Rise of the Seers

Book 1

Daniel Whyte IV

Copyright 2015-2016. Torch Legacy Publications. All rights

reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval
system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic,
mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the
prior permission of the copyright owner, except for brief
quotations included in a review of the book.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents
either are products of the author's imagination or are used
fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons,
living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

"When the Bible used that very expression about

fighting with principalities and powers and depraved
hypersomatic beings at great heights (our translation is
very misleading at that point, by the way) it meant that
quite ordinary people were to do the fighting."
Eldwin Ransom
Perelandra, by C.S. Lewis

Merlin's Prophecy
When Demons walk uncloaked among men
When Heaven's words are hard to perceive
When the Dark Throne begins a new age of Sin
Many years after the Virgin conceived
As Guardians ready for war across all lands
When the darkness of Hell wrests light from man
When Seraphim despair because no one will stand
The Seers will rise to guide us again.

Stonehenge (c. 550 AD)

Hsss. Hsss. Ka-hsss. Khaaa.
A mass of Tempters swirled above the stone formation. Hissing
angrily, they jostled frantically for position to see the proceedings
below.
A wizened old demon stood in front of the headstone. The
crooked staff in his hand matched his bent form. The silver moon that
hung low on the horizon cast long shadows to the east. The low
rumble of thunder warned of a storm rolling down from the Scottish
highlands.
Raising his staff, the wizened demon silenced the Tempters and
spoke. "Dark ones, comrades, Lords of Chaos, Dukes of Sin, loyal
servants of his Infernal Majesty: We are gathered here tonight, for our
lord's will is complete." At these words, there was a murmur of
approval from those gathered. The Dark Angels stood stoically, their
muscular arms folded across their broad chests; heavy iron swords
hung from their sides. Their massive, black, feathered wings were
folded neatly at their backs. Gathered alongside them were the
demons the foot soldiers of the Dark Throne organized by rank.
On the outskirts of the gathering, the Druids stood, their eyes
gleaming red as they watched, for Stonehenge was their sacred
ground.

"Bring him. Bring him. Bring him." The low chant began as the
Druids beat out a rhythm on their huge skin drums. "Bring him!" The
Tempters' frenzied hissing increased until the master of ceremonies
stretched out his crooked staff and commanded silence. Ka-hsss!

"Bring him," he ordered.

A rank of demons split, and two of them marched forward,

dragging between them a man in chains who was dressed in a

tattered blue robe. They pulled him up to the headstone and thrust
him to his knees.
The old demon handed his staff to a young imp, and drew a
knife made entirely of ivory from his belt. A wicked grin crossed his
lips. Lucifer will be pleased, he thought. He looked down at the
kneeling human as the knife's blade cast a pale glow over the man's
face a face lined with years of honest labor and worry for others.
And now, he was ready to pay the ultimate price.
The demon spoke. "For five hundred years, the revenants,
these ones born again from the grave " (He directed a kick at the
kneeling man.) " have thwarted the plans of the Dark Throne. But
tonight, we have prevailed. We have searched every corner of the
earth and stamped out every Seer and their accursed descendants.
None has escaped our hands. And tonight, O Lucifer, we bring the
last one under the judgment of your terrible wrath."
A powerful thunderclap shook the massive stones, and the
horde gathered at Stonehenge pressed in closer thirsty for victory,
thirsty for blood.
The crooked demon raised the knife.
Murmuring a prayer, the old man lifted his eyes to the stormy
heavens, baring his neck to the blade.
The knife gleamed in the moonlight as the blade fell, swift and
sure.
The man's guttural cry was drowned out by the rush of blood,
the cheers of the demons, and the hissing of the Tempters.
_______
A tall man, whose strength and gait belied his years, strode
purposefully to the water's edge. As the water lapped the toes of his
heavy boots, his eyes scanned the horizon. He turned and scanned

the tree line of the forest from which he had just come.
It was pitch dark. But to the old man's gifted eyes, that was no
hindrance. He could see shadows against shadows. All things were
illuminated to him. And, thankfully, this night, there was no sign of
demons or Dark Angels nearby. He cocked his head and listened for
the familiar hiss. And no Tempters.
Still unsatisfied though, the old man let down the hood of his
heavy cloak and allowed the smells of the night to wash over his
face.
Good. No hint of their foul scent either.
That only meant they were many miles away at Stonehenge,
perhaps, by now, already celebrating the death of the last Seer.
The old man shook his head sadly. He sighed and trudged
towards a rocky outcropping on the beach. The waters of St.
George's Channel lapped noisily against the shore. Raising his staff,
the man struck the face of a large rock. The boulder seemed to
crumble to dust revealing an opening. Two sets of eyes peered out of
the previously hidden cavity.
A middle-aged man dressed in commoner's clothes crawled out
on his hands and knees. He turned and helped his wife out of the
secret hiding place before regarding the man who had unlocked their
prison.

"This is farewell, then, father?" he asked.

"Yes, this is farewell," the old one replied. His gaze drifted from
the man's face to the woman. Worry was etched across her brow as
she stood close to her husband cradling an infant in her arms. The
infant stirred as the wind whipped up waves and drove them against
the shore, spraying the baby's face.

"Do not fear, daughter," the old man said to the woman. "The
will of the Eternal One will be accomplished. And though the darkness
is great, the light will be all the more gloriouswhen it comes." The

baby whimpered, and the old man placed a finger on the infant's lips.
"Sleep, child," he said softly. "Do not let the darkness trouble your
innocent soul. You must not cry now, for you have a long journey
ahead of you. Sleep, child."

"Where will you send us?" asked the man as the baby settled
into a peaceful rest.

"Across the great ocean to a land that no man in Logris has yet
seen. And very few outside of Logris have dared venture that far. I,
myself, have seen it vaguely, in a dream or a dream of a dream, as it
were. But the Eternal One has told me to send you there. And the
Knights of the Black Lion nor any of Morgana's allies will pursue you
at least for a long time. You will be safe."

"What will we find there?" asked the woman urgently.

"Are there people? Is it barren?" her husband prodded.
"What I know is very vague. I have not been given such depth
of vision," said the old man.

"But you have the Farsight, father," the woman pleaded.

"But I can only see so far. Even then, it is only revealed to me
things happening at the instant. I am not able to tell you what will
meet you when you arrive." The old man turned and stepped toward
the water. "But I will lift up your names daily in my petitions to the
Eternal One. Now, we must make haste. That foul army is finished
with their ceremony."
Raising his staff over the water, the old man murmured a
command in an ancient tongue. The waters before him split, and a
ship with three masts rose to the surface of the waves. Its sails
quickly filled with the wind. "This is how you will make your voyage."

"Rather large for three people," commented the man who had
crawled back into the hidden space and came out with two sacks
all that belonged to him and his wife.

"And also rather sturdy. Nothing like it has been built in Britain.

An angel revealed the design to me in a dream. It is well-stocked with

provisions. I have placed a special blessing on the fruit stocks to help
them stay fresh."
A gang plank, seemingly carried by invisible hands, fell from the
deck and onto the shore. The woman, carrying the infant, boarded
slowly. Her husband, carrying the sacks, followed. On deck, they
turned and nodded towards the old man who remained on shore. He
raised his staff toward them. "Farewell, friends. If I do not see you
again in this life, then I will see you in the one to come. Always trust
the will of the Eternal One."
A westward wind billowed into the ship's sails, driving it away
from the shore and into the dark and distant unknown.
The old man watched until the ship was out of sight, and then
trudged slowly back toward the woods. When he reached a rise in the
hilly landscape, he paused. Using his gift of Farsight, he could see
the lamps glowing in the windows of the Great Hall of Camelot many
miles to the northeast. From the shadow that fell in regular intervals
across the windows, he could tell the king had stayed up late again,
pacing the floor, deep in thought.
The old man sighed. What would become of his beloved
Britain? With the Seers gone, would evil prevail? Could the Knights of
the Round Table withstand the assault from Morgana who had allied
with the Dark Throne?
The old one shook his head.
He had hope, and he would cling to it. But, in his heart of hearts,
he felt that the Golden Age of Camelot was ending, and a Dark Age
was beginning.

Chapter One: Outer Darkness

"Attention." The pilot's voice crackled over the plane's speakers.
"We are currently experiencing turbulent flying conditions. Everyone,
please remain in your seats. The flight is on schedule, and will arrive
in Houston in approximately an hour and a half."
The Boeing 777 banked dangerously to one side. Ethan braced
himself against the armrest. He snatched up the drawing pens he had
been using just before they rolled off the edge of the pull-down table
on the back of the seat in front of him. He twisted the leather string
around his left wrist nervously. There were three small wooden beads
on the string, each etched with a strange black mark. His parents had
told him that it was the only thing his birth mother gave to them when
they adopted him as a baby.
It was night. In the cabin, passengers awakened wanting to
know what was happening. Flight attendants on unsteady feet walked
up and down both aisles soothing passengers and handing out
pillows, blankets, and drinks.
The pilot's voice crackled again. "We would like for everyone to
remain in their seats and to put on their seat belts. Thank you."
With a sudden jerk, the plane righted itself. In the seat next to
Ethan, his sister, Samantha, lurched forward, her long, strawberryblond hair swinging wildly. Ethan stuck out his arm and pushed her
back into her seat.

"Seat belt," he said.

Samantha grimaced at the iPad in her hand. "If this plane
doesn't stop jerking around, I'm never gonna get past the level in this
game," she said. Setting the iPad in her lap, she buckled her seat
belt. "Are we in a storm?"

"Yes," said Ethan. A noise like thunder rumbled and shook the

aircraft. "Definitely, yes." An icy tingling sensation ran up his

back. No, not now.
The giant aircraft seemed to move up and down as though it
was being dragged over huge rocks. Another rumble shook the cabin.
Ethan had always wanted to see what the inside of a
thunderstorm looked like, but he couldn't shake the familiar uneasy
feeling. He cast furtive glances around the cabin searching for a
shadow that as far as he knew only he would be able to see.
Samantha watched him out of the corner of her eye. "What are
you looking for?" she asked as she followed his gaze.
Ethan pressed his back against the seat. "Nothing, Sam." He
glanced across the aisle to where his father and mother were seated.
His father, Reagan Eclaan, was still asleep, snoring softly, his
eyeglasses rising and falling rhythmically on his nose. His mother,
Amanda, tapped away at a spreadsheet on her laptop. She frowned
as another rumble shook the aircraft.
The intercom crackled as the pilot tried to deliver another
message. But it never came. The lights went out, and the cabin was
plunged into darkness. Ethan felt his stomach turn. The icy tingling he
had felt now increased. Despite the feeling, he began to sweat.
A few seconds later, the battery-operated overhead lights came
on faintly, washing the passengers' faces in a dim, eerie glow.
Everyone seemed to be holding their breath.

"Are we crashing?" asked Samantha.

Ethan shook his head. "I don't think so." Not yet. His lips were
stretched in a tight line. His head throbbed. His throat was tight. He
had dreamed of a plane crashing the night before at the hotel in San
Diego.
A violent jolt shook the plane. Ethan thought he heard the sound
of metal tearing. Suppressed screams escaped passengers' lips.
Breathing masks dropped from overhead. Flight attendants, their

eyes wide with silent fear, sought to keep passengers calm. Amid the
momentary commotion, Ethan thought he heard the sound of metal
tearing again. He glanced toward the plane's window.

"How do these things work?" Samantha asked as she fumbled

with the gas mask. Her green eyes appeared even brighter in the
dimness.
Ethan glanced back toward the window. Something was out
there. Whatever it was, it drew him. Impulsively, he lifted the window
shade. An inky darkness seemed to reach beyond the glass, like a
shadowy claw stretching toward his heart. Ignoring it, Ethan pressed
his face to the glass, allowing his eyes to adjust to the outer
darkness.
Then he saw it.
A demon perched on the plane's wing.
A maelstrom of dark clouds swirled above the plane. Beneath,
as far as Ethan could see, billowing dark clouds rolled and rolled. The
rumble of thunder shook the aircraft. Another metallic screech was
echoed by the passengers' screams. Ethan slammed the window
shade down.
Samantha tugged Ethan's arm. "What's happening out there?"
She had unbuckled her seat belt and slid forward to see out the
window.
Ethan grabbed Samantha's arm and tried to pull her back in her
seat. But his hand slipped. He hadn't realized he was sweating so
much.
Samantha lifted the window shade and peered. "A storm," she
said. "We're flying through a storm!" She grabbed the iPad out of her
seat and leaned back towards the window to take a picture. Just
then, the plane pitched forward. Samantha pitched with it. A
cacophony of voices rose as the passengers began yelling all at
once.

"Samantha!" Amanda screamed her daughter's name as

another metal-tearing shriek pierced the cabin, causing the plane to
shudder.
Ethan could feel the plane's rapid descent as he reached for
Samantha who had bashed her head against the seat in front of her.
The iPad dropped and clattered against the floor. Ethan spun
Samantha back into her seat and buckled her seat belt. "You okay?"
Samantha nodded and reached for the iPad. "Battery's dead,"
she mumbled.
Ethan peered out the window again.
Another demon had joined the first. Intent on their task, they
ripped the aluminum from the plane's wing with their bare hands.
Their curved, scaly, bat-like wings were spread half-way open
apparently helping the demons keep their balance on the plane's
wing. Every time a heavy claw ripped into the wing of the plane, it
was accompanied by a screeching, tearing sound.
Visions of death clouded Ethan's mind. Was he ready to die? He
wasn't sure. Would he stop seeing the demons if he died? Or would
they be waiting to seize him just beyond death's door?
Suddenly, a new thought gripped him. What if the demons had
come for him? What if they only wanted him dead? Crazy, he knew.
But, he couldn't shake the dreadful idea that over three-hundred and
fifty others would lose their lives because the demons he wished
would go away had finally caught up with him.
Ethan glanced over at Samantha. Her knuckles white as she
gripped the armrests. She stared straight ahead as though she had
fallen into a trance. Her mouth was set in a firm line.
No, I can't die. Ethan desperately wanted to know why he was
able to see the demons and no one else could.
God, he prayed. Don't let us die. Don't let this plane crash. He
peered back out the window. The demons were still tearing up the

wing. Most of the metal had been stripped off and cast thirty-five
thousand feet to the Texas ground below. The demons now focused
their frenzied attack on the two engines. Ethan hoped that what he
had heard about some four-engine planes being able to fly on only
two engines was true. This plane was going to need it as the two
engines on the left wing were goners. The plane rocked, buckled, and
began to spiral. Ethan gripped the armrest tighter, but kept his eyes
on what was happening outside.
Suddenly, there was a bright flash of light. Ethan thought it was
lightning. The light was so bright that it blinded him momentarily.
When he recovered his sight, his heart lurched in his throat.
Another being this one cloaked in brilliant light descended
from the broiling dark clouds above. He was followed by another
angel their glistening, white, feathered wings outstretched. They
swooped silently toward the ailing aircraft.
Ethan waited eagerly to see how the demons would react. They,
apparently, were too focused on what they were doing to notice the
angels.
The first angel drew a silver sword from his back as he
descended. The second angel glided under the left wing and
disappeared from Ethan's sight beneath the belly of the plane.
The first angel closed in on the demon tearing apart the engine
further out. He brought his silver sword crashing down between the
demon's shoulder blades. A plume of dark particles erupted from the
demon's back. He reared, lost his balance, and plummeted into the
maelstrom below.
The other demon jumped back and drew his own sword as the
attacking angel landed on what was left of the plane wing.
Ethan felt the plane shudder as heavy blows silver upon iron
fell. The demon and the angel seemed equally matched. Using
their outstretched wings to help them stay balanced, the fighting was

quick and sure powerful blows matched with dexterous steps. It

was like a dance a dance the demon and the angel had been
practicing for eons. And more than three hundred lives hung in the
balance.
Ethan's heart plunged as the demon knocked the angel's sword
from his hands.
The angel's eyes glowed with ferocity. He crouched down, his
arms stretched in front of him, his wings stretched out behind him. He
watched the demon who brandished his own weapon warily.
Then, with a motion as fast as lightning, the angel lowered his
wings and charged, catching the demon off-guard. The demon, who
had folded his wings behind his back, flailed before snapping them
open to steady himself. But the angel's impact forced the demon
backwards. The combatants struggled and then toppled off the
airplane wing. Like twin comets locked in a deadly embrace, they
plummeted head first toward Earth, leaving behind a streak of light
mixed with dark dust.
A gentle thud preceded a buoying of the aircraft. The plane
seemed to be gliding now. Ethan remembered now the other angel
who hadn't engaged the demons.
He settled back into his seat, grateful that the aircraft was now
being carried on angel's wings.
The passengers seemed to breath a collective sigh of relief.

"What was happening out there?" asked Samantha.

"Nothing," said Ethan as he re-buckled his seatbelt.
"You were watching something."
"Just the storm," said Ethan. "We're out of it now."

Chapter Two: Sinister Visions

Ethan stood on the steps of the Gothic cathedral. His feet were
bare. The steps were cold. From behind the huge, oak doors in front
of him, he could hear chanting, though he couldn't make out the
words of the chant. To his left and to his right, spires rose. Atop each
spire perched four gargoyles facing the points of the compass. Their
lips twisted into mocking grimaces.
Ethan knew he had to enter. From behind the closed doors, the
hideous chants in an unearthly, dissonant language continued.
Ethan laid his hand on the carved wooden handle and pushed. The
door swung open and the cacophony of the chant assaulted his ears.
He couldn't make out the words, the rhythm, or the meaning, but the
chant seemed victorious, as though something grand were about to
occur.
A dozen and a half rows of ornate wooden pews lined both
sides of the interior. The gray stone interior rose into an elaborate
vaulted ceiling, which was blocked from view by a swirling cloud of
black dust which churned and boiled. The cloud seemed to expand
spreading across the ceiling, and then down the sides of the
sanctuary, distorting the light from the stained glass windows.
Creeping across the floor, the dust cloud grew, swirling so thickly that
Ethan couldn't see his bare feet. He shuffled down the aisle as the
dust cloud rose to his shins.
The chanting increased, and Ethan now realized it was coming
from the dust cloud itself from the darkness around his feet, the
darkness hiding the light, the darkness gathered above. The
pandemonic cacophony made the sanctuary tremble and groan.
Rumbling altos and dramatic tenors crashed over each other as the
dissonant tone continued.

Ethan noticed an area at the front of the room that was

illuminated by a halo of light. He couldn't see where the light was
coming from certainly not from outside, but the darkness had not
infringed on that space. Perhaps whatever was in that space was the
cause of their celebration.
As he neared the front of the church, he could see a
communion table bathed in the effervescent glow. Two feet above the
table, a human body seemed to float.
Now, Ethan hurried down the aisle despite the inky blackness
that swirled about his feet. Something about the body was familiar. As
he neared the tables, he could see the corpse was of a girl clothed in
a simple, white dress. She hovered above the table flat on her back,
making her strawberry-blonde hair hang straight down from her head.
The girl's white skin practically glowed under the shaft of ethereal
light.
Reaching the table, Ethan looked down on the body. The pale
face, though still, had yet to gain the pallor of death. But a pair of
dead, green eyes looked up at him.
Samantha!
Ethan's heart pounded as he awakened. His hands and
forehead were wet with sweat.
Even though the dreams had occurred more frequently since his
family had returned to Houston from their vacation in California, they
had never involved people he knew. He had no idea what the dreams
meant. Perhaps, this one meant Samantha was in danger perhaps
already dead. He shuddered.
Throwing off the covers, Ethan slipped his feet into his slippers
and headed down the hall to Samantha's room. He opened the door
softly, exhaling when he saw her hair spread across the pillow like the
rays of the sun. Staring down watchfully from above her head was
a Halo: Forward Unto Dawn poster. Beside it hung a large yellow

poster with the words "San Diego Comic Con International" squared
around a gray eye. A photo of his parents, Samantha, and himself in
the San Diego Convention Center was taped onto the corner of the
poster. His own tousled black hair tousled because he had just
pulled off the Darth Vader helmet Samantha had persuaded him to
wear to the convention stood out from the various shades of red
hair that adorned his adoptive mother, father, and sister.
Samantha's room reflected her passions video games, comic
books, and superhero movies. When their father said he would let
them decide where they would go for vacation that year, Samantha
persuaded Ethan to say they both wanted to go to San Diego.
Samantha had been dying to go to Comic-Con for years.
When they returned to Houston, Samantha had spent two days
redecorating her room with the items she had picked up at the
convention. Now, a huge poster of Loki hung on the back side of her
bedroom door. Miniature Star Wars figurines stood on her dresser
beneath the window. A stack of soon-to-be-read Spider-Man comic
books sat in one corner. And a five-foot wide inflatable replica of
the Starship Enterprise hung from the ceiling.
The

sound

of

Samantha's

clock

interrupted

Ethan's

thoughts. Three in the morning. I need to get back to bed. First day of
the new school year; it won't make a good impression if I'm drowsy in
class.
As soon as Ethan was back in his own room the dream of
Samantha, or at least a girl who looked like Samantha, hovering in
the air in the cathedral rushed back into his mind. As he had done
many times before when he had had strange dreams that he couldn't
forget, he reached underneath his bed and brought out a drawing pad
and a pair of pencils. He was no artist, but something was different
about the dreams he had: he was able to draw perfect depictions of

his dreams on paper. It was weird because whenever he tried to draw

anything else, it wouldn't come out right.
But he could draw his dreams. He flipped over to a new sheet
on the drawing pad and set the point of the pencil down on the paper.
He half-closed his eyes and summoned the dream back into his
mind. Then, in a trance-like state, his fingers began to move rapidly
over the paper. It was as though something or someone had taken
possession of his hand. Every line was precise, every shadow was
shaded perfectly, every angle was accurate.
It took him less than seven minutes to draw the whole scene
the rows of pews, the vaulted ceiling, the communion table, and the
girl floating above it. When he was finished, he looked at the work
grimly, and then stenciled his initials, a backward E and a forward
facing E, in the bottom-right corner along with the date as he always
did. He set the drawing pad on the bedside table and flopped back
onto his pillow.
Closing his eyes, he tried to get back to sleep. But like other
nights on which he dreamed, sleep wouldn't come. I must find out
what's going on with these dreams. Fifteen minutes later, Ethan still
lay there. Thirty minutes later forty minutes later.
Might as well get up and do something useful.

Chapter Three: About Grigori

"Oooh, you made breakfast," said Sam as she entered the
kitchen.

"You don't have to sound like it's the end of the world," Ethan
teased. He grabbed the coffee pot and poured another cup for
himself, making sure to leave enough for his mother, Amanda. His
father had swore off coffee years ago, preferring tea instead.

"I'm not, but it's definitely one of the signs of the times," Sam
shot back. She lifted the lid on the pot of oatmeal. "Mmm, cinnamon."
Ethan was glad to see she was pleased. "Ready for school?" he
asked.

"Not really. Summers should last forever. Anita told me we're

going to start algebra this year."

"Algebra's not bad," said Ethan. He poured a glass of orange

juice and set it on the dining table for Sam.

"It sounds like some kind of disease," said Sam wrinkling her
nose. "It's not going to be one of my favorite subjects."

"I hope you're not bad-mouthing school before it even starts,"

said Amanda as she waltzed into the kitchen. The caramel colored
business suit she wore and the way her auburn hair was pulled up
into a bun communicated that she was definitely eager to get back to
her accountant's desk in downtown Houston.

"You're a numbers woman, Mom, and evidently I didn't get

those genes," said Sam as Amanda ran her fingers through her hair.

"Oh, Ethan, you didn't have to make breakfast," said Amanda.

"I know. I couldn't get back to sleep so I got up to do something
useful."

"Nightmare?" asked Sam.

"Just a dream," Ethan shrugged. He hadn't told anyone how the

strange dreams had kept him awake for more nights than one.
Amanda poured herself a cup of coffee and sweetened it with
sugar and then put on the kettle for her husband's tea. "All right, we'll
be right down for breakfast. You two can start," she said as she
carried her cup of coffee back upstairs to the attic which doubled as
her home office.

"What do you want on your oatmeal?" Ethan asked.

"Strawberries, raisins, granola, and milk," said Sam brightly.
"Mom's rule is three toppings only," said Ethan raising three
fingers.

"That is three toppings," Sam pretended to be shocked.

"That's four."
"Technically, milk isn't a topping. Milk is just milk. It always goes
to the bottom of the bowl anyway."

"You are such a manipulator," Ethan teased as he grabbed the

container of strawberries out of the refrigerator.
Sam smiled, satisfied. "What are you having on yours?"

"Molasses and apples."

Samantha stuck her finger in the jar of molasses and licked it.
"That's gross."

"We're having a meeting this Thursday."

Ethan, Sam, and Amanda looked up at Reagan Eclaan as he
entered the kitchen where they were eating breakfast. They stared
blankly. No matter what he was doing, the head of the Eclaan
household managed to pull off the persona of a dignified, selfabsorbed, slightly-distracted professor. Dressed in a plaid brown
house robe and slippers, he gripped a three-ring binder in one hand
and a cup of steaming Earl Grey tea in the other.

"Morning, Dad," said Samantha.

"Honey, you're starting in the middle of your stream of thought

again," said Amanda. She patted his placemat on the table. "Sit
down, and start from the beginning." She got up to fix another bowl of
oatmeal.
Reagan set his tea cup and binder on the dining table and
kissed Amanda on the cheek. "You smell like numbers. That's how I
know you're not dressed this nice just for me."
Sam rolled her eyes at Ethan across the table as Amanda's
cheeks flushed red.
Reagan sat down and took a sip of his tea. "And you two, the
youngest members of the Eclaan clan, you look bright and chipper
and eager to learn. The Eclaans are always eager to learn, isn't that
right?"
Ethan nodded. "What's this meeting on Thursday about?"

"Oh, that," said Reagan taking off his glasses and cleaning
them on a napkin. "I've cut a deal with a new book agent possibly.
He's coming on Thursday so we can talk and finalize all the details.
And, after that, well The Grigori Chronicles will soon hit
bookshelves."

"That's great!" said Amanda.

"What does grigori mean?" asked Sam. She said the strange
word slowly, rolling it around on her tongue before letting it pass her
lips.
As a speculative fiction writer, Reagan made up a lot of words.
He had even invented a language which he used in his most recent
series of high fantasy novels. Most people would consider Mr. Eclaan
odd, but Ethan thought he was brilliant in a unique way not doctor
or scientist brilliant, but something else entirely. He enjoyed poring
over his father's old notebooks which were filled with half-finished
stories, strange names, and long expositions about worlds and
people that only existed in Reagan's imagination.

"Does it have to do with that Russian guy Rasputin?" Ethan

asked.
Reagan chewed a spoonful of oatmeal slowly. "No. That's a
good guess, though." He raised his spoon and stabbed it in the air.
"Grigori was Rasputin's first name. He was a mystic and adviser to
the royal Romanov family. The Grigori I'm writing about " He
paused, set his spoon back in his bowl and leaned forward, clasping
his hands in front of him and dropping his voice to a hushed tone.
"The Grigori I'm writing about are also known as the Watchers. You
might remember that word from reading the book of Daniel in the
Bible. They were heavenly beings a class of angels originally
placed on Earth to watch over mankind, but some of them rebelled.
They mated with human women and had children known as Nephilim
half-human, half-angel beings. The rebellious Watchers, or Grigori,
were imprisoned beneath the Earth. That's the gist of it."
Ethan's eyes glazed as his mind spun watchers, angels, halfangels, rebellious angels, imprisoned angels. With his dreams and
his ability to see demons and angels which apparently no one else
had, this information was too much to process at once. He could hear
the chants of the shadows in the cathedral in his dream. What if rebel
angels are escaping from their underground prison? What if that is
why they sounded so victorious?
He felt someone shaking his arm, pulling him out of his
thoughts.

"Earth to Ethan, earth to Ethan." Sam was staring at him.

"You were saying something?" Ethan asked as he glanced
around the table. Amanda had that tight-lipped, half-apologetic
expression on her face people get when they catch someone else
doing something embarrassing like staring off into space oblivious to
what's going on around them. Ethan hated how even a tinge of the
supernatural seemed to set him off-kilter.
Sam said, "No, um, I was just thinking that if we hurry and finish

eating we can go out to the cathedral before school."

Chapter Four: Stained Glass Angels

Ethan dragged his feet as he and Sam neared the cathedral. He
wondered if Sam knew something about his dream, or if she had just
suggested visiting the old church to delay the inevitable moment
when they would arrive for the first day of school. If he hadn't had
such an unnerving dream, he wouldn't have minded the idea of
stopping by the cathedral anyway. As it was, it seemed like more than
a coincidence. He tucked his skateboard and drawing pad under his
arm as Sam urged him to hurry.

