. "I can't imagine it being my adoptive mother--she was an absolute mess when it came to her emotions. My adoptive father wasn't that close to me, even though he did help raise me. And my cousin Nicole . . . we're close but we're more like boxing buddies close." "Exactly," she exclaimed quietly. "That is why I think it's Joseph." "It might be true, Gabby," Joseph said, his voice sounding like the Sahara Desert. "Why do you think that?" I wondered. "Because I have always felt this incredible connection with you; I've told you that. I can't figure out what it is, but I feel connected to you deeper than I have to anyone. Emotionally I want to keep you safe and make sure you are okay. When you are upset or distressed my heart literally feels like it is breaking. I constantly worry about you and when I thought you were dead . . ." His voice lowered to barely a whisper. "I broke. I broke into a million pieces, Gabriella, and I barely knew you, and I didn't understand why. But there was nothing I could do but feel your loss. So I think that I may be one of these Keeper people." Chains rattled on the wall and I pictured Joseph adjusting himself so he was facing me. "I'm so glad you are in my life. You've brought me so many things--you've brought me this world." "I brought you this world!?" I scoffed. "You're chained to a damn wall!" I wanted to cover my mouth really quickly but

I couldn't because there were chains around my burnt wrists. I could not believe that I just cussed at Joseph; I felt so incredibly embarrassed. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry I didn't mean to--" I spluttered. "I'm not trying to snap at you." I felt like such an ass. "I feel the same about you," I barely whispered. All was quiet for several painfully long seconds. When Joseph finally spoke his words were calm. "Gabby, I'm not angry at you. Honestly, I don't think I could ever be angry at you. Even when you are livid, and it sounds like I am irritated back at you, I'm not. I never am. I just . . . I just want you to be happy and safe. And it doesn't matter who you're with, as long as you are safe." He sighed in frustration. "Right now I don't feel very safe. And because I don't feel very safe, I know you're not." His voice turned hard as a rock, stern, and heated. "I don't care what all this is about, Zola," he said slowly, "but I am not happy we are in this place chained to a wall. I'm not happy that Gabby--the Angels' savior--is chained to a wall while Shadows are outside. I'm not happy with you." I could hear his teeth snap together. Patrick stayed, decidedly, quiet. I honestly didn't blame him for staying out of the line of Joseph's fury. Or maybe Patrick was starting to agree that not telling us was a bad idea. Before anyone could say anything, the door slammed open. Light flooded into the room, blinding us all. There was the click of high heels on cement right before they hit dirt with a thud and I could feel the dust swirling around the dry air. The light above us clicked on and blinded us all over again.When my eyes adjusted, I followed the legs of a stunning woman with long brown hair and blue eyes like the ocean. When I reached her face there was a sneer there that could probably catch water on fire. It was the Soul Stalker. "All right, stop bickering. We've got ourselves a problem and you're going to fix it." 23 Torture is something I never thought I would encounter in my life. But that all changed when I met the Angels. You would think angelic beings would emit only goodness and light. Well, there were definitely perks to finding those Angels. Andrew in particular and, of course, my parents. But there were also the downsides: the Shadows, the Ladies of Light, and Soul Stalker. The Soul Stalker was clever and deceptive, but she could not break through my mind's barrier and that enraged her. I wasn't sure what happened when she tried to reach into Zola's soul for the answers she coveted, but an irritated growl escaped her perfectly plump lips. She couldn't break through Patrick's protected mind either and that thoroughly pissed her off, provoking her to move on to a mortal. We might have been okay, our thoughts all our own, but there was Joseph, a human who didn't have the protection needed to keep Soul Stalker out of his head. "I want answers now!" I could almost see fire explode from Soul Stalker's eyes like a Shadow's. "Why are you alive, Illuminator? Killing you seems to be a waste of time because you'll just come back again!" She paced the small space of the room, her black heels snapping against the ground. She had on a black dress that matched, like she had a hot date right after she tried to torture us. She huffed. "Your pretty little soul will be mine, even if your body must live on without it. All I want to know is where is the Timeless book?" A shiver ran up my spine, though I tried to keep all emotion off my face. If I stayed passive, hopefully I wouldn't provoke her into doing something that would hurt the ones I loved. "Why is it that no one can tell me why these Angels keep coming back from the dead?" Soul Stalker bent at her knees, her face almost level with mine as she seized my hair and pulled up so I would look at her. "Before I take what is mine, you will Illuminate my brothers." "There is nothing left in them to Illuminate, Karen." I said her name like a curse and she flinched and then glowered venomously at me.

"They are as soulless as you." I spit the words at her. "Fine," she snapped and slammed my head hard against the wall, her face contorting with rage. A scream of agony caught in my throat. Something hot and wet seeped into my hair and dripped onto my neck. I became dizzy and stars flickered in my vision. "We'll jt see what the human has in his little mind then." She trailed her manicured nails down Joseph's neck and he strained away from her. "No!" I cried out. A tidal wave of guilt crashed over me. She laughed maniacally as I screamed in protest, refusing to feel the throb in my wrists as I yanked wildly to free my hands. "Yes," she hissed. She placed her hands on Joseph's head and closed her eyes as if she were praying over him. I knew better than that. Several minutes passed while I writhed against my restraints, trying desperately to yank myself free. My skin prickled with the magic that rippled out of her. She laughed and it was a bitter, ugly sound. It burned across my skin like a wildfire devouring oxygen. Wrath pounded through my body, cruel and sadistic. Tears swam in my eyes as Soul Stalker released Joseph. I didn't know what she saw in his mind, but she didn't like it by the sound of the seething hatred whistling out of her like a warning alarm. As a matter of fact, I was pretty sure she was going to kill him. "Useless!" she screamed. Fury propelled her to her feet, her body in a rigid pose as she heaved in a sharp breath. She refused to look at us as she swept out of the room and slammed the door. The light bulb overhead swung back and forth by the force of it. I guess being a Keeper had some perks after all. The heels of the Soul Stalker echoed loudly, evilly as she marched up and down the hall outside our prison door. I didn't even know shoes could sound evil, but she managed it. I shuddered at the sound. She shouted several times to the Shadows, her voice shrill and annoyed, while other times she muttered under her breath to herself. Her words were incoherent and sometimes they were in another language I couldn't understand. Patrick and Zola probably understood every word she spoke. My thoughts focused on Zola instead, still infuriated over her lying to me. Everything reminded me of her lie. My arms hung over my head chained to the wall, my wrist sore from the burns and the metal biting deeper into my wrists, and the slow trickle of blood down my neck. All I could think about was how I was betrayed. The voices in the hall grew smaller as they moved away from our door. "What happened?" I whispered. "I have no idea. I didn't even feel anything except for goosebumps," Joseph explained quietly. I nodded, relieved. "It's going to be all right, Gabby." First, I couldn't believe he was consoling me. Second, I didn't even have the energy in me to get angry about the nickname. At this point, it was almost endearing. "I hope you're right," I said. "We'll get through this. It isn't your fault, and I can see it in your eyes that you're blaming yourself." "You wouldn't be here if it wasn't for me." I could feel a muscle tick in my arms, cramping. Ignoring the spasm, I added, "Then again, you seem to have this fatalistic inability to say no." "I'd rather be here with you, in hopes that I can help, than be anywhere else," Joseph conveyed seriously. "Now rest." Words failed me, as they often did when someone confessed how much they cared for me. I wanted to tell him

how much it meant to me but words were not enough. My body ached like I had been beaten with a bat, and I was so tired I was constantly nodding off to sleep through Joseph's murmurings of reassurance. When I finally found a form of comfort--which was me leaning my head up against my arm--I dreamed. The day was incredibly dry and I was wholly grateful that the summer had yet to bring on a humid heat that made your skin want to melt off your bones. The sun met with the earth as it began to fade over the horizon, setting our house ablaze with a fiery light. I had spent the majority of the day washing our clothing outside and was hanging the last of it when Aidanus rounded our home, immediately encircling me in an embrace. "Was your hunt successful?" I murmured into his neck, not wanting to let go. "Lucia brought over corn and wine from the vineyard this morning." We both pulled out of the hug, our fingers still linked together. A huge smile spread across Aidanus's face. "Not only was our hunt successful, I won a bet and now our meat has been skinned and prepared by Aindriu and Ehno." "Do I even want to know what you three made bets on?" I asked with a smirk. He shook his head. "Probably best kept in the mountains." Aidanus bent his head forward to place a gentle kiss on my lips, his face rough with stubble. "Mmm. You keep doing that and we'll have to cancel dinner for the evening," I purred against his lips. "No way," a voice called out. "Dinner will be had after all the trouble I took to clean and skin our meat." We both looked over to see Aindriu. His smile widened to show the dimples at the corners of his lips. He was young and handsome with short midnight black hair and stunning amber eyes, so light brown they were practically golden. The cloth that covered his body had some dirt and blood splattered on it from his work. "I'd say we'd leave to let you to have alone time, but we're hungry," another voice sounded from behind him. Ehno and Lucia were hand in hand, their faces glowing under the dying sun. "Where's the meat?" I wondered. "Aidanus can bring it inside. That wasn't part of the bet." He faux punched Aidanus in the arm. "It's out front, Fratello." He groaned. "Fine," he relented. "Aindriu, have you not found a woman yet?" I asked him as he put an arm around my shoulder. "There is no woman who has stolen my heart, Abelie." He clutched his heart dramatically. "All they want is to make babies and have someone hunt for them. I'd rather hunt for you and Aidanus." He tapped my nose gentlynd pulled me toward the kitchen. Inside, Lucia had already started a fire and placed a container full of water over it to boil the corn. She had long auburn hair down her back that matched the painted hand prints adorning her legs and ankles. Aindriu winked at me and removed his arm from around my shoulder to join Lucia near the fire. "Sorella, I never thought I'd see you slaving over a fire." Aindriu chuckled as she swiped at his knees. "How are the bambini?" He pointed down to the muddy children's hand prints all over her legs. Lucia flushed and turned back to the food. "Buono," she murmured. I wanted to tell Aindriu to stop it because I knew how much she wanted a child but had been unsuccessful. Ehno might not have informed him of their attempts and many failures. "Do not worry, Sorella. You will have a small one of your own one of these days," Aindriu comforted. "Until then, you can practice . . . after cena, or course."

"Food is always on your mind, Fratello."Lucia turned, the fire casting half of her face into shadow. They both laughed and I joined in. Their playful banter was normal and I knew this was my family. They would always be my family. The ground suddenly started to vibrate. First it was a low hum, dirt bouncing back and forth across the ground. But then it was accompanied by a sound of what had to be a herd of a thousand deer. Aidanus burst into the room with a look of panic on his face. Ehno followed behind, his eyes darting around the room until he found Lucia. Aidanus ran toward me and pulled me into a bone-crunching embrace right before all three men met in the middle of our casa. Their rapid words were hard to keep up with, though Lucia and I tried to capture every word. "An army," Ehno explained. "How many?" Aindriu demanded. "Hundreds." "Thousands," Aidanus corrected. "Maybe more." "Halo del Sole?" Ehno's face looked desolate. "Are they gathering?" "Si, a fire has been lit on the horizon." My heart had begun a steady tempo of drums beating out a staccato rhythm. Thousands? Thousands of . . . deer? No, it couldn't be--they said an army. The men wouldn't be so worried over deer. The fires would not be lit. "Oh no," I gasped. Lucia gripped my hand with the force of a Senzo Tempo warrior. "It's an army of men." My voice had lowered to a small whisper. "The vibrations are warriors." I sank to the floor as my stomach churned with sickness. The Halo of the Sun were about to go to battle. My family was about to battle. Everything changed. It was Abelie. I was Abelie. I exalted at the fact that I had not lost this connection with my mother. She was back! It was a slow process of waking up, my body weak with lack of food and water. Thoughts gradually began to register in my mind. Abelie had not gone from me. I wanted to rejoice but couldn't find the enthusiasm I would have normally shown over this revelation. My wrists throbbed in my restraints, the skin rubbed partially raw. I still hadn't fully recovered from my dream. For weeks I had thought The Sight had faded--but my dreams proved that it was as strong as ever. The last glimpse of her memories had almost completely erased all of my fear of being captured by the Soul Stalker. Almost. Patrick had his smooth blank face in place. If it weren't for his piercing eyes you'd think he was just part of the decor with his stiff posture. His skin seemed darker in the dim light of our prison. I tried not to gawk at him as I took in his features with new eyes. Besides my dream, the revelation that Patrick and Zola had falsely led me here still had my mind doing some strange shimmy. Like it was dancing under a disco ball and random parts of my mind would light with some new intelligence, revelation, or thought. Our eyes locked and I realized that he was still just Patrick, just with the added title of timeless and possibly betrayer. There was a light snore to my right where Joseph sat in a strange position, like a puppet. It was my fault he was here; I should never have shown up on his doorstep asking for help. I remembered his soft murmurings as I dozed off into an uncomfortable sleep--about how everything would be all right, and how he didn't blame me--he wanted to help. He must have found his own awkward sleeping position sometime during the night. With his eyes closed,

his mouth hanging slightly ajar, he looked so peaceful. I didn't want to wake him, but that didn't matter because voices had exploded outside our prison door. Joseph jerked roughly and made a painful noise as his wrists bit into the sharp metal of his cufflinks. Zola, who looked like she'd aged several years since the first time I saw her in the Timeless book's memory, also stirred. She stared across the small room and right into my eyes. Those white orbs still made me extremely nervous, but they were steady. "I don't have time for your vendetta!" a familiar voice shrieked. My heart thundered. If only I could hope for the Soul Stalker to just leave us alone. "If it wasn't for the . . . Illuminator"--Vittorio said "Illuminator" as if it was a disease--"we'd be well on our way to conquering Italy, Eva." That was the second time I had heard that name attached to the Soul Stalker. Was it her true name, or did it mean something? Soul Stalker literally growled, obviously exasperated. "All right, see if you can get anything out of the girl." She didn't believe he could coax answers out of me, and she was right. I could be stubborn as a mule if necessary. The Timeless book's safe haven would never be revealed. There were several clicks as the door unlocked. I knew they weren't using a key--it was magic. The ancient race of immortals were named Angels--and rightfully so with their heroic acts--but they were no beings from God, they were just magical. The silhouette of Vittorio, also known as Jeff, appeared in the doorway. It was bright out in the hall and the light seemed to lighten my heart. That light represented hope, hope which we all desperately needed. I also wondered if my Angels were close by, or if the Soul Stalker and her brothers had taken them somewhere far away. Surely they were alive. I'd feel it somehow if Andrew were dead, wouldn't I? Would I? My connection with him went to my core, tightened all the muscles around my heart, sent psychotic butterflies through my stomach, and made me blush in places I didn't think I could blush. He was alive--somehow I just knew it was true. The door creaked across the floor and the sliver of light--of hope--started to grow thinner and thinner until there was just the light from a low-watt light bulb hanging overhead. I couldn't discern his features, but Vittorio glowed in the dark where his skin ignited like extremely hot magma between his cracked, ashen outer body. It was obvious he had given up on his usual human exterior as his fiery eyes trailed down my restraints and finally burned into mine. I looked away. I didn't want to look at him; it only made me sick. My mother's lifeless face flashed across my mind and it took every part of my restraint to keep from spitting in his face. It would gain me no favors--though it might make me feel better. Behind Vittorio, Patrick shook his head back and forth slowly, as if he knew what I wanted to do. Vittorio lowered himself to eye level. I gritted my teeth to prevent myself from saying something that would get me into more trouble than I was already in. He chuckled. "I've been waiting for the day when I can choke the life out of you." His buoyant laughter faded. "A little weakened magic, a big sharp branch, and we have ourselves a dead Illuminator. Not exactly what I had dreamt of for years--but I took it. Yet here you are, alive." It was true, I had come back from the dead, but I still truly believed it was the Illuminator who had died and left me that day. My magic was haywire, my blood changed from gold to red to silver, and I felt a huge empty hole inside me. There was something missing and the only thing I could think of was that the special part of me, the part that made me the Illuminator, was dead. "So now I need to find a way to finally rid this world of you." His voice was dull, bored. "Just like my followers accomplished with your mother. But first, where is the Timeless book?" My eyes narrowed and my mouth opened to say something that would probably cause me a large amount of pain. Words flared up in my throat but stuck, like they were fighting over each to see who could piss him off the most. The thought of spitting in his face came back to my mind.