"Come on. I thought you wanted to get to school on time

impress the teachers on the first day and all that."
The rising Texas sun, an orb of swirling pinks and oranges,
peeked over the trees that lined the wide avenue, shooting bright
rays that bounced off Sam's head making it seem like her hair was on
fire.
The sun warmed Ethan's arms and any hopes he had for a
cooler day in the middle of August went away. He hitched his brown
backpack, which was mostly empty, higher on his back. It was the
same backpack he had used for the past two years. Sam, on the
other hand, sported the new Avengers backpack she had picked up
at Comic-Con.
The gentle breeze turned chilly as they turned the corner onto a
side street lined with thick trees and unkempt shrubbery. It was a
dead-end road. The cathedral loomed up ahead of him and blocked
out the rising sun. The old Gothic structure, complete with flying
buttresses, would have looked out of place if it hadn't been for the
thick, dark foliage that grew around it and the vines that snaked up
the sides of the building clinging to the stones. Every time he turned
the corner onto this quiet, mostly abandoned street, which most

people only used as a turnabout, he felt as though he were stepping

into another world. Even though services were no longer held there,
the church still had a rector who attended to the upkeep of the
grounds and the few people who came by to sit, meditate, and pray
on the weekends. Occasionally, groups of tourists came by to walk
through the building and pose for pictures. At one point, the city
wanted to tear the building down, but the community's loud protests
had prevented that.
Now, standing in the shadow of the building, Ethan looked up.
Twin spires rose on either side of the entrance. Atop each spire was a
single gargoyle. Though grotesque, they didn't resemble the
crouching monstrosities that had marred Ethan's dream. Their sad,
stony faces looked straight ahead with unblinking eyes. A single horn
protruded from the forehead of each.

"Help me," Sam grunted as she pushed against the heavy

wooden doors. Ethan ascended the steps and shoved the door open.
The cool, dry air of the interior brushed against their faces.
As soon as the door clicked shut behind them, it seemed as
though they had stepped back in time into a hallowed, revered space.
The interior was dim lit only by the multi-colored light that streamed
in through the sanctuary's twelve stained-glass windows which each
depicted an angel. The soaring vaulted ceiling was only interrupted
by a row of small, square windows high above their heads that
wrapped around the sanctuary.
Sam set her backpack down on the back pew with a
reverberating thud that echoed around the room. She ran over to the
far wall and stood beneath the first window gazing up at Gabriel
descending from a cloudy sky, his mighty wings outspread as he
neared the Virgin bowed in prayer. Ethan stood there and watched as
Sam's face lit up in the rainbow luminescence. Sam ran from one
window to the next reading the gold plates beneath the windows that

described each scene.

Ethan stood in the center aisle and let the feeling of quiet peace
wash over him. This was the reason why he and Sam had made it a
habit to come out to the cathedral ever since their parents allowed
them to ride their bikes alone. Walking into the cathedral seemed to
shut them off from the world. The sanctum was a place where they
were content to sit quietly, barely daring to whisper, letting their
thoughts run free in the presence of warrior angels.
Those were the angels Ethan liked best. The ones with drawn
swords, and fierce faces, and eyes like fire. Somehow, just knowing
that they were there seemed to balance out the scale that was tipped
towards evil.
Neither Ethan nor Sam spoke. Their scruffy footsteps against
the hard floor was the only sound that echoed in the sanctuary. Ethan
walked slowly to the front of the church. Even though he had been
apprehensive about coming out to the cathedral, he didn't want to
disappoint Sam, and he was determined not to let what happened in
his dream invade the present reality.
As if that's actually gonna work.
Shoving his hands into his pocket, Ethan gazed up at the
enormous cross that hung above the choir box in front of the bronze
organ pipes.
As his eyes fell on the communion table in front of the podium,
he felt his heart beat rise. The table looked almost exactly like the
one in his dream. He approached the table slowly and stared down
into the dull, polished surface. For a moment, he let his fingers hang
half an inch above the table top and then he let them drop.
The instant his fingers touched the table, his mind seemed to
leave his body. He was back in his dream, surrounded by the hideous
chanting and the swirling darkness. The sounds were louder than
before as though each voice was competing to be heard above the

others.
Ethan opened his eyes and looked down. The girl's body was
gone, and he discovered that he could see directly through the table
to the ground below. Something was moving down there. A circular
pinprick of darkness expanded until it was a hole a foot wide. Redtinged smoke rose from the hole. An acrid smell assaulted Ethan's
nostrils. Something green and glowing moved in the cavity.
The green thing came rapidly into focus a serpent rising up
out of the earth. Its lidless eyes burned the color of sulfur. It opened
its mouth. Hsss. Hsss. Ka-hsss. Fangs dropped beneath the
serpent's lips as it rose beneath the table.
Ethan panicked. He jerked upward, pulling his hand back from
the table.
Instantly, the vision vanished. He was standing in a quiet
cathedral with a cross high up above him and a traditional
communion table etched with the words, "Do this in remembrance of
Me," in front of him. The silence was only broken by Sam's laughter in
the far corner of the sanctuary.
Ethan stared at the table for a moment and then turned toward
Sam. She was at the very last stained glass window gazing up at the
depiction of her favorite angel, Raphael. The artist had decided to
show him different from the other scenes. He wasn't dressed in
warrior's attire like Michael or in the plain, white attire of the
messenger Gabriel. Rather, his clothes were an assortment of bright
and vivid colors. Instead of a sword or a scroll, he wore a thick gold
belt around his waist, and attached to the belt were more than a
dozen pouches of various sizes. His orange eyes sparkled with a
happy light.

"He just winked at me," Sam laughed.

"It's just your imagination," Ethan said curtly reaching her side
and staring up at the window.

"You didn't see."

"Come on, we have to go. Get your backpack."
Sam stared at him for a moment, and then grabbing her
backpack off the back pew asked, "Your dreams really are getting to
you, aren't they?"

"You don't know anything about it," Ethan said. The nightmares
dark dreams, visions or whatever they were did seem to make
him more brooding and anxious.
The heavy cathedral doors closed with a thud behind them.

"Your papers are falling out," Sam said.

Ethan knelt on the top step to reset his drawings neatly in his
drawing pad. "Thanks," he muttered. "I need a new drawing pad."

"Anything new in there?" Sam asked as she knelt beside him.

"No." Ethan didn't mind Sam looking at his drawings if he
could call them his. She didn't attach any particular meaning to them.
But he was careful about letting others see them. No need to let
everybody know I'm such a weirdo.
Ethan retucked the drawing pad under his arm and turned up
the street to walk the final four blocks to where his high school and
Sam's middle school sat across from each other.

Chapter Five: Things Old and New

Ethan had been taught that segregation was a thing of the past.
Now, after dropping Sam off across the street at the Milton Evers
Middle School, he stepped on the grounds of Perry Dante High, and
found he wasn't so sure. The students hung around outside as if
clinging to the last vestiges of summer. And across the front lawn,
around the track, and waiting on the patio in front of the school, the
students had already begun to congeal into three distinctive groups.
First, there were the jocks and the cool kids. The boys from the
football team and their cheerleader girlfriends. The popular kids and
the perfect couples who stole kisses in the hall between classes and
always bragged about the parties they attended. Ethan had never fit
in with them. He had wanted to join the football team; even Coach
Carter said he was pretty good when he had tried out as running
back. But Ethan always imagined the nightmare that would inevitably
happen: The last few seconds of a football game, with the ball
soaring over his head, he would reach for it and it would graze his
fingertips as his toes dragged in the corner of the end zone. Then, he
would freeze. Because out of the corner of his eye he would have
spotted a demon somewhere in the stands or, much worse, on the
field.
Ethan shook the thought out of his head. He wouldn't dwell on
what could have been.
He turned, weaving his way through the crush of students, and
accidentally stumbled over a pair of black lace-up boots. The boots
belonged to a tall, lanky, black-haired girl whose name Ethan didn't
know. He only remembered "Graveyard Girl." That was what they
called her, supposedly because she had been adopted by the strange
mortician who had just come to work at the funeral home.

"Morning," Ethan offered.

The girl nodded at him and turned away and walked to the
fringe of the crowd, back to the place where the second group of
students usually hung out away from everyone else. Those
students were the unwanted, the distant, the freaks, the Goths, the
kids whom nobody else seemed to understand. The kids who ate
their lunch in silence underneath the stairs and didn't talk to teachers
unless it was absolutely necessary. Ethan felt something for those
kids. But they were so hardened on the outside, he didn't want to
waste time talking to them. They were wary. They always kept their
guard up.
Heading around the corner of the main two-story brick building
which contained the cafeteria, the gym, the indoor rec center, and
dozens of classrooms, Ethan looked forward to his own clique the
group of kids he felt comfortable being around. They were the quiet
ones, the studious ones, the ones who excelled at their work, and got
steady grades. But that wasn't the reason why Ethan liked them so
much. He liked them because each person was different and some
would say they were odd. They had their little quirks. But they each
accepted the others as they were. When Ethan froze up at the
appearance of a demon only he could see, no one bugged him about
it.

"Ethan!" a preppy voice broke into his thoughts. The voice

belonged to Pixie Delos. Ethan smiled as she waved. Her beaming
face and uninhibited, bouncy spirit brought an extra measure of joy to
any circumstance. Oversized, pink earphones covered her ears and
held her black hair, which didn't quite reach down to her shoulder,
away from her face. Her Asian features crinkled into a broad smile
revealing perfect whites. Ethan noticed she was wearing the same
faded, sky blue t-shirt that read "Music is life," which she had been

wearing the last day Ethan had seen her, just before his family had
traveled to California for vacation.
Pixie waved Ethan over to the usual spot where he hung out
before and after school just where a grove of trees clustered at the
far corner of the main building.
As he waved back, another student jostled him. His skateboard
and his drawing pad which had both been tucked under his arm
clattered to the ground. He immediately stooped down, rushing to
gather his drawings. If anyone sees these
Just then, another pair of hands darted into his field of vision. It
reached for a wad of papers.

"Hey, are these your drawings?" a voice asked.

Ethan looked up at the girl kneeling in front of him. His grey
eyes met a pair of black ones set in the most perfect face he had
ever seen. The face was framed by luscious waves of long fiery red
hair. The girl's lips quirked up in a smile. She was undoubtedly the
most beautiful girl Ethan had ever seen. He stared for a moment, his
lips apart, before finding his voice.

"Uh, yeah," he said.

"They're really good," the girl said. She handed him a handful of
papers, and Ethan stuffed them back between the covers of the
drawing pad.

"Thanks," he mumbled.
The girl reached for the last drawing and stood up as Ethan
grabbed his skateboard. Ethan cringed. That was the image he had
drawn that very morning.
The girl appraised the image, scrutinizing every detail.
Ethan placed his thumb and forefinger on the paper, tugging it
gently. The last thing he needed was one of the popular kids
spreading rumors about his weird artwork and the red-haired
beauty in front of him definitely looked like she belonged with the

popular crowd.

"This is really good," the girl said earnestly. "Are you in Ms.
Ferren's art class?"
Ethan shook his head.

"You should come. She would be really impressed."

"I'll think about it," Ethan said still holding the corner of the
paper.
The redhead surveyed the image again and then looked up.
"Oh, I'm Ariadne," she said.

"Yeah, mine's Ethan. Nice to meet you. Thanks for the help."
Ethan's eyes locked with Ariadne's, and he suddenly felt as though
something was off about her. Nothing too noticeable more like the
last strains of a song being played in the distance. His heart beat just
a little bit faster.
But the shadow that darted into his peripheral vision, made it
beat much faster. No, not now. Ethan froze. He vaguely registered
that Ariadne was saying something else. But he couldn't make it out.
His mind seemed to be melting.
A few yards away, a demon weaved his way between students.
It's scaly wings were folded neatly behind its back. An iron sword
swung at its side. Ethan could feel the evil presence, and it made his
skin crawl. It was so close to innocent kids who had no idea a demon
was walking in their midst.
The demon seemed to be watching and thinking. A muscular
hand scratched its chin. Then, the demon turned and walked out of
Ethan's sight. A few moments later, Ethan could sense the dark one
had left the immediate vicinity.
He returned to reality.

"What were you staring at?" Ariadne was saying.

"Nothing," Ethan mumbled as he finally pulled the drawing from
her grasp.

"You were watching something. You kind of zoned out there for
a moment."
Ethan's mind raced. He wasn't about to admit to this girl, Yeah, I
saw a demon walking about ten feet away from you. But he didn't
want to make her feel like he was snubbing her by just walking away.
Shehad helped him when she didn't have to.
He looked up. Ariadne was watching him, studying him. Her
eyes questioned.
Think fast. Explain this.
The sun finally cleared the circumference of trees around the
school's property a blazing disc in all of its fierce orange glory.

"Really, it was nothing," Ethan stuttered. "Just, your hair when

the sun catches it. It's nice."
A small smile forced its way into Ariadne's expression.
Ethan held up the drawing. "Thanks, again," he said as he
turned around. He found Pixie standing right behind him, her happy
eyes twinkling with amusement. She looped her arm into his and
walked away with him.
Ethan knew what was coming next. "What?" he said.

"First day of the new school year and it looks like someone
already has the hots for you," said Pixie.

"Negative," said Ethan. "I dropped my drawing pad and she

helped pick up the papers."

"And the long staring session afterwards?"

"Nothing. I got distracted."
"Of course you did," Pixie said, her tone low and conspiratorial,
but when Ethan looked down at her he had to smile. Because she
worked as the editor of the student-run school newspaper, Pixie was
always angling for information. She had the inside scoop on
everything that went on at Dante High from sports scores and
academic competitions to who was falling in love with who.

"Really, it was nothing," Ethan said.

"We'll see" Pixie said.
Pulling away from her grasp, Ethan turned to greet Zach and
Akeela. Zach was sitting cross-legged on the grass staring at half-adozen clear marbles.

"Morning," Ethan said, nudging Zach.

Zach looked up. His face was unusually pale, and his black hair
looked like it hadn't been combed in weeks. He only nodded, and
Ethan knew that that was all he was going to get out of the usually
silent Zach. He never spoke unless it was absolutely necessary, and
even then, he used as few words as possible. Pixie looked down at
him with pity.
Akeela, as expected, had a book open on her lap. "Good to see
you guys," she said pushing her thin-framed, rectangle glasses up on
her nose.
Just then, the bell rang, and the crowd of students pressed
towards the entrance.

Chapter Six: Up from the Abyss

Deep in a cave behind the Nebiler waterfall, six figures
slumbered as silent as statues. Cloaked in robes the color of
parchment, they sat in a circle around a hole in the ground. But it was
no ordinary hole: it was a portal to the Abyss the underworld
domain of the Dark Throne. For centuries, these six had sat in their
semi-sleep state, only awakening at the call of their master. The cave
they sat in was small and craggy. And the constant flow of water at
the mouth of the cave made it muggy on days when the weather was
hot. But the six who slept noticed none of this. They were still-spirits
unaffected by the passing of time or the rushing of wind or the
crashing of waves. That was a gift given to them by their master.
Ka-hsss!
A Tempter burst into the cave through the waterfall scattering
droplets on the stone floor. Fluttering furiously above the heads of the
robed figures, it looked like a giant moth with six wings. It spoke
directly into the minds of the sleeping ones, bringing them news of
the outside world. But the still-spirits neither moved nor uttered a
sound, and the Tempter left when it had delivered its messages.
That is how things went on in the cave behind the waterfall.
Always still except for the incessant falling of water. Always silent
except for the Tempters who visited now and then. That is how things
went on until the day when the smell of sulfur rose from the hole in
the ground and into the nostrils of those six who sat and slumbered.
Gradually, the still-spirits began to awaken. The portal was
opening. Their master had returned from his sojourn in the Abyss.
The smell of sulfur intensified and a white smoke billowed up
from the hole in the ground. The still-spirits opened their eyes and
watched intently.

A man rose up from the earth immaculately dressed in a

brown tailored suit with gold pinstripes. His cat-like eyes glimmered
gold, and he wore a ring on nearly every finger. As he stepped onto
the stone floor of the cave, he took a deep breath through his nose
like a man savoring the smells of a place he had been away from for
a long time. He stepped away from the hole, and the portal snapped
shut the smoke and the smell of sulfur vanishing as though it had
never been.
The six still-spirits bowed their heads in respect. "Hail, Master,"
they said in unison. Each mouth moved, but they spoke with one
voice. "Has the time come?"
The man, the one they called "Master," said, "Yes, the time is
nigh. Bring me the chosai gems."
One of the robed figures got up from the circle and rushed to a
crevice in the wall withdrawing an oblong wooden box. He brought it
back to his master.
The master took the box and rubbed his hand over its surface,
caressing the wood which was carved with strange images and the
words of an ancient tongue. Prominently featured on the lid was a
woman a queen sitting on her throne, stars arrayed above her
head. The master lifted the box to his lips and whispered, "Reclude."
Open. The lid lifted, and the master smiled as he peered at the
artifacts draped in a piece of silk inside the holy and unholy side
by side.
He lifted the ivory blade with the black symbols carved on its
shaft and held it up to the light that filtered in from the other side of
the waterfall. He smiled as the blade sang to him, as bloodthirsty as
ever. Satisfied, he tucked it into his belt. Then he reached for
the chosai gems two precious stones as big as walnuts one
purple, one emerald. The master's fingers hovered over the gems for
a moment, his cat eyes narrowing as he peered at them uncertainly.

Finally, he grasped the emerald one, but it burned his fingers and he
dropped it back against the silk cloth.
Cursing mentally, he reached into his pocket and brought out a
leather glove and a satin pouch. After he wriggled his right hand into
the glove while balancing the box in his left, he seized the emerald
gem and dropped it into the pouch. Then he did the same with the
purple one and stuffed the satin pouch back into his pocket.
He shut the wooden box and kissed the lid. "Soon, my queen,"
he whispered to the enthroned lady carved on its face.

"Soon," said one of the still-spirits, echoing his master. This one
stood up from the circle, staring at the place in the ground where the
portal had opened. "If it is so soon, where are the rest of them? We
were expecting you would return with an army."
The master smiled. "I have determined wiser ways to implement
our plans. Soon, the world will be served on a platter, and you will be
free to devour as much of it as you wish."

"Then tell us our role in the taking of this world," said the stillspirit. "From what the Tempters have told us, a storm is already
brewing. No doubt you have heard that some say a seer is upon the
Earth."

"I haven't," said the master. "But if it is true, then we must

beware of the words of Merlin the Sage, though I doubt we have
much to fear from a son or daughter of the race of revenants. Their
gift will merely be a torment to them. For now, however, there is a
task that you must accomplish swiftly, for the Hallowed Evening
hastens upon us. Summon the chief clans of our Lady Lilith
Cleopatra,

Athaliah,

Makeda,

Lamia,

Persephone,

Naamah,

Morgana, Gorgon. Call them together for a Conclave. I will tell you of
the place and time shortly. Go forth now, swiftly and secretly."

"What of Jezebel the chiefest of all the clans?" said one of

the still-spirits.

"The chiefest, yes, but also the most accursed," said the master
bitterly. "Have not I told you never to speak that name?"
The still-spirits remained silent.

"Go, now, and do as I have commanded."

The still-spirits glided toward the entrance of the cave and
through the waterfall. They seemed to vanish into the air as they were
touched by the sunlight and rushed off to do their master's bidding.
The master himself remained in the cave a moment longer. He
closed his eyes, thinking on the woman who had taken the name
Jezebel the woman he had once loved, and perhaps still did. She
had been brave, and they had cast their lot together those hundreds
of years ago. They could have ruled the world; that was the plan.
Instead, they stood together on the Aventine Hill and watched Rome
burn. The master could still feel the fire in his cat-like eyes and
Jezebel's fingers crumbling to ash inside his palm. The rest of her
body had soon followed and then she was no more. Her followers
were either scattered or non-existent. It was only in lore that Jezebel
was the chief of the clans.
The master took a deep breath and strode toward the entrance
of the cave. There was no use dwelling on the past. He had learned
from it, and he wouldn't make the same mistakes again. He blinked
twice, and his cat eyes transformed into ordinary human ones with
warm, brown irises. No use frightening the mortals.
He split the curtain of cascading water and stepped into the
fresh air and sunshine, gliding quickly to the ground below.
He had a good idea where to find the Seerand the thing his
heart truly desired. After all, he had planted the seeds years ago.

Chapter Seven: The Usual Suspects

Technically, study hall was supposed to be done in the high
school library, but Ethan and Zach preferred to escape to the theater
for the hour-long study session just after lunch. The theater was just
as quiet as the library and there was less of a chance of being
interrupted by other students. Besides, the teachers didn't mind as
long as they kept it quiet. Which, when studying or doing anything
with Zach was not a problem (except for when he had a gulping fit
because of his Tourette's).
This day, however, the drama club had taken over the theater
after lunch and were currently having a loud debate on which play
they wanted to put on before Christmas The Picture of Dorian
Gray or a gothic re-imagining of Little Red Riding Hood. So, Ethan
and Zach headed for the gymnasium to squeeze in their hour of
studying.
The dimly lit, airy space smelled of sweat and sneakers as
Ethan swung open the door that connected the main school building
with the gym. As they headed for the top bleacher seats beneath the
large window that opened onto a view of the track field, Zach blinked
furiously as his face contorted into what looked like a scowl. Due to
his Tourette's syndrome, he often had ticking fits blinking and
making gulping noises almost involuntarily. When he was younger, he
had been teased for it.
A few minutes into their study session, the double-doors on the
other side of the gymnasium swung open and two boys walked in.

"I can't believe Coach did that," said one boy who was bald
except for the four-inch high mohawk down the center of his scalp; it
was black except for the tips which were dyed red. "I mean, Joe
Wayne of all people. I'd make a way better quarterback than him."

"Yeah, I know," said the other boy who was just as tall as the
first, but a bit stockier and well-muscled. "Nothing you can do about it
now."
Mohawk-hair just grunted.
From their perch at the top of the bleachers, Ethan and Zach
watched and listened silently. Ethan knew the Mohawk-haired boy
was Arioc, and the stockier one was Alfred, the captain of the school's
wrestling team. For two years straight, they had won the National
High School Wrestling Championship. They were only two-fifths of
the "Tagram boys" as he and his classmates called them. They had
three brothers all the same age because they were pentuplets.
From what he had heard, their father was a wealthy music label
executive who had moved with his family to the Houston area two
years prior.

"If you wanted it so bad, you could have," Alfred hesitated

before continuing in a quieter tone, "you know, worked your magic."

"No," said Arioc sounding frustrated. "Father said specifically

not to do that while we're here."

"Like he'd know," Alfred snorted. "But you shouldn't, anyway."

The boys grabbed a pair of gym bags from the bench at the side of
the hardwood and turned toward the door that Ethan and Zach had
come through a few minutes before. "Good thing we're leaving here
in a few weeks."
Arioc shrugged. "I'm not that excited about leaving. I like it here
better than the private schoolthe teachers are nicer, the subjects
are easier, we actually get to see girls every day."

"You and your girlfriends," Alfred shook his head. "You better
not get too attached to this place."

"Yeah, well, you seem to cherish that wrestling trophy."

"It's nothing. I'm like a dragon I like hoarding shiny things,"
Alfred put his hand on his brother's shoulder. "But seriously, you have

to be careful. We're here for a very specific reason; that comes first.
We can't get distracted playing at mortal games. We can't let our
glamour slip you especially. It's just a matter of time before a
Samson meets his Delilah."

"Yeah, yeah, I get it," said Arioc. "But, I'm gonna have fun while
I have the chance. And I know that chance is shrinking."

"Well, don't leave too many broken hearts in your wake."

"I won't," said Arioc, "But I was talking about Joe Wayne. He's
going to have a broken leg real soon."
Ethan didn't think Arioc was joking; he wouldn't put anything
past the Tagram boys. On top of that, he was confused about their
conversation. What did they mean by "glamour"? And what was the
real "reason" they had moved to the Houston area? He glanced at
Zach who was having another ticking fit. As Arioc and Alfred left, he
was blinking furiously and scrunching up his face. Then came the
gulping noise which sounded louder than it really was in the
cavernous gym.
Ethan hoped the boys wouldn't notice, but Arioc did. He turned
around just as the door was swinging shut and gave them a hard
stare. His lips moved, but Ethan didn't hear any words.
When the door slammed shut, Ethan said, "Man, you screwed
that up."
Zach blinked at him. He looked confused. "Whatwhat just
happened?"
Ethan started to gather up his books. "You heard them. We
have to warn Joe Wayne."

"What? Why?" Zach stared down at the book in his lap as

though he couldn't remember why he had opened it. Checking his
watch, he said, "We've only been here like fifteen minutes."

"Didn't you hear what Arioc said?" Ethan asked.

Zach looked around slowly. "No, I didn't hear anything. Was he

here?"
Ethan pressed his fingers to his forehead and squeezed his
eyes tight. Was he imagining things now?

Chapter Eight: Ice Queen

"Ew, Samantha, I didn't know you liked to hang out after school
with a bunch of stinky, sweaty guys," Anita called as she ran across
the viewing platform of The Rink an indoor skatepark which also
housed an adjoining ice rink to the front row of seats where
Samantha sat.

"I'm not just hanging out," Samantha said without looking up

from the textbook open on her lap. "I'm almost done with my
homework. And you should be the last person who talks about who
hangs around stinky, sweaty guys. You have five brothers."

"Whatever," said Anita lazily. She flicked her chin-length, honeyblonde hair back from her face. The sound of wheels against the
hardwood filled the air as skateboarders Ethan among them
practiced kickflips, wheelies, and pivots.

"What do you want anyway?" Sam asked.

"Oh, I forgot to tell you something."
Samantha rolled her eyes. "We were sitting beside each other in
classes for eight hours and you forgot to tell me something?"

"Well, I did." Anita swung her backpack around and set it on the
empty seat beside Sam. She unzipped it and pulled out a folded card.
"Here," she said holding it out to Sam with both hands. "It's an
invitation to my birthday party."

"Oh, thanks," said Sam. "But isn't it like four weeks from now?"
"Well, yes," said Anita slowly. "I want to give everyone plenty of
time to think about what presents they are going to give me."
Sam shook her head but didn't say anything. Anita could be a bit
self-centered.

"And one other thing," said Anita.

"What?"

"All the girls are wearing dresses to the party."

"Sooo"
"You have to wear one too."
"Or what?" Sam's wardrobe consisted of a very small number of
dresses which she mostly wore to church, or to weddings and
funerals (neither of which she had been to in her life).

"Or nothing. You just have to wear one."

"Fine," Sam sighed. "I'll see what I can do, but I'm making no
promises." She closed her textbook and stuffed it, her completed
homework, and Anita's party invitation inside her backpack.

"I'm sure you'll come up with something. And if not, we can

always go shopping and " Anita suddenly stopped, her voice taking
on a dreamy tone in addition to its usual laziness. "Oh, look, there's
Joe Wayne."

"And, exactly, who is he?" Sam said glancing up at the five-anda-half foot tall brown-skinned, black-haired boy who was making his
way to the hardwood after storing his books in one of the cubby holes
by the door.

"You know," said Anita. "The new quarterback at the high

school." She smoothed her hair, stood up straight, and smiled as he
passed by the viewing platform. "Hi, Joe!" she called.

"Uh, hey," Joe said barely sparing her a glance.

"He said hey' to me," Anita whispered to Sam her voice
brimming with satisfaction.

"I know. That is an utterly life-defining moment for you," Sam

said. She wondered not for the first time how she and Anita had
become friends.
Out on the hardwood, Sam noticed Ethan call Joe over, and the
two boys started talking. She waved until she got Ethan's attention
and pointed to the door leading to the adjoining ice rink. He nodded in
response.

"Where are you going?" asked Anita.

"To the ice rink. I need to practice. Wanna come?"
"Nah, I think I'll stay right here. I might ask Joe Wayne for his
autograph." Anita pulled a bottle of nail polish from her backpack and
sat down in the seat Sam had just vacated.

The interior of the ice skating arena was dimly lit. The pale, oval
rink had a dull gleam. On one side of the arena were rows of seats
ascending several rows back and up. The arena was surrounded by a
gold rail. There was only one other skater a girl whom Sam
thought, by her graceful bearing, was a much better skater than she
was.
The other girl, who was older by several years, skated over as
Sam sat on the bench by the Zamboni to put on her skates.

"Hi." She had long, black hair and dark eyes, and wore a silver
jacket with the Olympic logo on the front.

"Hi," said Sam. "You were in the Olympics?"

"No," the girl smiled. "But I hope to qualify next year. What
about you?"

"Nope. I only started skating because my parents think I play

video games too much."
The girl laughed. "I'm Felicia, by the way." She fingered a silver
chain with a tiny diamond pendant on it.

"I'm Samantha," said Sam. "Nice necklace."

Felicia looked surprised that Sam had noticed. "Thanks," she
said. "Well, back to practicing for me." She glided backwards toward
the middle of the arena, clasped her hands behind her back, and
started making circles and figure-eights around the edge of the ring.
As they skated, Sam watched Felicia out of the corner of her eye and

tried to imitate her form leaning slightly forward and using the
upper part of her body to direct her movement. She didn't dare go as
fast as Felicia for fear of falling.
As she skated, Sam began to feel drowsy which was
strange. She swung her arms to liven things up and tried to go a bit
faster. She figured Ethan would come for her in about ten minutes;
they normally were home by at least an hour after school. Her
drowsiness seemed to increase, and soon, she was just gliding by
the gold rail around the edge of the ring. Her eyes closed. Her
thoughts turned inward. She forgot all about Felicia.
Around and around she went. She wondered what was taking
Ethan so long. Sam remembered he seemed preoccupied talking
with Joe. Maybe he hadn't really been paying attention and thought
she had gone home. If so, then she should really get going.
But, she stayed on the ice going around and around.
Maybe I'm sleepwalking, she chuckled to herself. No, that would
be sleep-skating. It feels so good. I'm nearly weightless. It's almost
like flying. Maybe one day I'll be as good as Felicia.
Sam was snapped out of her reverie by a crash and a yelp.
Felicia!
Sam gripped the gold bar to keep her balance and spun around.
Near the center of the oval, Felicia had fallen and was trying to get
back up always an awkward thing to do on the ice. Sam sped over
to her, her sleepiness vanishing as suddenly as it had come.

"Thanks," Felicia grunted as Sam helped her to her feet. "I felt
dizzy there for a moment."

"That's funny," said Sam. "I did too Wait, here's your
necklace." She stooped down to pick the jewelry up off the ice. The
diamond pendant swung from her fist as she offered it to Felicia.
But Felicia didn't take it. "Hold it a minute," she said, bending
over pretending to tighten the laces on her skates.

Sam did hold it. As she gazed at the diamond, she thought she
heard a voice someone whispering. She spun around in a slow
circle, but no one else was in the arena with them. She shrugged and
looked at the diamond again, figuring it was nothing.

"Daughter," a woman's voice breathed.

"Who said that?" Sam called spinning around again. She looked
back at Felicia who was tying the laces on her other skate.

"I didn't hear anything," Felicia shrugged, looking up at Sam,

her eyes appeared to gleam in the dim light.
Sam looked at the diamond. Was it making her hear things? No,
that's impossible.

"I did," the whisper came again, and this time it was
accompanied by a light breeze, as though someone had turned on
the air condition in the arena. The cold air felt like icy fingers
caressing her cheeks. "I did, daughter," the whispering voice said.
Sam gasped and dropped the necklace. The pendant made a
pinging sound as it struck the ice. The pinging grew louder and
louder, a ringing that filled the air of the arena. The noise was
irritating and deafening. Suddenly, it was interrupted by a loud crack.
Crack!
Sam looked down. A silvery-blue jagged line, several feet long,
stretched across the ice. Sam knew she should be scared; she
should run. Something very wrong and very dangerous was
happening. But she was fixated on the crack in the ice.
A form materialized beneath the surface blue-white and
clouded in mist. The mist cleared, and a woman appeared pale,
cold-looking, and regal. She appeared to be sleeping or frozen
until her lips moved and she spoke.

"I did, my daughter." Her eyes opened, revealing icy blue irises,
and she looked directly at Sam sending pinpricks of unspeakable fear
across her skin. Sam screamed. Her feet suddenly regained their

willingness to move. She turned and sped toward the entrance, her
blades leaving deep grooves in the ice.
The door opened before she could reach it, and Sam nearly
slammed into Ethan. "Whoa," he said jumping back in surprise.
Sam grabbed his arms and held on to keep from falling. The
sounds of laughter and skateboard wheels against hardwood
reached her ears from the adjoining arena. She sat down on the
carpeted floor by the entrance to take off her skates.

"You look scared. Are you all right?" Ethan asked.

Sam swallowed and took a deep breath. Her head was
spinning. "I'm fine," she said.

"Are you sure? I thought I heard screaming. Was somebody in

here with you?"

"Just another girl," Sam said as Ethan opened the door to the
ice rink again. Sam peered around her brother to see inside.
But Felicia was gone, and the ice was smooth, flat, and dulllooking.

Chapter Nine: Nicolai

The hot, afternoon sun burned Ethan's neck as he turned the
corner and headed down the street to his house. He had spent the
last hour skateboarding at The Rink. Something about being airborne,
if only for a few seconds at a time, helped him clear his head. Getting
back in the school routine had been pretty easy. Except for the
science teacher, all of his other instructors had been at the school the
previous year.
A couple days earlier, he had talked to Joe Wayne and did his
best to get across the message that one of the Tagram boys had it
out for him and that he needed to watch his back. He hadn't seen Joe
since and hoped he was taking his advice. He also had talked to
Zach again, but Zach still acted as if he couldn't remember anything
that Ethan was pretty sure he had heard Arioc and Alfred talking
about in the gym that day.
In other news, Ari had stopped asking him about joining art
class. Ethan hadn't told her no outright, but he didn't want her to feel
like he was hedging on something she obviously thought was
important.
Meanwhile, his strange dreams had increased. Like a recurring
nightmare, the cathedral vision kept replaying in his head at nights
sometimes, the dark scene was accompanied by the hideous
chanting and other times with perfect, eerie silence. Sometimes the
gargoyles were perched above the cathedral's windows and at other
times they were marching back and forth outside the edifice. One
thing that was constant though and this terrified Ethan more than
anything was that every time he went inside, Sam was there, her
green eyes dead, her skin sickeningly white. The emerald serpent
was always there too, sometimes ascending from the pit, and other

times vanishing into it, its fangs dripping with blood.

Ethan shivered as he opened the front door to the two-story,
pale brown, stucco-sided house. It was the only two-story house on
the block.
As soon as he stepped inside, he felt something was off.
He pushed the door shut quietly and stood in the little hall which
served as a coat room and opened up into the living room. He heard
voices coming from the kitchen. His dad's, his mom's. And someone
else's.
Thursday. Ethan remembered that his father's new agent was
supposed to be visiting. Reagan had had visits from book agents
before. They sat down and discussed contracts, royalties, bidding,
and book tours. Nothing odd about that.
Get a hold of yourself, Ethan scolded. Another incident like this
and he would admit himself to an asylum. He tried to relax the
muscles in his neck and shoulders.
Then he turned the corner into the kitchen, and the tension
flooded his mind. His throat tightened and a cold chill ran up his back.
There, in Ethan's seat at the dinner table, was a strange man.
The agent?
He had a thin frame and wild dark brown hair that looked as if it
had been singed at the ends. The stringy hair seemed to move eerily
about the man's head of its own accord as though it were floating
in its own breeze. Ethan's mind conjured the image of Medusa the
blind Gorgon of Greek mythology whose head writhed with serpents.
But he quickly shut the door on that kind of thinking. The man's
narrow face looked like an aged version of the Loki poster Sam had
in her bedroom sly and beguiling. He sat with the chair tipped
backwards against the wall, as though he belonged there.
As Ethan entered the dining room, the man's eyes riveted upon
him. Sitting up suddenly, he brought the chair down hard, the legs

clattering against the kitchen tiles.

"Ethan!" he exulted. "How nice to meet you."

Ethan cocked his head. The man had an odd way of speaking.
His voice didn't seem to carry naturally across the room. It seemed to
come fromelsewhere.

"Ah, Ethan," said Reagan looking up from a stack of papers he

had been poring over possibly a contract. "This is Nicolai Malleus.
Looks like we'll be working together for a while."

"Indeed," said Nicolai.

Ignoring Nicolai's outstretched hand, Ethan nodded stiffly and
turned towards the refrigerator, grabbing the orange juice to chase
away the dryness in his mouth. He poured himself a glass and turned
back to the table leaning against the counter. Drinking slowly, he
watched his mother and father discuss the terms of the contract.
Sam. Where was she? Ethan looked around the table and saw
Sam standing beside Nicolai's chair. Nicolai had one hand on Sam's
shoulder as though he had known her all his life. Ethan must have
been so fixated on the stranger that he had totally overlooked his
sister.

"You learn much in school today, miss?" Nicolai asked.

"Sam, you want something to drink?" Ethan asked quickly.
"No, I'm fine," Sam said.
"Samantha." Ethan said sternly lowering his gaze until his eyes
locked with Sam's. She understood immediately.

"Excuse me," she said as she slipped around Nicolai's chair.

She glared at Ethan. What's your problem?

"Matter of fact," said Amanda. "Pour us all something to drink,

Ethan."
Ethan pulled three more glasses from the cabinet and filled
them, setting them on the dining table. He grabbed his own drink and
watched Nicolai out of the corner of his eye. Nicolai guzzled the drink

and set the empty glass down on the table with a loud clunk.

"Ah! More!" he said.

Reagan laughed good-naturedly. "You know," he said, "our
orange juice is the same kind you get at the grocery store."
Ethan grabbed the glass but nearly dropped it in surprise. The
glass was scalding. He balanced it on the tip of his fingers all the way
to the sink where he washed it out with cold water. Just to make sure,
he pulled the fresh carton of orange juice out of the freezer and
poured a glass-full.
There, definitely cold.
He slid the glass across the table to Nicolai, who seized it and
raised it to his lips. This time, drinking more slowly.
Ethan folded his arms and watched him closely. After a few
seconds, he blinked twice. No way. He narrowed his gaze.
Sure enough, tendrils of smoke rose around Nicolai's fingers
making the glass mist.
Ethan gaped. He's heating the juice with his bare hands. Who
does that? How?
Nicolai noticed Ethan watching. He pulled the glass from his lips
and winked. "Some like it hot."

Chapter Ten: Blue Eyes

Ethan walked into his room and shut the door behind him. A few
seconds later, the door opened and closed again.

"What was that all about?" Samantha asked.

"I don't like that man," said Ethan.
"Why?"
Ethan shrugged. "He's evil. I can tell. And creepy."

"You don't know that. And you can't just go around not liking
people, Ethan." Samantha sat down on Ethan's bed, plucked his
pillow from the bedspread and wrapped her arms around it. "At least
get to know them first."

"You didn't notice what he did with the juice." Ethan couldn't
decide if he should make it a question or a statement.

"He drank it like he was thirstyreally thirsty."

Ethan shook his head. It was no use trying to explain. He
walked to the window and pushed aside the curtain. The dying
sunlight streamed into the room. Since theirs was the only two-story
house on the block, he could see the whole street from his window.
Sam chattered on about something behind him. The sky was bruised
dark blue, except for low down on the horizon where it was still tinged
with an orange haze.
Ethan placed his fingers against the glass, but the glass wasn't
there.
He was sinking being dragged down by something he
couldn't see. The dark blue in front of him swelled and surrounded
him, becoming darker. It wasn't sky; it was water. He was drowning.
Suddenly, Sam appeared in front of him. She wore a party
dress, which was odd. Panic was painted across her face. Her green
eyes, open wide, were illuminated in the underwater gloom. Her

cheeks puffed out as she fought to keep oxygen in her lungs. Her
arms flailed. She hadn't learned to swim. She was drowning.
Ethan felt tightness in his lungs. His oxygen was gone. He was
sinking, being dragged down by the invisible thing clutching his
ankles. Down, down, down. He didn't know how much longer he'd be
alive.

"Ethan! You're not even listening to anything I'm saying."

Ethan blinked and turned away from the window. "What?" he
said, his breath catching in his throat. He suddenly felt tired, as if he'd
been fighting someone or swimming for a very long time.

"Oh, Ethan! Your eyes!" Sam exclaimed jumping up off the bed.
"What?" said Ethan.
"They're blue!"
"No, they're not."
"Look in the mirror."
Ethan turned to the mirror over the dresser. Was that a tinge of
blue in his irises? He blinked and looked again. No, his eyes were
grey as always.
In the mirror, Sam appeared beside him. She turned his face
between her palms and studied his eyes. Ethan studied his tiny
reflection in her emerald irises.

"Nope," Sam said, sounding a bit disappointed. "Boring gray as

usual."
Ethan grinned. "I like boring. What were you saying again
before you thought my eyes suddenly changed color."

"Nothing important." Sam turned the knob on the door as Ethan

sat down at his computer desk. His vision returned to him.

"What are you up to?" he asked.

"Going to play HALO till dinner."
"You're not going anywhere?"
"Umm, no. Why?"

"Just wanted to know." Ethan pressed the power button on the

iMac. "Have fun."
As the computer booted, Ethan pondered the meaning of his
vision at the window. In the vision, both he and Sam were drowning.
But where? When? Why? He knew how to swim, but hadn't been in
any water since the family's vacation to California. He didn't have any
plans on getting in water anytime soon. But what if he and Sam were
forced to? What if NicolaiNicolai!
Yes, Ethan needed to find out more information about Nicolai
Malleus.
He logged in to the chat room that Zach had set up for the kids
at his school.
Zach u there? he typed
What? Even in a chat room, Zach was curt.
Need you to help me look up something.
What?
A personNicolai Malleus.
There was nothing from Zach's end for a few moments and then
a link to the website for Maleficarum Literary Agency.
Got that from Google already, Ethan typed. Dig deep Think of
him as a cat. I need info on his nine lives.
My pleasure
More silence from Zach. Ethan drummed his fingers on his
desktop and waited. A few moments later, Zach typed: Malleus last
name of Germanic origin. Put together with the name of his agency, it
means hammer of the witches.' More silence, and then: Name is
linked to drug smugglers in S. America. Otherwise, the trail is clear.
Ethan felt like they were missing something. Maybe it's not his
real name, he typed.
Maybeor he may be very good at covering his tracks.
A ping sounded, and a new avatar popped up on the chat-room

screen. The automatic welcome message read, nicolaimalleus has

joined this chat.
Ethan's mouth fell open. See this? he typed.
A blinking cursor appeared by nicolaimalleus' username, and
then the words, Looking for me?
Ethan's fingers froze over his keyboard wondering what to type.
Nicolai if it was really him typed again: Seek and ye shall
find.
The chat room screen flickered, wiping out the conversation,
and a new message appeared: This chat has ended.

"Snap," said Ethan. He ran his hands through his hair. His
cellphone rang. "Hello."
Zach was on the other end. "He just fried the chat server."

"Ohsorry, I think," said Ethan.

"No worries. He's gonna pay for destroying one of my
machines." Ethan heard a rare spark of life in Zach's voice fueled by
the desire to knock down firewalls, engage in digital espionage, and
track an offender's whereabouts through the internet. Zach made a
loud gulping noise on the other end of the phone before continuing.
"But, whatever you're trying to track down this guy for, I suggest you
keep it off the radar."
The phone clicked as Zach hung up.

Chapter Eleven: Fire Dream

It was night, and Ethan wasn't familiar with his surroundings.
The sky above was devoid of stars. His feet didn't seem to be
touching the black pavement beneath him. He tried to turn to get a
better look at where he was, but found that he couldn't. He felt like he
was being held fast from behind and above.
Straining to see out of his peripheral vision, he could make out
nothing else but shadows thick, living blackness that he could feel.
Suddenly, a hand materialized from the shadows at his right. A
muscular boy's arm. Ethan felt as though he'd seen that arm
somewhereattached to a body, of course, but he wasn't sure. The
fingers gripped a piece of white chalk.
Again, Ethan strained to see who the arm belonged to, but
every time he felt as though he were about to get a glimpse of the
person beside him, the shadows coalesced around the figure
shrouding him from view.
The arm stretched down to the pavement the person
apparently was kneeling and drew a circle with the chalk. Inside
the circle, five straight white lines were drawn, and a pentagram
quickly took form. The arm retracted into the shadows, and then
returned with a tiny, green object, setting it in the center of the
pentagram.
Ethan recognized it as a miniature house the kind that came
with a monopoly board.
The arm vanished again and then returned, this time holding a
match. A cruel chuckle sounded from the shadows as the flame on
the match-head touched the monopoly house.
The flames licked the tiny house for a brief moment and then
erupted consuming Ethan's vision. Ethan lifted his arm to shield his

face from the wave of heat that surged toward him. He suddenly felt
as though he were being lifted up and back. He clenched his eyes
tight.
A second later, he felt grass beneath his bare feet. He was
standing in a front yard, and the two story house in front of him was
on fire. A bike rested on its side in the grass near his feet, and
beyond that, a football. A lawn mower sat by the fence. The property
was hemmed in by a row of carrotwood trees on either side of the
yard.
Ethan looked around for any sign of where he was or whose
house he was looking at, but the neighborhood, while unremarkable,
was also unfamiliar. The windows of the second story of the house he
stood in front of glowed a furious yellow-orange. Dark, billowy clouds
of black smoke poured from an open window on the first floor. Ethan
was starting to sweat. He took a step closer to the house straining to
read the numbers painted on the mailbox by the front door. He
wondered if anyone was inside.
Just then, a burst of flame in the air caught his eye, and he
looked up in time to see a fiery shingle break from the roof and
tumble down to the yard. Ethan stepped out of its path. It crashed into
the grass near the football, setting it on fire.
Now flames shot out from where the shingle had fallen,
crackling and hissing as it licked up the grass. But another sound had
captured Ethan's attention.
Is that someone screaming? Looking up at the second-story
windows, a dark form flailed amidst the red-orange inferno. Ethan
started for the porch, unsure of what do, but sure he had to do
something to save whoever it was in the second-story room. As he
reached the steps, he heard the sound of laughter behind him.
He turned and
............

Ethan awakened, tangled in the bedsheets, choking and

gasping for breath. Sweat ran across his body in rivulets. He'd been
standing very close to a burning house, yes. But, whose house was
it? And who had set it on fire? And why was he there?
He tossed aside the bedsheets and pulled his sweat-soaked tshirt off. If it was just another vision or nightmare why was he
sweating so much? Did he actually go in the house? Who was in the
second-story room? And who had been laughing behind him? The
voice had sounded familiar, but Ethan was too uncomfortable to try to
figure out where he had heard it before right then.
Need some water. Need some air.
Ethan got out of bed and went to the bathroom. He splashed
cold water on his face and let it run down his body. Reaching for the
worn leather string tied around his wrist, he tried to pull it off, but it
was too tight for him to pull over his hand now. He fingered the
wooden beads with the strange black marks the only thing he had
in his possession from his parents who had given him up for adoption
when he was a baby. Not for the first time, he wondered what the
black marks meant.
As he stood in front of the mirror in the bathroom, a thousand
questions flitted through his mind about his strange visions, about
his real parents, about the house fire in his dreams. What did it all
mean? Suddenly, the bathroom seemed too tight a space to contain
him and all his questions.
Need some air.
Ethan snatched the door open and headed for the attic so he
could get out onto the roof.

Chapter Twelve: Widow's Walk

Left hot and sleepless by his dream, Ethan quietly climbed the
steps to the attic at the back of the house. He pushed open the
circular wooden door painted green with a bright yellow knob in
the middle and was met by the warm, golden glow of the vintage
desk lamp that rested on a wooden ledge jutting out from the
severely sloping ceiling. The ledge served as a desk. Slumped in a
chair from the dining room with her head resting on her arm was
Ethan's mother, Amanda. Her auburn hair covered her face, and her
arm rested on her laptop keyboard pressing the keys causing a rapid
succession of e's to appear on the spreadsheet that was open on the
screen.
Overworked already, Ethan thought. He gently moved his
mother's arm off the keyboard and backspaced the errant e's. With
one finger occupied on the backspace' key, the day's mail which was
partially opened and scattered on the cramped desktop caught his
eye. He picked up an envelope addressed to "Mr. & Mrs. Reagan
Eclaan"; the return address was from "Our Lady of the Angels
Monastery" in Crozier, Virginia. Ethan's breath stopped for a moment,
and his eyes traveled to the filing cabinet in the corner where he
knew his adoption papers were stored. He had never looked at them
he didn't know who his real parents were but he did know he
had been adopted through an agency in Virginia.
Our Lady of the Angels? It was too much to be a coincidence.
Ethan flipped the envelope over. It had already been opened. It would
only take a moment to peek at the letter inside.
Just then his mother stirred, her hair billowing out from her face
as she exhaled. Ethan quickly set the letter back on top of the other
mail.

He turned to the French doors on the other side of the attic

which opened onto a walkway on the roof. The walkway led to the
widow's walk that stretched out across half of the back of the house.
It was a great place to observe the stars at night and Ethan had once
suggested putting a telescope up there.
He leaned over the railing now looking down on the backyard
which was surrounded by an unkempt hedge. Behind the hedge was
a ravine, and beyond that a wooded area. He knew because he and
Sam had gone hiking there often or at least they called it hiking.
The cool, still air felt good on his face and arms. Closing his eyes, he
remembered the dream of the blazing inferno, the house going up in
flames, the cruel laugh, and the frantic struggling of the person he
couldn't save. The laugh had sounded familiar, but now he couldn't
seem to place it.
Shaking the images out of his head, he thought about the letter
his parents had received. If the monastery in Virginia was really the
adoption "agency", why would they be contacting his parents now?
Maybe his real parents were trying to find out about his well-being.
He twirled a finger in the loose part of the leather string around his
left wrist causing the three wooden beads to jostle against each other
as he considered the questions that had no answers.
Ethan sat down on the widow's walk and rested his head on his
arms. He prayed a prayer he had prayed many times before. God, I
just want to know the truth. Why do I see the things I do? What does
it all mean?
Looking up at the stars now, he remembered something his
friend, Akeela, had told him about prayer. She'd said she had once
read that it took four years for the light from the neighboring star,
Sirius, to reach Earth. Thus, the light seen from that star today was
actually sent out four years ago. Answers to prayer are like that, she
had explained. God hears our prayers now, and he sends out the

answers. But, maybe we won't get those answers until some time in
the future. The answers are already there. We just have to get to the
place where they are.
Ethan was thinking that maybe his answer would come four
years from now when he felt sudden pressure on his shoulders.

"Scared ya," said Sam.

"Did not," said Ethan. "You're not supposed to be up here by
yourself."

"I'm not by myself," said Sam. She stepped up to stand beside

Ethan, stretching her arms, clad in the over-sized sleeves of her Star
Wars pajamas, across the railing. "You're up here. Why?" A light
breeze stirred her long, red hair. When Ethan looked at it, he thought
of fire.

"Bad dream. Couldn't sleep. Old story," he said.

"I heard you tiptoeing past my bedroom as stealthily as Oliver
Queen."

"If you heard me, I don't think I was that stealthy," said Ethan.
"Who is he again?"
Sam stood erect, stretched out her arms, and said in her most
dramatic voice, "My name is Oliver Queen. After five years in hell, I
have come home with only one goal: to save my city. Now others
have joined my crusade, to them I'm Oliver Queen. To the rest of
Starling City, I am someone else. I am something else." She pulled
back one arm and mimed shooting an arrow. "Remember when we
watched that show?"
Ethan applauded. "Not really."

"Look at that," said Sam pointing over the railing of the widow's
walk onto the roof. Ethan looked toward where she indicated and saw
a black bird with a peculiar white starburst on its head.

"Shouldn't you be asleep in your nest by now?" Sam said

leaning over the railing. The bird just sat there watching them out of

the eye on the left side of its head. "Shoo, shoo, go!" Sam said
waving her arms at the bird. It didn't move. It just watched them,
unblinking. "What's wrong with it?"

"Maybe it's hurt," said Ethan. "Or maybe it just wants to be left
alone."

"I'm going to get it," said Sam hoisting herself up onto the
railing.

"No, you are not going out onto the roof," Ethan said
emphatically.

"Don't worry, nothing will happen," said Sam. She had one leg
on the other side of the railing now. "The bird might be wounded. We
can't just let it stay out here."

"You could fall off the roof and be dead," said Ethan. "Get back
here and get inside." Ethan got up to pull her back to safety, but Sam,
smiling, hopped up over the railing and landed on the other side.
Barefoot and holding out her arms to keep her balance, she trotted
across the sloping, shingled roof and reached down for the black bird
with the peculiar white starburst on its head.
At that instant, the bird rustled it feathers and sprung into flight.

"Stop!" Ethan shouted as Sam made a mad grab for the

creature and lost her balance. The bird slipped through her fingers.
Sam twisted in a desperate attempt to regain her balance, but the
slope of the roof made it difficult, and she toppled backwards into the
air.

Chapter Thirteen: Strange Salvation

Ethan thought his heart had stopped. He vaulted himself across
the railing and scrambled to the edge of the roof just as Sam's fingers
vanished beyond it.
Looking over the edge, Ethan could see his sister's face twisted
into panic as she somersaulted. As he prepared to jump after her, he
got a sickly feeling in his gut. But in that instant, it seemed as though
everything slowed down, brightened, sharpened and clarified. He
could see the grass every blade glistening with dew in the
backyard below. A blaze of white light seemed to surround him. Harsh
and vicious, it felt like hot needles pricking his skin.
Then, he was falling.
Ethan opened his eyes just as he slammed into the earth below.
A split second later, Sam landed on top of him. Feeling breathless
and weak, a shiver of pain ran through his body causing him to
shudder. The light? The heat? What was that?
More questions came, but he was too dizzy to consider them.
He wanted to be angry at Sam, but couldn't get past his great
relief at knowing she was alright. He wrapped his arms tightly around
her as they lay on the grass. He could feel her heart beating steady
and strong.
Finally, Sam lifted her head and rested her chin on Ethan's
chest. "That was amazing," she choked out.

"That was awful," said Ethan. "Don't ever do that again."

"No, I mean what you did you caught me." Sam sat up
suddenly and flopped onto the grass beside Ethan.
He was quiet for a moment, and then he said, "I wouldn't want
to do anything else."
Sam took a deep breath, shut her eyes tight, and then opened

them again, staring at the stars. "I am so dizzy," she mumbled.

Turning her head to Ethan, she said, "I'm sorryfor not listening to
you."

"That's okay," Ethan said without looking at her. "Just don't ever
do that again."
Sam frowned. She propped herself up on her elbow. "You're not
mad at me, are you?" Ethan sighed, pinching his eyes tight against
the dizziness in his head. He felt like his brain was swimming. "Are
you?" Sam asked.

"I want to be I should be. But, sadly, I'm not," said Ethan.
Sam's frown deepened, her eyebrows knit together in
uncertainty.

"Okay, okay," Ethan said. "I'm definitely, positively not mad at

you."
Sam grinned.

"But I don't think the grass is feeling too fond of us right now,
considering how we slammed into it." Ethan got up and held out his
hand to Sam. "Let's go inside."
They walked toward the back porch where Ethan stooped down
testing the wooden floorboards for the loose one where his father
always left an emergency key hanging from a nail. He punched one
row of boards until the right one snapped up, knocking him in the
forehead.

"Ow," he said.
Reaching under the board, he retrieved the key and stood up.
Just then, the sound of rustling bushes in the yard caught his
attention. He turned to see a figure emerging from the hedge on the
right side of the lawn. The person moved incredibly fast, its form
blurring as it darted across the yard. Ethan jumped from the porch to
the ground. "Hey! Stop!" he shouted.
The person stopped and slowly turned around. She had long,

black hair and dark eyes. The moon glinted on the silver chain around
her neck, and a diamond pendant winked at her throat. She was
dressed in a grey track suit that looked as if it had just been bought.

"What are you doing in our yard?" Ethan said.

"Fel" Sam said from beside him. But she shut her mouth
quickly as though she hadn't intended to say anything at all.
The trespasser's eyes shifted from Ethan to Sam. She opened
her mouth and then shut it again pressing her lips into a tight line.
Ethan stepped in front of Sam breaking the stranger's line of vision.

"I, uh, I was just taking a shortcut," the young woman said.
"Do you live around here?" Ethan asked.
"No." The girl blinked. She waved her hand vaguely over her
shoulder. "I mean, yes, I do live around here, that is. I was just
biking, um, jogging around the neighborhood. For exercise."
She looked down at Ethan's left arm and frowned.

"Get out of our yard," said Ethan.

"As you wish," said the girl, and like a flash, she was gone
around the side of the house.

"Get inside," Ethan said to Sam. "You ever seen her around
here before?"

"No," Sam mumbled.

Ethan shut the back door firmly once they were inside and drew
the deadbolt. Sam hurried up to her bedroom as Ethan doublechecked the locks on the front door and the windows.
Up in his bedroom, he stood by the window watching the front
yard and the street as the first grey light of dawn tinted the horizon.
He heard his mother come down from her attic office a few minutes
later. Finally, with the adrenaline of that night wearing off, Ethan
crashed into bed for a few fitful hours of sleep.