Ping. You've got to be kidding me. Joseph looked horrified. My witty response dried on my tongue, the retort lost. "What the hell is that?" Vittorio rose from his squatting position, angry surprise in his voice. Joseph shifted uncomfortably and kept his mouth shut. Vittorio growled as fire lit on his palms, but gav up when no one said anything and turned back to me. His hand came up, like he was going to slam his fire infested knuckles into my face. My hands automatically went forward to protect myself but were caught painfully by the cufflinks. Vittorio smiled at my look of agonized horror, ready to strike. The door flew open and one of the Shadows rushed in. "Something's up outside. We need you out there now." His voice was a low, guttural sound. "Can't you see I'm a little busy?" Vittorio muttered testily, his lips curling petulantly. The Shadow seemed unmoved by his words. "Did I stutter on my request?" he snapped back, an edge of impatience in his voice. The defiance on Vittorio's face slowly faded. "Fine." The one word was said like a curse. He stomped out of the room, followed by the other Shadow and slammed the door behind him. There were light murmurings outside the door, their shadows moving back and forth in the small sliver of light from under the door. Footsteps dissolved down the hallway, but one Shadow stayed behind. A few seconds passed before the door flung open and the other Shadow came rushing in. He lowered to the ground and I flinched away from him, afraid he was going to hurt me. "I'm not going to harm you, Illuminator," he said softly. "I'm here to help you escape." Confusion must have been plain on my face because he explained quickly. "If you were the one to eliminate the Shadows, then you would have done it in the field outside the Divine Library. But you didn't. You aren't here to kill us, are you?" I shook my head back and forth, words frozen in my dry throat. "I didn't think so." He vivaciously pulled the cuffs free from my wrists and gently brought my arms to my lap. I automatically rubbed my wrists, the feeling a heavenly torture. Footsteps reverberated down the hall and he stiffened. "Help them out of their restraints and run. I've disabled the prison bars. Your vehicle hasn't been moved. When the coast is clear hurry!" He left in a flash, the door shutting with a small click. Either this was a game for them or a Shadow just let me free. Hope exploded in me and I quickly rose to my feet. 24 <Ecstatic Terror> I was starving. Maybe the Gorilla Squad was trying to starve us to death. Of course, this should have been the last thing on my mind as I helped everyone out of their restraints. There were lower murmurings outside the door and footsteps going in two different directions. My stomach growled--I really hoped being hungry was not what got us caught. Joseph raised his eyebrows at me when my stomach decided to mimic a small lion. "Don't give me that look," I whispered scornfully as I worked to break him free. Finally, the lock disintegrated beneath my fingers and I didn't even use my magic. Patrick helped Zola out of hestraints. It seemed as though she had become increasingly weak again since our capture. It worried me, not only because I needed her, but because I had grown fond of the old woman regardless of her lies.

I nearly fell over from my bent position when I heard a voice right outside our door. My heart started to pound so hard I could hear it in my ears and my breath hitched. Joseph crawled toward me and put his hand over my mouth. His eyes seized mine as he tried to convey to me to be quiet. My breathing accompanied my staggering heart. My back slammed into the wall and I bit my lip hard in hopes that I hadn't just given us away. Joseph didn't move his hand as his eyes held mine, just as frenzied. The muffled voice faded down the hall and Joseph moved his hand from my mouth. "Are you okay," he mouthed. I nodded and stabbed my thumb over my shoulder where the door was a few inches away. Patrick stood and helped Zola up, but I motioned with my hand that they should stay down. If we opened the door, the guards would aim for someone who was standing; we could out maneuver them if we hung down near their knee caps--a perfect place to strike. The fact that I even thought about hitting--or possibly breaking--someone's knee caps made me feel out of my element. Again, what part of a dungeon-like prison, Shadow guards, and a soulless leader was in my element? Honestly, I thought about doing a lot more than hurting a few knees around here. The wave of violence that burned within me was new. Since I had become an Angel, violence seemed to be the only thing on my mind; usually vicious thoughts when people attacked those I loved. And no matter how foreign the emotion was, I embraced it this time--perhaps extreme emotions would bring just a tiny spark of my magic back. Joseph went for the door first and I practically yanked him back and shook my head. For a whole minute we silently argued, bent down like waddling ducks. He made gestures of how he was male by flexing his bicep and pointing at it, then he nodded and yanked his finger toward the door saying that he should go first. I shook my head, rubbed my fingers together to make a small electric spark, and stabbed my thumb toward the door to tell him I should go first. He didn't agree, snapped his head left and right fiercely to say no, made his hand into a gun and blew over his pointer finger as if he had just shot a real gun. I rolled my eyes at him as I pointed to his empty holster, not like bullets did anything to the very immortal Angels. He put his hand over it and grimaced when he realized it was empty and then thrust both his thumbs into his chest and literally--no joke--hit his chest like a wild caveman. I blinked at him as he continued to flex his biceps. Finally, I pointed at my chest to say I should go first and then drew a halo above my head with my finger. He thought it was funny and made horns on his head like a devil and stuck his tongue out at me. The door creaked open and Joseph and I both jumped, startled, when we noticed Patrick lit from the sliver of light that came from the hallway. He shook his head at our muted conversation in slight humor and exasperation as he held the door in his palm. From the outside, I was sure we probably looked like a pair of pantomimes. I glanced up at Patrick and shot him my best glare for opening the door while Joseph craned his neck to see what was behind door number one. Patrick signaled for the all-clear--or that was what I thought the strange, gang-like signal meant-and we all stood. Zola had been leaning against the wall, but seemed to regain some buoyancy at the thought of being free. Being imprisoned for a couple-hundred years and finally realizing it might all be over with would put a smile on anyone's face. But we weren't free yet, and somehow I was sure she knew that. Patrick went ahead of us as Joseph brought up the rear, his arm around Zola's waist. "Down the hall, to the left," Zola croaked softly behind us. Patrick didn't even hesitate as he made his way toward the T in the hallway. "Wait!" she wheezed. "In there!" She pointed her boney, crooked finger to a door close to us and, as Joseph slipped in, we heard voices echo down the hallway, right past our door. "Gabriella," choked Patrick. My head snapped down to see where I had gripped him and was electrocuting him. Maybe Andrew was close after all? "Damn! I'm sorry," I mouthed silently. When I pried my fingers off his arm smoke rose from his scorched skin. I stared down as I waited for his flesh to grow back as I had seen Andrew's do when he was shot with bullets. Nothing happened. "Patrick, why isn't your skin repairing itself?" I wondered quietly. He lowered his head down close to me so he could speak in a low voice. "Illuminator, you, of all the Angels, have powerful magic beyond my own. It takes longer for me to heal from your magic."

"Powerful magic?" I mouthed mutely. That was funny. He nodded. "Deep inside you possess the power to destroy any Angel. You just have to learn to access and control those powers for a positive outcome," he murmured. Zola's cold boney fingers wrapped around my wrist. Her cloudy eyes stared into mine and within the foggy depths I saw the future as if I were the psychic. I yanked my burned wrist free, absolutely surprised. She didn't need to say anything. "Everyone?" They all turned to me curiously, mainly because I didn't lower my voice when I spoke. "Run!" I shouted and flew through the door and down the hall. The Shadows had realized we had escaped. When I reached the T at the end of the hall, I took the left we had previously planned to go down. I heard echoing footsteps behind me and feared whose feet made the noise because it was awfully close. We came to a closed door. It had a small glass window with chicken wire embedded into the glass. There was no way I would be able to get through it so I bypassed it. I yanked and tugged on the locked door. Whimpers and cries flooded my ears and I panicked. Was it Zola? Patrick? . . . Joseph? Tears sprang from my eyes and splattered across the door as I struggled with it. Drops of silver slithered their way down as the door vibrated with each of my jerks. There was a rush of wind at my back and I whirled around to see . . . nothing. There was no one in the clinically-white hallway. It was me who whimpered. The sound echoed back to my ears over and over. I clamped a hand over my mouth to stop the noise and my back smacked into the door behind me with a loud bang. Where did everyone go? My fingers crackled with the electricy that had been so on-and-off lately. Please, I begged mentally, please work. I need to get out of here. A voice floated to the surface of my mind. I'm here with you, Ella. I froze and looked around but saw no one. "Andrew?" I whispered. Calm rushed over me and I felt like my magic was suddenly in my control, like feathers caressing my body, energy seeping through my veins, electricity vibrating deep within me. It felt like life. You can control it, Andrew murmured in my mind. I knew I wasn't going crazy. Andrew had found a way to communicate with me and I wouldn't spend any time denying it. I accepted the voice in my head. Andrew was here with me--I didn't know how, but he was. With my back against the door, the empty hall felt haunted, and the electricity sparked between my fingers. I knew what I had to do. I peeled myself away from the door and walked several paces away. Don't let it control you . . . you control it. I'll ground you, Andrew breathed into my thoughts. I closed my eyes and the only noise was the pounding of my heart in my ears. It grew louder and louder until I brought that warm feel of power into my body and focused it. My heart slowed. I thought of all the things that had happened and my focus turned to anger. I raised my hand toward the door as lightning exploded out of me. The door flew fifty feet out into a cold, wet green forest and thudded against a tree as it slid to the ground. I love you, Ella. Now run! Andrew commanded. His voice faded just like I did into the foggy mist that wafted above the ground outside. The silence was broken as the earth rumbled below my feet and sounds of metal crashing against concrete reverberated out of the building. A door on the side of the building burst open and Joseph shot out like a missile, Zola securely in his grasp. It was like Nevada all over again, except it wasn't just the Soul Stalker that trailed in our wake. Patrick followed behind. His back was to the forest and he moved his hands as if he were conducting a symphony of beautiful, classical music. Instead, light blazed from his fingertips like white flame and when the light touched the

Shadows' chests, their skin glowed like sizzling embers. Several Shadows disappeared in thin air, Patrick quickly casting them away to another dimension. Mini explosions sent sparks over the forest as they ran out into the wilderness. I tried to see through the fog and literally felt like I had to swim through the whiteness of it. There was a grunt to my left. Joseph came into view and was immediately sucked back into the building, like a huge invisible hand had seized him and yanked him back. I had no idea where Zola went. "No!" I shouted and whipped around so fast I wasn't sure if I had blacked out for a second. There was suddenly a large arm around my waist that pulled me into the shadow of the trees. I fought as hard as I could, but Patrick had over-powered me. "You can't help him now. You'll be killed!" "No, I won't! Let me go! Now!" I screamed. It was useless, like trying to break free of a steel-trap. Muffled steps pounded toward us and soon the sound of crunching leaves became louder and louder. Patrick whipped me around, yanked me behind a large tree, shoved my back against the trunk, and pressed his hand over my mouth. "Stay here," he barely whispered. "I'm going to distract them. When it's clear, run!" Before I could protest, Patrick dissolved into the woods like fine mist. I had no idea where Zola or Joseph went and I was sure the shouts and loud explosions were from Patrick fighting back. The cacophony of light and blinding blasts vanished in the hazy mist and then I was alone. The forest became increasingly quiet as the fight moved farther away from me. I was about to tear out of there when I heard the snap of a twig break the silence as it spread out in a cold ripple of sound. I flattened myself against the tree and tried to control the ecstatic terror in my breath. Vasco stepped past my hiding place, oblivious to my position only a few feet behind him. My hand came up and I clamped my own mouth shut. Blood from my earlier head wound began to leak down my face and I could feel it as it ran over my fingers. I brushed the droplets away with my other hand because I feared that if my blood were to fall onto the golden leaves on the ground he would hear it. Actually, I was positive he would. "Find her, Vasco," a voice barked. It was a V brother. My heart skipped wildly in my chest. Vasco had a graceful lope--each of his steps was that of a lithe, experienced dancer. His fiery eyes swiveled backward and forward as his figure swam in the air before me, fear clouding my vision. If I made a wrong move I knew I would be caught and stuck in that prison with double the guard. I thought about trying to use my gift of electricity on him, but it had been so wonky lately that I wasn't sure it would do me any good. He was fifteen feet away and still hadn't turned around to see me. My knees bent slowly as I tried to move lower to the ground where a brooding mist had begun to creep through the forest. There was a small branch only a few inches from my feet. A brilliant idea hit me--or I thought it was brilliant. It could just mean the death of me. Again. I just wanted to throw it far away to distract him. In my squatting position, I reached for the branch with trembling fingers as a chilling wind whipped across my face like ghostly tendrils. My heart smashed so loudly against my rib cage I wasn't sure why Vasco couldn't hear it. The sun had almost completely lowered in the sky and the bright orange-yellow cracks in his skin illuminated some of the leaves in a phantom reflection of day. It was difficult to imagine that one of the Shadows could be good, but I knew Aiden, my father, and his goodness. And the Shadow who helped free us. It was just a select few who had truly lost their humanity. In that moment, I wished I could Illuminate the Shadow before me--make him whole again. But I was sure that this one never had any humanity. Possibly, Vasco and his brothers were as soulless as the Soul Stalker herself. "Where are you, Shiny?" he purred menacingly. As I crouched lower, my shirt rode up and the bark scratched my skin everywhere except where the dagger was hiding. I took in a sharp intake o breath but still had one hand placed securely over my mouth so he couldn't hear me.

"It's only a matter of time before we find you, Shiny." He circled around and completely missed me. I was glad I had sunk down to the ground. "You misunderstand why the Soul Stalker wants you. She doesn't want to kill you, Shiny." Silence met my ears. I honestly wished that Andrew would come back and tell me what to do. Without him my powers felt faint and almost nonexistent. Vasco tilted his head back and breathed in deeply as if he were sniffing me out. And that was exactly what he was doing. "Mmm, I can smell you, Shiny." He rotated in a circle, his nose high in the air. "I know you are near. Here kitty, kitty, kitty. Come out and play. The Soul Stalker only wants to play with her Shiny new toy." A film of dew clung to my skin like I had been sprayed with a fine mist. Visibility was still minimal but I was wrong about one thing. Vasco could see me as plain as day. He was just playing with me. Suddenly, his face was only inches from mine as his hot breath blew across my face like fire. He reminded me of a dragon. "Gotchya!" he whispered and yanked me forward by my ankle. I fell backwards and smacked my head against the tree with a crack. My scream was lodged in my throat as the pain shot through my body rapidly. It hurt all the way down my back and into the nerves of my legs, and left me unable to make a coherent thought. My power had left me. Where was Andrew when I needed him? Vasco stood and pulled me through the dew-covered leaves as my shirt rode up and mud caked my already scratched back, though every time I felt my skin heal, it would suddenly break open again. It was ceaseless torture. As he dragged me back to the building--a fortress in the middle of nowhere, defiant of the wilderness around it--I saw the Soul Stalker pace back and forth, her eyes narrowed angrily. She snapped orders at Jeff Vittorio and his brother, Vito. Smoke billowed out from the middle of the trees in the distance and gave the air a woody scent. Trees peered over us like grave columns of an abandoned city. "How could you let her get away, you imbeciles?!" she barked. "She's old and weak and you two couldn't capture her?" Soul Stalker pulled her fingers through her hair furiously. Vasco threw me at Soul Stalker's feet with no words. She stopped her pacing and her indignant fury turned to Vasco. "What the hell, Vasco? Are you an idiot? I want her in one piece!" She lowered to the ground to where I lay bruised, battered, and livid. Her fingers tentatively reached out and gently grabbed a few strands of my hair and placed them behind my ear. "She is important . . . special. She has a soul. My soul." I wanted to spit at her words, especially when she said "soul" with such benevolence. It made me sick. "You'll never possess my soul," I said crisply. Jeff Vittorio sounded bored when he said, "Yeah, yeah, she has a soul. So do a lot of humans and Angels alike. What makes this one sooo special?" The Soul Stalker had the nerve tace her lips to my forehead. I backed away from her and she actually let me go. She knew there was nowhere I could run and even though I tried to conjure up some sort of current, I was lacking greatly. "She is the Illuminator. Imagine the brightness of her soul," she said wistfully. "I can see it now." There was a hungry gleam in her eyes. I reared my foot back and kicked her as hard as I could in her shin. She screeched and her hands came down to cover the hurt area. "You bitch!" "That's Doctor Moretti to you!" She went for my hair when, suddenly, a noise rushed over our heads and the next thing I knew Vittorio, Vito, and Vasco all fell to the ground like large sacks of potatoes. The Soul Stalker looked over my head and her eyes widened to the size of small saucers. "No . . ." she whispered. She began to back up like a scared mouse that

was about to be a very tasty kitty meal. "It can't be." 25 Soul Stalker's eyes grew as wide as two moons and her jaw dropped open like a cash register accepting a sale. She reached out for the V brothers and pulled them back as she retreated. Before she took three steps, she broke out into a run. She fled. She tore out of there so fast you'd think the black plague was nipping at her heels. In her wake, dirt ambushed the air like a huge cloud of cinnamon sand. The Shadows thundered behind her, a trail of fire burning the dust in the air like tiny sparklers and leaving nothing but threads of smoke wafting behind. I sat uncomfortably on the ground, trying to figure out what the hell was going on. Unexpectedly, I was surrounded by three gargantuan men that reminded me of the deliciously built ancient warriors. They were all the size of Patrick, possibly larger. They looked as though they were soldiers from another time, thrust into the future, although they were completely weaponless. Unless you wanted to count the huge arms that could be used as clubs. Were these the men that caused the Soul Stalker to flee with her tail between her legs? What was so special about them besides their massive size? All three held out their beefy hands to me. "Illuminator," they said reverently. Their voices were as deep as an abyss, as vast as space, and as timeless as eternity. I extended both of my hands, was grasped immediately and brought to my feet. My knees wobbled slightly and I began to tumble backward as if some invisible hand was dragging me back down. One of the men caught me, gathered me into his arms, and cradled me against his massive chest. He wasn't normal-sized; he was god-sized. I felt overwhelmed, weak, and hungry. If he put me back on my feet I was sure I wouldn't have been able to stand, and I was sure he knew that too. Blackness enveloped me into its velvety grip as I passed out. There was no telling how long I had been out of it, but before I opened my eyes I knew exactly where I was based on the scent in the room. It was dark and there were no windows that I could see, unless it was just that dark outside. A moonless night. My nose pressed into the pillow as I breathed in the fragrant scent. A pillow . . . an actual bed. My body was cupped into a feathery mattress and I cuddled in deeper. My hands automatically ran over the feel of the cotton sheets that covered my overheated skin, pulling them close to my nose. Abelie, I thought jovially. They were Abelie's sheets and I clung to them like I was drowning in heaven, wrapping her scent all around my body. I needed the comfort. I needed my mother. I didn't even have my father right now and I failed to rescue him. Our botched attempt was embarrassing. There was a light knock at the door before it creaked open. I rose on my elbows to see who it was. The room was immersed into light when Zola flipped a switch. As my eyes adjusted I recognized Abelie's room from the Divine Library. Bandages adorned my wrists and head from my escape. Zola strode over to the bed and perched at the end of it, a look of worry etched across her face. She appeared nervous, as if she was worried I wouldn't accept her anymore. Immediately, I wanted to comfort her. "Zola?" My voice was raspy and my hand inadvertently rose to my throat. "I'm not mad at you. I understand and I'm sorry if I overreacted." Though I honestly didn't think I had, but I kept that to myself. "It's all right, Bright One," she assured. "No, it's not okay. With the circumstances we were under, my mind told me I had no other choice but to be infuriated with you." "I understand. Either way, I am here for you--no matter how angry you become with me. You can't get rid of me that easily because I'll always be here to help you--I'm a part of your future. I don't want to hurt you and I'll do everything in my power to keep you safe from harm." She paused for a moment, her eyes fixated on a spot on the wall. "I was

locked up for over two hundred years and am still weak from it. But you"--she glanced up at me, her white eyes boring into mine--"you are now weaker than I am. It's because you need your kindred soul." "I know I do," I said, my voice weak. There were no tears left in me. There probably wasn't even any water left in me; I was so dehydrated. As if Zola could read my mind, a glass of water suddenly appeared in her hand like a magic trick. There were still strange things about the Angels that I hadn't figured out. She handed it over to me and I chugged the water down like a frat boy with a beer funnel until there was nothing left. "So, we're in the Divine Library." I stated it like a way to begin a casual conversation. One day you're a Supernatural Specialist, and the next you're in a library filled with ancient documents written by Angels after being held prisoner by a woman who wants your soul. . . . Yup, casual. "Joseph found the keys in your pocket and now the doors are locked. The Soul Stalker can't get in, but we can't stay here forever. We need to go speak with the Empyrean Guards." "Those giant men?" "Yes," she confirmed. "They are actually from the Ethereal Eternity."/fop height="0pt" width="2em" align="justify">"The what?" I raised my eyebrows. "It's like heaven, Gabriella. They are heavenly soldiers." I opened my mouth to ask more questions about why there were "heavenly soldiers" here but Zola silenced me with a wave of her hand. "I think it is time we have a talk about the Angel world. The good . . . and the terrible," Zola said seriously. I nodded in agreement. "You really need to gain your energy back first. You've only been asleep for a couple of hours." With a flourish of her hand, a steaming dinner appeared next to the bed with another glass of ice water. "Eat, replenish your body, and get some rest, Child. We're safe for now." I didn't want her to leave yet. I had so many questions in my head and she had the answers. Or so I hoped. "Zola, don't go yet," I protested when she rose. She sat back down with a small smile and sighed. "I knew it wouldn't be that easy. I suppose I'll explain our world a little more." "Please!" "Okay," she relented. "Billions of years ago there was a small planet called Celeste full of powerful beings. The beings that lived on this plane of existence were named Gods." "Gods? As in plural?" I interrupted. "Yes, Gods. Do you really think only one powerful being could create the entire solar system and watch after all the beings within?" she asked skeptically. "Well, not really I suppose." "Of course," she continued, "this is all through translations, for they spoke mainly mind to mind in a language so ancient that only few know now. They had children--the Guardian Spirits--with an inferior race called Umas. Over time they changed and formed into a very intelligent race, who you would now call humans. The Umas and the Gods had a falling out; the Gods banished the Umas to the planet Earth, far away from Celeste. "There are billions of worlds, as there are heavens, Angels, and Gods. But that's beside the point." She pushed my mouth shut. I hadn't even realized it was open. "Their children, on the other hand, were left in a sort of limbo.

The Gods loved them very much, but couldn't stand to see the Umas in the Guardian Spirit's faces and soon made a sort of heaven for them--the Ethereal Eternity. They gave them free reign over many worlds they created. This was a mistake because soon they began to mate and have children with what the Gods considered inferior races on other planets. The only reason I say this is a mistake is because it caused a horrible chain reaction. "One of the Celestial Gods, Devil, as you might call him today, became jealous of a Guardian Spirit's relationship. Devil had fallen deeply in love with the beautiful Guardian Spirit woman that another was courting. He became wrathful and ripped a hole through the fabric of the Universe and straight to Earth where the Umas were. The peaceful life of the Umas was destroyed asevil's wrath crept into their souls. "The Guardian Spirits, with the help of the Gods, began to build an army--the Empyrean Guard. They were able to travel through the hole that was ripped through the worlds and find Devil. What the Guardian Spirits didn't realize was that the Devil had begun to impregnate several of the Umas and turned his children, called Demons, against the Guardian Spirits. He did just as the other Celestial Gods did and made a world for his children called the Perpetual Inferno. "The Demons lived in fire and reveled in it. They also began to build an army of Phantoms to fight the Empyrean Guard. There was a war on Earth and, for the Gods and Devil to protect their worlds, they closed them up and built portals between their worlds. Umas who had special abilities were called Angels, able to travel between Earth and the Ethereal Eternity. But many Phantoms convinced some of these special Umas to join their side. We call them The Fallen. "This was called the Covetous War because the Devil coveted.After seven thousand years there was a stalemate between the two destructive worlds after almost all of the Umas on Earth were killed. There were few who survived and, through the years, they forgot the battles of old as they grew and changed into the humans the world knows now. The Empyrean Guard and Phantoms haven't been on Earth in thousands of years. "Angels who fought and lost their lives on Earth were gifted with the Timeless Oblivion, the place between. They are called the Archangels who are messengers for those Angels that still live on Earth. "Several of The Fallen, who were living in limbo between Earth and the Perpetual Inferno, called the Abyss, asked for forgiveness of their transgressions five thousand years ago. The Celestial Gods gave them a second chance by giving them a human life. The Archangels watched over the once Fallen, and now humans. The original Fallen have all died a natural, human death and passed on to the many heavens, or hells, that exist after being judged on how they lived their human lives. But the many generations of children left behind still held some of their magical abilities The Fallen had once possessed. "In the Angel's time of need, the Archangels broke the rules and helped them become immortal once again. They would never die a natural, human death and would never be judged like the Celestial Gods had demanded. The Archangels were sent back to the Timeless Oblivion. "The Celestial Gods never changed these new Angels back into humans because they were good and protected the humans, the ancestors of the Umas who they once loved." "Wow!" I said, astonished after a long pause. "You have many questions, don't you?" "Yes," I said softly. "Why do I have silver blood and tears now? And why--" "And why was it tinged with red blood in the car accident?" she finished for me. "Yes . . . why?" "Let's start with why your blood is now silver. The Archangels gave the Angels on Earth their gold blood to show that they were golden, in the sense thaty were precious, exceptionally valuable." "I see," I said.

"You have silver blood because you are no longer just an Angel. You're a Messenger." I blinked. "But I don't have any messages . . . nor have I been to the Ethereal Eternity." "You have been to the heavens, you just don't remember it. Actually, as a Messenger, or Archangel, you can travel between the Timeless Oblivion and Earth. In time you'll learn how to do this." "What does it mean that I am no longer 'just an Angel'?" My mind was racing. "It means that someone up above sees great potential in you and has given you powers beyond any of the Angels' wildest dreams. I can only guess that the silver blood symbolizes the change from Angel to Archangel." "And my blood mixing in color?" "Your blood was a mixture between human blood and silver because your body is weak from going through so many transitions without the strength of your kindred soul. I suspect it means that you have a choice: choose to accept your calling as the Illuminator and Archangel with Andrew at your side, or go back to your old life of being a human. And I also deduce that the mixture occured because you haven't fully made up your mind about which world you want to be in." "I want both," I rushed out. "Exactly. You haven't made a decision, and when you saw Jenna your mind was even more confused," Zola explained softly. "But she's my family . . ." I trailed off, tears flooding my eyes. "So are we," she soothed. "If you choose to lead us, which I foresee, you will also choose your kindred soul. If not, you will not only lose us, but you will also lose Andrew." "Lose Andrew?" My voice was tiny. That can't happen. "Explain more to me about this kindred soul business." "It's not rare for an Angel to find their soul mate, though humans seem to find this very difficult." She seemed highly disgruntled about it. "You see, when you find the one you are supposed to be with, it isn't like the male courts you, you just know. It's a feeling deep inside you that you never knew you had." I nodded, understanding completely. When I had first met Andrew there was the electricity . . . but I later found out it was just my newly acquired powers the Halo of the Sun brought about in Angels. That wasn't what attracted me so deeply to him. I remembered fighting off the feelings, telling myself it'd never work out, though wishing it would all at the same time and on what merit? I didn't know Andrew at all. Sure, he saved me and was incredibly charming . . . and he seemed to want to protect me all the time, but still, that wasn't what made me turn into a quivering puddle of melted Gabriella. There was an attraction that could only be explained as fate or destiny. "It's . . ." I paused. "It's like our souls had known each other from another life." "Exactly," she said and patted my hand sweetly. "I don't want to lose either," I said sadly. Zola's white eyes bore into mine. "Don't you see? You've risen above us all because you are the Illuminator." She sighed. "And I have a sneaking suspicion that some of us might fall again, and I am hoping you can save us from this cycle we seem to be on." "I can't even save my kindred soul let alone all of these Angels," I protested. "You will be our leader, Gabriella. I've seen it." She smiled at me like she knew I had already made my decision. I loved Jenna, but she didn't belong in this world and I did. "Don't fret, Bright One, Jenna and Joseph are part of this world now." "Are you sure you don't read minds too?" I joked.

"No, but I know any indecision you have is because of those two humans who are much more than that. You won't lose them by making your decision." She rose to her feet and made her way to the door, limping slightly. "Zola?" She stopped, not turning. "You're welcome," she said. "But I didn't--" "But you were going to say it." I could hear the smile in her voice. She shut the door behind her and I was left in solitude, the silence deafening. I was lying in the dark on an extremely comfortable bed. It wasn't like the sullen, ominous darkness of my sunless, concrete room in the prison nor was the bed suffused with the smell of Abelie's light perfume. I immediately knew that there were two possibilities. One, I was dead and in heaven, though that was extremely unlikely. Two, this was a dream. When I felt the warmth of familiar arms around my shoulders, a well-known smell of sweet skin taunting my nose, and the thudding of a heart against my fingers that were on a bare chest attached to the Angel I deeply loved, I knew I was dreaming. My cheek rested in the crook of his neck as his fingertips trailed down the skin on my arms, leaving goosebumps in their wake. Andrew's warm breath spread over my forehead as he kissed his way down my jaw and to my lips where they lingered passionately and sweetly. Electricity buzzed between us and it made my skin come alive under his touch. It was a dream. I knew better, but I let that thought go and just relaxed in his embrace, drank in the peace, and finally let myself feel safe. Contentment skipped through me. The touch of his fingers as they lightly traced and explored my face and neck felt so tangible--so real. God, I wanted to believe he was there with me, holding me. With everything I had been through, there were no doubts in my mind that this was a dream. There was a real--and frightening--possibility that this would never again happen in real life. Forever a dream, never to be able to touch my kindred soul again. I ached, deeply, until he tucked a piece of my hair behind my ear his breath tickling over my lips right before he brought them to mine. The touch, though so simple, made the hard, painful pounding of my heart go away to be replaced by a light, fluttering stir in my stomach. A potent sensation. My fingers greedily found his face and there was nothing dream-like about him. Dreamy, of course, but not a dream. Real, warm, tangible. Mine . . . I wanted to bind myself to him and never let go. His lips were warm, soft, and moist. The feel of his body pressed so tightly against mine made me momentarily forget about the real world. It was lost on the other side of the mist that surrounded us, blanketed us in a forgetful stupor. I didn't mind, nor care, as long as his lips were on mine and would forever be at my beck and call. Again, he made a trail up my jaw bone to my ear. Then he whispered, "I thought you were dead, but here you are. Ehno was right." His voice was raw, husky. "I thought I lost you." He gripped me tighter in his embrace. "I don't ever want to let go again," he said breathlessly. "Then don't," I whispered in the darkness. I could barely make out his silhouette. I placed my hands on his bare chest which lit with blue electricity. Everywhere we touched lit up--a light misting of power. "I won't, once we are together again." He moved over top of me, his body weight putting pressure on me in all the right places. This was the best dream I had ever had. I begged not to wake because only a fool would run from heaven. The light from our electricity lit the space between us. He was magnificent and I could see desire flicker in his eyes. I remembered what Zola had told me about bringing our souls together and my body trembled beneath him. He drew me closer into his solid arms and I sighed in contentment.

"I'm trying to find you," I said with the last vestiges of my coherent brain. "I know, love." He leaned down and kissed my forehead, his face all hard angles and straight lines. It was utterly electrifying. "I don't have much time, or strength, so listen carefully my sweet Ella." I nodded. My wildly thumping pulse felt like my heart was somewhere in my throat. "The Soul Stalker has captured us. Ehno's seen the unspeakable torture we will endure. She thinks you will try to find us again. She wants your soul." Andrew's voice was raspy as he studied me with an intensity that made my cheeks flame. He placed a hand on my cheek--a fevered touch. A rush of images clouded my mind. Andrew and Ehno, bound by magic, golden blood leaking from cuts and gashes. I witnessed what she was going to do to them in minute detail. Jeff Vittorio, was there with his brothers, Vito and Vasco. They made the torture that you see in movies look like a trip to the candy store. My breathing hitched, and it wasn't because of my love on top of me, it was because I saw what was going to happen to my Angels. Bound by all fours, hanging from the wall, as Vittorio sits in a chair laughing while his brothers burn Andrew over and over; the same question leaving Vittorio's mouth: "Where is the Illuminator?" Andrew removed his hand from my cheek, his face only inches from mine. My attention momentarily deviated to his lips. I had to shake the naugh thoughts from my mind and focus. I opened my mouth to speak, to tell him where I was. He covered my mouth quickly. "You cannot tell me, Gabriella. It's not only my mouth they can get this information from." He lowered down to my face and planted several sweet kisses on my lips. I whimpered when he moved away. "Tell me where you are. Let me save you." Not like I knew what I could do by myself, considering the blunders I already had endured with my powers. Maybe the Empyrean Guard would help? His eyes seemed to light in the darkness and a muscle ticked in his jaw. "If I don't tell you, you'll still find us I'm afraid. I tried my best to keep you safe, but I've failed." His fingertips circled around my wounded head and then trailed down my arm to my burned wrists. "We must work together, Andrew. So save yourself the torture and tell me now," I pleaded. "I couldn't be so selfish," he breathed. "This affects me too. Don't you know I can't--" He cut me off with his lips, gently sucking my bottom lip into his mouth before pulling away. "What of your outcome? Wouldn't you like to know?" he asked, almost thoughtfully. "It doesn't matter," I barely whispered. "So selfless." His weight moved from my body, but his hands kept in contact with me, touching my face, my sides, my hair, my back. "Why doesn't it matter?" he wondered, his eyes fixed grimly on mine as he propped himself up on his elbow to gaze down at me. "Because I couldn't live without you," I admitted. He smiled serenely. "Nor I, you." He kissed my cheek, sending me one last image of his whereabouts and then vanished.