Chapter Fourteen: Keiland's Visit

Ariadne awakened at the first crack of gray light that slipped
through the window into her bedroom. She lay in the bed, staring at
the ceiling and thinking about what she had to do that day. She
wasn't looking forward to it. But she had to play her part in order to
appear a loyal member of the family.
She was afraid that her lack of enthusiasm was showing. And
she had already overheard her father saying that he didn't trust halfbreeds. So, she knew she had to up her game.
Today's a make-or-break day, she thought. She didn't want
Mazon to be disappointed in her.
Finally, she got out of bed, showered, and dressed. She spent
longer than usual with her devotions to minimize how much she had
to be around the other members of the family. Still, she had time to
spare.
She pulled out some homework and spread it on the bed so it
would look like she was studying if someone came for her. While
staring at the pages and thinking, a tapping on the window captured
her attention. She watched the silhouette behind the curtain before
reaching beneath her mattress, bringing out an Erelim blade, and
slowly approaching the window. The silver blade made of celestial
steel seemed to hum and vibrate in her palm, sending waves of
energy pulsing through her body, readying her for a fight. She
flattened herself against the wall beside the window before slipping
the tip of the sword behind the curtain. Peeking out, she caught
glimpse of a familiar head of blue hair and bright eyes bearing a
mischievous twinkle.
Ari put the blade down and unlatched the window. "What are
you doing here?" she said rather unpleasantly to the boy who was

hanging effortlessly by one arm from the edge of the roof.

"Well, sweetheart, looks like somebody got up grumpy this

morning," the boy said his lips curling into a smile. "I mean, even
Wendy was happy when Peter Pan came calling at her window
and he wore green tights!"
Ari glared at him. "What are you doing here, Keiland?"

"Can't a teacher come to check on his protege and be invited

inside and offered a drink or something?" The boy's smile grew even
wider showing his dimples. He gave an exaggerated yawn.
"Chicago's a long way off, you know. I've been traveling all night."
Ari stepped back from the window as Keiland swung himself
inside, landing on his toes, and not appearing the least bit tired. He
was tall and lanky, and the sleeveless black leather vest he wore
showed off the muscles in his arms. Strapped to his back were two
Erelim blades, the hilts sticking up over his shoulders. His thick
platinum blue hair stuck up all over his head.

"Stop calling me your protege," Ari said drawing the curtain

closed.
Keiland settled into the cushioned chair by the dresser and
crossed one leg over his knee. Ari thought it incredible how he kept
his boots looking so new. His lips curved into the familiar smirk that
Ari found amusing and infuriating. "Well, aren't you going to check me
out to make sure I'm not my evil twin?" he said holding his right arm
up. He wore black fingerless gloves.
Ari glanced at the tiny mark tattooed on his wrist a mark that
she had put there herself. "I know it's you. Your brother would never
come just to check on me for nothing. What do you want?" Ari picked
up the brush on the top of the dresser and started to smooth out her
already-smoothed-out long, red hair.
Keiland watched her in the mirror for a moment, tapping his
fingertips against his knee, before clearing his throat. "You can stop

pretending to brush your hair and pay attention to me anytime," he

said clasping his hands behind his head.
Ari sighed and let the brush clatter against the dresser top. She
sat down on the bed across from Keiland. "Answer my question," she
said.

"Well," Keiland said slowly. "Mazon says nothing has happened

yet. So, he wanted to make sure everything is going okay."

"Everything's going fine," Ari said tiredly. "Mazon can call me or

send me a message if he needs to know something. Why did he send
you?"

"Because I'm his golden boy who does everything he asks to a

tee," Keiland said nobly.

"Yeah, right," Ari said. "I bet you volunteered because you were
getting bored and were itching for some action."

"According to you, there's not much action down here."

"Sorry to disappoint."
"But Mazon did send me," Keiland continued. "He said I was a
ball of nervous energy and needed something to do. But I suspect he
has other plans which will be revealed shortly."

"You're always a ball of nervous energy," Ari said.

"I prefer to call it unbridled zeal, but whatever. I've been
spending a lot of energy worried about you, girl." Keiland's voice
softened and he came over to sit beside her on the bed. "It's your first
mission alone and I don't want anything to happen to you."

"I can handle myself," Ari said. She looked down and wondered
how Keiland's hands had become wrapped around hers without her
noticing. In his bright blue eyes, she sensed a hint of sincerity
untainted by his usual playful, irritating demeanor. Maybe he had
really been worried about her. She pulled her hands out of his. "You
just don't want to miss out on any excitement."

"Of course not," Keiland grinned.

Suddenly, he sniffed and reached for one of the Erelim blades

strapped to his back. "Something evil this way comes," he said
melodramatically.
Ari jumped up from the bed. "You need to hide. Now," she
hissed.
Keiland grumbled to himself but gracefully flipped over the bed
and crouched on the other side between the bed and the outer wall.
No sooner had he done that, than the door to Ari's bedroom opened
and one of the Tagram brothers, Ariel, stuck his head in.

"Yo, sis, you need a ride to school?" he said.

"No, I'm good." Ari picked up the brush and pretended to
smooth her hair again. "I'll take mom's car with Anita."

"Okey-doke," Ariel said. "But you're missing breakfast."

"I'm fine." Ari's heart beat nervously as Ariel hesitated by the
door and glanced around the room. Finally, he shut the door and Ari
extended her hearing to make sure he went back down the hall. She
slammed the brush down on the dresser top. "You have to leave
now," she said to Keiland.
The blue-haired boy popped up from behind the bed and ran his
fingers along the edge of his blade as he eyed the door to her room.
"Boy, is that a delicious temptation," he said.
Ari quickly stepped between him and the door. "I mean it
Keiland. You can't be here. Go! And tell Mazon everything is under
control. I need to get to school."
Keiland scowled in disappointment and sheathed his blade.
"Alright then, sis." He straddled the window sill and raised his finger
like a wise teacher. "Be a good little mole and don't get into trouble."

Chapter Fifteen: The Dark Kingdom

Nicolai nodded approvingly as he observed the clearing in the
woods on the lake house property. The Tagram boys had done well.
Piles of tree trunks and tree limbs fringed a wide, flat, circular area of
grass, dirt, and the occasional small stone. It would do.
Nicolai pulled a virge from his belt a thin rod made of hard,
white stone, it glimmered in the sun's rays. Walking around the
clearing, he touched the tip of the virge to the surface of the clearing,
a thin white line appearing where the object touched the earth. When
the circle was complete, he drew a large, five-pointed star inside of it.
Standing in the middle of the pentacle, Nicolai tucked the virge back
in his belt and pulled out a knife. Dragging it across his palm, a thin
line of blood appeared. Nicolai half-closed his eyes and began to
chant, swaying gently back and forth in the middle of the pentacle. He
clenched his fist and a drop of blood fell to the middle of the star. The
moment it hit the earth, the white lines blazed up fiercely around him.
Nicolai opened his eyes, his irises having transformed into a
cat's pupils. He stood on a floor of black marble in a large room.
Columns of black marble flecked with bits of crystal rose in a
rectangle around the room. The columns were so tall that he
wondered if they really held up a roof or whether they extended into
the dark sky beyond. In the spaces between the columns were
shelves filled with leather-bound books, ancient-looking scrolls, and
figurines of glass, copper, ivory, and other metals he couldn't name.
At one end of the room was a large fireplace, and in it, a roaring fire
of white flames. To the side of the fireplace was an enormous desk
made entirely of ivory. Hunched over the desk was a Dark Angel
writing on the blank parchment of an open book. He wore a large
robe of black silk embroidered in gold with strange marks and

symbols.

"Grissam," said Nicolai.

"How many times have I told you I do not like being disturbed at
this INFERNAL HOUR!" Grissam shouted.
Nicolai chuckled.

"Look what you made me do," Grissam continued ripping the

parchment from his book. "Ruined a whole page. Now I have to start
over." He picked up the hourglass on the desk and set it on its side so
that the angel dust stopped trickling from one end to the other. "I was
about to break my record for most words written in an hour, too."

"As if an hour matters when you have eternity," said Nicolai.

"What do you want?" Grissam turned around in his seat and
peered at Nicolai who was still standing several feet away in the
middle of the room. He couldn't move very far, or he would step
outside the bounds of the pentacle and then need help getting back
to the terrestrial realm.

"I have the Chosai gems and I need "

"You do? Let me see them?" said Grissam excitedly. The old
scribe of the Dark Kingdom got out of his seat and walked to where
Nicolai was standing.

"See," said Nicolai holding up a dark purple gem slightly bigger

than a walnut between the thumb and forefinger of his gloved right
hand. The multifaceted jewel caught the glow from the white fire and
cast it on the walls.

"Let me touch it," said Grissam greedily.

"Here," said Nicolai placing it in the Dark Angel's palm.
A smile spread across Grissam's face. "Yesss," he started to
say as he held the gem. But his words turned into a hiss of pain. "It
burns." He stepped quickly to his desk and dropped the gem.

"Of course it burns," said Nicolai. "That's why I'm wearing

gloves."

Grissam glowered at him. "What did you bring it here for?"

"I need for it to be allied to one of the Oneiroi."

"Which one?"
"Icelos."
Grissam rubbed his chin and muttered something in a language
Nicolai didn't understand perhaps one of the older demon
languages, Clanthix or Gehennic. "The Lord of Nightmares. I haven't
done such a thing in a while."

"But it can be done?" asked Nicolai.

"Of course it will take some doing." He seized the gem from
the desk top, this time holding it in the sleeve of his long robe, and
started for the entrance to the room. "I'll be right back," he said
without glancing at Nicolai.

"No. You. Don't." Nicolai reached out and grabbed the Dark
Angel by the collar of his robe. "Put that gem right back on the desk
so I can see it until you get back."
Grissam muttered again. "Alright, alright," he complained setting
the purple gem back on his desk.
When he left the room, Nicolai gazed around at the
bookshelves. The only light came from the white fire at one end of the
room, and that left most of the rest of the room shrouded in shadows.
But the better vision of Nicolai's cat eyes could read the titles of the
books on the shelves. If he weren't tied to the pentacle, he would
have loved to go and browse through some of them. They had titles
like: Eve and the Garden: Our First Victory or Our First Defeat?, The
Care and Keeping of an Imp, The Benefits and Follies of Clockwork
Technology, Maleficient's Guide to the Tempting of Humans, The
Infernal Lexicon,How to Command a Legion, and The Geography of
the Underworld.
In a few minutes, Grissam returned, his robe swirling about him
and a young imp carrying a humongous book walking behind him.

The imp also had a bundle of feather pens curled in his tail.

"Set it right there," Grissam said to the imp who plunked the
tome down on the desk. "Softly, I say," said Grissam.

"Yes, father," said the imp who also released the bundle of
feather pens on the desk. "Is that all?"

"Yes, you may go back to your studies," said Grissam.

When the imp's tail disappeared past the entrance, Grissam
turned to Nicolai. "I shall begin, and don't disturb me."

Chapter Sixteen: Naming Teams

Ethan awoke groggily the next morning. His mother was staring
down at him.

"Ethan, get up," she said. "You're going to be late for school."
"Am I?" Ethan said untangling himself from the sheets.
"Yes, are you alright? You never sleep late."
"I'm fine," Ethan said running a hand through his black hair.
"First time for everything, right?" An image of the envelope from the
monastery in Virginia that had been on his mother's desk in the attic
flashed through his mind. He was about to blurt out his questions, but
caught himself. First time for everything.Maybe he should take a peek
at his adoption records. It couldn't hurt anything. Just a peek. But he'd
have to do it when no one was around.
Ethan and Sam walked to school in silence, neither wanting to
talk about what had occurred the previous night. Ethan was still trying
to figure out how he had fallen fast enough to get under Sam and
save her from death or severe injury. The heat, the white light, the
pain like needles jabbing his skin and his vision he couldn't make
sense of any of it. And that strange woman who showed up claiming
to be out for exercise. Who goes jogging ten o'clock at night?
More questions. No answers.
Before settling down for class, Ethan leaned over Zach's desk.
Zach was ticking and gulping like crazy, but didn't seem to be trying
to control it.

"I need to ask you something," Ethan said.

"What?" Zach said. His face was paler than the over-sized white
shirt he wore.

"If two balls of different weight fall from the same height at the
same time, they hit the ground at the same time."
Zach stared at Ethan like he was stating the obvious.

"Right?" said Ethan.

"Right," said Zach.
"If the heavier ball is dropped after the lighter ball, there's no
way it can reach the ground first, right?"

"Right," said Zach. "Everybody knows that."

"I was just making sure," said Ethan as he sat at his desk. The
only conclusion he had come to was that what had happened to him
last night had defied science.
Just then the bell rang and the teacher, Meridian Kay, walked in.
"Good morning, students," she said smiling at them. Her lips
shimmered with champagne-colored lip balm which was the same
color as her hair and the suit she wore.

"Good morning, Miss Kay," the class answered in unison.

"Today, we are going to do something a little bit different." Miss
Kay perched on the corner of her desk and pulled out a manilla folder
from her desk drawer. She started rifling through the thin stack of
papers in it. And then, without warning, she looked up and stared
straight ahead, her face utterly blank.
Along with the other students, Ethan looked around to see what
she was staring at.

"Miss Kay, are you alright?" several students asked. There was
no response.
Turning around, Ethan saw that Ari, who was sitting directly
behind him, was staring straight ahead as well. But instead of a blank
stare, her brow was furrowed in concentration.
A girl named Keyshia got up and snapped her fingers in the
teacher's face. "Miss Kay, you alright? Get her some water,
somebody."

"Splash it in her face," said Isaac.

Ethan turned back around as a sudden gasp from the teacher
sent Keyshia flying back to her seat. The life came back into Miss
Kay's face. She touched her fingers to her forehead as though she
were trying to remember something. "My, I don't know what
happened to me there. I just blanked out for a moment. But, as I
was saying" She looked down at the papers she had in the manilla
folder. "Oh, right," she said as if remembering something. She
grabbed a pen and scribbled something on two small sheets of paper.
"Now, as I was saying," she continued. "We're all set for our field trip
to the art museum today. It is a very expensive collection we are
going to see and you are very privileged to see it. I expect you to be
on your best behavior. However, we are going to do things a little bit
differently. Normally, each of you will choose a partner to write a
report on what you saw."
There was a beat of silence as the students looked around.

"Well, don't keep us waiting," said a kid in the back.

"Today, I will choose your partner," Miss Kay finished. There
was muffled disapproval from some of the students. "I'm going to give
half of you a folded sheet of paper with your name and someone
else's name on it. Don't open it until I tell you to." Miss Kay started
walking in the aisles putting down a folded sheet of paper on every
other desk. Ethan didn't get one. "This will help stretch you beyond
your comfort zone and allow you to work with someone you may not
otherwise work with at all."
As Miss Kay made her way back to the front of the classroom,
Ethan heard Zach mumble something about "the problem with young,
idealistic teachers."

"Did you have something to say, Mr. Maxwell?" said Miss Kay.
"No," said Zach.
Miss Kay tilted her head to one side.

"I was just complimenting you on your hair-do," said Zach.

"Thank you, Mr. Maxwell. Speak up louder next time so there
will be no doubt."
Taking her seat on the edge of her desk, Miss Kay said, "You
may now open the papers I will be grading your reactions." She
looked very pleased with herself.
There was a rustle of paper opening, and then a beat of silence,
followed by an outburst from Keyshia. "I cannot partner with Isaac!
He eats insects," she said.

"Ate them," corrected Isaac. "One time."

"He even admits it," Keyshia said as her classmates laughed.
"Actually, I relish the memory," said Isaac. "In fact," he said,
standing up and unzipping his jacket, "I'm selling these outside after
school." He was wearing a homemade t-shirt that said: Crickets are
crunchy.Keyshia groaned.
Miss Kay made marks in her notepad. "Sit down, Isaac," she
said.

"Thank you, Miss Kay," said a boy named Leonid who was
waving his paper in the air. On one side was his name, on the other
was the name of a girl named Megan.

"I know you like her," Miss Kay smiled.

"I know she's way out of your league, man," said the boy who
was sitting next to Leonid.

"No, I'm not," said Megan. "I'm just out of your ballpark. We're in
the same league." She beamed at Leonid. Leonid looked perplexed.
Two boys who were twins fist-bumped across the aisle. "Bones,"
they said.

"Zach is my partner," Pixie announced loudly. Zach looked only

slightly less-distressed.
Ethan felt a hand on his arm. It was Ari behind him. She slid her
paper onto his desk. It had "Ariadne Tagram" on one side and "Ethan

Eclaan" on the other.

Chapter Seventeen: Art Museum

"Angels don't look like that," Ethan said as he stared up at the
huge display of Peter Paul Rubens' The Triumph of the Church. He
and his classmates were standing in the Spectacular Rubens exhibit
at the Museum of Fine Art in Houston. Originals and replicas of the
Flemish artist's tapestries hung in lighted frames on the walls. Naked,
chubby babies with tiny white wings sported along the top of The
Triumph; beneath them was a man on a white horse holding a pole
with two giant keys on top. Two horses were pulling a chariot and two
men were being crushed beneath the chariot's wheels. About a dozen
others in various poses made up the procession.

"You ever seen one before?" asked Ari who was standing
behind Ethan to his right, looking at the same painting. Up and down
the exhibit hall, the teams Miss Kay had put together were studying
the various paintings and tapestries. Miss Kay herself was standing
with the curator at the entrance to the exhibit hall.
Actually, I have, Ethan thought, but he said to Ari, "Who knows?
They say angels like disguises."

"Sounds like you know a lot about them," said Ari.

Ethan was quiet for a moment before saying, "Probably no more
than most people."
As they moved on to the next painting, Ari said, "Here comes
my father."

"Does he work at the museum?" asked Ethan gazing up at the

next Rubens masterpiece. This one was called The Triumph of Divine
Love and had a whole lot more naked baby angels than the first. One
was even riding a lion.

"No, he's sponsoring an exhibit from Italy," said Ari.

Ethan turned toward the entrance of the exhibit hall. "Is he

coming to lecture me on how to treat his daughter?" he said smiling.

"I hope not," said Ari.

Ethan's smile faded when he saw the tall, slim man with the
narrow face and the wild, dark brown hair making his way toward
them. Nicolai is Ari's father, he thought in shock. He felt Ari stiffen
beside him.

"Hello, father," she said flatly.

"Ariadne," Nicolai said, "how are you enjoying your tour?" He
was smiling and his voice didn't seem to come directly from his
mouth.

"It's fine," said Ari.

"And, uh" Nicolai said as though he couldn't remember
something. "Your friend," he said sticking out his hand.

"Ethan," said Ethan.

"You know each other?" said Ari looking from Ethan to Nicolai.
"We met before," said Ethan ignoring Nicolai's outstretched
hand. "He came to talk to my father a couple weeks ago."

"Right," said Nicolai giving a little wave. "Enjoy the rest of your
tour. Maybe your teacher will let you come back for my Michelangelo
exhibit brilliant artist, that one." He turned and walked off.
Ari looked relieved.
Before they left the museum, Miss Kay allowed the students to
browse the gift shop. There were books, teacups, shirts, mugs,
miniature replicas of famous paintings, and tiny figurines.
Zach and Pixie studied a display of abstracts. Zach suddenly
picked one up it was heavier than it looked turned it over and
set it down again. One of the shop workers gave him a severe look.

"It was upside down," Zach shrugged.

Pixie looked at the abstract it was composed of harsh black
lines and gray swirls on a white background. "It still doesn't make any

sense," she said.

"It's called A Man Thinking," said Zach.

Pixie rolled her eyes. "But it doesn't look like a man thinking."

"I'm buying it," said Zach.

Ethan and Ari stood in front of a glass shelf with dozens of
hand-painted statues. Ari reached for one. "I guess you mean an
angel should look like this," she said showing it to Ethan. It was an
angel with outspread wings and a sword in its fist. Its tiny mouth was
open in a battle cry. It was slightly taller than the length of Ari's hand,
from the bottom of her palm to her fingertips.

"Yeah, more like that," said Ethan. He read the info card on the
shelf. "Caelum denique. What does that mean?"

"It's Latin," said a familiar voice. Ethan turned to find Akeela and
her partner, Shelly, standing behind them. "It means Heaven at last.'
It was the battle cry of the Crusaders," Akeela said. Shelly had her
fingers and her eyes glued to the keypad on her phone.

"I thought Latin was a dead language," Ethan said.

"It is," said Akeela.
"Not really," said Ari.
"Don't argue with Akeela about her facts," said Ethan. "You
won't survive."
Ari shrugged. "You want it?" she asked Ethan.
Ethan looked at the angel in her hand. "Not really," he said.

"I'm going to get it," said Ari.

Akeela walked off with Shelly. "Stop texting and pay attention,"
she said.

"I'm taking notes," said Shelly.

Back on the bus, Miss Kay made sure everyone sat with their
partners. "That wasn't so bad," she said to Keyshia who was sitting in
the second row with Isaac.

"I guess not," said Keyshia looking sideways at Isaac.

Isaac held up a white bag which had "Fine Arts Museum of
Houston" printed across it. "I even bought us matching teacups so we
can drink Pearl Tea together sometime," he said.

"You never told me what that was," said Keyshia.

"It's a highly nutritious tea made in China from moth droppings,"
said Isaac.

"Made from what?"

"Moth droppings. My grandmother drinks it all the time," said
Isaac observing the incredulous look on Keyshia's face. "It's also
called insect poo tea. Honest! I'm not lying."
Keyshia placed her palm on the window. "I think I'm going to
hurl."
Several rows behind them, Ethan and Ari sat down as the bus
lurched into the slow moving late afternoon traffic.

"You know, there's still an empty seat in Mrs. Ferren's art class,"
Ari said.

"Thanks, but I've got enough on my plate," Ethan said.

Ari rolled the angel sculpture back and forth between her palms.
"Can I see your drawings again?" she asked.
Ethan thought for a moment. What could it hurt? She already
knew about them. He unzipped his backpack and pulled out his
drawing pad careful not to let any of the pages fall out. "Fine," he said
handing it to her.
She set the sculpture down on the seat between them.
"Thanks." She flipped the dog-eared cover open.
Ethan held his breath. "I know some of it might look a little
strange, but I'm actually pretty normal."
Ari bit her lip as she turned another page. "No," she said slowly.
"These aren't strange at all. They're brilliant." She looked up at him.
"But you are not normal, not normal at all."

Ethan wondered what that was supposed to mean. As he

watched Ari turning page after page out of the corner of his eye
the nearly dead girl in the dark cathedral, the marching horde rising
from the Abyss, the suburban house going up in flames he began
to feel sleepy. His eyelids drooped and he caught himself. He yawned
and looked over at Ari. She had a look of intense concentration on
her face. Ethan was about to ask her what was wrong when a feeling
of intense tiredness took over him. Thoughts of slumber filled his
mind and weighed on him. So he slept.

Chapter Eighteen: A Guest for Dinner

"Ethan," Sam said as she and her brother walked home from
school.

"What?" said Ethan. He was carrying his backpack and a large

stack of books that Sam had checked out from the library.

"We have a shadow," said Sam.

Ethan looked at Sam and then turned around. Pixie was walking
several feet behind them, her hands in her pockets, and large pink
and silver headphones on her head. Her chin-length black hair swung
in the mild, hot breeze.
Ethan and Sam waited for her to catch up to them.

"Weren't you supposed to turn onto your street about five blocks
back?" said Ethan.
Pixie looked up and took off her headphones. "What?"
Ethan repeated the question.

"No, I was following you home," Pixie said smiling sheepishly.

"Um, why?" said Ethan starting to walk again.
"Because," Pixie said, "my mom is working late at the hospice
tonight and there are no more leftovers and I'm a horrible cook."

"So you've come to eat all of our food," said Sam.

"Why not?" said Pixie. "The only thing I can make is popcorn."
"Ethan makes a unique flavor of popcorn," said Sam walking
backwards in front of Pixie. "It's called popburn because he burns it
every time."
Pixie clamped a hand over her mouth to stifle a laugh.

"Thanks a lot, sister," said Ethan. They had reached the block
where the Eclaan house was the only two story house in the
neighborhood.
Pixie looked at Ethan. "But, really, it'll be okay with your parents,

right?"

"Of course," said Ethan. "You should have just said so. You can
come over anytime."

"Mom loves it when you come over," said Sam.

"Why?" said Pixie.
"Because," Sam said slowly, "her Jewish side comes out."
"Your mom's Jewish?"
"Half-Jewish," said Ethan.
"I don't see what that has to do with me," said Pixie.
"Don't worry about it," said Ethan. They had reached the gate
now, and he kicked it open with his foot. "Sam, get the mail," he said.
Sam bounded up the walkway to the porch. A medium-sized box
containing the latest Halo video game rested at the door. She
snatched it up and waved it over her head. "It's here!" she cried.

"Well, she got her mail," Ethan said.

"I'll get it," said Pixie. She went back to the mailbox and pulled
out the stash and carried it into the Eclaan's house after Ethan.

"Mom, we have guests for dinner," Sam announced.

"Who?" said Amanda from the kitchen.
"The whole football team," Ethan said before Sam could
answer.

"And the cheerleading squad," Sam added.

Amanda stuck her head out of the entrance to the kitchen and
gave her children a skeptical look. Then she saw Pixie behind them,
and her face brightened. "Hi, Pixie," she said smiling. Her brown eyes
flicked from Pixie to Ethan. Sam rolled her eyes.
Ethan set Sam's stack of books on one of the dining room
chairs.

"Here's your mail," said Pixie setting the bundle of envelopes

and one small box on the table. "I hope I'm not too much trouble."

"Never," said Amanda smiling again. "You're always welcome."

Ethan rifled through the mail on the table, looking for any more
mysterious letters from a monastery in Virginia. There were none. He
picked up the small box and read the label.

"Who is that from?" asked Amanda.

"Some lawyer's office in Chicago," Ethan said.
"Open it, please." Amanda turned back to the meal she was
cooking on the stove.
Ethan opened the box. Inside was a folded letter on expensivelooking stationary, and beneath that was a smaller, black velvet box.
Ethan scanned the letter. "Looks like one of your relatives just died,
Mom," he said.

"Who?" said Amanda.

"Somebody named Charlie Glickman a half-brother. He
supposedly left this to you and your children in his will." Ethan held
out the black velvet box.
Amanda furrowed her brow and stopped stirring the pot. "I don't
know," she said slowly. "The name sounds familiar, but it's nobody I
know personally." She took the small box and opened it. She gasped
and her hand flew to her throat.

"What is it?" said Sam coming around the kitchen table.

"It's a jewel," said Amanda lowering her hand so everyone in
the kitchen could see. The jewel was large, bigger than a baby's fist,
and multi-faceted. It had a rich, purple color and it caught the light in
the kitchen, scattering it about against the ceiling, the cabinets, and
the walls. Ethan squinted into its radiance. Maybe it was just a trick of
the light, but it seemed to him like something dark and viscous
expanded and contracted inside the gem.

"My," said Amanda, still unsure of what to say. "I'm sure this
must be a mistake." She picked up the letter to read it.

"It's pretty," Pixie said.

"You should take it to a jeweler and find out what it's worth. It
could be worth millions," Sam said. "We would be rich."
Amanda finished reading the letter and set it down on the table
along with the jewel still in the box. "I don't know," she said. "The
letter looks legit. But I don't know why a relative I hardly remember
would send me something so valuable. I'll have to call Mom later."
She shook her head, closed the box, and set it on the wooden display
case that housed her china. "Until then, no one is to touch it." She
took down three tumblers from the cabinet and poured grapefruit
juice for Ethan, Sam, and Pixie. "Now, scatter. Dinner will be ready in
an hour."

Chapter Nineteen: Unwelcome Matters

Sam stood in the doorway of her bedroom holding the stack of
books Ethan had carried home from the library. "I simply don't have
room for books," she muttered. Staring down watchfully from above
her bed was a Halo: Forward Unto Dawn poster. Beside it hung a
large yellow poster with the words "San Diego Comic Con
International" squared around a gray eye. Boxes full of comic books
camped out under her bed. And a five-foot wide inflatable replica of
the Starship Enterprise hung from the ceiling.

"I'll help you find a place for them," Pixie said from the hall
behind her.

"If you can," Sam said. She plunked the stack of books down on
her bed.
Pixie came in and surveyed the room. "If you get rid of the
plastic Star Wars people on the shelf, you could actually use the shelf
for what it was made for," she said. "Problem solved."

"Ugh, I don't want to move them," Sam said.

"You should," Pixie walked over and picked up a tiny Yoda. She
blew on it. "They're getting dusty anyway." She started setting the
Star Wars figurines on top of the dresser and putting the books in
their place on the shelf. "So, finish telling me," she said.

"Telling you what?" said Sam from the bed. She dumped the
contents of the Halo shipment on the blanket and unrolled the new
poster to replace the one that occupied the space over her bed.

"You were saying something about why your Mom likes me so

much and it had something about her being Jewish."

"Oh, that," Sam said feigning surprise. "I don't think we should
talk about that now."