26 < Rapturous Storm > I jolted out of the bed. Something inside me came alive, like wings extending from my body and making me take flight. I threw the covers off with a purpose and jumped to my feet. I flung the door open and ran toward the stairs of

the Divine Library, searching for the Empyrean Guard. If the Soul Stalker cowered in fear over these massive beings, then so would her brothers. My feet took off down the first flight of stairs. I literally jumped onto the landing as I rounded it to dash down the next flight. I skipped hallways, massive rooms, all the intriguing and mysterious artifacts of the Divine Library, straight to the first floor where I hoped the Empyrean Guard would be. They didn't know me and I didn't know them . . . but they were supposedly on my side. Their unfathomably abysmal voices reverberated like distant thunder through the sairwell. "Yes, Angelo." There was a frustrated sigh. "Abelie's still in the Timeless Oblivion." It was an answer to a question unheard. At the bottom of the stairs, just out of view of the first floor, I came to a sudden halt. My fingers gripped the edge of the wall as I peered around it to see a table surrounded by three colossal men. It was the same table my mother had once laid upon, a sheet pulled over her body. It was her name, which echoed around me, that made me hesitate. "Don't you think it's strange?" one of them replied in a voice as vast as a winter sky. I suspected he was Angelo. The man was so tall that his blonde hair literally touched the ceiling. His massive arms, covered in symbols, were wrapped in tendrils of leather with a belt strapped over one shoulder. He was shirtless, exposing his bare chest, knotted with muscles. His brown wool pants looked to be of an ancient time--a quality that you'd never see these days. The pants were partially covered by an apron-looking strap made of brown leather strips. To top off his look, he wore heavy-soled sandals. They all appeared to be in a type of ancient military clothing. The oddest thing of all, though, was that the warriors seemed to come and go out of thin air. Going from three of them to fifteen, like a ghostly apparition or a TV screen flickering. This didn't seem to affect the ones who stayed solid at the table. "No, I don't think it's strange at all. She's awaiting her daughter's return," a third said in a rumbling tone. My return? Had I been there before? Zola did say I had been to the heavens and would learn to travel between Earth and the Timeless Oblivion. My stomach jumped up into my throat as I thought about the possibility that I'd seen my mother and not even remembered it. "The fact that Abelie had a child still doesn't settle well with me. It's unnatural," Angelo expressed with a scowl. "Yes, that is abnormal." The voice of this man had a friendly lilt to it, unlike the other two with their complex intonations. By his looks, he seemed to be the youngest, his features boyish. "But her daughter will eventually move on, so why isn't she?" His tone was like a cool breeze through the room, rushing up the stairwell. "Because, numbskull, she's waiting for her daughter!" The man's words were a wild fire, heating the cool breeze. He had grey, almost white, hair and a thick, short white beard that covered his jaw line. "I understand, Q." The young man's eyes began to burn blue, his words a guttural, animalistic sound. "What I don't understand is why she's waiting in limbo when she could just wait in the Ethereal Eternity!?" His fist slammed against the table and it buckled under the pressure. Why was he angry? I flinched, suddenly afraid. Still . . . I stayed. "The answer's simple, Daniel," Q said slowly. "The Guardian Spirits won't let the Illuminator"--he pointed toward the ceiling, where I was supposed to be sleeping--"move past the Timeless Oblivion. She's been granted, ah, let's just say it's a pass from death, if you will, until she fulfills her journey." There was that word again. "Abelie's been given permission to stay behind to help lead her back if she was to die in threalm." "Even when she disobeyed orders and came back to give the Illuminator information to lead her astray from her journey?" The blue fire eased from Daniel's eyes until they were a sky blue, a depth to them I could see even from my hiding place on the stairs. "She's the mother of the Illuminator; she is held in the highest esteem," Angelo answered, his jaw tightening. Daniel's tone turned mocking. "Are the Gods afraid of--"

"No!" Q cut in. His face darkened, which was saying something because he already had very dark, tanned skin. "They are never afraid!" "She came back once before. Don't you think she might try to convince--" "Quiet, Daniel!" Q shouted. His anger pulsed through the room like a rapturous storm. "Keep your voice down!" "Of course, you're right," Daniel responded softly. Angelo knelt down and bent the table back to its upright position before he waved a hand over it and mended the broken pieces. A chair grated against the stone floor and I watched Angelo prop his feet up on the table. "All right, men, that's enough for today," a smooth voice spoke from nowhere. Suddenly, a man appeared next to them and gestured for them all to sit. He looked rough around the edges, his skin a rich brown, his hair a midnight black. "It's time we discuss our current predicament with the Angels, and we need to plan a constant guard around the Illuminator." He paused to look each of the men in the eye--seeming to communicate visually just how much weight his words carried. "The Ladies of Light have grown too powerful and the Illuminator is the only one who possesses the power to stop them. They grow stronger every day as they feed off of the Ethereal Eternity's power center." Daniel shook his head in disgust. "I just can't believe that some human--" "She's not human," the new guard said so smoothly I could feel the words caress my skin. "She was a human, though. She was human for a long time," Daniel argued vehemently, no apology in his words. "But she is not a human now, you nimrod!" Eyes darted in my direction, though I hid before they could see me. My breath caught as my heart drummed wildly. I heard the smack of flesh against flesh. I peeked around the wall again to see Daniel rub behind his head. "She's an Angel, the Illuminator, and is unique and significant. She was made by a Shadow, a Halo of the Sun, one of the Guardians turned darker than black, and an Angel who was bursting with radiant energy, brighter than any sun. For those two to combine their darkness and light has caused a power unfounded. For dark consumes light, never reflecting it back. If you were made of the two things that are opposites, then you'd hold the power of both worlds. The Illuminator will stop the Ladies of Light--she is the only one who can compete with someone made of light, though devoured by darkness. And when she does win this battle, we'll fnally be able to send all the Angels back to the Ethereal Eternity where they belong. We'll win the war." A few Guards appeared for a second shouting their battle cries of glory before flickering back out of existence. "Why didn't we take them when they were in the Timeless Oblivion?" Q sounded absolutely bored. "The Guardian Spirits never saw this happening. It's time for the Angels to move on now; they shouldn't have come back here. They should've never been allowed to use their magic in such despicable ways." The new Guard scowled angrily, as if the whole situation was a proverbial thorn in his side. "What now, Chris?" asked Daniel. I assumed the new guard's name was Chris. It almost made me laugh at how mundane their names were. Or maybe they had some ancient names they went by when they were not on Earth. "Help the Illuminator kill the Ladies of Light." Chris's voice had an edge of impatience in it. "Then we send them back," Daniel said with excitement. He pulled a knife from his back and an apple appeared in his hand. "One." He stabbed the apple. "At." He sliced it in half, juices gushing out. "A." He cut himself a piece and tossed it in his mouth. "Time." His knife imbedded in the table, wobbling slightly. He appeared so flippantly manic that he seemed in dire need of a Ritalin shot. "All of them," Chris agreed. He stabbed a slice of apple with his knife and brought it to his mouth.

I got the picture, replacing the apple with each of my Angels in rapid succession. They planned to kill the Angels to send them back. "There's only one problem I see with this plan," Angelo said with an eye-roll the size of the North American continent. "And that is?" Chris's tone stung with anger, which was impressive due to the fact he had a mouth full of apple. "If the Illuminator finds out what we have planned . . ." Angelo waved his hand in the air like he was saying "see what I mean?" "Ah, I see the problem," grumbled Q. "Exactly. If she is powerful enough to fight the Ladies of Light and win, she is powerful enough to fight us, too," Angelo replied, his voice as searing as molten lava. "I'm sure she has grown close to her kin." "We have the Guardian Spirits on our side!" Daniel argued, though his voice still held a jovial cadence. "Yes, but she has the Angels on her side." Q frowned. "We can't let this turn into an Angelic war." "You three are forgetting something," Chris replied with a vicious smile on his face. "And what's that?" "We have a bargaining chip." Chris's smile grew into an unnatural grin. "Oh yeah?" the oher three said at once. "Yeah, we do: Abelie." "Wait . . . What?" Q's voice flared in outrage. He rose to his feet, his irritation as cold as Antarctica. "You want to use Abelie against her?!" "We don't lower ourselves to such evil," Daniel said through gritted teeth. A muscle began to twitch beneath his eye. I held my breath, riveted by the conversation, although in a disgusted sort of way. Almost like a train wreck, you just couldn't seem to look away. I absorbed the words as they spread like a pandemic over my skin. "It's the only way," Chris snapped back grimly. "I don't see how the Illuminator could say no to our plan even without coercion. These Angels have been alive for four thousand years. They don't need to live any longer. They've caused enough trouble in this human world. Hell, they've caused pain and death, and many of them are corrupt. Their minds have been altered . . . it's not like it used to be and we have to stop them before they destroy mankind. Because that's exactly what's going to happen if they stay here." Chris's voice rang with conviction as my heart dropped to the soles of my feet. "So why are we using Abelie against her?" Q was not stepping down. I was secretly rooting for him. "We aren't going to use Abelie against her . . . not in the way you think!" "Then explain!" Those two words held something lethal. "We obviously can't kill Abelie. The whole idea is ludicrous since she's already dead. I figure a trade, or offer, is the best way to convince her. We'll give her a choice: be with her mother or stay on Earth." My back hit the wall with a tiny thud, though none of them were paying attention. I slid slowly down the wall until I sat on the stairs. I could see my mother again . . . and they'd take me to her. What fool would run from heaven? Weren't those my thoughts just moments before? But there was more than one heaven for me: with my mother or here on Earth with Andrew. A sharp ache tore through me at the thought of having to choose. I felt sickened.

"Go back to her mother?" one of them whispered softly. "Does Abelie know what our ultimate plan is?" "No." The one word was said with satisfaction by Chris. I'd been holding my breath for so long I should have been legally dead. A lone tear found its way down my cheek and I swatted it away quickly. "Are you positive?" It was Daniel's voice. "Wasn't that why she came back to warn her?" "She came here to warn her about being captured by the Soul Stalker. Luckily, some of the Angels we sent back to protect her were able to distract the Soul Stalker from the Illuminator's return from the Timeless Oblivion." Chris's voice was matter-of-fact. "I see," Angelo said calmly. My heart pounded a million miles a minute and I couldn't get it to slow down. All I could understand was that the Empyrean Guard had come down here to kill the Angels. Kill them all. And they wanted to kill me too--after I helped them solve their little problem. I didn't know what to do. I knew that the Ladies of Light had to be stopped-and I would stop them--but maybe, just maybe I wouldn't have to kill them. Maybe I could convince them to come back to the light . . . or something. Though I didn't know how I was going to do that. I backed up the stairs slowly, silently, trying my best not to make a single sound. I was lucky I was barefoot as I made my way up a flight of stairs to the second floor where I hoped Joseph was staying like he had before. The large room was dark, shadows looming in the blackness, though I knew around the seventh row of shelves would be a hallway. My hands shifted from one shelf to the other until I reached the seventh bookshelf. The light from the stairwell disappeared as I rounded it and walked toward the doors down the hallway and it turned as dark as a moonless night. 28 Zola had given me something of Abelie's to wear, much like Andrew had. While changing clothes I accidently shifted my bandage on my wrist and noticed that the burns were gone. I quickly ripped off my head bandage and was healed there too. Then I remembered my dream with Andrew and how he touched my destroyed skin. Even through the dream, were we close enough that he could help? I absentmindedly rubbed my wrists. The gold robed dress I wore looked beautiful, and was comfortable, to my surprise. When Zola first insisted I wear it, I gave her a withering look. After trying it on, I realized why she offered it to me. It was easy to move around in. My old clothes were thrown away, but I made sure to transfer the Divine Library keys into an inside pocket of the dress. Opposite the mirror, I twisted and turned to see the full effect of the wrap dress. I splashed water on my face in the small basin near the vanity and attempted to brush my teeth with my finger with some toothpaste Abelie had left behind. It was obvious, while I was out of it, that Zola had cleaned me up, which I appreciated greatly. Silence grew between us like a visible wall of tension as we prepared for our escape. Was it just me, or was I always on the run? It would feel nice when I wasn't trying to fend off one supernatural being after another. I mean, seriously, what had I ever done to any of them? Oh, right . . . I offered them light. As I secured the knot on the side of the golden dress, lights began to die around the room, one at a time. Panic grabbed a hold of my heart and gave it an extra squeeze as I whipped around to face Zola. She had mentally been zapping the lights out with her magic. As she extinguished the last small lamp, darkness ate away at the edges of my vision until all was black. "What are you doing?" My question was a bit more accusatory than it should have been.

"Silence," she breathed.< /> I held my breath in terrified anticipation, the blanket of dark was a dismal cloud of comfort. "Get in the bed," she commanded under her breath. "Act like you're sleeping." Without a single stubborn word from me, which was probably a surprise for both of us, I felt around blindly for the bed and cuddled into it. Zola didn't need to tell me what was going on because I heard their heavy footsteps as the Empyrean Guard came up the last flight of stairs. My shoulders were stiff, and my position was not one of a sleeping person. There was one skill I never aced: acting. When I was a child, the youngest in my high school, the drama teacher thought it would be brilliant if I played a role in the school play. My mother agreed to it with the proverbial sun shining out of her every orifice. I did it to make her happy. Too bad I was "fired" after a month. They said it was due to budget issues with my costumes, when in fact I knew it was my not so spectacular acting abilities. I couldn't carry a tune and my voice, no matter what I did, sounded like I was bored out of my mind--which I was. How was I supposed to know how I looked and acted while asleep? I knew all I could do was just lay there and hope they didn't see the intense expression etched into my face. Hell, maybe I was asleep and finally realizing the whole Angelic world I'd come to love was just a torturous dream. Too bad I knew that wasn't right. My heart thudded wildly, slamming against the bars of its cage as their shadows slid across the gap between the floor and door, as if the darkness was alive. Their footsteps faded as their shadows grew larger, attempting to silence their movements. A task I would have thought impossible if it weren't for the fact that the silence was loud with white noise right before it shattered like glass when one of them knocked. They were much closer than I realized. My body automatically tensed for what was to come, though I was sure they would play nice and friendly. They didn't know I'd been listening in on their conversation. The door opened a crack and light flooded the room, turning Zola into a silhouette as she peered out, the door gripped firmly in her frail-looking hand. Many of her stray hairs caught the light, making them glow like a halo above her head. For a second I smiled at the imagery that all came together with something as simple as light saturating darkness. "We need to speak to the Illuminator." The voice was like a strong wind swirling through the room. It was not a familiar voice. "She's still sleeping right now," Zola replied sweetly. A hand crashed against the door and I jumped several inches, though I caught myself before I yelped. Zola had a firm grip on the door, refusing to move away. "Like I said, gentlemen, she's still asleep. Let her rest; she needs it after the couple of weeks she's had." Zola gave a humorless chuckle and stepped forward into the light. "Let's take this conversation elsewhere so we don't wake her." A couple of the Guards grunted like cavemen. I expected them to ignore her and come in with clubs, ready to bonk me on the head and take me to their cave. "Just down the hall there is a nice place to chat." The shadows dancing across the slice of light melted as they retreated. "Yup, just down there a little. Be there in a second." Zola pivoted around so she was outside the door, though she faced me. A distressed whisper rushed out of her. "Go!" "Bu--" I started to protest. "Now!" she whispered harshly. She flung the door open wide and I saw the stairs only twenty feet away. Her head jerked in the direction of the Guards right before her eyes burned into mine like silver fire in the dark room. "Hurry, while they aren't looking!" Without wasting any time, I clutched a pair of Abelie's shoes in my hands and raced toward the stairs, turning after the second step to see Zola quietly shut the door to the room as if I was still fast asleep. When she looked up at

me, I could read her eyes. She was begging me to run, to save myself. But at what price? I quickly slipped the shoes on, undecided. Before I could make up my mind, a warm, soothing hand found mine and pulled me down the stairs. Joseph was slightly out of breath and his eyes were wild with an emotion I rarely saw in him: fear. Though the emotion might have been embarrassment over the tweed jacket that adorned his shoulders. He must have rifled through one of my old college professor's closets. Patrick met up with us at the bottom of the stairs and I handed him the keys to open the door. He had obviously stumbled into James Bond's closet, all snazzy in a midnight black suit and shirt. The contrast was comical. Ignoring my amused distress, he clicked both the keys at once into the correct positions to open the large stone doorway. "We can't leave without Zola," I whispered frantically, abandoning the world of fashion faux pas to focus on the crisis at hand. "We have a chance to escape and I won't let you ruin it. And you know Zola, she always has a plan--she's probably been planning this moment for a hundred years." Patrick gave me the most serious expression I had ever seen him wear. That was like saying Scooby Doo gave his most scared "rut-roh" yet. Patrick slid the stone door open and it grated loudly against the ground. I cringed, hoping we were far enough away from the Guard that they wouldn't hear. Joseph faced inside while Patrick scoped the outside. It was as if I was with two mind readers again, their fluid movements without communication, and all corners were covered. The only thing I saw missing was their guns, though I was sure, unlike the Angels, the Empyrean Guard probably deflected bullets like Superman. Patrick made some gesture over his shoulder to Joseph that looked strangely like another one of his gang symbols, though it seemed odd to show pride in your gang while you were escaping without a gun-in-hand. Joseph nodded in understanding, his hand also doing a little hand ballet that was more two left feet than Swan Lake. I raised my eyebrows at Joseph who put his finger to his lips to show it was quiet time. I obeyed again without being stubborn. I deserved a prize for my outstanding behavior. I'd take an Andrew and an ice cream cone to go, thanks. With a gold star on the side. Once we stepped slowly out of the Divine Library--so slow you'd think we were trying to avoid hot coals--I finally realized what all the bizarre hand signaling was about. I'd roughly translated it as: "There are Grds out here so we must be stealthy . . . or invisible. One of them is asleep and drooling slightly, though I think we can use it to our advantage. Also, I hope you brought your magical flying horse so we can escape without being seen." Honestly, I was impressed they could say so much with such ambidextrous hand movements. If neither of them needed their full concentration for what was about to happen, I would probably have gestured "wax on, wax off" with my talented hand skills. They may have trained with the FBI, but I trained with Mr. Miyagi. I blinked once and the next thing I knew all hell broke loose. Patrick threw up a protective shield as a rock tumbled down the side of the mountain where the Library was encased. At the bottom of the stairs that were destroyed last time we were here, was the not-so-asleep anymore Guard. He wasn't doing anything but staring up at us, but by the look of concentration consuming his face I was positive he was trying to start a deathly rockslide. Noises detonated like cannons exploding in the Divine Library. We were literally between a rock and a hard place, go forward and face the wrath of-Booooooom! Glass shattered as hundreds of years worth of priceless valuables crashed to the floor, fire thundering down the stairs in hot turbulence. "Watch out!" I yelled and seized Joseph around the waist. I brought him down to the ground as the fire inhaled the oxygen outside. My heart jolted as soon as I realized what the explosion meant: Zola was dead. She sacrificed herself so I could be free, so I could find my Angels, Illuminate the Shadows, and save the last living immortals from the Empyrean Guard who planned to hunt down every single one of them. The weight of the world suddenly fell on my shoulders, the proverbial globe crushing my lungs and it was hard to breathe.