"If it's about me, I think I have a right to know."

"Go ask Ethan."

"I have a feeling he won't tell me." Pixie set the last of the books
on the shelf.

"Then maybe you shouldn't know," Sam said.

"Oh, come on," Pixie said.
Sam sighed and stuck a thumbtack through the corner of the
poster and into the wall. "Don't blame me when you don't like it."

"Just spill it," said Pixie crossing her arms over her chest.
"Well," Sam said slowly, a mischievous glint in her eye. "Dad
explains it this way: Jewish mothers are notorious for being overinvolved and demanding in their children's lives, and it seems that
Mom inherited that trait from her mother." Sam sat cross-legged on
the bed and faced Pixie. She put her fist under her chin.
"Understand?"
Pixie squinted and looked confused. "No. I don't understand."
Sam took a deep breath and struggled to fight off a smile.
"Well," she said, "Mom thinks that you and Ethan are going to get
married one day. Every time you come over, you can hardly get out
the door before she reminds Ethan of that. I think she even already
has his tuxedo picked out."
Pixie made a choking sound in her throat. She looked
dismayed. "That's disgusting," she said.
Sam buried her face in her blanket, her body quivering with
laughter. "It's true. I told you you wouldn't like it," she said.

Chapter Twenty: Broken Angel

Pixie let out a frustrated sigh, picked up her backpack, and left
Sam's room. She stood in the hallway for a moment thinking about
what to do next. She could go back down stairs, but that would mean
facing Mrs. Eclaan, and she didn't want to do that just now
preferably, not at all certainly not with Sam's revelation fresh in her
head making her brain spin and her heart beat fast. She went to
Ethan's room instead.
She didn't get a response when she knocked on the door, so
she opened it. Ethan was sitting at his computer desk with his back to
the door. He had his headphones on and he was hunched over an
open textbook and some homework. Pixie sighed and slung her
backpack onto his bed. She slung it a little too hard and it slammed
into Ethan's backpack and knocked it onto the floor.

"Wha-?" Ethan turned at the sudden noise and pulled off his
headphones. "Oh, hey."

"Sorry," Pixie said. "Sounds like I broke something."

"Nothing in there that can break," Ethan said.
Pixie reached to retrieve his backpack from the floor and
something fell out of it and rolled under the bed. "I'm afraid there is,"
Pixie said. She grabbed the fallen object. It was a tiny angel figurine.
The blade of its outstretched sword was now broken in two, and one
wing hung loose. "I think I ruined your good luck charm," she said
setting it on Ethan's desk.
Ethan picked up the angel and the tiny fragment of the sword
blade. "It's not a good luck charm," he said. "It's Ari's."

"She gave it to you?"

"No, she bought it for herself at the art museum." Ethan cast a
worried glance at his backpack on his bed.

Pixie voiced his unspoken question. "So, she bought it for

herself, but it ended up in your backpack? Makes a lot of sense."
Ethan scratched his head as he tried to remember exactly what
happened on the bus ride home. He was sure he was missing
something like a tiny piece of his memory had been removed.
There was just a blank there. He shrugged. "I don't know. I'll give it
back to her."

"Maybe she meant to give it to you all along," Pixie said.

"I doubt that," Ethan said.
Pixie sat on Ethan's bed and loaded new music onto his MP3
player until Amanda came to tell them dinner was ready.

Chapter 21: Answers in Tongues

After dinner, Samantha gathered everyone in the living room to
watch Spider-Man not that she hadn't seen it several times before.

"It never gets old," she said as she commandeered the remote
control for the TV set from her father and bounced up onto the couch
beside him.

"Uh-huh," Reagan said. He put his socked feet up onto the

coffee table and flicked off the lamp. "I'll stay awake until the part
where the popcorn runs out, and then I'll get the best hour of sleep
ever."
Amanda and Pixie rounded the corner from the dining room
cradling large plastic bowls heaped with hot popcorn. Pixie looked
slightly pained.

"Feet off the table," Amanda said setting down three bowls.
"My feet aren't on the table, dear. My socks are," Reagan said.
"What are you going to do about that jewel, by the way?"
Amanda shrugged. "I have no idea. We'll just keep it. Maybe
get its value and put it in a safe Or sell it, and put the money in the
kids' college fund."
Sam grabbed a bowl of popcorn and popped a handful into her
mouth as Pixie sat down beside her on the couch. Amanda stretched
out on the loveseat, her head resting on her husband's arm. Reagan
lowered his head and kissed his wife on her forehead. Pixie watched
as his face lingered near hers for a second, his curly red-brown hair
mingling with her auburn waves. She felt a twinge of pain: she had
never witnessed such affection in her own home.

"Let's start the movie already," Reagan said yawning.

"Morpheus is beckoning me to the land of dreams right about now."
Ethan came into the living room just as the movie began. He sat

in the dark green recliner, doused his popcorn in grated cheese, but
barely touched it otherwise. Pixie could tell something was bothering
him. As the opening credits rolled and CGI webbing spread across
the big screen television, she studied his face and tried to discern his
dilemma. But his grey eyes were in shadow, and as the moments
ticked, his face grew hard and impassive as though he were turning
to stone and that sent a chill through her heart. She wanted to
reach out and touch his hand, break him from whatever had arrested
his mind. Maybe he would turn his head, catch her eye, and smile to
let her know that everything was alright even if it wasn't.
A nudge from Sam broke Pixie from her thoughts. Sam nodded
discreetly toward her mother who was watching both her son and
Pixie intently. Pixie put her eyes on the screen and pushed her
concerns about Ethan out of her mind at least for now.
Ethan had felt Pixie's gaze on him. He knew already of his
mother's fanciful notions of him and her. But that wasn't why he had
ignored Pixie. He tried to watched the movie, but Peter, Mary Jane,
and Harry soon blurred into a colorful kaleidoscope of questions that
weighed on his mind. Had Ari put the now broken angel in his
backpack? Why couldn't a gem just be a gem? Why was there
something sinister about a jewel arriving in a box from a relative he
had never heard of and whom his mother hardly remembered? Now,
he felt like he was forgetting something important, too. Not to mention
the still nagging question of why the adoption agency in Virginia was
contacting his parents after all these years. Tonight, at least, he
planned to do something about that.
Ethan told himself it was worth the risk and that it might just
answer all of the questions he had about where he came from, who
he was, and why he saw the things he did.
Halfway into the movie, Reagan and Amanda were asleep. Pixie

and Sam were riveted to the screen. Ethan slipped out of the living
room and took the stairs to his mother's attic office two at a time.
Once inside, he shut the door behind him and flicked on the
vintage lamp. The light cast a yellow glow over Amanda's laptop and
a stack of thick, green folders on the ledge which formed a makeshift
desk. Ethan rummaged through the contents on the desktop careful
not to get anything too out of place. Nothing concerned him there
just files from his mother's accounting work.
Adoptive mother, he forced himself to think.
Ethan turned toward the grey filing cabinet, his hand trembling a
bit. He knew where the adoption records were kept second drawer
from the bottom. He glanced over his shoulder to make sure the door
to the attic was still closed then knelt down in front of the filing
cabinet. There was no lock. He slowly pulled the drawer open
cringing at the grating sound the tiny wheels made against the metal.
A single, green folder, about an inch thick, was all that was in
the drawer. He lifted it out gingerly and placed it on the floor. Opening
one side, he saw the envelope from the monastery in Virginia. It had
been opened, but Ethan set it aside. Surely, there were older things
that he needed to become familiar with first.
He pulled out the next sheet of paper. At the top it read
"Certificate of Adoption." The top part of the form had prompts that
were meant to be filled in: Name of Child (before this adoption), Date
of Birth, Natural Mother, Natural Father. But to Ethan's great
disappointment, the spaces where the answers to those prompts
would have been filled in were blacked out retracted like some
top-secret CIA document. But this was his family his real mother
and father. Why would that information be blacked out?
Frustrated, he looked at the rest of the form. The next section
was supposed to detail his adoptive parents' names, dates of birth,
places of birth, social security numbers, and address at the time of

the adoption. But instead of Reagan and Amanda Eclaan, there was
another name in the spot for adoptive mother Cecille St. Amand.
The spot for the adoptive father was blank. And instead of an address
in Texas, there was an address wait a minute.
Ethan flipped back through the folder till he found the letter that
had come in only two days ago. The address on the adoption
certificate and the address of Our Lady of the Angels Monastery was
the same. Ethan sat back on his heels and stared at the papers
before him. He realized that he hadn't been adopted outright by
Reagan and Amanda. He had been legally adopted by this other
woman Cecille St. Amand in Virginia. Even though he figured that
this new knowledge placed him one step closer to the truth, he still
felt as far away from it as before. His real parents were still a mystery.
Ethan lay the Certificate of Adoption aside, careful to note its
place in the folder, and reached for the next set of papers. Several
half-sheets of paper bound by a rubber band were folded like one
would fold a letter. He pulled off the rubber band and unfolded the
first page. It was written in elegant cursive handwriting. Ethan knew it
wasn't Amanda's. Maybe it was Cecille's. He started to read.
Mon cher Amanda

"Mon cher?" What does that mean? At least he knew it was

addressed to his adoptive mother.
Je espre que vous allez bien.
What? Ethan sighed in frustration and scanned the rest of the
letter. It ended in adieu. Ethan knew adieuwas French for farewell.
Aaugh. The whole letter was written in French. Ethan set that
letter down and reached for the others. He flipped them open one
after another. They, too, were written in French. How on Earth was he
going to get to the bottom of this? He'd never have a chance to
translate these letters. He pressed his palm to his forehead, not only
feeling frustrated, but a million light years away from the truth that he

likely held in his hand.

His frustration turned to fear when he heard the click of the attic
door.

Chapter 22: Tearstained Angel

Samantha swung the attic door open, yawning and stretching.
"Movie's over," she announced. "Pixie's ready to " Her gaze
suddenly narrowed at Ethan kneeling on the floor, the green folder
open before him, the papers scattered around him. She took a step
into the attic. "Hey, what are you ?"
Samantha dropped to her knees, her face white as a sheet. She
looked from the papers on the floor to Ethan's face, her green eyes
hard as emerald stone. "I thought, I thought," she stammered. Her
eyes brimmed with tears. "I thought you liked it here."
Ethan felt like a drill was boring a hole in his heart. He had
never seen his sister so distraught and afraid. He couldn't even
remember a time when he had made her cry. But now he had.
Samantha got up abruptly and made for the door.

"No, wait," Ethan said. He grabbed her arm forcing her to turn
around. "Sit down," he pleaded. "It's notwhat it looks like." Ethan
slowly let her arm go hoping she wouldn't try to flee the room again.
She didn't. She sat down slowly, but didn't look at him.

"I know what you're thinking," Ethan said. "But it's not true.
None of it. I do like being here. You have to believe that."
Sam sat with her face resting in her palm, her eyes on the floor,
her cheek wet with tears.

"I love being here," Ethan continued. "I love Mom and Dad and
you. I wouldn't ask for other parents or another sister." Slowly, he
reached out and tucked his fingers under Sam's chin forcing her to
look up. "Together, we're a family and that's what matters." She met
his eyes briefly. A tear ran down her cheek, collected at her chin, and
dropped into Ethan's palm, cold and salty against the warm skin of
his hand.

Sam's lip trembled. "If we're a family, then you would talk with
us about" She pointed toward the papers still on the floor. "About
this."
Ethan let her chin go, and she resumed staring at the floor. "I
tried, Sam, I tried," he said. "But I gave up because Mom and Dad
wouldn't listen. They didn't get it It's been a long time and I came
up here to try to figure some things out for myself. I guess" His
voice trailed off.
Sam looked up at him, her green eyes luminous in the dimness
of the attic. The warm, dusky golden glow of the vintage lamp fringed
her red hair like a halo. She looked like a tear-stained angel. "Maybe
you tried with Mom and Dad," she said. "But you never tried with me."
Ethan opened his mouth and then shut it. She was right. He
hadn't tried to explain things to her. Hadn't even thought about it. "I'm
sorry," he said. "I didn't think, I mean I didn't know" He shook his
head and started to refold the French letters.
Footsteps in the attic doorway caused him to turn around
dreading that he would see his father or mother standing there.
It wasn't either of them. It was Pixie.
She paused in the doorway and mouthed a voiceless "oh" as
she looked from Sam to Ethan to the papers in his hands. "I'll wait
downstairs." She left just as quickly as she had come.
Ethan's hands shook as he snapped the rubber band back over
the letters and set them inside the folder. "I promise, I'll explain
everything tomorrow. How's that?" he said.

"Fine. But why not now?" Sam's voice sounded lighter now, less
afraid.

"It's late, Pixie needs to get home, and we both need to get
some sleep," Ethan said. "We can talk tomorrow after school. I
promise."

"I'll hold you to it."

"I know you will," Ethan closed the folder and let it fall back into
its place in the filing cabinet. He slid the drawer firmly shut. The
answers he wanted would have to wait for another day.
Pixie was sitting at the dining table when Ethan went back
downstairs. He could hear his father snoring in the living room.
"Come on, I'll walk you home," he said.
It was dark and chilly outside. The deep, upside down bowl of
blackness was pinpricked with stars. High above the moon shone
a watchful silver eye. Ethan grabbed a jacket from inside the door
and handed it to Pixie.

"Thanks," she said.

They walked down the street in silence for a few minutes until
Pixie asked, "So, you were looking up your adoption records?"
Ethan shrugged. "Yeah."

"And I guess Sam didn't take it too well."

"No."
"That was kind of stupid, what you did." Pixie nudged Ethan's
arm with her elbow.

"Maybe," said Ethan. "But it's not wrong to want to know. I

mean, don't you want to know about your dad? Where he is? What
he's doing? Who he is?" Ethan stopped short as something suddenly
blocked out the light from the moon. He thought he heard a rustling
noise, like feathers. He looked up as a chill ran down his back but
didn't see anything unusual.
Pixie, apparently, hadn't noticed anything. "No," she said bitterly.
"He's a deadbeat and a loser and " She stopped suddenly and
pressed her lips together, her hands clenched in fists against her
side.

"Sorry I mentioned it," Ethan muttered.

They turned the corner onto a broad avenue that ended in a culde-sac.

Pixie let out a huge breath and unclenched her fists. "All I meant
to say was don't go chasing waterfalls. Your family the people in
your life now they're here. Get it?"

"I get it," Ethan said.

"Also, do any of your grandparents have green eyes?"
"No, not that I know of wait, what is this about?" Ethan said.
"Sam has green eyes," Pixie said slowly, "but neither of your
parents do, neither do your grandparents, and I had just noticed"
Her voice trailed off. They had nearly reached the end of the cul-desac and Pixie toed the grass beside the walkway that led up to her
house. She grimaced when she looked up at Ethan and could sense
the gears working in his mind.

"And you're suggesting?" he said slowly.

Pixie held up her hands. "I'm not suggesting anything," she said.
"Just something I noticed. Forget I mentioned it." Probably won't. She
placed her hand on his shoulder and shook him gently. "I mean it.
Forget it."

"Yeah, yeah," Ethan said.

Pixie quickly kissed him on the cheek and ran up the walkway to
her house.
Ethan was thinking so hard he barely registered her
distraction. Maybe my family has more secrets than I thought.
Pixie lived with her mother in a light brown, brick-and-stone
Tudor-style house just to the right of the house for sale that occupied
the exact center of the cul-de-sac. The front yard of the Delos
residence was wide and treeless, and a small garden inside of a
stone fence grew against the wall to the right of the house. Pixie
pulled her key out of her pocket as she stepped into the entrance. No
light came from the large front windows with the diamond grilles. Her
mother still wasn't home from the hospice.
Standing in the entrance, Ethan sniffed and looked up as Pixie

turned the key in the lock. Dark objects, about two inches in diameter,
swung gently from the underside of the roof where one would
normally hang wind chimes. "Why are there ? Are those tea bags
hanging from the roof?" he asked.
Pixie turned around smiling sheepishly. "I was hoping you
wouldn't notice. Those aren't exactly teabags at least not the kind
you buy at the store. It's some kind of herbal concoction. Mom says
it's supposed to keep evil spirits from entering the house or
something."

"And those evil spirits always try to use the front door?"
"It's not funny," Pixie said.
"It is, kind of," Ethan said. "She's still into that New Age stuff?"
"Yeah. I thought she'd be over it by now, but" Pixie shrugged.
"I guess not." She took off his jacket and handed it back to him.
"Thanks for walking me home. Goodnight, and remember what I
said."

"I will," Ethan said as he put on his jacket and turned to go back
to the street. "Goodnight."
As he turned the corner onto his own street, a cold chill crept up
Ethan's spine. Once again, something briefly blocked out the silver
gleam from the moon. He looked up as he heard the rustle of
feathers. Only this time, it wasn't just a rustle. It was heavy wings
beating the air behind him.

Chapter 23: White Dust

A quick glance above and behind confirmed what Ethan had
already concluded. A creature, tall, broad-chested, and muscular,
swept silently toward him. Its massive, black-feathered wings held it
aloft in the night sky. It, or he, was wearing what Ethan could only
describe as armor silver and dark leather.
There was no pretending that he hadn't been seen. Ethan could
see the creature's eyes, and although they were dark, they held a
bright gleam of intent and malice. The hilt of a sword gleamed over
the Dark Angel's right shoulder.
Ethan broke into a run, his feet pounding the sidewalk. At his
speed, he figured that he could reach home before the Dark Angel
caught up with him. He pumped his legs faster, not even daring to
look back. The cold dread that he felt mingled with the sweat that ran
in rivulets down his back. His house loomed up ahead of him. He
could see the light on in Sam's bedroom window. Was she waiting up
for him?
No! Ethan suddenly realized that he was leading the Dark Angel
right to his family. Even if he did manage to get inside the house
before the creature caught him, what would it matter? The Dark Angel
would simply break down the door and probably do far worse.
Ethan could feel the rush of air from the Dark Angel's wings. He
seemed to be taking his time approaching a lion stalking a
cornered gazelle.
Without another thought, Ethan sprinted off the sidewalk and
into the street. If he went back and took a left turn, he could make his
way to the neighborhood park. Maybe there, he could lose his
pursuer or find a place to hide. As he looked up to pinpoint the
location of the Dark Angel, his feet tangled. He stumbled and fell,

hitting the asphalt hard. The Dark Angel had been right behind him,
silently preparing to seize its prey. When Ethan fell, he stumbled over
his body and clattered to the ground a few feet away.
Ethan jumped up and saw the heap of wings and limbs. He
gave a silent prayer of thanks as he sprinted away again, his breath
coming in short, quick puffs. He didn't think he'd run this fast in his
life. Hopefully, he could lose the Dark Angel soon. He couldn't see his
own house anymore, and he thought he could see the entrance to the
park up ahead. But it was too dark to see anything beyond the
occasional front porch light on one of the houses that lined the street.
Then he heard the heavy footsteps of the Dark Angel pounding
the pavement behind him. Each footstep drew them closer together.
Soon, Ethan could feel the ground quivering beneath the heavy
footfalls.
Ethan caught sight of a thin flash of silver out of the corner of
his eye, then felt something wrapping around his ankle. A sudden
yank, and he toppled to the ground.
Ethan rolled over on his back. The Dark Angel held the end of a
silver cord in his fist. As he slowly approached, he drew the sword
from his back with his free hand. Slowly, the blade extended above
the angel's head and then came crashing toward Ethan. Ethan's eyes
opened wide as the iron blade sliced in front of his body and

pinned his jacket to the pavement.

That is a really sharp point, Ethan thought noticing how the
blade had split the asphalt. He shuddered to think of it piercing his
skin.
The Dark Angel laughed, his dark eyes gleaming cruelly. "You'll
be dead soon enough, I'm sure of it." His voice was thick and throaty.
"But not yet."
Not yet. Ethan rolled hard to the right, ripping a huge tear in his
jacket. Free of the sword blade, he started to get up while still moving

toward the sidewalk on the opposite side of the street.

Behind him, the Dark Angel grunted. There was a rush of
footsteps, and the next moment, a heavy boot came down hard,
smashing into Ethan's chest pinning him to the ground. Ethan gasped
as pain spread through his torso.

"Hmmph," the angel said.

He reached into his weapons belt Ethan thought he was
going for the dagger with the serpentine blade and brought out a
small, leather pouch. He flicked open a clasp and pinched his thumb
and forefinger into something like white powder. Ethan strained
against the boot holding him to the asphalt, but it was simply too
heavy and he panted with the effort.
The Dark Angel opened his palm revealing a dusting of white
crystals. He let them fall from his hand to Ethan's face. Ethan
clenched his eyes and mouth shut. He wished he could shut his nose
too. Whatever that is
He felt the sprinkle of the dust on his face.
Then he felt nothing else.

24: Secret Talks

Ethan tried to move his arms but couldn't. He was bound to a
tree by thin but strong metallic wire. He strained against it, but it
wouldn't budge.
His head felt heavy like it was full of rocks. Must be that
white dust. Even thinking was difficult.
Letting his head fall back against the tree trunk, Ethan blinked
and tried to get a look at his surroundings, but his vision was dark
and blurry. He squeezed his eyes shut and concentrated, stretching
his senses. He was somewhere wooded; probably hopefully not
far from home. He could sense the dampness of the foliage, feel the
leaves and dirt against his hands, and hear the chirruping cicadas.
He was familiar with the thick woods and the ravine in the area
behind his house, but he had been running the other way. Perhaps he
was in the woods on the far side of the park maybe a mile from
home.
Forcing himself to listen, he heard something else between the
sounds of noisy night insects. Voices. They seemed to be some
distance away and his hearing was muffled, but he strained to listen.

"afraid to do it yourself, so I brought him," a gruff voice said.

Demon, Ethan thought. Sounds likesame one.

"I need to know for sure," a feminine voice said.

"Well, clearly he has the Sight," the Dark Angel said. "He saw
me just fine."

"I've known that for a while now," the female snapped. "What
about the Marks and the chosai traits?"
The Dark Angel snorted. "What do you want me to do? Dissect
him?"
Nono dissecting, Ethan thought.

"I need to know," the female spoke again. "The prophecy

says"

"The children of Lilith and their prophecies." The Dark Angel let
out a grunt of disdain. "If it's so important to you, go and kill him
yourself and see what happens."
Kill him see what happens. The words re-echoed in Ethan's
head, his mind feeling clogged and sluggish. He heard footsteps
approaching and felt the presence of two beings close by.
Schiiing!
Ethan knew that sound a sword being drawn. He had heard it
numerous times watching war movies with his dad and Sam. Blinking
through the haze in his vision, Ethan saw a shaft of silver,
shimmering in the gloom a curved sabre held by a lithe form. His
heart pumped faster. They really were going to kill him. The fog
swirled in his mind, numbing his thoughts. He felt as if he was going
to pass out.
Just then, there was a rush of footsteps to Ethan's left, and a
fourth figure emerged from the shadows and into the copse.

"Put down your weapon, succubi, or I'll put this arrow through
your throat." The voice was familiar, and Ethan was struggling to
place it when a flurry of motion erupted around him. Something sliced
through the metallic cords that bound him to the tree. Strong arms
the Dark Angel's hauled him upright and cinched around his chest,
a heavy palm clamped against his heart.

"Let him go," the voice of the newcomer said. "Now."

Ethan squinted, the fogging in his brain clearing momentarily,
but all he could make out was a shiny gold pinprick in the darkness.

"This has nothing to do with you, little angel girl," the Dark Angel
said. Ethan could feel his hot breath on his neck. "You halflings are
always sticking your noses where they don't belong. These lines were
drawn ages ago. Turn away and begone."

"Those lines were drawn in sand, not stone, and now the sands
are shifting," the newcomer said. "What are you afraid of? That the
age of revenants has come again? Let him go."

"You are sorely mistaken, little angel," the Dark Angel said.
"That race was stamped out long ago and not one is alive today.
Beware of this one thing, though the day of the white dragon is
nigh and no one will stand before him."
There was a beat of silence as the newcomer apparently
pondered the Dark Angel's words.

"If you don't let him go I will have to kill you."

"Yes, you will," the Dark Angel said tightening his vicegrip
around Ethan's chest. "After you kill him."
There was a sharp twang as the arrow was released from its
bow.
Through the gloominess in his vision, Ethan saw a thin, sharp
streak of brightness speeding straight toward his heart.

25: Felicia
The huge raven with the white starburst on its head swooped
down silently from the night sky and alighted on Felicia's right
shoulder. Her shoulders slumped as she turned down the wide
avenue and headed for home. Tonight had not gone so well. Her
main interest was not the Seer, but the Marks he wore and whether or
not Lilith's agreement with the angels of the Most High was still in
effect. If only that halfling hadn't shown up she would have found out
for sure. But if the agreement was still in effect, then She shivered
as she thought of what would have happened. She didn't want to go
there.
Looking up at the now starless sky, Felicia wondered if her
mother would approve of her actions. As her mother's only daughter,
she had inherited the leadership of the clan of Morgana when her
mother died after leading the clan to relocate to Texas from Wales.
Felicia hadn't wanted to move. She loved the clear blue lakes, the
rolling green countryside dotted with trees, and the rugged mountains
of her native land. Often, while lying on the shore of Llyn Tegid, she
imagined she could feel the presence of her clan's ancient mother still
weaving its way through the air. But all that was past now.
Once the clan had arrived in Texas, Felicia's mother explained
to her that important days were ahead for the children of Lilith. A new
queen would rise to unite the clans and restore their people to their
former glory. Felicia didn't know how her mother knew this but she
had always trusted her, and as she lay dying, she in turn had trusted
Felicia to lead the clan.
Felicia sighed and placed her hand on the post at the bottom of
the stairs in front of the sprawling, three-story mansion the clan now
called home.

Without warning, the raven squawked and fluttered into the air
as a foul scent filled Felicia's nostrils. Felicia turned toward the
source of the smell. A Tempter emerged from the shadowy corner
beneath the porch canopy its huge, six-winged, moth-like body
hovered inches from her face.

"Ka-hsss! Greetingsss, Felicia daughter of Aderyn," the Tempter

said. "I come with a messsage from my massster."
The Tempter produced a folded letter with a red seal.
Felicia took the letter, careful not to touch the Tempter's thin,
hairy limbs. She held the envelope up to the moonlight to better see
the seal. Nicolai Malleus. So he is back. She remembered her mother
had always been wary of Nicolai. Some of the clan leaders felt he
had not done enough to preserve the clan of Jezebel. "Go then, if
that's all," Felicia said to the Tempter.

"With pleasssure. Khaaa!" In a flurry of wings, the Tempter sped

off, blending into the dark sky.
The raven landed on Felicia's shoulder again clucking and
preening. Evidently, he didn't like Tempters either.
...
An hour later, Felicia sat in her office the office that would
have been her mother's were she still alive. She read Nicolai's letter
summoning her to a Conclave with the rest of the clan leaders and
wondered what her mother would do. She had half a mind to call
Celeste and ask her advice, but her mother had always made
decisions on her own. And, as the youngest of the clan leaders,
Felicia knew it was important that she not display any signs of
weakness or uncertainty.
However, she did know someone she could ask; someone who
would give her honest, unpolitical advice.

...
She was staring at the globe on the ivory column in front of the
bookshelves across the room when a knock sounded on the door.
The door swung open and one of the youngest members of the clan
stuck her head in. "Rion of the brotherhood is here to see you," she
said.

"Send him in," said Felicia standing up.

A moment later, a young man walked in. Well, he wasn't really a
man; he was a jinn. Swarthy-skinned, with shoulder-length black hair
that hid his leaf-shaped ears, and dark eyes flecked with red, he
stood rigidly the posture of an elite soldier, a holdover from his
training at West Point. "Good morning, my lady," he said dipping his
head in respect.

"Good morning, Rion," Felicia said. "I must ask your advice on a
matter."

"Very well," Rion said. "But remember, what you hear from me
is opinion, not fact. I will offer my perspective, not the truth."
Felicia stifled a smile. "Yes, that's what advice is. You don't have
to philosophize about everything."

"Philosophy is nothing but discretion," Rion said.

After reading Nicolai's letter, Rion started pacing. "I think the
time is past for all this business of finding a new queen and uniting
the clans," he said.

"You think it's too late?" Felicia said.

"No, I think it is extremely unnecessary and dangerous." Rion
stopped in front of the globe and spun it. "Look at us. Sixteen
hundred years no Lilith, no queen, no succession. What's the
point? Remember the last time Nicolai meddled in the affairs of

Lilith's children? He left disaster in his wake Rome destroyed and

an entire clan wiped out." Rion turned away from the globe and faced
Felicia. "We live in a new world now," he said. "We have to learn to
be a part of it. We cannot keep holding on to the old ways."

"So you say," Felicia said. "But the old ways are what sustain us
and keep us alive. Without the hope that, one day, someone worthy
to reign in Lilith's stead will rise up, what else do we have?"

"The world, Felicia," Rion said though he rarely called her by

her first name. "There's more to our existence than the wars of the
Dark Throne. Samael is imprisoned. Lilith no one's heard from her
in ages." He shrugged. "We can become a new people; sculpt
ourselves out of the mire of the past."

"You're saying we should disband the clans?" Felicia said.

Rion spread his palms wide. "Perhaps."

"I admire your idealism," Felicia said rising from her seat and
standing in front of the jinn warrior. "And I know that you admire the
mortal world. But, the thing is we aren't mortal. We're not like
them." She pressed her finger to Rion's chest. "You, as much as
you'd like to be, are not a man."

"I know that," Rion said clasping Felicia's hand in his own. "I'm
not a man. The question is: am I more than one? Or less than one?"

26: The Faerie Spy

It was late when Ari crept back into her bedroom window at the
lake house. She perched on the sill momentarily and listened, the
silvery moon casting her shadow on the carpeted floor. It had been a
long night, and the bed had never looked more attractive.
After storing her bow and arrows in the hidden compartment in
the closet and checking to make sure her Erelim blade was still
between the mattress and the boxspring, she climbed into bed. No
sooner had her head touched the pillow and her eyes closed than a
blood-curdling shriek sounded somewhere in the large house and set
her skin crawling.
Fully awake, she lay still and listened intently. Her first thought
was that Keiland was causing some kind of trouble which would
not be surprising. Strategic mayhem, he called it.
But the next gut-roiling scream made her certain. No, it was not
Keiland; he was not a screamer. She counted the pairs of footsteps
coming down the hall. One, two three.

"Agh! He bit my hand!" That was Arioc's voice. You deserve

it, Ari thought.

"What are we going to do with him?" another voice, this time

Alfred's, said.
Ari heard another pair of feet in the hallway coming from the
opposite direction. "What's all this noise for?" Ariel said yawning.

"We caught this faerie sneaking around by the lake," Arioc said.
"He's probably a scout, but he won't say what he was looking for."
Ari heard a flesh-squelching punch and then a groan. She
flinched. A faerie, she thought. Very interesting. She crept to the
bedroom door so she could hear better. Alfred was talking again.

"Let's take him to the reading room and get Nicolai. See what

he wants to do with him."

"Better start talking, faerie boy, or we're going to get some iron
and make you squeal," Arioc laughed.
Ari crept out of bed and sat with her back to the door extending
her hearing down the hall.

"What seems to be the matter here?"

Ari flinched. The way Nicolai's voice came out of nowhere sent
chills up her back.

"Interesting," Nicolai said when the boys told him what was
going on. Ari could imagine him rubbing his chin with his long ringed
fingers. "I'll meet you in the reading room."
A few minutes later, Ari could hear Nicolai talking again in his
strange

disembodied

tone.

"Now

it

is

never

without

great

consequence that the fair folk make their presence known in the
terrestrial realm," he said. "And, as I recall, it is with great fanfare that
you are received into the circles of mortals, enchanted and
unenchanted alike. But here you are trespassing on our property
unbidden, spying on us as though we are your enemies." Nicolai took
a deep breath, relishing what he was going to say next. "Since fairies
can't lie, this should be easy. Tell me, who sent you and what are you
doing here?"

"I will not betray my queen." The faerie's voice was low and
threatening.

"Ah, so you are on a queen's errand then," said Nicolai. "And

what does she have need of in the middle worlds?"

"I will not tell," said the faerie.

"You won't?" said Nicolai. "What can we do about that, boys?"
"I think that poker's made of iron," Ariel said with undisguised
eagerness. Ari could hear the grating noise as he yanked the poker
out of the fireplace.

"Tell us now and you will be spared," Nicolai said. "Perhaps we

can even help you in your quest and earn the queen's favor. We both
know she is a valuable ally to have. Hmm?"

"N-no. Never," the faerie said, his teeth chattering. "My lady
would never ally herself with foul, cursed wretches like you."

"That's too bad," Nicolai said.

The next moment, a blood-curdling scream set a million spiders
crawling across Ari's skin. She grit her teeth at the horrible sound of
the faerie's anguished cries.

"Speak now, and your pain will cease," Nicolai said, his voice
suddenly booming with authority.

"I will never tell you, you vile aaagh!"

In the darkness of her room, Ari wrapped her arms around her
legs and rested her forehead on her knees. She had long since
steeled herself against the effects of pain on others, but this torture
tugged at the lid to the box where she had locked away her empathy.
Anger boiled in her blood as this went on for some time Nicolai
threatening, the iron poker being applied to the faerie's skin, the
faerie's howls of pain, and the sadistic glee of Arioc, Ariel, and their
brothers.
At last, Nicolai seemed to have had enough. "You're fiercely
loyal. I'll give you that," he said. "The last of your kind I tortured told
me everything after a few minutes. You will do the same. It might take
longer for you to break, but you will break." And then to the boys he
said, "Lock him up."
...
An hour later, after Nicolai and the boys had gone back to bed,
Ari crept out of her room and down the hall. She had never actually
seen a faerie before, and as she neared the entrance to the reading
room, she remembered much of what she had studied about them.
They were beautiful creatures, but cunning and deadly. Many mortals
had fallen under a faerie spell simply by gazing upon a single

member of that race.

Ari stopped in the entrance to the reading room. The faerie was
sitting on the floor inside a prison made of invisible walls. Ari could
tell he was young because his hair was still silver-grey; it hadn't yet
turned white. His alabaster skin seemed to gleam in the dimness of
the reading room. With his arms wrapped around his body, he rocked
back and forth singing quietly to himself. Ari sucked in a breath. She
could hear Mazon's voice in her mind: he had once told her to admire
a faerie the way she would admire a poisonous serpent from a
distance.
Maybe she would break that rule tonight.

27: Wake Up to Whisperers

To know that one is dreaming is to be already nearly awake, even if,
for the present, one cant wake up fully. C.S. Lewis

Ethan still felt like there was lead in his head when he
awakened the next morning. Bleary-eyed, he rolled over in his bed to
face the digital clock on his night-stand. He had overslept. The bright
morning sun streaked through the gray curtains, and bits of dust
danced in the shaft of light.
He flopped back on the bed and squeezed his eyes shut for a
few moments and then snapped them open. The huge map of the
eastern hemisphere which hung on the wall across the room came
into focus. He could read the words, Marco Polos Travels, from his
bed. Without warning, the memory of what had transpired a few
hours earlier rushed back at him.
He remembered leaving Pixies house, being chased by a Dark
Angel, and tied to a tree. There were voices, people talking, and then
another voice. Someone familiar. Who was it? Then, hed been shot,
right? An arrow to his heart? Thats what the demon had meant when
he said, after you kill him.
Ethan pressed his hand to his chest. He could feel his heart
beating steadily. Was it all a dream? He tugged down the collar of his
shirt, and it was then that he realized he was still in the same clothes
he had put on the previous day. But someone had removed his
shoes; at least he didnt remember taking them off. How on earth had
he gotten back in his room after that excursion in the woods? More
questions. No answersand no one to ask.

Youre finally awake.

Ethan sat up and looked around. Who said that? He was sure it
was a voice not an audible voice, but words that had been spoken
directly into his mind.
So Im hearing things now.
No. Youre hearing me. Over here. The voice spoke again. It
had a light, tinkling sound in Ethans mind. He turned in the direction
of the voice at least the direction he thought it came from. Atop his
dresser was a shimmering form about as tall as one of his fingers.
Scrambling out of bed and stepping closer, Ethan squinted. It was a
white, shining creature with large, faceted eyes like miniature stained
glass windows in a pixie face. Translucent butterfly-like wings
undulated gently at its back.
Ethan couldnt imagine that such a beautiful little creature could
intend to do him any harm, but he had to ask. Are you evil? he said.
If I wanted to hurt you, how do you think I would answer
that? the creatures voice responded.
Right, Ethan thought. So what are you?
I am a Whisperer.

Can you stop talking into my head like that? Its creepy.
The Whisperer shook her head. Whisperers speak the truth of
the Immortal Throne into the minds of the children of men. The
tongue is used to lie and slander, but every man perceives the truth
in his own mind. The Father of Lies often sends his Tempters to twist
spoken truths before they have a chance to enter the minds and
hearts where they are needed. Whisperers sacrifice their tongues for
the truth.

An image of one of the tiny, shining creatures having their

tongue cut out flashed in Ethans mind and he thought he saw a
shadow of sadness fall across the Whisperers face. But the next
moment her face brightened. Here comes my commander.
Ethan turned in the direction of the door and another Whisperer
appeared (apparently, it had come through the closed door itself). It
had the same bright, glowing appearance. Its faceted eyes were
different shades of orange and blue, and a sword the width of a
toothpick hung at its tiny waist.
I took a good look at it. It is enchanted just as we were
told. Ethan could hear the commanders voice in his head. It was
different from the first Whisperers. Hers had been light and cheerful,
like fresh, sweet air in his brain; the commanders was grave and
brooding, a gentle thunder. And, apparently, Ethan was listening in on
a conversation that had been going on before he had awakened. All
we can do is return to keep the nightmares at bay. It will be terrible if
the visions are corrupted, the commander finished and turned to
Ethan who was feeling very confused now. You had a rough night.
Yeah, and I still dont know how I got back in my bed. Ethan
mentally pushed his thoughts toward the Whisperer-Commander.
A halfling brought you through that window. The commander
said pointing to the window on the far side of Ethans bed.
A question burst in Ethans mind. Whats a halfling?
Youll know in time. For now, just rest assured that someone
has your back
Yet another unanswered question to add to the growing pile.
Ethan hoped the Whisperers hadnt caught the angry undercurrent to
his thoughts. He asked his next question aloud. Can you at least tell

me your name?
My name is Eddricklayefstarkssonish.
Ethans mouth fell open. That is a mouthful.
Actually, its two mouthfuls. The first Whisperers voice was light
and teasing, but Ethan agreed. And whats your name? he said.
Siddarthalinkolarsaerisa.

Im just going to call you Eddrick and Sidda. Is that fine?

The Whisperers exchanged a silent glance. They shrugged in
unison. Fine. And Eddrick added, You have somewhere to be. And
we have to go. He took Siddas arm and they passed through the
glass pane of the window out into the sunshine.

See you again soon? Ethan said uncertainly.

As if on cue, a knock sounded on his door. Ethan, we have to
golike thirty minutes ago, Sam said.

Coming, Ethan called. Mom can drive us on her way to work.

Mom left already.
Ethan looked down remembering he was already dressed. With
his mother gone, he could slip out the door just this once still wearing
the same clothes he had slept in. Just once. Ethan grabbed his
backpack which was hanging on the back of his computer chair, yet
again ignoring the feeling that he was missing something. When he
tried to think hard about what it was, he felt as though he had
stumbled across a black hole in his brain completely blank.
He swung the door to his bedroom open. Sam was waiting in
the hall, her Avengers backpack slung over her shoulder. Finally,
she said. Ethan noticed she was wearing her cowboy boots
another no-no on their mothers list of things they couldnt wear to

school.

You know what Moms going to say about your footwear, he

said.

Im not the one going to school in the same clothes I slept in,
Sam said tersely.

I guess were both feeling a bit rebellious this morning.

Sam held up Ethans mug. I made coffee with molasses.

Thank you, Ethan said. He took the mug and began

swallowing down the warm liquid, but the thick, sweet, milky taste in
his mouth made him gag. Are you sure this is coffee? he asked
swallowing hard.

Yeah, Im sure, Sam said with a look so innocent Ethan was

sure it was fake.

Mm-hmm. Tastes like hot chocolate, Ethan said, but he drank

the rest of it. Lets go. He turned and started down the stairs but
stopped suddenly. And, Sam
She was at the top of the stairs looking down. Yeah?

I havent forgotten my promise.

Yeah. Ethan could tell she was trying hard to be indifferent.
What had happened last night had unnerved her. He tried to think of
something else to say, but couldnt.

28: Burnt Images

The best way of keeping a secret is to pretend there isnt one.
Margaret Atwood

After lunch, Ethan and Zach holed up in a mostly unused nook

on the librarys balcony level for study hall. The area was flooded with
shifting gray light from a huge circular window. The fast-moving, gray
clouds outside foretold a coming storm. A clock face had been
painted on the huge window, the hands marking 4:30 pm, the time
school let out no doubt, some students idea.
Ethan and Zach were poring over the periodic table when Zach
looked out the window and gulped. Why does Ari have your drawing
pad?
Instantly, the hole in Ethans memory filled. He remembered.
She had asked to look at it the day before on the bus when they were
coming back from the museum and she had never returned it.
Ethan thought he must have been seriously distracted to get off the
bus without it. He didnt lightly show it to anyone. He hadnt shown it
to Zach in months. Yes, Ethan answered slowly. Where does she
have it?

It was sticking out of her backpack in art class earlier today,

and now she has it right down there. Zach pointed out the clock
window and then said, Or, I should say, she will have had it Its
rapidly disappearing
Ethan jumped from his seat scattering his textbook and notes
on the floor and looked out the clock window. The gym was

positioned slightly in front of and to the side of the library, and behind
the gym Ari was standing over what looked like a pile of dirt with his
drawing pad in her hand. There was smoke coming from the pile, and
Ethan suddenly realized what it really was the charred, ashy
remains of his vision drawings. Ethan watched as Ari ripped out
another page and dropped it on the fire. She looked around as if
aware that she was being watched. Red flames curled up, licking the
edges of the paper.
Ethan slammed the heel of his palm against the window and
muttered a word he wouldnt dare use around his parents. He turned
and raced from the balcony level and through the library, ignoring
stares from other students and the librarian who was shouting,
Eclaan! No running in here! He burst out the door and down the
strip of grass that separated the library from the gym.

Ari, what the hell? He stopped short as a waft of smoke and

burning paper hit his nostrils. He grabbed for his drawing pad just as
Ari ripped out another page and dropped it onto the pile. Hastily
flipping through the pages, his heart sank. She had just taken out the
last page he had drawn on; all the pages that remained were blank.
He let the book fall from his hand. It landed on the ground, its corner
bursting into flame.
Ari didnt look up. She just stared down at the burning pile at her
feet.
Ethan sidestepped the pile and faced Ari. What? Why? He
couldnt seem to settle on the right question to ask. Finally, he said,
You better have a good explanation for this.
Ari looked up then, the still-glowing ashes reflected in her black
irises. I do. But I cant tell you. She smiled enigmatically.

This isnt funny, Ethan said. I gave it to you because you

asked. I trusted you.

Ari looked away and shrugged slightly. Her face was impassive,
guiltless.

Those drawings meant a lot to me. Ethan knew it sounded

pathetic, but that was all he could think to say.
Ari turned back toward him. You have no idea how much they
meanto you or to anyone. She looked as if she were going to say
more, but her posture suddenly stiffened and her eyes refocused on
something behind him.

Fighting my sister?
Ethan turned.
Arioc stood behind him grinning stupidly. His red mohawk
drooped with sweat and the sweat-drenched t-shirt he wore was
plastered against his skin. Behind him was his brother Alfred, shorter
but more muscular. Apparently, they had just come out of the
gym. Wrestling practice? Ethan thought. Or maybe more time plotting
Joe Waynes downfall? Arioc folded his arms across his chest, a
wave of power radiating off of him. Ethan had sensed it before. Arioc
was not normal.

If you put her up to this, Ill fight you instead, Ethan said. He
had never liked the Tagram boys, and when he learned that Nicolai
was their father, that only intensified the dislike. But the feeling was
mutual; for some reason, Arioc nor his brothers liked him either. At
least Ari had appeared to try.

This? The question curled off Ariocs lips. His eyes darted
from Ethan to Ari to the pile of ashes that Ari had just stamped out.
Care to explain, sister?

No, Ari said. This is between us. And you wont be fighting

each other. Now, leave us alone.

Arioc and Alfred exchanged a look. Arioc cast a challenging
glare at Ethan and Ari, but he and his brother turned and left.
Ethan turned back to Ari who grabbed him by his shirt and
yanked him closer.

What ? Ethan started.

Shut up, Ari hissed in his face, her teeth gritted. Theres a war
coming, Ethan. Youve seen it yourself. And youre. Not. Ready. She
released him and he took a step back. Another thing, she warned.
Dont trust anything I say. She looked down at the ashes on the
ground. Or do. Understand?
Ethan stared at Ari, her dark eyes hard and serious. Could she
be any more cryptic? Yeah, you made yourself perfectly clear, Ethan
said. He looked down at the ashy remains of his drawing pad. There
was nothing either of them could do about it now. See you, Ari. He
turned to go back to the library.

Ethan, Ari called after him.

Ethan stopped but didnt turn around.

Who were they? The two boys in your vision the blue-haired
boys? Aris voice was anxious.
Ethan winced. The drawings had been done in pencil black
and white and shades of gray. How does she know the boys have
blue hair?

They were standing on a cliff with a white dragon, Ari said.

Please, I need to know.
Ethan hesitated for a moment, a snide remark on his tongue.
Then he said the only honest thing he could have said. Sounds like

you already know more than I do.

...
Sam texted Ethan telling him she was going directly to the Rink
after school. She had packed her skates and wanted to lose herself
in meaningless motion. She didnt want to consider why. She left her
backpack in her usual seat on the indoor skateparks viewing
platform, slung her skates over her shoulder, and headed over to the
ice rink. Just as she reached for the door handle, the door swung
open from the inside.
Felicia stood in the doorway, looking down at her. Wearing a
black leather jacket and pants, a plain orange blouse, and black
boots that came up nearly to her knees, she clearly wasnt dressed
for skating. The diamond pendant winked at her throat.

Hey there, Felecia said.

Sam narrowed her eyes.

Its been a while. Felicias tone was light, perhaps playful, but
Sam detected a dark undercurrent to her words.

Yeah, Id like to keep it that way, Sam said. She tried to

sidestep Felicia who was still blocking the entrance to the ice skating
rink but she stopped when she saw the others standing behind
Felicia. There were four of them girls who looked to be about
eighteen years old dark-eyed and athletic. They wore similar
apparel as Felicia. Who are they? Sam said.

They work for me, Felicia said dismissively, her head tilting
slightly. The round-faced girl who stood closest to Felicia spread her
lips in a shark-like smile that sent chills up Sams spine.

Well, if you and your, uh, cohorts would take a hike, Id like to
get a few laps in before Ethans ready to go home. Sam jerked her

thumb over her shoulder to make sure they got the message.
Felicia & Company didnt budge. Ethan, hes your brother,
right? Felicia said.

Yeah, now move, Sam said.

Felicia moved slightly, stepping closer to Sam but out of the
doorway. He tells you everything, doesnt he? she said.

Yeah, Sam said slowly, drawing out the word absent-mindedly

as she eyed the four girls still blocking her path to the ice skating rink.
The round-faced girl was still smiling like a shark.

Even what happened last night? Felicia said.

Sams head snapped toward Felicia, the question, What
happened last night?, nearly bursting from her lips. Hell tell me
when hes ready, she said trying to sound nonchalant. She didnt
know what Felecias intentions were, but she wasnt about to let
someone who was ninety-nine percent stranger drive a wedge
between her and her brother. Ethan had begun that process himself
last night. By the way, while were asking questions, what were you
doing in our yard a few nights ago? And dont say you were out
running.
Felecia gave a little smile.

Were you spying on us? Sam said turning fully and taking a
step toward Felicia.

Listen, Felecia said, leaning forward so she was on eye level

with Sam. Your patchwork family has more secrets than you can
imagine. If I were you, Id be doing a littlespying. Her voice dripped
with condescension. Or, you could just come to me, and Ill answer
your questions for you. Felecia straightened, a satisfied expression
on her face.

Stay out of my familys business, Sam snapped. Patchwork

family. What does that mean? She turned away so Felecia wouldnt
see her eyes watering or her lips trembling. Compounded with what
Ethan had done yesterday, Felecias words had unhinged something
inside of Sam.

Come on, girls. Felecia jerked her head toward the hall, and
the rest of her company followed her to the exit.
As she listened to their retreating footsteps, Sam clenched her
fist at her side, willing herself not to cry. She no longer wanted to go
skating. She wanted to know what Felecia claimed to know. She
wanted Ethan to tell her everything.

29: From the Beginning

When at last you find someone to whom you feel you can pour out
your soul, you stop in shock at the words you utterthey are so
rusty, so ugly, so meaningless and feeble from being kept in the small
cramped dark inside you so long. Sylvia Plath

Well, you two are particularly quiet this evening, Amanda said
around a mouthful of pasta.

A lot on the brain, Ethan said. School and things. He and

Sam were studiously avoiding looking at each other across the dinner
table.

Im not really hungry, Sam said pushing her pasta around on

her plate. Im going to leave this for tomorrow.

Okay, honey, Amanda said.

Ethan and Sam could feel their parents communicating with
their eyes over their heads.
When Sam got up to put her plate in the fridge, her father
caught her by the wrist. You know, Sam, you can talk to us about
anything, he said.

I know, Sam said. She put her plate in the fridge and washed
her hands in the sink. Im going to the den, she said, giving Ethan a
meaningful glance.
When her footsteps retreated down the hall, Amanda cleared
her throat. Did something happen at school today? Did shetell you
anything?
Ethan shook his head. She didnt say anything to me, he said.

But if you want me to play investigator, Ill find out. He wondered

how his parents would react if they knew he had been looking at his
adoption records the night before.

No. Amanda forced a smile. Dont say anything. Im sure

shell tell us when shes ready.

Okay, Ethan said, scraping his plate clean. He got up and

washed his plate in the sink. Dad, if you discover that a wad of paper
is missing from your printer, I took it. Im doing a very, uh, important
project.
...
Sam had the intro screen for Legend of Zelda up on the big
screen in the den when Ethan walked in. She was sitting on the
couch, fiddling with the Xbox controller but not playing the game.
Ethan sat down beside her.
Ethan ran his fingers through his hair. So, Im sorry for

Dont, Sam interrupted raising one hand in the air, start with
an apology.
Ethan blinked. He knew Sam was hurt, disappointed. But
angry?
Sam turned to face him. Im in the mood for a bedtime story. So
start at the beginning. Her lips held a slight smile, but her eyes didnt
agree with it.

Okay, Ethan said. It started when I was about four. You were
still a baby, maybe a year old. I was in my room one night, back when
we lived in the apartment, and I just felt thisthispresence. I didnt
know what to think. I just knew that something else someone else
was in the room with me. Mom came in, said goodnight, cut the
light out. She didnt notice anything, didnt say anything. Ethan had

turned to Sam, but his eyes were distant, as though he were

remembering that night. When I was sure Mom and Dad were in
bed, I ran around the room, turned on all the lights, and jumped back
in bed. I stayed like that for a while so terrified of the other
presence. It was almost as if I could reach out and touch it His
voice trailed off.

How often did it happen? Sam asked quietly. Was therelike

a pattern?

It happened again and again, Ethan said. There wasnt a

pattern. Some nights it was there, some nights it wasnt. And then,
something changed. I was able to see something. It was like a
shadow: sometimes a dark shadow, sometimes a light shadow.

A light shadow? Sam said.

Yeah, I know that sounds weird, butthats the best way I can
put it. It was light, but in shadow. Ethan paused, pondering the
absurdity of his words. He looked at Sam. Her mouth was open, her
eyes clear, giving him rapt attention. And then I saw the man, Ethan
said. He was tall, and dressed in white. He had wings and light
seemed to emanate from him. He was looking directly at me, and I
knew I just knew he was evil.

What did he do? Sam asked.

I dont know. I mean, I didnt wait around to see. I ran to Mom
and Dads room and told them there was a man in my room. They
came and did the whole Ethan broke off in a frustrated sigh. You
know how parents are. They went around the room, opened the
closet, the dresser drawers, flipped up the sheets and looked under
the bed. The whole time, the demon was standing right there in the
corner of the room smiling like he was enjoying making Mom and
Dad look silly. I was the only one who could see him. Ethan sighed.

That happened a few more times. Id see something and Id run and
get Mom and Dadbut they couldnt see anything at all It was
terrible. Ethan laughed dryly. I slept a lot on the couch after that.
Thats how I learned to get up early; I had to get back in my room
before Mom and Dad got up. Then I started drinking coffee with Mom.
The caffeine helped me get over all the hours I spent awake.

That explains some things, Sam said smiling slightly.

Yeah, Ethan said. Its such a part of me now I dont even
think about it. Anyway, Mom and Dad took me to doctors and
psychologists. They told them I was seeing things, like I was
hallucinating. It didnt help. So I stopped trying to talk with them about
it. Ethan was silent for a few moments.

And then what? Sam said.

When I was seven or eight, I started seeing other things. I
thought they were dreams at first, but they happened when I was
awake too. On top of that, I could remember each of them vividly.
Other people started noticing. When I was in class, Id justblank
out, and teachers thought I wasnt paying attention or daydreaming. I
thought there was something wrong with me. I just wanted it all of
it to stop. It made me think the world was a very dark place, and I
was trapped in the middle of it.

What kind of things did you see?

Lots of stuff. It was very confusing. Battles and bloodshed.
Angels, demons, and other strange creatures. Very old-looking
people like those guys in Lord of the Rings.

Gandalf, Sam offered.

Yes, and the lady whose name started with a G?
Galadriel.

Yes. I had no idea what any of it meant, or even if it meant

anything at all. Ethan blinked rapidly and clenched his fists. And I
still dont. Im seeing more things now. Its not very organized. A few
weeks back, I saw a demon at school. And I dont know whether its
better that no one else could see him, or scarier.

How do you know it was a demon? Sam said.

I dont know, Ethan said. I just know I think, maybe, there
might be somethingdifferent about me. Maybe its genetic. I thought
that finding out about my real parents would give me some hint, some
clue. Maybe its the reason why they got rid of me. I just want to know
why. Thats why I went to, um you know, upstairs last night.

Its okay, Sam said. Im not upset, not anymore. Last night, I
just Its just that you are Patchwork family. Sam didnt finish
what she was saying. She looked up at Ethan, her emerald eyes
communicating what she wanted to say far better than words ever
could.

I know, Ethan said, his voice catching. He pulled her into a

hug, glad that things were cleared up between them.

I hate to sound like Dad, Sam said, her voice muffled against
Ethans shoulder, but you know you can tell me anything, right?

Yeah, I knownow.
Sam sat back, looking decidedly happier. And you know what
Oswald Cobblepot would say?

Yeah, Ethan said. He blinked rapidly. I mean, no. I dont know

what he would say. He shook his head fiercely as though he were
trying to forget something. What would he say?

Walking with a friend in the dark is better than walking alone in

the light. Sam splayed her fingers across Ethans hand which was

resting on the couch. Dont worry. Youll figure everything out. Until
then, she lifted his hand in her palm, friends in the dark?

Yeah. Ethans voice was suddenly distant.

Ethan, youre shaking, Sam said.
Am I? Ethan said. He stared down at his shivering hand as
though it didnt belong to him. His fingers seemed to curl and uncurl
of their own will.

Are you okay?

Im fine, Ethan said blinking his eyes rapidly. He stood up. I
need todo something. He turned toward the entrance of the den,
just as his father stepped into the doorway. He was holding a white
tube about as long as his arm.

This came in the mail for you today, he said.

Ethan took it quickly and held it down by his side hoping his dad
wouldnt see his hand shaking. Thanks, Dad. Goodnight.

Goodnight, son.

30: Dark, Light, and Fire

And it shall come to pass in the last days, saith God, I will pour out
of my Spirit upon all flesh: and your sons and your daughters shall
prophesy, and your young men shall see visions, and your old men
shall dream dreams. Acts 2:17

Ethan let the tube roll from his hand onto his bed. He stared at
his shivering fingers, barely able to control them now. Reaching for
the tube again, he forced his fingers to close around it. It was
postmarked the day before and had come from Akeelas address
which was odd. She had never sent him anything in the mail before.
He ripped the tube open and a roll of paper tumbled out. Ethan
unscrolled it. It was a map of what, he wasnt sure. Some kind of
early birthday present maybe. There was writing along the bottom of
it, but he didnt bother to read it. Setting the map aside, he turned to
his computer desk and the stack of paper he had confiscated from his
fathers printer earlier. He pulled his drawing pencils out of a drawer.
They were still sharp from non-use in recent days.
He gripped the desk chair to keep his balance as his vision
began to blur, his eyelids rapidly flickering open and shut.
An explosion of light and color blasted across his mind. Visions
all of which he had seen before cascaded through his head. He
squeezed his eyes shut. A few moments more, and hed lose control
completely. Fumbling with the keys on his keyboard, he queued up a
playlist of his favorite Thomas Bergersen tracks. The music helped
muting other sounds and stray thoughts and isolating him inside his
visions. As the scenes rushed once more kaleidescope-like to the
fore of his mind, Ethans fingers closed around a pencil and lead met

paper.
He drew feverishly. Possessed by what, he did not know. Every
line, every shading was perfect, as though he had practiced a
thousand times before. Each image flowed seamlessly from his mind
through his fingers and onto the paper the pencil strokes like thin
streams of black blood. The scenes flickered in his mind; four he
knew well for he had seen them often. The altar and the girl who lay
lifeless upon it. The blue-haired boys and the white dragon. The girls
with curved swords threatening to take a babys life. The sinister
laugh as a house burned.