The tree hanging low over the entrance sizzled as the dry leaves caught flame. The wave of heat was too much to handle so I pulled myself to the ominous edge of the stairs, the rocks jagged below. I had two options: jump or burn alive. Patrick made the decision for me when he wrapped his huge bicep around me and plummeted to the rocks below. I closed my eyes in anticipation for the pain of the fall, but decided not to be a coward and faced the ground head on. There was a strange flash like someone was taking our picture. Patrick landed with a graceful thud against a golden blanket of leaves, his knees bending at the perfect time to absorb the majority of the fall. Patrick let go of me and I went down on my hands and knees, gasping for fresh air to soothe my scorched lungs. The earth was moist with frozen dew and I deduced quickly that it must be early morning. I had lost track of the days and time after I arrived in Italy. It took me a few moments to realize that it was strange that the ground wasn't rock. Could Patrick fly? "Joseph!" I coughed out, frightened. Slowly I got to my feet and turned in time to see that the Divine Library had disappeared, replaced with a forest sagging under the weight of condensation. Before I had time to react to what I was seeing, a disturbance in the air rippled above me and I stepped back several paces until I slammed into Patrick. He steadied me with his large hands as I gaped at whatas seeing. It was a portal. The portal quivered and undulated, a prism of fiery silk curled the rising sun's rays in a pulsating rhythm. Joseph appeared on our side of the portal right before he slammed into the ground, air leaving his lungs. "Unf." I sprinted to the coughing Joseph and knelt down to him. "You're okay!" My voice was a watery mess, full of petrified delight. I didn't give him a chance to sit up fully before I hugged him to my chest and felt the realness of him. He cough-laughed and embraced me back. "Yeah, I'm okay. I saw you two go into the portal so I knew I had to follow." He squeezed me tight before we pushed apart. A shadow swallowed our kneeling figures and we both looked up at the mountain that was Patrick. "The Angels are here." It was a statement. "Ehno must have seen our predicament and had Lucia open a portal." "Then how do you know they're here?" I asked. Joseph stood and helped me to my feet. Patrick's intense eyes flickered around the wooded area before they came back to us. "She has to be nearby to open a portal." "How close?" My heart thundered in excitement and panic. Patrick's eyes squeezed shut, his face scrunching up in concentration. "Ehno is finally contacting me. He knows we are here and tells me the Soul Stalker is shaken up after the events from yesterday." His eyes popped open. "This is the perfect time to attack." "Can't we be sneaky and leave the attacking to when we actually have a chance of winning?" I almost whined. Truly, I was tired of being on the run, hunted like a criminal, and fighting to stay alive. "That's what I mean, Illuminator. She's not expecting us a second day in a row." "So we spank the armadillo?" Joseph said in the most serious FBI voice to date. "What?!" I shook my head in disbelief. "You know . . . oh, sorry, secret FBI code and all," Joseph replied with a smirk. "Real cute." My tone was sardonic. The boys plotted while I nodded as if I knew what they were talking about. The FBI had a serious sense of humor. Their code words and phrases had me in unstoppable giggles . . . until I realized there was no code word for

"bait." I was the bait. For the Soul Stalker. Go team. It was truly foolish to think that we could ambush the Soul Stalker, but all I could think about was trying to get to Andrew before all the awful things happened to him that he had showed mn the dream. As I stepped through the forest, the brittle leaves crunched ominously beneath my feet and biting wind slithered across my skin. A tremor of fear flittered in me as we separated through the trees, afraid of the Soul Stalker, the Shadows, and now the Empyrean Guard who were probably not thrilled we fled. I was upset we left Zola behind because I knew this mission would be dangerous, even though she waved us away like everything would be fine. If fine meant she wouldn't survive. We stood there looking at the building where the Soul Stalker was hiding--the edifice was constructed recently, but looked as though it had been abandoned for several years. It was pitted with age and exposure. Of course, I knew the place wasn't deserted and knew my Angels were inside. Joseph and Patrick grew more distant as the wind rustled and the trees breathed with life. One moment the air was full of nature's symphony, and the next silence enveloped us. We all froze and exchanged looks of fear from our separate spots in the woods. A magical shockwave exploded around us and I dropped to the ground, my head smacking a tree root, the brilliance of the sun dying even though it was mid-day. It felt as if my entire body had been liquefied. There were shouts, the words guttural and animalistic. My heart drummed erratically as I heard a boom like a thunderstorm echoing through the trees. What was going on? My body moved in slow motion as I tried to sit up, my hand going to my head where it had hit the ground. Suddenly, a sharp ache tore through me, as if someone had stabbed me in the gut. I collapsed back down to the ground, the trees rustling in the wind over my head as I drifted in and out of consciousness until my body couldn't take it anymore. Right before I lost awareness I saw a hauntingly beautiful woman hover over me. It was the Soul Stalker. So much for being sneaky. The scene shimmered and moved like a mirage on a hot desert. It wasn't hot though, it was extremely cold outside as fall stretched into winter and coated the ground with a crispy frost. I wasn't sure if it was the magic that exploded around me or if my vision was as faulty as the protection shield I tried to wield. My power flared a few times, but now it was fading fast. My hands ran over my body, checking for damage. I had a large lump on my head and was bleeding silver right under my ribs, though it wasn't a lot of blood. With a stupendous effort, I rose to my feet and began to make my way through the trees, grasping each one like a lifeline. One or two of my ribs were definitely broken, and my left arm felt fractured. A hopeless feeling seeped into my veins with each step I took. Where was the Soul Stalker? Where were my Angels? And where the hell were Joseph and Patrick? Someone must have stopped the Soul Stalker from hurting me, but I didn't know who. My strength returned suddenly, like someone had waved a magical wand over me and mended my broken bones. I took a deep breath to feel out my ribs. They were . . . fine. Andrew must be near. . . . Booooom! There was a scream accompanied by cracking in the distance. I tore through the forest as fast as I could, jumping over downed trees, getting scratched up by the underbrush of the forest. Low hanging branches cut my face, though I ran with my hands in front of me to stop anything from poking my eyes. I threw up protective shields around me, hoping my abilities were working when I needed them most. Wishing, deep down, that it meant Andrew was alive and close. As I sprinted into the wooded area outside the facility, there was another deafening crack--a curse--near my ear. I fell down on the leaf-strewn ground, shoulder first. The

frozen, golden leaves crunched under my weight and I was in pain--indescribable, inexpressible pain. Someone had penetrated my already shaky shields. My magic was deficient, damaged, and unreliable at best without Andrew beside me. But I used what I could--I did what I had to. It wasn't enough--it was never enough. Even if I died in an attempt to save Andrew, I would have been okay if I just knew that he got out, was free. But he didn't. He was still trapped, along with my other Angels, behind those magically secured walls and I was doing everything I could to just stay alive. My shoulder ached and my side felt like poisonous venom was filling my body. I screamed a hiss of pain. Was Andrew okay? was the only thing I could think through the pain. The Soul Stalker strode toward me like a leopard through tall grass, and I was the frightened, injured gazelle waiting to be eaten. That was what it came down to: she was the hunter and I was her prey. I rose to my feet with a stupendous effort and swayed as I held my side with one hand. My other hand clutched the closest tree as if it held the answers to my predicament. My body wept hot blood leaking through my fingers and splattering across the ground in the shape of teardrops. I glared through the ghostly cloud of steam that rose from the warm liquid and right into the Soul Stalker's smirking face. "Illuminator." She spat the word. Icy wind crept around my skin and I trembled. A cry of desperation was growing inside of me, but I choked it down. The long, brown hair of the Soul Stalker shifted forward when she focused on me; then, her eyes narrowed to slits, the smirk still in place. She didn't speak as she glided her arms in the air in a rhythmic motion that sent a beautiful rainbow of colors encircling me. As the swirling of colors grew closer and closer and flirted on the edges of the tree, the bark exploded all around me like a pinata, and I was suddenly splattered by tiny, brown flecks of earthy dust. "Protect!" I screamed. Nothing happened. "Stop!" I cried out, frightened at what would happen when those swirling colors touched me. I huddled up against the tree and covered my face in an attempt to deflect the debris from my eyes as the colors revolved into an increasingly smaller cylinder. She was just playing with me, like a cat taunting a mouse, as each of her spells landed all around me, exploded, and tore the world away from me. My gaze lifted skyward, my hands still trying to shield my face. "Please, stop her!" I wasn't sure who I was calling out to, but I hoped that someone out there, some higher power, would help. Suddenly, she brought her palms together. All went silent for one brief moment--the calm before the storm--and then, she sent a powerful curse in my direction. A brilliant yellow lightning bolt hit right in my gut and I doubled over as my flesh felt like it was melting away. My dress burst away from me in shreds as silver blood showered the ground. Death was imminent. My back grated against the tree as I slid unceremoniously to the forest floor. I wasn't healing anymore--I was too weak and Andrew was too far away. My skin burned; I screamed and trembled in pain-something that could only truly be described as hell. My vision faltered, whimpers spluttered from my mouth, and the world tilted at the oddest angle. I writhed on the ground as the burning sensation seeped through my skin, entered into my muscles, and invaded my bones like a cancer. As the Soul Stalker made spectacular fireworks out of her powerful magic, each spark attacked me until the scraps of my dress were soaked with my metallic blood. Every fleck of her magic that floated its way down and touched my skin made me jerk uncontrollably. It was a strange magic, because every horrific pain felt different. My insides melted like Jell-O on a warm plate, my outsides stung, ached, cramped, bruised, tore, bled. It was never the same sensation twice, but it was always a terrible one and always worse than the one before. She smiled and, as she lowered herself to me, a shadow of someone else flashed in her eyes. No longer able to hold myself up, my head fell back to the tree. My muscles had seized until they were knotted like the roots of the tree upon which I had collapsed. "Not so clever anymore, are you?" she sneered. "And to think that poor Andrew can't help you. Boo hoo hoo."

I opened my mouth to speak and choked on my blood. Words refused to form. The Soul Stalker paced before me, her pink high heels contrasting oddly with the red and gold blanket of leaves. That was all I could manage to take in--her perfect ankles, her shaved legs, and the pink nail polish on each of her manicured toes. "No need to speak." She shook her head in disgust. There was a crackle that could only be described as magic, and abruptly, the air was sucked out of me and my voice was gone. The Soul Stalker sighed dramatically before she spoke again. "I wasn't sure you were the Illuminator at first. You were so obviously human." I could hear the eye-roll in her voice, "And lame. But you intrigued me when you tried to place your hand inside that box." Her feet stopped for a second before she resumed her pacing. "I could feel that soul aching to be free and I couldn't touch it. And then you, you little bitch, put your hand through the barrier, grabbed the keys, and completely ignored the precious soul inside. I was going to kill you in your office, but I thought I could convince you to help me." She snorted angrily. "How wrong was I? The Ladies of Light warned me to be careful--that I shouldn't let my guard down." She cursed. "But I did when the plane went down and I had no escape route for you--one who could possibly give me a soul. When the plane crashed, I saw the soul inside the box rise into the air and slip into space along with those of the other crash victims." "That's a lie; there was no soul," I choked out, lying. The longer she spoke, the more likely I'd be rescued by someone. "Stupid girl, of course there was. You see, being an empath gives me the vision to see spirits--souls. I was down one soul . . . but when Andrew touched you, you lit up like a nuclear bomb. Your soul is the brightest I've ever seen. It wasn't there before, but when Andrew was around, your two souls seemed to reach out for each other." She made a sick gagging nise. "I'd say that it was disgusting if it weren't for the fact that I wanted it so badly." Through the painful haze, I clung to her words and what they meant. The term "kindred soul" had had a significant definition before, but now it had a whole new meaning. He was mine and I was his, and our souls literally skimmed the edges of our bodies to be closer to one another. I wanted to wrap myself around this image and never let it go. "But now that he's gone . . ." she continued. I absorbed what she said and sucked in air as my body reacted, as if her words had reached out and stripped my skin away. "He was so weak, so easy to kill." And then, all the physical pain felt more like feathers caressing my skin compared to the absolute torture and mutilation of my heart as it was ripped to shreds. I gasped, devouring the horror of her statement, and then choked. I felt my heart grow hard, exploding into tiny shards of black glass, and shredding through my lungs as each breath became shallower and more difficult to take. Quickly, it became almost impossible to breathe. She looked altogether pleased with herself and let out a bitter, ugly laugh. "No. No . . . no, no, no, no!" I chanted in denial. My soul was ripped naked, exposed for all to see. "Oh, yes." The Soul Stalker chuckled malevolently. "Mmm. I love the smell of a soul at its utmost limit of suffering." My eyes clamped shut and the only noise I could hear was the combustion of my heart and the ringing aftermath of my ripening despair. There was one voice, though, that gave me strength. It was the softest of whispers, like warm drops of water on my cold, dying skin. Live. It was Abelie. I couldn't see her this time, but I could feel her as I advanced toward death, leaving it all behind. If Andrew was dead, then so was I. With or without my body I was nothing. It was hard to explain how easily I had fallen for him, how crazy my emotions grew in a matter of hours--or was it minutes? Seconds?--after he had held me, saved me . . . protected me. But I did! I loved him: mind, body, and soul. Deep down in the core of me, I craved everything about him: the feel of his skin against mine, the way his breath brushed sweetly over my lips before a tender kiss, and how he held me like I was a precious, fragile piece of glass, but at the same time, with such ferocity and strength that it made me warm inside. I loved him--not because he was an Angel, not because he saved me, but because when I fell apart into little Gabriella pieces, Andrew molded me back together and made me whole. And

when my mother died, he didn't try to make me forget; he didn't lecture me on how I should feel--he just let me feel and reminded me that in my dreams, I'd see her again. He was my shelter in the storm, my dream in a sea of nightmares, my lover and friend in a world of people who didn't understand me. I couldn't live now after I'd felt that and lost it. How would I ever be able to live knowing that I would never feel those emotions again? How could I wake from my sleep when he wouldn't be there next to me? I couldn't--I just couldn't. You must stay alive for him. Abelie's voice filled my head with sweetness. You must do it for all of us. Stay alive. He needs you. The Angels need you . . .Your father needs you. My eyes flew open and the feel of Abelie's touch was suddenly gone. I dug an elbow into the earth and lifted myself a little. I finally saw the Soul Stalker's face as it filled with an emotion I'd never seen: lust. Her breath grew heavy for a moment until her eyes snapped to mine. "You attract souls like a beacon in a storm." There was a malicious gleam there--one that told me she had a plan for me. I probably wasn't going to die today. "You can't have it," I whispered, my voice oddly strangled. "Not mine and not hers!" The thought of her trying to capture my mother sickened me deep in my core. If I had any fight left in me, it was for her. She bent so she was merely inches from my face. "What did you say?" Her teeth gritted, angry surprise in her voice. "You can't have it," I repeated louder and wiped the blood off my lip. The sorrow I felt was replaced with such a furious passion that I could feel the electricity ripple through my skin, rush down my legs, and fill my veins. Rage was what I had now. "You're wrong about that, little girl." Soul Stalker placed one palm against the tree, right above my head. A tremor of anger cart wheeled through me. "That pretty little soul will be mine." "Not a chance in hell," a male voice boomed behind her, stark with hot rage. Terror gripped me like a snake tightening its grasp around my neck. I closed my eyes because I knew that voice and he was not going to outlive the Soul Stalker this time. "No," I sobbed. I couldn't lose him, too. I didn't even care if his phone pinged forever and ever as long as he lived. I couldn't imagine there being any more blood on my hands. Not today, not ever. Soul Stalker didn't even bother to turn around. She snapped an arm behind her, palm out, and whispered low in my ear, "Riiiiip." There was a grunt and the sound of fabric and flesh ripping and tearing. My stomach lurched as she moved to the side so I could see the damage. The shock and torture that enveloped Joseph's face was just another stab into my already shattered heart. He was on his knees, his hands holding his insides in as he fell to the ground on his side. "They're coming," Joseph choked out. 29 I moved closer as I dragged myself through the frozen bracken. "Who's coming?" My voice trembled like an autumn leaf in the wind. "Your Angels," he replied breathily right before he crumpled to the ground in a great heap. My body went into sensory overload. I was hurt, angry, broken, sad, terrified, and . . . hopeful. He said my Angels were coming. Would it just be three? Or would there be four? A new emotion overtook me: confusionMy eyes roamed over Joseph's body, ruined by the Soul Stalker. Blood began to gather in a pool around him and I lost it. I finally went certifiably insane.