He didnt know how or when he slipped from the plane of

visions to the plane of dreams. Nor, as he slept, did he witness the
battle between Tempters and Whisperers that whirled above his bed.
Eddrick and Sidda had returned with more of their kind to keep the
nightmares at bay. It was crucial that the pathway for the visions be
kept clear.

When Ethan finally awakened, he felt unusually refreshed. He

had slept in his clothes again. He lay still a while longer, relishing the
feeling of his mind at rest. And then he noticed how bright the room
was. It was late Saturday morning.
When he moved to get up, Ethan was met by the sound of
crinkling paper. He looked around him. Strewn on his bed, his desk,
and the floor were the drawings he had made the night before.
Getting up carefully, so as not to disturb the row of papers on his bed,
Ethan stood on top of the mattress and looked down on the room.
The drawings seemed to be spread out in some kind of pattern, as if
he had been trying to put them in order while he was inthe

alternate state? He was wondering exactly what to call that other

state of mind when the door to his bedroom opened behind him.
Amanda stuck her head in, a basket of laundry balanced
against her hip. Ethan. I thought you were still asleep. Which would
have been the third time this week youve slept late. So I was
wondering if you wereokay? Her voice trailed off uncertainly.

Im fine, Mom. Mostly. Ethan put on a smile which he hoped

would show everything was alright. But Amanda didnt notice. She
was glancing around at the pencil drawings on the floor, on the desk,
on the bed. She stooped down picking up the paper nearest to her.
She straightened, sucking in a sharp breath as she gazed at the
paper, which trembled as her hand shivered.
She knows something, Ethan thought.

Is this yoursecret talent? Amanda said, glancing up at

Ethan, inquisitiveness, uncertainty, and fear chasing each other
across her features.
Ethan jumped down from the bed and reached for the paper. I
was just getting organized. He tugged the paper gently until Amanda
let it go and turned to leave without saying another word. As soon as
his bedroom door swung shut, Ethan turned the paper his mother had
picked up toward himself. He bit down on his lip as a face stared back
at him.
It was clearly Sams face, but it lookeddivided. One half was
dark. Not just dark as though heavily shaded with pencil, but
malevolent: the brightness gone from the eye, the happiness gone
from the smile. The other half of Sams face was undoubtedly light,
not just with human brightness, but an otherworldly goodness an
almost angelic quality. Altogether, the effect was hideous and
unnerving. Ethans hand trembled as he held the paper away from

himself. The face looked almost alive. No wonder Amanda had

looked so scared.
A hissing sound arrested Ethans attention. He looked at the
page in his hand again; the bottom left corner of the page had
blackened and curled the way a sheet of newspaper curls when it is
thrown into a fire. The hissing sound continued as a phantom flame
ate away at the page in his hand. A wisp of fire bit at the rest of the
paper, burning away the light side of Sams face and then the dark.
When only a third of the paper was left, Ethan dropped it on the
floor. A thin line of fire gobbled up the rest of the page. And then it
was gone the fire and the paper.

31: Fugue
A dreamer is one who can only find his way by moonlight, and his
punishment is that he sees the dawn before the rest of the world.
Oscar Wilde

The Sepharda family lived in a trendy high rise complex on the

edge of downtown Houston. The afternoon sun glistened off the white
stone and glass exterior, bright rays mingling with the glare from
nearby skyscrapers. After handing their bikes over to a valet who
tagged and parked them, Ethan and Sam got on the shiny glass
elevator.

Id live here just to do this every day, Sam said as they shot
up, the lobby rapidly growing small beneath them. Ethan adjusted the
thick folder under his arm.

Eleventh floor, a synthetic voice announced as the elevator

doors slid open.

Ethan rang the bell beside the silver mezuzah. A stocky,

bespectacled man opened the door. He was bald and had a wiry, saltand-pepper goatee.

Hello, Mr. Sepharda. Were here to see Akeela, Ethan said.

Shes in her room, Akeelas father said. He pointed at their
feet. Shoes off, remember.

Right, Ethan said. He and Sam took off their sneakers and set
them beside the six other pairs of shoes inside the front door.
As Ethan and Sam stepped into the living room, one of Akeelas

younger brothers, Max, ran to meet them. Theodore had babies! he

announced. Come seecome seecome see. He led them over to
the couch where a wicker basket lined with soft blankets rested.
Inside the basket, was Maxs pet hamster, Theodore, and three
smaller hamsters curled up next to their mother. This ones Zachary,
this ones Ulysses, and this ones Rutherford, Max said, pointing to
each of the hamsters in turn. Another adult hamster, Woodrow, was
perched like a sentry beside the basket. Youre a proud poppa, arent
you? Max said, patting the hamsters nose.
Maxs fourteen-year-old brother, Cesar, was taking artsy photos
of the hamsters. He had a head of thick black hair, strands of which
seemed to turn silver or purple when the light fell on it a certain way.
Hey, you, he said to Sam.

Hey, Cesar, Sam said.

Cesars setting up an Instagram page for all our photos of the
hamsters, Max said. Theyre going to be the most famous hamster
family in the world.

Like those cute hedgehogs? Sam said.

Exactly!
Now that you know for sure Theodore is a girl hamster,
shouldnt you give her a girls name? Ethan said.

Yeah, but we havent had any female presidents, Max said.

So, until then

Maybe in a year you can name her Hillary, Cesar said as he

snapped another photo. Or maybe not.

Well, we gotta go see Akeela about something, Ethan said.

You too, Sam? Cesar said.

Yeah. We wont be longI think, Sam said.

Cesar sighed and muttered something to himself as Ethan and
Sam disappeared into the hallway.
Max gave his brother a knowing look. Aha, shes the girl youve
been writing those songs about, he said with obvious glee.

Shut up. Cesar glanced toward the hall, hoping Sam was far
down enough that she hadnt heard. He turned back to Max. No
shes not. And quit reading my stuff.

Yes, she is. Yes, she is. Yes, she is, Max chanted, dancing
around in a circle.

Fine, no more hamster pictures. Cesar put down the camera.

Max looked dismayed. Please, please, please finish.

Only if you promise to leave my songs alone.

Okay, I promise, Max said.
Say it three times.
Promise, promise, promise.

Every inch of the walls in Akeelas room was hidden behind a

bookshelf. Each bookshelf was stuffed with books. There were even
stacks of books crammed into the spaces between the bookshelves.
Ethan knocked on the door which stood slightly ajar.
Akeela spun around slowly in her desk chair. Brown eyes
peered through rimless glasses. Her black hair was tied back in a
ponytail, her face the complexion of desert sand.

Hey, Ethan said.

Did you know that in seventeenth century Western Europe,

tulips were thought to be so valuable that they were treated as a form
of currency? Akeela said.

And that matters, why? Ethan said, setting his folder on her
desk. Sam came in behind him and shut the door.

The funny thing is that tulips only have a lifespan of up to a

week so

Ill sign up for the rest of the obscure-facts-about-flowers

speech later, Ethan said.

Whats that? Akeela reached for the folder.

Ethan placed his palm on the folder pinning it to the desk.

Dont tease me. Akeelas eyes flashed with curiosity.

Ethan smiled and removed his hand. Akeela opened the folder
and sucked in her bottom lip. Who drew this?

I did, Ethan said.

Says the guy who couldnt draw stick figures in kindergarten.
Still cant draw stick figures, Sam said. She turned around and
ran her finger along the spines of the books on an overstuffed shelf.

So what is this? Akeela gave Ethan a skeptical glance.

Look, I know this sounds weird, but it just happens. All that
Ethan jabbed a finger at the stack of pencil drawings I drew it in
one night. Its likean impulse. I see this stuff in my head and I just
have to draw it, to make it real.

You see it, like in a dream?

No, theyre not dreams. It happens when Im asleep but mostly
when Im awake. And once I see this stuff, its like its burned into my

brain. I dont forget it.

So, youre hallucinating then?

How can someone hallucinate all that, huh? Ethan started to
pace in the tiny floor space between Akeelas bed and computer
desk. I can see things that other people cant.

What things? Akeela said.

Angels and demons, Ethan said. When we were flying back
from California, I saw angels and demons fighting in the sky outside
the plane.

Wow. Akeela took off her glasses and rubbed the space
between her eyes. And how long has this been going on?

Ever since I can remember.

I have an idea, Akeela said slowly. You say its like an
impulse, something you cant control?

Yeah.
The only thing I can compare it to would be a fugue state.
A what? Sam said, and Ethan was thinking the same.
A fugue state. Its a psychological condition where someone
seems to forget who they are temporarily. Its almost like another
person takes over their thoughts and actions. The state can last for
minutes, hours sometimes months. Akeela looked uncomfortable
for a moment before continuing. Some artists have described
experiencing a similar condition when they are painting or making
music.

Like Cesar?
Yeah, he said something weird like that once. But I dont think

he has a condition.
Ethan shivered though the room was warm. When I do these
drawings, thats what it feels like. Like Im just a vessel and someone
else is in control.

Do you fight it? Akeela said.

I dont know if I canor if I should.
Thats just one of what I am sure are several explanations.
Akeela said as she started looking through Ethans drawings again.
Frowning as she looked at one particular drawing, she discretely set it
aside from the others.

I hope the other possible explanations are less freakysounding, Sam said as she turned back to Akeelas book shelves. I
think I found something of yours, Ethan, she said as she pulled a
long roll of paper out of a corner between two shelves.

Hey, dont touch that, Akeela said, spinning around in her

chair.

It has Ethans name on it, Sam said.

Akeela got up and took the roll of paper from Sam. I got it a few
weeks ago from a cousin who lives in England. It was supposed to be
a surprise for Ethans birthday, she said as she untied the string
around the paper and started to unroll it. But since youve spoiled the
surprise She held up the unrolled poster and looked up at Ethan.
Ethan stared at the map for what seemed like a long time. His
eyes darkened. Its the same one, he muttered.
Akeela looked down at the map. What?

Its the same one, Ethan said again, pointing at the map and
taking a step away from it. The same one I got in the mail from you

yesterday.

I didnt send you anything in the mail.

I know. Thats the problem. Ethan looked at his drawings
spread out on Akeelas desk. He rushed over and started to gather
them up, quickly shuffling them back into the folder. This was a
mistake.
Akeela grabbed Ethans arm. She had tossed the map on her
bed. Wait, what are you talking about? Ethan kept gathering his
drawings. Akeela grabbed his other arm and turned him around.
Explain yourself.

Someone knows, Ethan said, his voice heavy and frightened.

He was sweating. About me. About this. He jabbed a finger at the
folder. And now they know about you. I should have never come to
you about this. He grabbed the now full folder off of his desk and
turned to leave.

Wait, I can help you, Akeela said. Who knows?

Dangerous people. Ethan remembered being kidnapped by
the dark angel and the dark girl. You cant help me. I dont want you
to try. Understand?

Yeah, Akeela said slowly as Ethan left. Sam gave her an

apologetic shrug and followed her brother out.
When they were gone, Akeela slid the drawing she had set
aside back to the center of her desk. She stared at it for a very long
time.

32: Burned
Every man is guilty of all the good he did not do. Voltaire

Mournful grey clouds stumbled across the sky, shoved along by

fitful gusts of wind.

Why does everybody look so sad? Sam asked as she, Ethan,

and Pixie passed the entrance to the school.

Something bad happened, Pixie said. I can feel it.

Look, there. Ethan pointed to the chain-link fence where a few
of the boys he recognized from the football team were unrolling a
white paper banner. They watched as the words on the banner were
revealed.
GOODBYE, JOE WAYNE. RIP.
Ethan felt a fist of cold ice churning in his gut. Fire flickered
behind his eyes. He had seen this coming. He knew he had. He
grabbed the arm of a kid walking by. How did it happen? he asked
nodding toward the banner that hung on the fence. Kids were signing
their names on it now and scrawling hopeful messages.

Fire. House burned down. He was home alone, the kid said.
The cold ice shot up through Ethans body and seized his heart.
The world spun off-kilter. He saw the house again, the fire. He could
feel the heat.
The kid wormed his way out of Ethans grasp. Were all upset
about it, but your eyes are changing color, and you look like youre
about to throw up, so Im gonna scram.
Ethan stood there for a moment, wondering how he couldnt

have known. Maybe he had been so intent on getting out of the vision
that he hadnt considered that he could very well be seeing the future
a future he could possibly change.
Sam pulled Ethans sleeve, snapping him back to reality.
Anitas going to be so distraught. Im gonna go, she said. And,
remember, Mom is picking me up for a doctors appointment early
today so dont wait around for me.

Fine, Ethan nodded.

Sam glanced at Pixie who was distracted, talking to other
students, then leaned in to Ethans side. Dont blame yourself, she
whispered. Theres nothing you could have done.

Thanks, Ethan said, but he wasnt so sure. As Sam left to

cross the street to her own school, he took a deep breath determined
to get through the day. That was when he heard it. Laughter.
His heart lurched, because he had heard it before in the very
same fire vision. And even before that in the gym with Zach.

I know who did it, Ethan murmured.

What? Pixie had reappeared at his side.
I know who set the fire at Joe Waynes house.
And that person is Pixie gave Ethan a skeptical look.
Him, Ethan said, nodding toward the tall boy with the four-inch
high red mohawk. Arioc was laughing and smiling as he walked with
his brother, Alfred, through the mass of students that had
congregated on the high schools front lawn. He burned down Joe
Waynes house.

And you know that, how?

He said he wanted to be quarterback. He hated that the coach

chose Wayne.
Pixie pulled Ethan away from the crowd. Half the boys in this
school wish they could be quarterback, she said. That doesnt mean
he did it.

Theres also another reason I know its him. Ariocs laughter

was replaying over and over in Ethans head now. And I cant tell you
what it is.

Why not?
Ethan bit his lip. Because itd be dangerous for you.

But not for you?

You wont understand.
Pixie shook her head. So, what are you going to do? Just call
the police and accuse someone of arson and murder?

Exactly that, yes.

Youre insane. Pixies eyes stopped mid-roll. Is she going to
jump?

Who? Ethan turned in the direction Pixie was facing

A girl stood atop the three-story building that housed most of the
classrooms. She wore black cargo pants and a black tank top that left
her brown arms bare. The wind swished her chin-length black hair
about her face.

Shes not going to jump, Ethan said. To him, she looked

watchful, like a guardian.

You know her?

No. But Ethan felt like he should.
When other students started to point and stare, the girl on the

roof turned and ran toward the far edge of the building.

Oh, no, Pixie clapped her hand over her mouth.

The girl vaulted off the edge of the building, curled herself into a
ball mid-air and somersaulted to the ground, landing in a hero pose
left knee down, right hand splayed against the ground. And then
she was up and gone, vanishing into the woods.

The rest of the day floated by like a ship meandering through a

listless sea. There were sad faces, happy stories, and teachers
pretending they were experts on grief. Miss Kay was appropriately
dressed in all black. The only excitement came when two uniformed
police officers entered the classroom and told Arioc they were taking
him into custody.

Youre under arrest for arson and manslaughter in the death of

Joseph Wayne, an officer named Steinbrenner said. You have the
right to remain silent. You have the right to an attorney
Ethan didnt like the smirk Arioc wore or the expression in his
cold eyes that sent drops of cold dread into Ethans stomach. He
wished he could melt into his seat.

You knew, Akeela said as she caught up to Ethan after school.

Ethan just looked at her. Students surged around them toward
the exit.

You were right about this. Akeela unfolded a sheet of paper

from her notebook and held it out. It was Ethans drawing of a house
on fire Joe Waynes house.

What are you doing with that? Ethan grabbed for the paper,

but Akeela jerked it out of his reach.

I slipped it out of your folder before you left yesterday. The

house looked familiar. I kept trying to figure out where I had seen it
before, Akeela said. I didnt recognize it until I heard this morning
Joe and I were, you know, together last year. She bit down on her
lip.
Ethan felt sick. He hadnt remembered. Im sorry, he said.
Akeela shook her head. Its okay. And thats not the point
anyway. She held up Ethans drawing. This is. You saw it before it
happened.

And I didnt I couldnt do anything to stop it.

Again, not the point, Akeela said. You can see the future at
least some of it. Imagine what you can do with that.
Ethan could nearly see the gears churning in Akeelas mind.
No, he said, theres a lot I still dont know.

Then well figure it out, Akeela said. I have a

No. We wont, Ethan said.
What are you talking about? We have to.
I have to.
Akeela blinked. Okay. Fine. Ill help.

No, you cant help, Ethan said. I have to figure it out on my

own.

You dont get it. Someone just died and you saw it before it
happened, Akeela said emphatically, shoving the drawing against
Ethans chest.

Yes, and thats exactly why I dont want you involved in any of

this. Ethan pulled his drawing from Akeelas hand and turned and
walked away as his friend stared after him in bewilderment.

33: Retribution
Rain was coming down in sheets when school let out the next
day. Ethan pulled a musty raincoat out of his locker to wear on the
walk home. It was dark green and felt tight around his shoulders. His
mother had pulled Sam out of school early for a doctors
appointment, so he walked home alone.
Above the rain and the Two Steps From Hell tracks pulsing in his
head, he didnt hear the car pull up alongside him. When he thought
he heard a horn honking, he looked to the street.
A deep purple-colored Jaguar slinked along in the rain beside
him. The driver rolled down the window.
It was Nicolai. Looks like you need a ride, son.
Ethan gave him a dark look. Keep driving.

Youre getting drenched, and Im going right by your house.

Ethan yanked out his earbuds and bent down so he could look
Nicolai in his brown eyes. How about you not go by my house
ever. He straightened and turned left into an alley that served as a
shortcut to the road that ran in front of his house.
The brick walls on either side of the alley provided some shelter
from the rain. Ethan could hear Nicolais faint laughter following him
into the alley. He was about to put his earbuds back in when a
shadow cast over the far end of the alley made him pause.
Another shadow joined the first, then they both vanished.
Whatever it was moved too fast to be human, but was too tall to be
any type of animal he could think of. Stuffing his earbuds in his

pocket, Ethan took a closer look at his surroundings. There was a fire
escape on the left side of the alley; there was an overflowing
dumpster down by where the other end of the alley opened onto the
street.
The shadows emerged in the middle of the alley it was two or
three people, Ethan thought. Then he saw it was four.
The Tagram boys, minus their arrested brother. Of course they
knew it was him who had notified the police. How Ethan knew this he
wasnt sure, but it seemed apparent now. He looked over his
shoulder, thinking about making a run back to the road, but then
theyd know he was scared of them. He stepped into the middle of
the alley instead. You all know hes guilty, he called.

What is it to you? one of them called back. It was Albert, the

wrestler.
Ethan shrugged. You cant just go around killing people, he
said.
Albert separated from his brothers and stepped closer to Ethan.
You cant just go around letting them get killed.
Ethan was silent.

You know, Albert continued, you almost made me doubt you

had the chosai traits, that youre just a pretender. Any decent seer
would have tried to stop an innocent person from being killed. But
you saw what would happen in those little dreams of yours, and you
did nothing. Albert was standing toe-to-toe with Ethan now; he was
shorter by half a head, but Ethan found himself trembling.

I didnt Ethans words died on his lips. The rain seemed to

still around him. He gritted his teeth and said, How do you know
about my dreams?

Ari told me. Albert smiled with satisfaction. The least you
could have done is called in a tip to the police, he said. Instead, you
let an innocent boy die. Consider this just retribution.
Ethan didnt see the punch coming. He just felt it, slamming into
the side of his face. His head whipped around so fast that he was
sure his neck would snap. Blinding pain lanced through his head. He
staggered backward, sucking in air, and was met with another punch,
this time from behind from one of Alberts brothers.
Ethan tried to stay on his feet, looking for a chance to escape,
but he was surrounded. The punches rained down until he fell
beneath them. He was wet all over and he couldnt tell what was rain
and what was blood. After several vicious kicks to his side, he felt the
crack of his ribs breaking. Pain shot up his side and around his torso.
He rolled over, shielding his side against the wall.
At last, he felt something hard he was still alive enough to
think it was a brick slam into the right side of his forehead. He felt
the skin breaking, the pain arcing through his skull, and his brain
shutting down.
The darkness took him, but as it did, his inner eye opened, as
though a veil had been torn in reality.
Was this death?
He was looking down on his body in the rain-washed alley. There
was blood coming from his head, his side, and his arms. Four
demons hovered around, raining down blows. But now, Ethan didnt
feel the pain.
He focused on a pinprick of light above their heads just a dot,
but as white as snow, brighter than the sun. It grew larger and larger,
like a window to another world. It seemed as though the light in the

ever-growing circle was wrestling with itself. It convulsed and folded

in on itself over and over, a swirling mass of ever-growing brightness.
And then
An angel burst from the circle wings outspread, sword
outstretched. Though his face was young and vigorous, he had
glowing white hair. The tips of the feathers in his brilliant (and
otherwise white) wings gleamed a vibrant blue.
The angel howled with wrath. But Ethan could hear nothing at
this point. He watched as the demons turned and lunged toward the
angel all at once. Beneath their combined weight, they forced him to
the ground.
But the angel rose again, whirling about in a circle, his wings
outstretched. Ethan realized that the angels wings were weapons,
the finely sharpened feathers doubled as dagger blades. The demons
howled in pain as they were shredded by the angels wings.
Darkness closed in on Ethans vision. He could see no more.

34: Patient X
Ethan awakened to a fog in his brain. Slowly, thoughts trickled in.
He was laying on something soft, not the pavement of a rain-soaked
alley. He felt marvelously dry. But there was something thick and
heavy on his right side. Why does my head hurt so bad?
He remembered being beaten up by Alfred and his brothers, but
nothing else. His head throbbed with pain, making him want to go
back to sleep or whatever state he was in before he started to
think about things. He stopped trying to think and focused on getting
back to that sweet, sweet slumber, where his head didnt hurt so.
But what was that annoying beeping sound? He had been
hearing it all along. He wished it would go away, but wishing didnt
appear to work on it, so he opened his eyes.
Turning his head to the source of the sound, he saw a black
screen on a pole. A white line tracked across it, flat at first and then
jumping up into tiny jagged mountains. He was in a hospital.
How did I get here? That wonderment was strong enough to
keep him awake a few moments longer, but as there was no one
around to address the issue, he gradually descended into a sleepy
stillness.
It was then that a door swung open on the other side of the bed,
and a shaft of bright light entered. In the bright light came a man in a
white coat carrying a clipboard.

Youre awake, the doctor said, scribbling something on his

clipboard. Thats a good sign, Patient X.

Names Ethan, Ethan said from the bed.

Responsive, thats good. The doctor frowned as though an

unpleasant thought had just occurred to him. He set his clipboard
down and started checking the machines by Ethans bedside.
Ethan started to sit up, put pain bled from his right side and
sucked his breath out of his lungs. He sank back onto the pillows
breathing raggedly.

Youve got three broken ribs, two fractures, bruises all over your
back and arms. Luckily, none of your vital organs were injured. Youll
be in recovery for about six weeks.

Uh-huh, Ethan mumbled. The doctor leaned over and shone a

penlight into his eye. Ethan blinked.

Your responses are still sluggish. And it looks like you got hit
over the head with a rock or something. Nasty swelling.

It was a brick, Ethan said.

You remember that! the doctor said. I was about to give you
the whole short-term-memory-loss speech. What happened to you?

Got beat up, Ethan shrugged, pain sparking along his back
and upper arm as he did so. How did I get here?

Someone found you in an alley and called emergency services.

You were a sight, I hear, what with the rain and blood and dirt. The
EMTs said some redhead was there when they picked you up. The
cops would have gotten a statement out of her if she hadnt vanished
so fast. The doctor picked up his clipboard again. Oh, well, he said
as he flipped a page over. Next of kin, he muttered. Speaking of
Do you know Amanda Eclaan?

Yes, shes my mother, Ethan said. Why?

The doctor let out a sharp breath and sat down in the chair

beside the bed.

Ethans heart rate quickened.

I hate to tell you this now, the doctor said. But your mother
was in a car accident.

What? When? Ethan struggled to sit up, but the pain in his side
kept him prone.

Yesterday, she was taking your sister home from the dentist
when she was broadsided. Threw her off the road; car flipped over.
Ethans fist clenched the thin hospital blanket. Is she okay?

Shes alive, has a broken leg, a few cuts and bruises.

And Sam?
The doctor looked down at his clipboard. Your sisters fine, he
said. Seems like she got away without a scratch.
....
Sam stood just outside the entrance to her mothers hospital
room waiting for her father to return. As soon as the doctor informed
them that Ethan had been hospitalized, she had wanted to see him.
But Reagan insisted on going first. Both had been trying to call him
since the previous afternoon following the car accident. But he never
answered, and Sam, who was significantly shaken not just by her
mothers injury, but by her own lack of injury had begun to
entertain terrifying ideas about what might have happened.

Guilt and blame are such useless emotions, a soft voice said
from behind her.
Sam turned. Felicia was standing behind her, a few feet away.
She was wearing high heels, a sepia colored pantsuit, and a silky
pale purple blouse. She looked as if she had just stepped out of

Amandas accounting office. The diamond pendant winked beneath

the hollow of her throat.

What are you doing here? Sams hands clenched into fists at
her side.

I take it you wouldnt be too pleased if I said I was worried

considering the accident youve been in, Felicia said.

Why do you even care? Who are you?

Felicias dark eyes were steady. If I told you who I really was,
youd run screaming down the hall.

I wont, Sam said hotly. What do you want from me?

I want your trust, Felicia said.
Yes, and youve done absolutely everything to earn it. Sam
took a step toward Felicia as a nurse hurried past. She hesitated,
casting Sam a worried look.

Not everything, Felicia said. She reached in the pocket of her

suit jacket. I know your brother also lies injured. He will be
incapacitated for weeks as he heals. But he doesnt have to be. She
pulled a closed fist out of her pocket and opened her hand. Resting in
her palm was a tiny bottle cut from what looked like black glass. Sam
thought she could make out a liquid substance frisking within the
confines of the bottle. Give him this and his wounds will heal
instantly.
Sam glanced around wondering how much longer her father
would be gone. What is it?

A potion made from substances you wouldnt recognize,

Felicia said.

How do I know its not poison?

Felicia held out her hand. Give it to your brother and see that its
not. She smiled.

You drink it, Sam said.

If I did there wouldnt be enough left to have the full effect on
your brother. Besides, Im not ill.
Sam bit her lip. How does it work?

Youre stalling, Felicia said. It works fine if you pour it in a

glass of water.
Sam took another step forward, her green eyes burning with
suspicion. Are there any side effects?

Either he heals fast, he heals slow, or he dies. Felicias voice

dropped to a whisper. Its your choice. She raised her open palm,
the black glass glinting in the pale hospital lights.

35: Supernatural Considerations

The pain-killing drugs had Ethan numb when his father came to
visit. He could see him, hear him talking, feel him holding his hand,
but it all came through very slowly as if he were seeing through fog.
He couldnt remember his father holding his hand since second
grade. Sometime during the visit, he fell asleep. He awakened hours
later as the door to his room opened again.
Two police officers came in. Ethan recognized one of them
Steinbrenner, the one who had come to the school to arrest Arioc. He
had a square jaw and small eyes set beneath eyebrows arched like
mountain peaks. He spun the chair around by the bed and sat down,
crossing his arms over the chairs back. His partner stood beside him
with a legal pad, ready to write down answers.

So, early yesterday evening you were attacked by four

assailants? Steinbrenner said.

Yes. Mindlessly, Ethan tried to sit up in the bed, but the pain in
his side sapped the strength from his arms and he sagged against
the pillow.

Do you know these assailants? Do you know why they attacked

you?

Yes. Ethan gave the officer their names and why they had
attacked him

And what has your relationship been with them in the past?
Were not friends, Ethan said.
Steinbrenner folded his arms and leaned back, squinting at

Ethan. You seem reluctant to answer our questions.

Ethan sighed. Its pointless, he said. Youre going to go after
them; youre going to ask me if I want to press charges. And Im
going to say no.
Steinbrenners eyebrows went up, the mountain peaks touched
the light grey cloud of hair that sat on his head. Why?

Because theyre nottheyre not You wont believe me if I tell

you.

Try us, Steinbrenners partner said. His name was Dolce.

Weve seen some pretty strange stuff.