"No," I said louder, more passionately. Tears exploded from my eyes. First there was Andrew, and now Joseph had literally been ripped to pieces before my eyes. Whatever was left in me snapped in two like a piano wire strung too tightly. "You are sick!" "It's a possibility," she responded with indifference while peering over what was left of Joseph. She turned to face me as I attempted to crawl to him. She smiled viciously; her eyes were blue, fathomless pools that only made me grow colder, angrier. "But that is what you are for, Dear. You know . . . to give me a soul." I looked at her with utter disgust. "A soul you'll never lay hands on," I snapped back at her. "How could you want such a thing, Karen?" She flinched at the name. "Or is it Eva? What the hell is your name, anyway? Stalker bitch? Fitting, I think." The passion in my voice, in my insanity, helped me rise above all the other emotions as I clawed my way up the trunk of a tree until I barely stood before her. Anger was what I had left. "You'll have feelings, wants, needs, passions! You'll want to be nice and feel bad when you aren't. And when you look at your brothers, and this small band of Shadows you have brought together, you will be disgusted with yourself and with them." The Soul Stalker's eyes grew wide with another strange emotion I'd never seen her wear: shock. And I don't mean the one time I shocked her silly in the underground lab, though that image would forever be with me. "No," I continued. "I really don't think a soul is what you want, what you crave. What is it, Karen? What is it that you want so desperately that you are willing to fight this hard for?" She was still dazed. I couldn't stalk around her like she did me because I was still the weak one here--the one that was going to lose. Maybe I wanted to. Maybe I was goading her because she'd taken all that I had left inside me and destroyed it and I didn't want her to have the last thing I had left: my soul. "Hmm." I tapped my bottom lip lightly as a thousand different emotions bubbled inside me. "You fight for power. And not even your power, but for your brothers'. Why is that? I thought you were soulless." There were all kinds of decadently wicked thoughts flashing through my mind. Many of them included me attacking her and slicing her open. But no matter how graphic the imagery was, or how infuriated I had become, I knew I was too weak to do much of anything but taunt her. I was no longer the Illuminator--I was the Tauntinator. My sanity was cracking into little pieces as I felt more pieces of me fall apart. Pieces that were previously glued together with love and friendship were now torn violently from me and littered the forest floor where my life was splattered. Where Joseph's life was pooling . . . She answered with a flick of her wrist, a flash of light, and I was on the ground, grasping for reality as if a flash bomb had exploded before my eyes. All was white, though the sounf the forest were not lost. As much as I wanted to give up, I knew it would be cowardly. I was many things, but a coward was not on that list. I was going to fight until my last breath. I groaned and held my side; there were so many open wounds on me I didn't know if I would survive them--and that was good. I had come back before, but I didn't think I would a second time. Even if Abelie was in the Timeless Oblivion to lead me back, I'd refuse. And maybe, possibly, I'd be with Andrew in the Ethereal Eternity, not a care in the world. Maybe there was a beach. Instinctively, I rolled myself into the fetal position, my eyes blurry. I fought the comforting position and tried to move toward Joseph. His chest looked as though there was some movement, but I was still blinking the light away. Every time I opened my eyes, I was greeted with a bright, orange orb no matter where I looked. Soul Stalker let me crawl to him; she enjoyed torture and this was the worst form. When I finally came upon the gruesome scene, I was met with more than I could handle. Crimson blood splattered the leaves and a large pool of his liquid-life had grown wide and deep around him. I put my hand over his stomach to try to staunch the bleeding but didn't think it was helping. Still, I held on. He was not dead yet, but he was so close I could practically taste it in the air. His breath rattled in his lungs and

blood bubbles burst at his mouth. I cried out but my voice was raspy, broken. I tried to scream again but I was sure a huge lump of regret had lodged itself in my throat. Joseph is more than this lifeless man--he has to be! He wasn't supposed to be cannon fodder. I inherited Abelie's eyes, hair, skin . . . but not her damn healing power. If I had supplies I could help, but I didn't. He was going to die if I didn't take him to a hospital soon. When I switched my hands over his wound, I looked down at the blood covering my palm and realized it was fitting. His blood was on my hands, would always be on my hands. The fact it was actually dripping from my palm made me feel sick. I did this to him. It was my fault. A shadow crept across the ground like an unnatural spirit. I saw the ugly, hot pink high heels of the Soul Stalker come into view. I was too hurt, emotionally and physically, to look up--too tired to fight even though all I wanted to do was fight . . . battle to the end. This was going to be my end, just like Andrew and Joseph. What would my death do the second time around to Jenna and my Angels? I could only pray to the Divine Spirits that everyone would be okay--and that I would die without pain, though that was obviously out of the question now. The Soul Stalker bent down and placed her knee in the sea of blood. The odd mixture of silver and red spread across her skin. Sparks burst from my fingertips and rushed into the ground around me. The earth shuttered and cracked open, but Soul Stalker was completely unaffected. She gave a lilting laugh that made every inch of my skin want to get up and crawl away. She wiped her finger across one of my wounds and pressed down hard. I cringed away from her touch which only made her more determined. A scream ripped from my lungs as she dug her manicured nail into my injured side. The sound muffled against the ground as she shoved my face into the desecrated dirt and held me there. I was no longer able to put pressure on Joseph's wound. "Put your sparks away, Illuminator. I'm not going to kill you . . . not yet, anyway." She let go of the back of my neck and flipped me on my back so she could see me. Dirt stuck to my bloodied cheek. She had her finger inches from her face as she studied my blood on the tip of her finger. "Well, isn't this a new and interesting development," she mused. "I thought your blood was gold?" "You just now noticed?" I grumbled. She ignored me, too busy studying my new silver blood. There were all kinds of retorts I wanted to scream at her, but I just couldn't manage them. She rubbed her fingers together, as if trying to absorb the blood. "Silver . . . hmm, this must be why you are so weak--you aren't even an Angel. Are you even the Illuminator anymore? Are you an imposter?" She lowered her head to my level, almost lying down on the ground. "You look like the same Gabriella." She frowned at me. "Oh, dear. Why are you so sad?" she asked sardonically and wiped away one of my tears. What a bitch. Joseph was still on the ground and I felt helpless . . . hopeless. It was an awful feeling. Where were my Angels when I needed them the most? My eyes narrowed at the overtly beautiful woman, in all her virtuous evil, and I wanted to beat her, kill her. I'd never wished such awful things on one person before. I could afford less moral standing to have her die by my hand. "Blue does not become you," she said with a smirk. She was highly amused. "Your green eyes were much prettier." I bit my tongue so hard I could taste metallic blood in my mouth. I spit it out at her and it was a red-silver tint. Almost pink, just like the color of my blood after the car accident. Every time my power abated, the color of my blood turned a wild mix of crimson, human blood and liquid silver. Was I undecided about my path again? Without Andrew was there even a path left for me to follow? Soul Stalker didn't take too kindly to my show of hostility. I was sure spitting on her was worse than killing her. She wiped my blood and saliva from her face and rose to her feet with more elegance than the situation afforded. With her face out of view, I could no longer see her expression, but that didn't stop her glare from igniting my skin as her power pulsed over my body. She reared her foot back and kicked me with the heel of her shoe. The stiletto rammed into one of my open wounds and a scream tore from my throat with nothing to soften the sound. It echoed eerily through the hibernating trees, silencing the birds of early morning. Even the wind seemed to suffocate in the resonance. She yanked her shoe out of my stomach and reared back again. She was going to beat me to death--I

just knew it. I was going to die by stiletto. There were explosions in the distance and Soul Stalker froze mid-kick. The pandemonium moved closer as the sound amplified to a growling thunder. The sounds of magic shredded the air like shrapnel from a grenade. I heard the Soul Stalker give a hasty sound of fury. "You"--she pushed me into the ground with her heel--"stay right here. I have some imbeciles to take care of." A branch broke nearby, the crack oddly piercing my ear. "Idiots, all of them," I heard her mutter angrily as she stomped off. Hope returned. The tumultuous sounds dwindled away from me and then the small bit of hope disappeared as quickly as it had come. The static-like sounds of magic in the distancewere all I had left until they vanished all together. I lay, staring up at the small bit of light that filtered through the winterizing trees. My head whirled, spun, and I faded in and out of consciousness. My whole body felt like an elephant had sat on my chest. I couldn't move, not even to try and help save Joseph. Suddenly, Soul Stalker darted out of the trees like a torpedoing Yellow Jacket and yanked me to my feet. I couldn't stand on my own so she gripped me at my waist and neck. I shrieked in pain but it only made her squeeze tighter and jerk harder. My body felt like a puppet and she was my master. For a moment I thought I was imaging things in my misty vision, but then my eyes focused sharply--suddenly--on four of the most stunning Angels on this planet. They raced through the woods in my direction, like beacons of light on a stormy night. My memory had done a pitiful job on their angelic perfection but I knew them. Long auburn hair surrounded stunning blue eyes. Spiky white hair against alabaster skin contrasted startlingly against the dark wood of tree trunks. A volcano of a man with a fatherly face darted between trees with a fire-trail igniting behind him. But there was one Angel--one I thought was dead--who exploded through the trees and stopped abruptly as a swirl of autumn settled around his tall frame. His black, dirt covered hair was cut even shorter, but still lay shaggy upon his head. His eyes found mine and emotion flooded his features. Each of them wore the signs of intense battle. They had obviously been beaten, abused, and tortured but that didn't stop them from radiating with sublime strength. Their skin still held a lustrous golden glow. Sadly, the picture of them was destroyed by the darkness that trailed behind. Vittorio and Vasco--who were still alive and not far behind them--crashed through the magic as it scattered like a flutter of butterflies fleeing in every direction. Vittorio closed the distance with Ehno, seizing his neck as they both went down and wrestled like two alley cats. They didn't use their magic anymore, only their muscles. I had a feeling there was more between them than mutual hate-it was personal. The closer Andrew was to me, the more strength I could feel returning. My breath hitched as blood rushed like the Hoover Dam through my body. The small bit of adrenaline that shot through my body and gave me the sight of my Angels faded quickly and I lost my vision again as tears swam in my eyes. A dizzy spell hit me and I thought I would be sick. Slowly everything began to fade to black; recovering from everything was obviously too much for my body to handle. I fought to keep my eyes open--to stay conscious--but I was failing miserably and I was in shock. My deep lacerations were fatal and I knew the small interval of time that I saw my Angels could be my last. Maybe Andrew had been too late, or maybe I gave in too easily. But my Angels were free and alive and that was all I could ask for--all I wanted. I faded in and out of consciousness as power fluctuated through me. For a few minutes all I heard were the sounds of battle as Soul Stalker held me up like a marionette. When I gained some strength and opened my eyes again I was greeted with a dozen colorful, glowing, ethereal lights, illuminating the air like fireworks. Abruptly, a spell from Vasco zipped through the trees and Andrew and Lucia ducked simultaneously to escape it. The spell didn't stop its trajectory as it bolted in the Soul Stalker's direction. She saw it seconds before it hit and yanked me around to put me in the path of the magic missile, effectively making me her shield. I took the hit full-on. Pain like I hnever felt before burst through me in agonizing waves. My breath came quicker, forming a thick mist in front of my face in the cold. The melting sensation was back and my insides felt like they were boiling and dissolving in salt water. I whimpered, but mainly because I was still awake to feel the pain when I begged for the comfort of death. My body started to shake and jerk in shock but Soul Stalker kept her grip on me as she continued to use me as her puppet, her shield, her punching bag--her soul container.

The war unfolded before me as Andrew growled a battle cry, his face full of determination as he turned to attack Vasco. Lucia grabbed his arm and yanked him in my direction. "Go to Gabriella," she commanded. "I'll take care of Vasco." She said it like she had personal beef with him too. I didn't even want to know what he had done to Ehno and Lucia. Though I had taken the spell full-on, the closer Andrew came to me, the better I felt. The beginnings of magic--real magic, not just sporadic sparks--swelled inside of me until electricity exploded inside my entire body. Warmth rushed through my veins and crept into my very being. I was still covered in blood, but my body was healing itself with a renewed vigor. Wounds that I was sure my mother couldn't even heal were mending into tiny pink scars. I saw the same thing happen to Andrew as he raced closer to me, his battle scars erasing. Within seconds the only thing left was the evidence of his golden blood. Andrew hesitated in his run toward us, his eyes wide. My head no longer lolled on my shoulder so I was able to lift it and stare directly into his eyes. It felt so right being in his presence, but I feared that the closer he moved toward me, and ultimately the Soul Stalker, the more brutal his torture would be if she got her hands on him. He had a determined look on his face. I could stand on my own, but I let Soul Stalker hold me up. I didn't want to show my strength so I could catch her off-guard. I pleaded to Andrew with my eyes to wait, in hopes that it would convey what I was thinking, before I let my head fall forward again to act the part. Andrew still hesitated several feet away but I could hear his heavy breaths as he inched closer. A ball of electricity spun and weaved its current through my body. I commanded it to leave through my feet and travel through the water in the earth. Andrew took a step forward and then abruptly froze. His eyebrows rose as I gazed at him intently, hoping the current would send him my thoughts. Stay. It was just one simple word, but he obeyed. As my strength grew, I formulated a plan. The dagger was still at my back. It was a gift from Patrick and I had yet to use it. I let the electricity well inside of me again, let it turn into a massive sphere of energy before I shot it out and through the Soul Stalker's hands holding me upright. She grunted but refused to let go as I sent wave after wave of electrical current between us. I finally felt her grip loosen enough to tug myself free of her grasp. I turned toward her while I yanked the dagger from my back with ease. Her mouth was a perfect "O" and her skin glowed sapphire with electricity. Her eyes met mine and they held an emotion that I didn't know she was capable of feeling: sorrow. I almost hesitated. Almost. I plunged the dagger deep into her heart and drove it in until the hilt hit her bone. With the knife deep in her body, I let all of my electricity flow into her body as I twisted it in more; black blood leakapidly, fluidly, from the wound. Her soulless eyes stared up at me and, for a second, I thought I saw something--something that wasn't soulless. I felt a rush of anger and abhorrence enter my body, like I was absorbing all of her hateful feelings. She fell to her knees and I let go of the dagger. Her hands went to the dagger sticking out from her chest and pulled it out with a jerk. A river of oily, black blood rushed down her shirt, wasted on the leafy earth. She looked up at me with eyes that suddenly didn't look very soulless and I sensed that she wanted to tell me something--something important. "Darren," she sighed as she took her last breath and collapsed to the ground. I fell to my knees only feet away from her. What did I do? What kind of person am I? How can I be capable of such things? For one second too long all the hateful, evil, immoral and sinful feelings of a soulless being filled me until I was bursting with malevolent thoughts. Warm arms--real arms--wrapped around me. All the evil disappeared when he touched me. "I killed Karen . . ." I whispered, my voice choked. This really wasn't the reunion I had planned but at least I had my Angel back. Andrew easily pulled me onto his lap as he sat on the ground. He cradled me like a child as I thought of what I had done, how I was the soulless one for murdering her.

"You didn't kill Karen," Andrew soothed. "She was never Karen. She was the Soul Stalker. You have a pure soul and she wanted that. She wanted your soul more than anyone's. You were only protecting yourself." His fingers pulled my hair back as his lips pressed against my forehead. I'd never been so confused in my life, but I was sure about one thing: I loved Andrew. The Prophetess's words seemed too simple, too trivial to sum up what Andrew was to me. He was more than my kindred soul, he was my life--my whole life--my entire soul. "Don't ever do that again," he scolded me softly. "You almost lost your life for me. I wouldn't have survived it." I nodded numbly. "I would have done it again--a million times if I had to. Anything for you." The time I was away from him was torturous. When I realized he had been taken . . . it was worse. Before I had come here, I knew there was a possibility I would sacrifice myself for him. Honestly, I didn't know love could run that deep, but I did now. I let out a profound sigh of relief as Andrew continued kissing my forehead. He was alive . . . and holding me. I felt so guilty for being so content in his arms. "I love you too," he murmured. And I almost smiled because I had forgotten he could read my mind when we touched. Suddenly, thoughts of Joseph and Patrick came rushing back to me. I leapt from Andrew's arms and nearly tore the air away from me as I tried to get to Joseph. He was my best friend, my confidant, my comrade. "Give me your shirt," I commanded Andrew. He obliged and I put the shirt over Joseph's gaping wound. His stomach was torn to pieces. You could actually see his intestines and it made my tears increase relentlessly. I can't lose him, I just can't. Ehno and Lucia held up a limping Patrick as they came to our aid. They lowered him to the ground and rushed toward Joseph. "Stop the bleeding," I demanded as I checked his pulse. His chest barely rose and I put my ear to it. There were gurgling noises and his pulse was weak. "Stay with me, Joseph. Don't you dare die on me!" I wiped blood from his face and he didn't respond. I looked to Andrew and touched his arm. With that simple touch he knew exactly what Joseph meant to me, exactly what needed to be done. He didn't hesitate as he took Joseph carefully into his arms like a delicate feather and took off into the sky. Instantly, I felt weak and fell back down toward the ground, though Lucia caught me and held me up. She murmured to me in a language I had never heard. The strong support of Lucia's arms never left me as I went limp. She said something to Ehno, but I was unable to catch it. "It's because he's gone," Ehno responded. My eyes fluttered as I tried to focus. I settled on just listening to their conversation. "You don't think it's because . . ." Lucia trailed off. "That was why Andrew was having such a hard time harnessing his gift after she died. He's her kindred soul." The words were said like a reverent prayer as Ehno's hand touched my arm lightly. "I'm going to call Andrew back here." "No," I said louder than I thought I was capable of. "Someone needs to be with Joseph at the hospital!" Ehno chuckled lightly and I opened my eyes to see the light as it filtered through the trees, making him look more angelic, if that was even possible. "No worries, Illuminator, I'll go there now."

"Okay," I mumbled and closed my eyes again. When I opened my eyes again I saw Andrew. He had pulled me close to his chest as he kneeled on the ground. "How are you feeling?" he whispered. "I was so worried. Ehno called out to me to tell me that you had stopped breathing for a minute. I flew here as quickly as I could." His eyes suddenly turned from their sad blue to a radiant gold. I tried to sit up but Andrew wouldn't let me go far. "Careful, you are still hurt. Your body is in the process of repairing itself." "How's Joseph?" He frowned and my stomach lurched. "He's in surgery right now. He's . . . he might not make it, Gabriella. We haven't heard any news from the doctors yet, so that's good." Words failed me. "Lucia said she won't let anything happen to him, even if she has to open up a portal to the Celestial Gods themselves to bring him back." Andrew gave a half-smile. "Where did Lucia and Ehno go?" I wondered. "And Patrick?" "The hospital." "Oh," I mouthed. "I think I can sit up now." He helped me to lean forward and my head spun for a few seconds before I found my bearings. Though Joseph was in surgery and might not survive, it was hard for me not to rejoice my reunion with my Angel. "Andrew?" "Yes, Ella?" he murmured. My heart picked up at hearing my nickname on his lips, the name that had never sounded so right coming from anyone else's mouth. "I'm so sorry for not telling you that I was alive. You were captured to protect me and I was hiding so she'd leave you alone. I'm so sorry, so so--" He shut me up by bringing his lips to mine. I zapped him with electricity but it only made him cup my face with his palms and bring me closer to him. My hands rested on his bare chest as he moved closer as his lips moved softly, yet steadily, against mine. His breath was heavy as his heart strummed against my fingers. Instantly, I melted into his warmth as he wrapped one muscled arm around my lower back, stood, and brought me with him, our kiss never-ending. In that moment, it was like we had never been apart. But, at the same time, it was more because of the distance we'd had between us. My heart exploded as he pulled me even closer right before he gently pushed me up against a tree. We were flush together and his body was hard but curved perfectly against mine, as if he was made just for me. One of his hands got lost in my hair and he pulled my face closer to his. Our kisses grew more aggressive and I knew that my pulse was thundering as I ached for each touch. When Andrew broke away he was breathless. He leaned his forehead against mine and his hot breath roamed over my skin. "Wow," I breathed. He nodded, wordless for several long seconds. "God, I missed you." His hands fumbled with the remnants of my gold dress. "It's a shame she ruined this dress. I bet it looked great on you." Heat flooded my cheeks. He smiled suddenly, picked me up, and spun me around. "You're here and alive . . . in my arms!" He chuckled and gave me another quick spin around the battle laden forest. When he sat me down he kissed every last inch of my face until he had me giggling. It was then that I noticed I felt no pain--actually, I felt great. Amazing. "Why do I feel so good after everything that happened to me? I was so close to death . . . again." I shook my head but couldn't help the enormous smile that had etched itself into my face.

"When an Angel finds their kindred soul they are linked. If they lose that connection, either by death or distance, it is hard for them to heal or to use any of their abilities." "Zola explained it to me but I don't think I understood until now, truly," I admitted. He kissed me lightly on my lips and Immediately craved more. "If we can learn to control our connection we can be away from each other and still use our powers," he explained. He politely left out the fact that we had to have a deep connection, only forged with the intimacy of our souls and bodies. I stood on tiptoe and kissed him on the lips, only lingering for a few seconds. "Ludicrous," I told him, "we're never going to be away from each other again." He chuckled softly and hugged me to his chest. I buried my face against him and smelled the sweet scent of his skin. "I missed you so much, Andrew. And I'm sorry," I said again as I cuddled into his large arms--safe and secure again. Andrew lay his head on top of mine and sighed. "Don't be sorry, Ella. I understand why you did it." He placed a kiss on the top of my head right before he pulled away. "Just promise me that you won't ever hide from me again, okay? I can't suffer through that again--not ever again. Being away from you was . . . agony." He quickly wiped a tear away from my cheek. "Please don't cry--" His voice cut off. "I know, I know. Silver just like my blood is now." I smiled. "But don't worry, I'm not crying because I am sad, Andrew. It's because I'm so happy to see you--to be in your arms again." I just hoped we wouldn't be torn apart again before we had time to develop our relationship. He frowned, watching my expression intently. "It's more than that. Please, tell me. I hate reading it in your thoughts; sometimes I'd rather hear it come from your sweet lips." Sorry, I thought and he smiled. "We have another problem besides the hostile Shadows," I said carefully. "The Empyrean Guard." He froze, his expression unreadable. "Where did you hear that name?" "It was the Empyrean Guard who saved us from the Soul Stalker the first time. After you came to me in my dreams, I packed my stuff and was going to get Joseph and Patrick to tell them what you told me . . . I overheard the Empyrean Guard talking about exterminating all the Angels." I took a deep breath. "And they're convinced that I'll be the one to do it." "It can't be . . ." Andrew whispered. "Oh, but it is," a cold voice said in the distance. Andrew pushed me behind him and put his large body between me and the voice. I glanced around him to see one of the Empyrean Guards. "No," I shouted angrily. "You can't take him from me. You know why, too. Without him my powers won't work . . . but the Guardian Spirits didn't think of that. They didn't realize I would find my kindred soul." The Guard blanched but quickly composed himself. "How do you know about this?" He shook his head. "Never mind. Guards!" he called out. Like phantom wisps solidifying, the forest around us filled with hundreds of Empyrean Guards. "No," I whispered, horrified. "I'd say I'm sorry, Illuminator, but I'm not. The Angels have made an absolute mess of things and we can't sit in the Ethereal Eternity and watch as they destroy this world."

The army around us began to move forward, converging upon us. Andrew turned and pulled me close to his chest, protecting me with his arms. "Fly," I barely said against Andrew's chest as he hugged me to him. "I can't. They're preventing me," he said, frightened. I sent a current of electricity into the ground and watched as the men's shiny bronze armor lit with an electric blue. It didn't stop them--not even for a second. I pulled out of our embrace, ready to fight again. As our enemies stalked towards us I felt my options dissipate. Andrew had one arm across my torso to hold me back so he could protect me, but I wouldn't let him. If this was going to be our end I wanted to fight. I couldn't imagine Andrew giving his life so freely for mine. The Empyrean Guards surrounded us like a wild pack of hungry wolves and I knew this would be our end. A ghostly substance enveloped us and the heat from the mist was so intense my skin literally started to grow hot--so hot I thought any second it would blister and peel. I cried out in pain and Andrew turned to me, showing his back to the Empyrean Guards that grew closer and closer around us. This was the end. Again. You'd think I would be used to it by now. Andrew, his beautiful golden eyes a magnificent blue again, placed his forehead against mine and held my face between his two large palms. Tears dropped from beneath my eyelashes as I closed my eyes and let the first of my sorrow go. If either of us were to die, together would be the only way, though I knew that the Empyrean Guards wanted to keep me alive. "I need you to know," Andrew barely choked out, "that I love you." "Shhh," I sobbed. "Please don't, Andrew. I don't want this to be goodbye." His lips pressed against mine softly. "You're wrong, Ella. This isn't a goodbye--this is the beginning of something greater." "Andrew," I cried, pulled him closer to me, and kissed him deeply, fully. With everything in me, I put all of my feelings into that kiss. I let my thoughts and love flow through the electric current and, in turn, he whispered in my mind just as softly as his lips would brush across my eyes. I didn't even know he could do that. I was in awe. In that moment I willed the world around us to disappear and sent us soaring away from everything that wanted to harm us. When we pulled away, everything really had disappeared. There were no Empyrean Guards, nothing preventing Andrew from flying away . . . there was just us. "I love you," I whispered against his neck and let my hands get lost in his dark hair. "Don't ever leave me again," he whispered into my ear. "Never," I said passionately. A single tear slid down his precious face and I cried out in joyous shock. It was silver, just like mine. I wiped my finger across his cheek and pulled it away so he could study the tear and understand my excitement. His eyes grew wide, but it wasn't because of the single, silver tear that adorned my finger, it was because we were flying. We were in our own little bubble; we had left the Empyrean Guards below--hundreds of feet below us. "Andrew," I choked out. "You . . ." I didn't know how to tell him that he now had wings. My eyes glanced at his luminescent wings and I wanted to reach out and rub the soft, pearl-like feathers. They were absolutely stunning, more amazing than my dreams ever were. "Gabriella," Andrew responded in awe. "Your wings . . ." My wings?

30 <Midnight Sun> My body hummed with unimaginable power as my kindred soul's hand held mine. He was a bright candle in this unforgiving shroud of gloom. My other hand gripped Joseph's limp one as fear curdled in my stomach at his still, silent form. Someone had cleaned off his bloody face and I felt grateful for their tender touch. The hospital staff had been baffled by our appearance: dirty and flying down with our wings spread wide. There had been no thought of what anyone would think because our focus was directed toward the doctor who had worked on Joseph. He looked pale as we approached him, though his eyes shimmered with unshed tears. He had mumbled under his breath words that sounded like "angel" and "miracle." Though the miracle didn't seem to have anything to do with the state of my shoulder-bumping, Miracle Phone-using, suave FBI best friend. Instead, the doctor's words were like a vicious wave in a deadly storm, a black hole of utter despair. I had wished, for the first time, that I couldn't understand Italian. "He might not make it through the night," The doctor had said. The words cut deep, sharp as a knife. "Be prepared." How could you prepare yourself for something that would consume your heart and burn part of it away forever? My shock had turned to dread that slithered through me; it devoured everything in its path as my blood thickened and I was no longer able to stand. My strong Angel caught me in his arms as I lost the feeling in my legs. Andrew had healed many things on the outside, even on the inside, but there was a part of my heart that he couldn't keep safe. He swept me off the ground and held me against his chest, his forehead pressed against mine in comfort. He was silent because he knew that words would never suffice, though our thoughts flowed freely between our touch. "Can we see him?" Andrew had spoken softly to the doctor in Italian. Words had stumbled out of the doctor's mouth without coherent thought. "Angels. Are you . . . I mean, you couldn't be. Seeing things . . . angels?" "Doctor, we only ask to see someone dear to us before he . . ." Andrew had trailed off, a torturous pause following in its wake. We were then led silently to Joseph's bedside with wide curious eyes following our every move. No one called the police and no one tipped-off the media. They were kind enough to give both Andrew and I something to wear so we looked like two doctors in O.R. scrubs, though I was still covered in the grime from our battle. Truly, the hospital staff had felt humbled. I could even feel it now in my skin as I held the hands of my two favorite people. Joseph's face held a semblance of peace, though there was no peace inside me. His body was full of protruding hospital paraphernalia and covered in bandages across his half-covered stomach. It was a testament to all the pain and suffering he had survived. If he survives . . . He had suffered beyond imagining and the knowledge burned me to my core. Andrew squeezed my hand lightly and the whirlwind of passion he felt for me rippled down the link between us. My eyes found his and for the first time I couldn't pick out the color of his eyes. Hazel possibly, changing like liquid being stirred with food-coloring. He was confused in his emotions, unsure of how to feel. One thing I could tell for sure was that he wanted to fill me with blissful, drowning passion just to stop the feelings of grief that had seeped into me. It hurt him when he looked into my eyes and saw the rich-blue color of heartache. My guilt and self-doubt swirled and coated my thoughts, only making the situation worse, but I couldn't help it. Joseph was here because of me, because I came to him for help when I should have gone to someone else. He would be safe it I hadn't brought him into this world. Andrew rose to his feet, not letting go of my hand. His thoughts whispered in my mind like soft rose pedals drifting

through a cool breeze. I'll be right back. I'll be right outside, speaking with the others. A beam of blue moonlight seeped into the room, casting jagged shadows across Andrew's face. He was stunningly beautiful and his tender look made something new and lusciously warm flutter inside me. "Don't go far," I breathed into the space between us. He understood my need to be near him because he felt it too. Being apart could be dangerous and we both knew it. We had almost lost each other and we couldn't let something like that ever happen again. He kissed my forehead sweetly before his hand slipped away from mine, a spark of electricity the only thing lingering. The door opened and shut in quietly. I went to the bathroom to clean up. With the hot water running in the sink, I peered into the mirror that was fogging up. Bits of blood in all different colors flecked my skin. The remnants of dried, silver tears streaked my cheeks. As I began rinsing my hands in the sink, the water turned pink with Joseph's blood and my stomach lurched. My hands shook as I reached for the soap, and my shoulders trembled as I dampened paper towels to clean my cheeks. Once I was clean, I braced myself and ambled back into Joseph's room. For a second I could swear I heard his phone pinging and my lips twitched. I sat at Joseph's bedside with all the beeping and whirring machines. His dirty and blo clothes--or what was left of them--were in a bag at the end of the bed. I almost didn't hear it among all the other beeps, but then, all of a sudden, there it was again. Ping. I'd know that ping anywhere! I jumped up and rummaged through the bag of bloody and torn clothes to find his phone. The battery was low but was still clinging to its last bit of hope. Just like I was . . . like Joseph was. Ping. I glanced over to Joseph, his face smooth and emotionless. I had to know who it was that had continued to ping him through the last two weeks. The screen was flashing a name I would've never expected. Not the FBI or Sara, but Jenna. My sister! Emotions flitted through me so quickly I wasn't quite sure which one to settle on. I didn't want to go through their messages, but I couldn't help but see the most recent one. Jenna 9:03 PM: I haven't heard from you in two days. I'm worried about you and Gabby. Are you okay? Hurt? Where are you? Please text me back! I'm going crazy over here. Her questions lashed with stinging force and I knew what I had to do. I texted her back. Jenna, it's Gabby. I'm fine but Joseph is in the hospital from major injuries. We don't know if he'll make it through the night, but we're hoping for the best. I felt terrible for sending it to her in a text message. I love you. Call you soon. Gabriella. I hit send and the message went out into the unknown as the phone died. I stuffed it back into the plastic bag, avoiding the bloody clothes. Soon, my head was lying on Joseph's bed, praying that he would make it through the night, through the next day, and the day after that. Memories of the forest floor drenched in Joseph's blood haunted my every waking thought. Tears escaped my eyes as I silently sobbed, wishing to just heal him already. It wasn't fair. Several agonizingly slow minutes passed as I regained some composure and soon I was sleeping with my head resting next to Joseph, his hand laying limply in mine. Thoughts of Abelie entered my mind, flashes of her life eclipsing all others.

The Divine Library received a shipment of ancient artifacts from a dig in South America, which meant that my living space had been crowded all day. It was a library for crying out loud, and it was also late at night. I knew the Elders would be ecstatic--and I was too--but it was running close to midnight and I was utterly exhausted. As my friends and family toasted with their wine glasses for the fiftieth time, I snuck out the slightly open door to grab a breather from all the festivities. Who would have thought a few, thought-to-be-missing-forever, artifacts would make them so jubilated? Leo was most excited about the art that came in the shipment, while Carmela nearly squealed when she sawe box full of ancient documents. The night air slid across my skin like intoxicating silk, the darkness full of silhouetted shadows and haunting moonlight. A twig snapped in the distance and I squinted in an attempt to capture who or what was out there. Cautiously, I made my way down the stairs, my footsteps soundless. When I reached the bottom stair, my eyes adjusted to the darkness and the night was suddenly clear and crisp in my vision. At the forest edge, a deer lay on the ground, her legs tucked underneath her belly. The deer's eyes were glassy with pain and fear as I slowly approached her, my hand outstretched in reassurance. "It's okay pretty girl," I soothed. "I won't hurt you." The wind shifted and the smell of metallic hit my nose with a stomach-clenching strength. She was hurt badly, though I hadn't gotten close enough to tell by what means. With another step forward, the deer startled and tried to flee. She was hurt too badly to make it to her feet. I took several more steps until I was able to kneel before her. Her breathing was ragged and her body quivered. Then I saw it, a bullet hole at the base of her neck and another deep in her right shoulder. Blood leaked in copious amounts onto the ground, beginning to pool. When I placed a hand on her back, she was cool to the touch, her hair course and brittle. Under my palm, her skin twitched as if I was a fly. "Shhh, I'm here to help you," I cooed. As if she could understand my words, she immediately relaxed under my touch. Her life's thread would soon be cut, but I knew I had the power to stop that. It was only a mortal wound and wouldn't diminish my energy as a magical injury would. I closed my eyes and covered her bloody neck and shoulder with my hands, spilling all of my magic into the deer. Only seconds passed before she jumped to her feet, knocking me to the ground, and took off into the woods, not even giving me a second glance. For several minutes I rested on the forest floor, my body recuperating after healing the deer. There was another snap of a branch near me and I figured the deer had realized I wasn't a threat and had come back to eat some leaves off the low-hanging trees at the forest's perimeter. "Are you . . . all right?" a rich, deep voice asked hesitantly. My heart slammed against my rib cage as I flung myself upward, startled. Terror consumed me as if it had become solid, raising every hair on my neck. Vibrant, glowing eyes ghosted over my body with their heated, voracious gaze. With all my strength, I backed away on the ground, words tumbling from my mouth to put up protective spells. It was useless; I was still recovering from rescuing the deer. My back smacked hard against a tree trunk and my breath was momentarily lost. As the Shadow moved closer to me, his skin blending in with the night, I put my hand up to cover my face, knowing this would be how I died, over a deer. The Shadow breathed across my skin as he came closer, his hand gently pulling my arm away from my face. He was surprisingly smooth to the touch, his actions almost tender. "Don't hurt me," I whimpered. My words hung there between us as he peered down at me. He didn't strike out like I thought he would when he made a sudden movement. His amazingly warm voice breathed across my body. "You saved that deer." His statement was simple, though his tone was full of meaning. "I've been watching you, Abelie, healer of the Angels, for some time. I'm Aiden."

My voice was stuck in my throat, my feelings a jumbled mix of fear and . . . want. "Don't worry, dear Abelie, for I will never harm you." His velvety words caressed my insides as a lover would. A clock ticked a calming rhythm as the Ladies of Light intertwined their arms to share their magic. This was the first group of awakened Ladies to be able to mix their powers to accomplish this phenomenal magic. Every hundred years the newly awakened were stronger, better than the last. There were thousands of immortals crowded together for the first meeting with them, and none of us knew what to expect. "Zola." A feathery whisper like liquid satin or a murmured lullaby flowed through my mind. "Welcome to a new century." My heart beat like a stampede of wild elephants as I startled awake. I felt insanely weak and, for a moment, I began to panic thinking Andrew had left me. My lungs gasped for air as I leaned back over my arm to calm my insane palpitations. The sounds of the hospital murmured in my ears, the most important sound was of Joseph's beating heart, which was steadier than before. My dreams confused me--I was Abelie at first, but at the end . . . for just a few seconds, I was Zola. The thought of what that might mean scared me silly. Had she given me the Sight too? I didn't know, and was afraid to find out. My hand still rested over Joseph's, but now there was a warm hand slack over mine. Andrew had pulled a chair next to me and settled his head on his curled arm, which lay on the bed. His eyes were closed in sweet slumber. I couldn't help but stare at him intensely, at his angular jaw, the short stubble growing there, his glowing skin, and his dark, neatly chaotic hair. He was who I had worked so hard to find and rescue. He was the one who visited my dreams, held me when I thought all was lost, and loved me unconditionally. A thought attacked me suddenly and all I could think about was hurting, killing, murdering . . . Something inside me begged me to destroy them all. Darkness seeped into my veins, evil polluting my body. My fingers had a mind of their own as they traced the line of Andrew's jaw and the thoughts that accompanied them were not pleasant. Andrew's golden eyes flickered open and when they found mine, the darkness, the evil, melted away like a snowflake over fire. He didn't raise his head as we both gazed at each other, our hands clasped over Joseph's. Then I cried. I wept my new silver tears, tears I now shared with my Guardian Angel, my lover. It was different this time; the tears were from the intoxicating relief of seeing him again, alive and well. But also, they were from the fear of what happened when I killed the Soul Stalker. There was a moment when my dagger was in her that I felt all the wickedness leave her and enter me. "Hey," Andrew whispered huskily. My thoughts turned to the Angel before me. There were several long, torturous minutes where I thought the Soul Stalker had killed him, just like I had thought she'd finished Joseph. Luckily, my Angel, my Andrew, was able to fly him to the hospital like the Light of Heaven he was and save Joseph's life. Just in time. Death was knocking and we'd locked the door. I hoped. I did have hope, though, because even Zola had spoken of a Keeper's importance and how they were able to avoid death. He was my Keeper, someone who was there for me through this crazy journey. He was my best friend and the one person who'd sacrificed everything for me. He wasn't the only one; everyone was always standing brave and tall, putting their lives on the line. I had accepted this fact, though I didn't like that everybody had gone out of their way to make sure I stayed alive while throwing themselves to the slaughter. It wasn't until I overheard the Empyrean Guards' conversation that I completely understood. My Angels accepted their fate and lay down before me like a human sacrifice, because I would Illuminate the Shadows, unite the Angels, and destroy the Ladies of Light. By the deep emotion in Andrew's eyes, I could tell he was listening to my escalating thoughts. He responded

through our touch, our voices lost to the internal connection that suddenly went both ways. "Ella, you are uniquely special. You've proven this to us time and time again and we will not fail you. We will stand beside you on your journey, or place our souls at your mercy if you wished it so." His words, like nectar, rose through my thoughts in a soothing wave of love. "This isn't the end," I stated in a sigh. "No," Andrew murmured back to me, his eyes melting into liquid gold. "In my soul I know this is where I should be: at your side. You, of all the humans and Angels in the past four thousand years, are my kindred soul." The way he spoke made me buzz with adoration. "No matter what I say or do, all I seem to be able to focus on is you. You have consumed me: mind, body, and soul." He wiped the last of my tears away with a gentle stroke of his thumb. I sat up and we both moved our hands away from Joseph at the same time, grasping for each other instead. "I thought I lost you in the woods." My voice was tiny. "And I almost gave up right then. Joseph was lifeless and you were gone . . ." Realization dawned on him before the words or thoughts could form into anything coherent. "You didn't die and you didn't give up. You fought with everything you had left." My gaze shot to the ground, embarrassed. "But I wanted to." "But you didn't," he stated firmly, lifting my chin to meet his scorching gaze. There was an intensity there I had never seen before, one that burned away all of my embarrassment and shame. His palm met my cheek and his eyes bore into mine. Our thoughts were mingled together as one as he moved closer to me, gracefully. He was so close that his warm breath fanned over my face and his nose grazed my chin. My breathiitched when his fingers traced my collarbone in a slow rhythm--back and forth, back and forth. His lips ghosted over my jaw and to my ear where I trembled. "I love you, Ella. Always," he whispered. Electricity exploded in me, crackling and sparking throughout my body. And I knew that he could feel it too as he pulled away to see my face before his lips descended on mine. There was an intense fire blazing between us, though Andrew kept the kiss soft and gentle. Before he pulled away, though, he tasted my bottom lip with his tongue. I sighed in contentment, willing him to return to my abandoned lips. I never thought I'd feel those lips on mine again, and I was so glad to be proven wrong. The door cracked open slowly and in walked Aiden, his skin hidden beneath several layers of clothing. His face was lined with sorrow, his magic and clothes unable to disguise it. He looked more human while using his magic, more like the man I remembered in Abelie's memories before he was a Shadow. He advanced into the room and placed his hand on my shoulder. I rose from my seat and we hugged fiercely. "I wouldn't have survived if I lost you and your mother," he said over my shoulder, his voice soft. Behind him I watched as Ehno and Lucia came in silently, their hands grasped tightly together. We pushed away from each other and I saw through his magic as I stared into his blazing eyes. "I'm sorry I hid from you. Truly, I am. I hope you understand why I did it." My voice lowered as I looked down and scowled at the ground. "And it didn't even help." Behind me, I could feel Andrew's presence like a warm blanket. "None of this is your fault so please quit blaming yourself. All of this was inevitable in one way or another." Andrew reached for my hand and made me turn to him. "Your whole existence was created to bring our world back together. Start thinking of yourself as the Illuminator instead of the one who caused this mess, because you didn't. You're going to restore what it means to be an Angel." You've already showed me what it is to truly love. "I have?" I shook my head. "I mean I am?"

Andrew nodded. "Yes," he whispered as he pulled me away from Aiden and placed his hands tenderly on both of my cheeks. His lips were so close to mine I thought he was going to kiss me so I closed my eyes in anticipation. His hot breath trekked over my lips as he breathed, "Illuminate him." My eyes flung open in surprise. "Illuminate . . . Aiden?" Andrew backed away from me and I could see his pulse thumping wildly at his throat, but mostly I noticed the complete confidence in his face--he had no doubt that I was capable of succeeding. "Yes, Illuminate him. It's what you were meant to do; you are the Darkness Illuminator." "I know I am but--" My focus shifted to Aiden's eager expression. "I don't even know how." Andrew placed a hand over my heart and my attention came back to him. Electricity bloomed between us in intense waves. "Yes, you do," he stated firmly. "Just think about it, Gabriella. Look deep in your soul and you'l know the answer." Words lodged in my throat, unable to speak through my self-doubt. What if I was unsuccessful and failed them all? What if this new darkness inside me prevented me from Illuminating him? Or worse, what if I do something wrong and hurt him? What if they believed in the wrong person? "You're exactly the right person, I have no doubts in my mind," Andrew said intently. "And you won't hurt him, nor kill him. He's a Shadow; unkillable." He hugged me tightly and whispered in my ear, "You can do this, even Ehno's seen it." "Sweetheart," Aiden said as he placed his hand on my shoulder. I pivoted around to face him again, looking up into his fiery eyes. The creature I once thought of as evil was someone I ended up loving, and who loved me back. "I have faith in you and I trust you. Try." His voice was pleading. Zola's words rushed back to me. Would you rather doom him to a life as a Shadow, with all his past memories forgotten? Imagine the gift you'd be giving him: all his memories of Abelie restored. "If I hurt you, you must tell me," I demanded. "And Andrew, you'll pull me off of him if I'm hurting him." A shiver of fear spread the length of my spine. Aiden nodded and I heard Andrew whispered "okay" behind me. Without another word, I pressed my palms against his cheeks and closed my eyes. With my soul, I reached out to the man across from me, my father. He gasped as electricity surged from my hands and rushed into his body. My head bowed at the feeling that consumed me. Love. Light. He was so full of light I was momentarily blinded as I basked in his magnificent glow. Flashes of his life exploded behind my eyes as power and energy transferred between us. Suddenly I was sitting on a park bench watching my parents. Abelie was wearing jeans and a fleece jacket. Aiden was in similar attire with an added baseball cap low on his head to hide his true nature. They watched a young couple walk around the park with their hands clasped lovingly. A little girl was running across the grass, chasing after some birds, giggling. Her curls bounced around as she jumped in the middle of some happily feeding birds. I realized it was . . . me. "It's time," Aiden whispered into Abelie's ear, his voice shaky with sorrow. "One more day," Abelie pleaded, tears overtaking her. He sighed heavily, grasping Abelie's hand and pulling her to her feet. "I want to say 'never,' but Gabriella deserves to be safe." Grief had devoured Aiden's features.

"I know." Abelie's voice trembled as they reached out for the little girl. For me. They kissed her--my cheeks softly before walking away, both of them holding my hands. It was the day they finally decided they had to give me away to protect me. They sacrificed everything for me and I owed them both more than I could ever give them. My eyes snapped open and I was back in the hospital room. It was entirely ethereal as the light devoured everything inside of Aiden. The shadows were chased away as his skin lit in a hot, white fire. There were several gasps around the room, though Aiden held perfectly still, his eyes clamped on mine. I focused on the lustrous glow as it reached his neck and ran up toward his face. What was left behind was tanned, flawless skin. As the blaze of light reached his eyes, I watched the fire burn brighter before burning out altogether. In its place was the color of the shallowest of seas, a rich green that was identical to mine. My body was becoming weak and my knees were about to buckle beneath me. I felt hands and arms reaching for me, holding me up. My hands began to slip from Aiden's face, but he quickly placed his palms over mine. I closed my eyes while several jolts of electricity rushed down my arms. My power was a swift river being pushed along by a heavy storm, bringing my father the light he deserved. I was fading fast and the world swam before me. With one last powerful surge of electricity, I flung everything I had left inside of Aiden. A bright light filled the room, a midnight sun burning so intensely that night disappeared completely. A halo formed around his essence and I knew it had worked. He was an Angel now, all shadows gone. My body collapsed as hands and arms kept me from smacking the ground. "Gabby?" Joseph's voice was the last thing I heard before all went black, my light diminished. <Epilogue> After Joseph's recovery Andrew kept his attention on Gabriella. He was afraid they would be separated again and the thoughts worried him to the point of never letting her out of his sight. Now that they were close together--more like inseparable--their powers were restored and, unsaid between them, they knew what needed to be done to ensure their abilities would sustain themselves when they were apart. The prospect made Andrew nervous, yet thrilled him at the same time. Of all the women in the world, she would be the only person Andrew would want to share that part of himself with. But there was something inside Gabriella that made him hesitate. A part of her that had pulled away. He wasn't quite sure what it was, or why it was happening, but ever since she killed the Soul Stalker, Andrew felt as if the Soul Stalker had stolen or darkened a part of Gabriella's soul. When they touched and shared their thoughts, sometimes he could read how empty, dark, and hollow she felt inside. Other parts felt angry, frustrated, and a little . . . evil. When she looked into Andrew's eyes, all fears and thoughts that troubled him disappeared, replaced by the loving and sweet Ella he had fallen deeply for. Andrew never brought the subject up because he knew she didn't want to share her feelings on any of it. She was scared of what the others would think, absolutely frightened that she would be considered soulless. But Andrew knew differently; she wasn't soulless. She felt devoid of . . . something, and Andrew was determined to find out what that something was before it took over their life together. One night her emotions were too much and Andrew held her close as she fought back the nasty retorts, the evil remarks, and the unkind words she wanted to say. It was so unlike Gabriella, and they were both rightfully scaredf giving into those new instincts telling her to not only say cruel words, but to physically hurt the ones they loved. Andrew became a silent rock in Gabriella's life as she struggled. After the Illumination of Aiden it took Gabriella several days to recuperate, and Andrew feared it weakened her enough that something evil could have attacked. Because of Andrew's qualms it took him several days to finally agree on letting Gabriella go to her mother's final resting place alone. She begged for a week, but he didn't want her to leave his side. And with good reason seeing as how she was struggling with something inside of her. It was that day, as Gabriella looked into his eyes with burning affection, her thoughts a whirlwind of doubt and fear, that convinced him. There were some things she wanted to say to Abelie without the whole world knowing. The sky was bright and full of the sun, warming Gabriella's cheeks in the cold autumn air. It was November and the trees were beginning to lose more and more of their golden-red leaves. The ground was blanketed with the beauty

of fall; even the few birds that remained chirped merrily in the trees. The Soul Stalker was dead, her brothers defeated by their efforts and the Empyrean Guard's help. There was no one here that Andrew had to worry about-no one else knew Gabriella was here, except Andrew, who kept a watchful eye in the shadow of the trees. He watched as she approached Abelie's tombstone, her body trembling in the chilly air. At Abelie's gravesite Gabriella bent down and placed her right palm over the grass. Her murmured words drifted on the light breeze. "Hi Mom. I wish you were here to give me guidance on what I should do." She held onto Abelie's tombstone with her other hand for balance. It read: Even in death My soul reaches out to you. Your beloved husband Her fingers traced the engraving and silver tears spilled down her face. She sniffed and Andrew wanted to embrace her and wipe all her sadness away. "Every time I think about Illuminating the Shadows, or helping my Angels, something tugs at me to do exactly the opposite. I need you to tell me this is normal . . . or to fight it off . . . or if I should tell Andrew, though I suspect he already knows." She sighed and touched her forehead to the hand holding onto the tombstone. She closed her eyes firmly for several long seconds and Andrew wished he could touch her to listen to her thoughts in that moment. "I know it's stupid not to tell your kindred soul everything," Gabriella said with another sigh. "That is what a relationship like ours is for, so you can tell the other things you wouldn't tell anyone else. I guess I'm just afraid he'll be disgusted with me if there is part of me missing inside . . . the part he loved. What if I'm not . . . loveable anymore?" Her words made Andrew's heart throb. How could she think such a thing? He loved her no matter what, even if he had to help her through her demons. Andrew instinctively moved forward and snapped a twig. He quickly hid himself with magic just as Gabriella glanced up quickly to scope out the area. The wind picked up just then and rustled through the trees, causing a scream-like noise to erupt until it died down again. Several leaves fluttered unceremoniously to the groundding more color to the ever growing pile. Gabriella's senses went on high alert, regardless of Andrew's invisibility. His heart broke a little more as he realized he probably scared her. Electricity exploded from her palm instinctually and spread through the earth, making several tombstones around her glow a soft electric blue which was hard to see in daylight. With the sun at her back, Andrew watched as the shadow of her new wings expanded in both directions. She stood and turned, the sun catching her wings in a brilliant light. But Andrew noticed something was wrong. Quickly, Gabriella wiped away the tears on her face and rose, the wind pushing her forward slightly because of her wings. They were both still learning how to use them, but they promised each other they'd learn together. Ehno told Gabriella after many failed attempts at trying to make them appear that she would learn eventually. He also said this with an unmistakable mask of shock on his face and quickly hid his thoughts from Andrew. When she asked Ehno what he saw, he shook his head adamantly and told her over and over again it was nothing as he backed out of the room. Andrew still wondered what it was he saw, but knew Ehno would tell them when it was time. The wind blew again and a long, slender black feather tumbled into Gabriella's view. She reached down, picked it up, and studied the beauty of it, but as she twisted it around in her fingers realization blossomed on her face. Andrew's heart began to beat like a drum as he watched her peer over her shoulder to see her now sleek, blackas-night, wings. What was wrong with his Ella? Acknowledgements I'd like to thank my Stalker Mocker team for their support in writing this lengthy book: Lisa, Cesya, Holly, Brianne, Shanda, and Dawn. Their advice and words of encouragement kept me going even in the worst of times. I love

you ladies dearly and your dedication to the Timeless Series is admirable. I'd also like to thank my partner and author friend, Brenda Pandos. She's amazing. Thank you J.D. who's been supportive from the beginning (and made me lots of mac n cheese). And, of course, I can't leave out those who inspired me. Chris Emberton was my friend until the end of his short life, and is the reason I believe in true, undying love. I'll miss him forever and he is constantly in my thoughts. Also, my Aunt Bonnie who struggled with cancer for years and came through alive. Her faith and determination is beyond anything I've ever seen. Lastly, Linda who continues to fight her fast-growing cancer. She's fought longer and harder than most patients with her kind of cancer. She's also lived longer. Abyss Gabriella is falling to pieces. The aftermath of the Soul Stalker's death weighs heavily on her shoulders. Andrew tries everythi he can to help her fight off the new demon inside her, the one who wants to cause chaos and commit murder. When symbols begin to ink her skin they realize there is something greater going on in Gabriella's soul. A war. But there is another war waging in the Angelic world. Angels are being picked off one-by-one. Gabriella is faced with the dilemma of picking a side. Phantoms entice her with a new life while the Empyrean Guard offer a heavenly death. Our heroine has another idea, though. She seeks The Fallen in the Abyss. Shadows are Illuminated, an army is formed, and a surprise appearance by someone thought dead helps Gabriella fight the darkness inside. There can't be shadows without light, but the two together collide in the explosive third installment of the Timeless Series. For more information please visit Laura's website at http://www.laurakreitzer.com Table of Contents Cover copyright TitlePage Dedication Quote Prologue Chapter01 Chapter02 Chapter03 Chapter04 Chapter05 Chapter06 Chapter07

Chapter08 Chapter09 Chapter10 Chapter11 Chapter12 Chapter13 Chapter14 Chapter15 Chapter16 Chapter17 Chapter18 Chapter19 Chapter20 Chapter21 Chapter22 Chapter23 Chapter24 Chapter25 AngelChart Timeline Chapter26 Chapter27 Chapter28 Chapter29 Chapter30 Epilogue Acknowledgements Abyss