Theyre nothuman, Ethan said. Steinbrenners peaks were

hidden behind the clouds.
Dolce made a surprised grunt in his throat. So, theyre what
aliens?

Something worse, but you can classify them as such if it helps.

So, you were attacked by four aliens who were mad because
you reported their brother for murder? Steinbrenner said. And this
brother is also an alien?
Ethan nodded.

Man, that rock to your head really did a number on you, Dolce
said.

It was a brick. Ethan pointed to the bandage on his forehead.

A brick did this.
Steinbrenner and Dolce looked at him hard, and Ethan thought
they realized he was telling the truth.

You think we need to get the SIU on this one? Dolce said,

turning to Steinbrenner. He meant it to be a whisper but Ethan heard.

Whats the SIU?

Steinbrenner reached inside his pocket and pulled out his wallet.
Look, kid, if you dont want to press charges, fine. But if you have
any more trouble out of these characters, call this man. He deals with
this kind of stuff. He handed Ethan a white business card with two
lines of black lettering.
Ethan took it. Above the lines was a small logo a faceless
silhouette of glasses atop a wiry goatee. Beneath it Jack
DeMaalo; and underneath that a phone number.
....
After the cops left, Ethan looked at the business card for a
moment before setting it on the bedside table.Jack DeMaalo. Hed
have Zach look the man up.
For now, he was hungry. He was looking at the call button on the
hospital bed apparatus and wondering if a patients hunger warranted
enough of an emergency to call a nurse when a noise from the
window arrested his attention. There was a solid cracking noise, and
the curtains billowed into the room like ship sails filled with brisk, cool
October air. The curtains split and a bright shaft of daylight came in,
blinding Ethan and making his head throb with pain. (He hadnt
realized how dim the room was before.)
Ethan squinted, bright yellow spots bursting beneath his eyelids.
He raised his hand to block the daylight, and when he lowered it, Ari
stood there, backlit by the shifting orange-yellow glow that fringed the
curtains.

What do you have against doors? Ethan said, wishing he could

sit up.

Ari didnt say anything. She just walked closer to the bed, and
Ethan noticed that she had his backpack slung over her shoulder.
They tried to kill me, he said. At least they didnt steal my stuff.
Ari looked him over, her gaze wincing. Ive had broken ribs
before. Hurts like hell, she said, letting his backpack slide to the floor
by the bedside. Its good you still have your sense of humor. You will
need it. She reached in her pocket and pulled out his phone. People
have been calling you on this.
Ethan took the phone, their fingertips touching for the briefest of
seconds. I suppose you werent nice enough to tell them I hadnt
fallen off the face of the earth, he said.
Ari looked like she was going to say something, but thought
better of it. Her eyes went to the bedside table. Who gave you this?
she said picking up the business card with Jack DeMaalos name and
number on it.

Why does it matter? Ethan noticed the way her eyebrows

knotted in apprehension.

You havent been talking to him have you?

And if I have? Ethan said, letting the question hang.
He never got an answer. Aris head whipped toward the still open
window. She sniffed sharply, turned and whipped the curtains aside.
Sunlight flooded into the room as Ari climbed into the frame and
jumped out.
Ethans cell phone beeped in his hand. The battery was going
dead. The messaging icon indicated he had forty-three unread
messages. He tapped it and saw instantly that most of them were
from Pixie. It had been nearly twenty-four hours since theyd last
communicated. The tenor of her messages gradually descended from

worried (Where r u?) to frustrated (Why are none of you answering

your phones? and Why is no one home?) to furious (If you ran off
to Burning Man without me, I am going to kill you when you get
back!, and finally a red-faced angry demon emoji with horns and
puffs of smoke coming out of its ears).
....
Sam wandered the halls of the hospital, fist clenched tightly
around the cut glass bottle in her coat pocket. The sharp edges of the
black bottle bit into her palm. Why did good things potentially good
things come in such awful sounding packages? She half-expected
Felicia to reappear, taunting her for being so spineless.
Then again, Felicia had given Sam no reason to trust her. This
was the test.
Weary of wandering in circles, Sam finally slouched into a chair
in the tiny waiting area down the hall from Ethans room.
She watched the nurses wheeling carts with covered trays up
and down the hallway. It was a few minutes before she realized that it
must be mealtime. Felicia had said the potion needed to be dissolved
in water. Sam waited until a nurse knocked at Ethans door, and then
followed her in.

36: Offspring of Angels

In freefall from the hospital window, Ari notched an arrow to her
bow and let it fly. It sped toward the figure leaving the hospital parking
lot.
The succubus the same one that Ari had tracked into the
woods a few days earlier spun to the side and snatched the arrow
out of the air.
Hate it when they do that, Ari thought as her boots smacked
against the asphalt. She sent two more arrows singing from her
bowstring. One just missed her neck; the other buried itself in her left
shoulder.
The succubus went down, but only long enough to tear the arrow
head out of her shoulder. She rose again, a thick, curved blade in her
right hand, the wound in her left arm already closing up. She looked
dead-eyed at Ari as she stalked closer. I really hate shopping for
these suits, she said.

I told you to stay away from the Revenant, Felicia of Morgana,

Ari said. She pulled her katana from its sheath on her back, the silversteel blade singing with energy.

I found his current disposition a moment of opportunity, but I

meant him no harm. In fact, you will find that his injuries will heal
much faster thanks to my intervention.
Ari grimaced, but kept her voice cool. It is ill-advised to use the
remedies of angels on mortal flesh.

Typical Nephilim, Felicia scoffed. Always underestimating

Liliths Children. You forget that I, too, am the offspring of angels, and
we both know that the Revenant is no mere mortal.

Ari tightened her grip on the katanas hilt and closed the gap
between herself and Felicia. Why would you heal that which you
hate?

I have motivations far deeper than you can imagine, Felicia

said. She whipped her blade upward, placing the razor-sharp edge at
her opponents throat. Your constant meddling is vexing me, and
next time we meet
As she felt the blood in her neck beating hot against the
succubus sword-edge, she became aware of a dark blur shot
through with blue racing toward them. The next moment, the pressure
from Felicias sword was gone, the curved blade skipping over the
asphalt. Felicia had a sword tip at her neck, an arm cinched tight
around her waist. A bright-eyed face topped with electric blue hair
appeared over her shoulder.

Whos vexing who now? Keiland grinned.

Felicia strained in Keilands grasp. Pretending momentarily to
give up, she jerked her head downward, sinking her teeth into
Keilands arm.
Keiland grunted in surprise, and looked down at the bloody, torn
flesh on his arm. Felicia grinned manically, blood smeared on her lips.
She kicked out of Keilands grasp and lunged for Ari who sidestepped
her blow, spinning around to swipe her legs out from under her with
the flat of her katana.
Felicia grunted as her back slammed into the ground. Ari leaned
over her. You cant win, she said.

But you wont kill me, Felicia said.

Leave now or I will.
Felicia got up slowly and retrieved her sword.

37: Nicolais Plans

Youre letting her go? Keiland said. She tried to bite my arm
off!

Ive done worse, Ari said as she watched Felicia vanish in the
distance. She turned to Keiland, lifting his arm in her hands. Even
now, the wound was closing broken veins reconnecting, flesh
mending, skin rethreading. She let his arm go and looked him in the
eye. What are you still doing here, Keiland?
The color rose in his cheeks as his gaze darted away from hers.
He shoved a hand into his hair and clenched a fist full of strands as
though he were going to pull them right out of his scalp. Ari saw the
muscles in his neck bulge, the way they did when he was working up
a lie. This time, she saved him from it. Hes here isnt he? Braydens
in the city.
Keiland returned his gaze to Ari, ten different kinds of pain
written in his eyes. He nodded once.

I guess its no use telling you again to let it go to let him

go, Ari said.
Keiland shrugged. What can I say? Hes my brother, my twin. I
just need to know what hes doing. No telling what kind of devilry hes
got up to in all this time.
Ari laughed dryly. Sometimes, I wondered if he was the devil.

I promise Ill keep him away from you, Keiland said.

You cant do that. Hes persistent.
Im persistent. Hes just annoying. Keiland turned and headed

for the wide, tree-lined boulevard that ran in front of the hospital. A
mild breeze stirred the leaves, as the afternoon sun cast the whole
street in dancing, dappled shadow. Enough about sad things; lets
move on to the truly morbid. What has Nicolai been up to lately?

Im not sure, but hes planning something something big. Ari

dropped her voice to a whisper. Hes been summoning an Angel by
the lake. An Archangel, more powerful than Mazon.

That is big, Keiland said. Mortals arent supposed to be able

to summon angels at will.

Hes not mortal, Ari said. Maybe hes a godling. That would
explain

Godlings are extinct, Keiland scoffed.

They are not, Ari said. They are in St. Alveus text which I
actually read while you were enamored with Maidre.

As I remember it, Maidre was enamored with me, Keiland said.

Anyway, Id say Nicolai is one of the Elder Races who we know
for sure are not extinct.

That would explain his lack of a footprint, Ari said thoughtfully.

No past. He must have multiple past identities.

I suppose you havent heard what Nicolai and his Archangel

friend are actually saying.

No, I cant get close enough to hear without risking getting

discovered. Nicolai might not notice me, but the Archangel will. Ari
frowned. Probably already has. Besides, Nicolai erects a glamour
wall around himself. Nothing gets in or gets out. Ive seen birds fly
into it and bounce off. She sighed. Look, I have to get back. Ive
been away from home for too long too frequently. Someones going to
get suspicious. See you again soon?

Keiland put his arm around Aris shoulder and pulled her into a
side hug. You bet.

38: Conclave I
Rion took his seat in the Great Hall of Liliths Children. His
lieutenant, Sadhu, sat beside him. Around them sat a quorum of Jinn
from the Clan Morgana. Spread out on either side of them were the
Jinn, the male descendants of Lilith, ordered according to their clans.
The rows of seats cascaded from near the ceiling of the Great Hall to
the floor.
The middle of the Hall was a clear, wide strip of marble. At one
end were the great wooden double doors. They were closed now. At
the other end of the floor were seven regal high-backed chairs one
for each of the major clans Regents. The chairs were facing a raised
dais, which had a sweep of steps leading up to its platform. On one of
the steps was a waist-high pedestal with a silver bell and a silver
hammer atop it. Upon the dais was the Ivory Throne which had sat
empty for centuries. Behind the Throne, soaring upward to the high
ceiling, was a vertical wall of water as though a lake or a pool had
been turned on its side without any of the water spilling out. Rion
wondered if there was some magic holding up the wall of water or
whether gravity just didnt work the same way in the Dark Kingdom.
Across from where he was seated, on the other side of the open
space, was another series of seats sweeping upward. The succubi
the female offspring of Lilith filled these seats. One column of
seats, as usual, was empty.
Above the seats, windows hewn out of the stone walls of the
chamber opened onto the eternal night of the Dark Kingdom.
Boom boom boom-boom. BOOM! A slow, throbbing
drumbeat began outside the Hall as the great doors were thrust open.

Every head in the room turned toward the entrance.

First to enter was the Mother Regent, Celeste of the Clan Sheba.
Her thick braided hair was coiled on top of her head. Intertwined
among the braids was her icon, a blood red serpent with golden eyes.
Its tongue flickering in and out of its mouth. As the members of her
clan cheered loudly, she walked no, glided toward her seat in
the middle of the row of high-backed chairs, her gold-gilded scarlet
dress sweeping the floor.
Boom. Boom!
Behind her came Leah, the Regent of the Clan Cleopatra. She
wore a diaphanous white dress that hung down to her ankles. Her
waist was girded with a gold cord. Atop her head was a golden tiara,
a part of which hung down into the middle of her forehead.
Embedded in the center of the tiara was her icon, a living eye.
Boom. Boom!
Next came Hagia, the Regent of the Clan Naamah. Her face was
mostly hidden by her straggly black hair which hung unkempt
revealing haunted eyes. She wore a tattered gray cloak and walked
slowly on bare feet. Her icon, a shaggy grey wolf, paced along beside
her, its padded feet silent on the marble floor.
Boom. Boom!
Behind her, came Nessa, the Regent of the Clan Persephone.
Her knee-length dress was as black as her skin was white, almost as
if it had been painted. A ring of tiny black flowers adorned her head. A
great black dog so tall that Nessa easily rested her hand between
its ears kept pace beside her, swishing its tail from side to side.
Unlike the members of the other clans, the members of Persephone
remained deathly silent as their leader entered. Even the drummers

missed their beat.

The cold, hard wave of silence was broken by the entrance of
the fifth Regent Felicia of Morgana. She wore a cobalt blue war
dress, cinched tight at her waist by a thick belt. On her left shoulder,
sat a black raven with a white starburst on its head. The youngest of
the clan leaders, Felicia came on unhurriedly, back rigid as she
observed her surroundings. Even from his seat, Rion could sense her
apprehension; this was her first Conclave. Beside him, Sadhu let
loose with a loud cheer.
Boom. Boom!
Next came Sirra, the Regent of the Clan Athaliah. She stomped
in on heavy boots, a magnificent silver cloak swirling about her. A
proud sneer curled her lips. Scampering in about her feet was a gray
cat who snapped and hissed and snarled at no one in particular.
Boom. Boom!
Finally, the last of the major clan leaders, Kora of Gorgon,
entered the Hall. She was clad all in brown, with silver bracelets on
her wrists and silver anklets tinkling above her sandaled feet. Her
face was hidden behind her icon a mask made of gold which
moved and pulsed like living flesh.
The doors of the Great Hall swung shut with a thunderous bang.
The Regents took their seats at the front of the chamber. When the
cheers of Liliths Children subsided, the Mother Regent, Celeste,
stood up and walked to the pillar on the steps that led up to the dais.
She lifted the silver hammer and struck the bell. The icy, tingling ring
sounded and reverberated throughout the Hall.

In the name of our great mother Lilith, Celeste said, Queen of

Earth, Defier of Angels, we gather. Who has summoned Liliths

Children and their Regents?

I have. A man who had been standing in the shadows behind

the dais strode onto the platform.
Celeste pretended to be surprised.

39: Conclave II
You, Starwalker, meddling in the affairs of Liliths Children
once again, Celeste said.

Meddling is such a harsh word, said the Starwalker.

Compared to the Regents in their ancient, mysterious dress, he
looked out of place in the Great Hall in a smart, brown, pinstripe
business suit and shiny dress shoes. Only the dully gleaming rings on
several of his fingers and his cat-like irises marked him as something
otherworldly. Ever since our misfortune in Rome, it has been my aim
to undo the damage that was done there, he said.

We cannot regain what was lost, Nessa said. Jezebel is

gone; she cannot be remade.

No, but perhaps what is broken can be made whole.

Speak plainly, Nicolai, Celeste said.
Your people have been without a proper leader for centuries.
Liliths flame has not been passed on to a new queen.

It is not for lack of trying, Celeste said as the serpent in her

hair rose slowly, uncoiling itself above her head. No one has been
found worthy to bear the flame since the time of the Burning. Even
those whom we deemed worthy she spread out her hands to
indicate the other Regents the spirit of our Great Mother has
rejected.

But what if there is now one upon the Earth whose birth
occurred under the same conditions as your exalted Mother, Nicolai

said. He stepped behind the empty throne and trailed his fingers
across the back of the hewn ivory.

Impossible! Celeste said, rising slightly from her seat.

Why should we not have this knowledge? Hagias voice was
deep and grating. The grey wolf that sat at her feet bared its teeth at
Nicolai.

I am a Starwalker, and the knowledge of Deep Heaven is

written in my mind, Nicolai said. I watched the constellations for that
moment, scoured the Earth for her birth. And now the day is here.
She is almost ready.
A murmur of discussion mostly of disbelief rose
throughout the Hall.

What if hes right? Felicia said calmly. The other Regents

looked at her sharply, questioningly. She bore the weight of their
stares before repeating the question. What if hes right?
Celeste glared at her before turning to Nicolai. What proof do
you have? How do you know for sure that she will bear Liliths
flame?

The one I speak of is of the Fair Folk and possesses the

primordial blood of your Great Mother. She can bear the flame.

Can this be proven? Celeste asked again.

From the tongue of the Faeries themselves, Nicolai said,
stepping behind the throne toward the vertical pool. He pulled his
virge from his belt, starlight springing from the slender white stone
rod. He placed the tip of the virge against the surface of the pool and
began to draw symbols in the water. Waves rippled out gently from

where the virge touched the water. The ancient symbol Nicolai drew
hung in the water. They spoke of portals being opened and realms
being crossed, of seizing, and binding, and bringing up. Nicolai drew
the symbols in a square. When the square was complete, the surface
of the water began to tremble slightly at first, and then with greater
impulse. The symbols glimmered and shook until they convulsed all
at once. The square filled with brilliance and became as a window
into another world.
Inside the square of water, a scene became clearer and
clearer. A figure sat with its head bowed, silver hair hiding its face. Its
arms were clasped around its knees which were drawn up to its chin.
The figure was surrounded by evenly spaced vertical iron bars.

Altrial, Nicolai said. The figure in the water window jerked his
head up. He stood up, leaning toward the window as though trying to
peer into the Great Hall. His white shirt was torn and venom was in
his eyes.
A smattering of conversation swept through the Conclave as
they realized that Nicolai was holding a Faerie boy prisoner.

Nicolai! Celeste sounded incensed. What is the meaning of

this? Her serpent rose and flashed fire from its golden eyes.

Patience, Celeste, Nicolai said. This boy was found

trespassing on my property. His falling into my hands was fortuitous.
The important thing for you to remember is that Faeries cannot lie.
Celeste, who had risen from her seat, sat down.

Now, Altrial, tell this gathering about the Changeling.

Altrial stared into the window, his leaf-shaped ears twitching in
contemplation. He began to speak, his voice slow and tired, but

determined. Sixty seasons ago, the stars in Deep Heaven were once
again dancing out the tragedy of Eden. Prominent among them was
the Vendalmha and the changing of places. As in Heaven, so there
must be on Earth. By the hand of the Fair Folk, the wraith of the
Vendalmha was brought forth in the Earth. She is a Changeling, a
sacrifice of the Fair Folk to the battlefield of the middle realm. She
walks the earth as Samantha Elizabeth Eclaan.
Another ripple of conversation spilled through the Great Hall.
Sirra brought her palms down with a loud smack on the armrests of
her seat. One problem, she said. Where is this girl now? How can
we find her and turn her for our purposes?

You neednt worry about that, Felicia spoke up. I have

already found her and I have begun drawing her to us.

You? Celeste said. You would do this without our knowing?

As she spoke, her serpent swept its gaze toward Felicia, hissing
loudly.

It will be the Clan Morgana that brings Liliths heir to the

sacred ground to receive our Mothers flame, Felicia said as the
raven on her shoulder spread its wings and cawed at the serpent.
The icons would have been at each other, fang and talon, but Kora
raised her voice and when she spoke, everyone looked on or,
at least everyone looked at the golden mask which served her for a
face.

The question, then, is: should we pursue this course?

And have another innocent girls blood on our hands if we
fail? Nessa said. I think not.

Who among us should even make such a decision? Who will

bear the consequences? Leah said quietly. I, for one, am content if
the Ivory Throne remains empty till the end of time.

Your own desires cloud your judgment, Felicia said. To

whom should we look, you ask? We look to our father below. I say we
summon Sammael.
Celeste looked at her sharply. You say? Her voice pitched
higher. To summon a Watcher is no small matter. How much more is
one who is bound in the Abyss? This could bring Heaven down on
our heads. I wont risk it.

You shrink from daring, Celeste. I wouldnt have thought it of

you, Felicia said.

I see youve taken after your mother. She was wild and an
encumbrance, Celeste snarled. But I taught her to heel, as I shall do
you.

My mother was braver than you could ever hope to be,

Felicia said.

She was reckless. For a hundred and fifty years I have kept
Liliths children safe safe from your mother and the rest of the
witches in Morganas line. Celestes finger curled tight around the
armrests of her chair, ribboned veins standing out in her neck.

You have kept us in the dark, hidden from us the secrets

youve had whispered to you in your bedchamber.
Celestes eyes flashed toward Nicolai, who dropped his head
and studied a lavender-jeweled ring on his left hand, pretending not
to be interested in their argument.

Felicias raven squawked, cocked its head toward the

Starwalker, and beat its wings against its side. Felicia smiled. I know
a war is coming, one that will reshape the demiworld. You think
because Im young I dont understand. But I know that you intend to
keep us beholden to others, and I wont stand by and let you do that.
The age of Liliths Children has come again, and if you wont lead us
into it, Sammael will.
The noise of competing discussions had broken out in the Hall.
Jinn and Succubi leaned into groups, large and small. Summoning a
Watcher was an exciting and dangerous prospect. The younger clan
members were more eager to see it done than their elders. Those
closest to the front of the Hall had an ear on Celeste and Felicia
arguing. For many of them, Celeste was the only Mother Regent they
had ever known. Her longevity didnt automatically make Felicia
wrong. Besides, who didnt like a good rebellion every now and then?
So a chant began to spread from the front of the Hall to the
back.
Felicia smiled a little as Nicolai held his virge aloft. Your word,
maam? he said to Celeste.
The color drained from the Mother Regents face. Summon
him, she said, and then turning to Felicia, she added, I do hope
when Heavens wrath comes, you will be the first to embrace it.

40: Sammael
Nicolai summoned Sammael in the same way he had
summoned the Faerie prisoner. Except, this time, the symbols he
drew on the water appeared to speak a language much older and
much more difficult. They spoke of chains and imprisonment, of
blackness, of darkness, of times past, of curses, and forbidden
knowledge. As Nicolai marked the symbols in the surface of the
water, he seemed to be affected by them. The hand with which he
drew the symbols trembled violently. The rings on his fingers began
to glow and burn. Beads of sweat bubbled up along his hairline. He
strained to finish the convoluted mass of writhing letters, now drawing
the figures as if he were etching them into a surface of stone, not
water.
As he finished the last symbol, he fell to the ground, his virge
rolling from his hand. The symbols glowed on the surface of the
vertical pool. Then they shuddered and vanished. The wall of water
turned utterly black. The sound of stone groaning against stone filled
the hall, as though a man were dragging a heavy rock across rocky
terrain. There was a snap, and a rush of cold, dead air swept through
the Hall, snuffing out the torches and lanterns.
In the sudden darkness, Liliths Children had fallen utterly
silent.
An aching, groaning noise began. It sounded as though it were
coming from a great distance away, but it grew steadily louder and
then combined with the noise of heavy chains scraping against stone.

A voice groaned up out of the bowels of darkness, sweeping

like the breath of death through the Hall. Whohasunlocked
theAbyss? Whosummonsme?
There was silence for a moment, and then Felicia said, I, we,
your children.

My children, hmmm. The voice almost sounded pleased.

Andwhat is this? An invitation totea timein Hell. The voice
laughed, a deep rumble that shook the Hall. Some of Liliths Children
dared to laugh with it. If youre looking for grandfatherly love you
wont find it I dont know the half of you bastards. The voice
laughed again, and then it yawned. Summoning me like this the
nerve. Not at all good for my bones and feathers, noVery taxing. It
yawned again. Hadnt realized how sweet sleep wasuntil I was
awakened. The voice seemed to be drifting.

No, wait, Felicia said. We need your help.

__________
For the most part, Sammael was supportive of the prospect of
raising a new queen to receive Liliths flame. As time went on, he
paused less and his words came more easily. It will be grand
theater, he said. About time you whelps started taking charge of
your own destiny. I cant wait to see how it turns out. Itll be fine
theater, I tell you. But youve got to watch out for the Twilight
Kingdom. They wont take kindly to upsetting the balance of power.
The Red Queen has reigned long and sees far. She will deem
anyone seated on the Ivory Throne as a threat. She must be
handled.
__________

Long after the Conclave had ended, Sammaels presence

could be felt in the Hall. He drifted into brooding silence and
muttering to himself about the days when he had been free to walk
the Earth. As a Watcher, he had been one of the highest beings in
Heaven. But now, having been in the Abyss for so long, chained to a
massive stone throne, he wondered if Heaven even existed. Whoever
said it was better to reign in Hell had it all wrong. If only he could
taste the fresh air of Earth again, feel the brimming vitality of its
inhabitants
Another presence in the Hall crept into his consciousness.
Sammael strained against his chains, casting his mind waves through
the portal until his presence collided with anothers.
The Starwalker was getting up from the dais where he had
passed out after opening the portal. He scrambled for his virge and
stood up flipping his sweat-slicked hair back from his forehead. He
immediately recognized the Watchers presence and stepped away
from the pool that served as the doorway to the Abyss.

Starwalker, Sammael said, his voice soothing and beguiling,

Why do you linger in the shadows?
Nicolai looked around him at the darkened and empty Hall. I
see you have given your children advice, he said.

Well, I didnt blast them to wood slivers like I had a mind to,
Sammael said. Would you like to hear what I told them?

No. But I would make another request.

What is it?
Tell me, where is the Seal of Solomon?

The Seal of Solomon, Sammael said. Clever Starwalker, you

seek that which would give you the right to rule all of Liliths Children.
No wonder you wish not to hear my advice to them. You intend to
make it null.

You know my heart better than I, Nicolai said.

Sammael was quiet for a moment. I will tell you how you can
find it, but you must do something for me.

A favor for a favor. I could do nothing less, Nicolai said.

41: Purpose in the Machine

Do you think, if someone knew that something bad was going
to happen in the future, that they could change it? Ethan asked as
he ate a bowl of cereal late Saturday morning.

Close calls with death inspire deeper questions about life?

Amanda said as she balanced her own bowl of cereal in one hand
and, in the other, managed an open milk carton and her crutch. She
turned to the dining table and the milk tipped dangerously as she
brought the crutch around to support her weight. Ethan plucked the
carton from her hand and set it on the table.

Thanks, Amanda said as she sank into her chair and leaned
the crutch against the table. Still havent gotten used to this thing.
Pixie sat in the chair beside Ethans. She flipped his hair back
from his forehead and scrutinized his hairline.

Enough of that, Ethan said. Theres no scar, okay.

I was so hoping there would be a scar, Pixie said. You
deserve a scar for not listening to me.
No one could figure out how, over the course of a few hours,
Ethans broken bones had fused together, bruises had vanished, and
wounds had closed. The doctor declared his recovery a miracle and
released him from the hospital the next day. Ethan came home,
feeling better than he had in days. He felt a little guilty that his mother
had to heal normally from the car accident.

But, really, do you think someone could, if they knew the

future, change it?
Pixie drew circles in the air with her hand. But if someone
knew the future, and then changed it, it wasnt really the future they
saw. Its impossible. Pixie shrugged. We dont get to do that.

Anythings possible, Ethan mumbled around a mouthful of

cereal.

I think Miss Kay is right, Pixie said. The universe is a giant

machine. It justgoes. Were all part of the machine. Nothing you
can do about it.

But theres purpose in the machine, Amanda said quietly.

Before anyone could question that, Sam came down the stairs
in a dark green velvety dress, her flame-colored hair hung loose and
free. She was carrying a gift-wrapped box. Mom, can I go now?

What are you wearing? Ethan said.

A dress, Sam said, one hand on her hip.
Ethan frowned, lips pressed tightly together.

Your dad isnt home yet, Amanda said.

Ugh, Anitas going to think Im trying to take the spotlight off of
her if I arrive late, Sam said.

Well, if you and Ethan take the bus now, you should get there
just in time. Amanda looked at Ethan expectantly.
Ethan slurped the sugary milk out of the bottom of the bowl and
stood up. Lets go, he said. At the front door, he pulled a sweater
from the coat rack, put it on, and picked up his backpack.

Are you coming, Pixie? Sam said.

No, Ethan said before she could answer.
What? Pixie looked confused.
Stay here with Mom, Ethan said quietly. At least until Dad
gets back. She might need help.

Im not an invalid, Ethan, Amanda said as she hobbled

around the corner from the kitchen.

You kind of are, Mom. You almost fell down the stairs this
morning.

You guys, go, or youre gonna be late for the party, Pixie said.
Looks like were stuck together, Mrs. Eclaan.
Amanda kissed her kids goodbye. Ethan, she said, It is
possible to change the future by the choices you make today.
...

Let me guess; your reaction to this dress isnt because it looks

bad on me, Sam said.

To the contrary, Ethan said. It brings out your eyes. He was

silent a moment, head upturned as his face caught the October suns
mid-afternoon rays. I had a vision of you in that dress. You were
drowning.

Theres no water around here to drown in, Sam said.

Were going to the lake house, Sam.
Oh But the partys inside.
Ethan shook his head.

Look, if Im gonna drown, Im gonna drown, and theres

nothing I, or you, can do about it.

Thats not a very encouraging perspective, Ethan said. They

emerged from the residential area onto the main thoroughfare
beyond the high school. Ethan sat down in the bus booth. But what if
there is? Something I can do about it, I mean.

Youre still thinking about Joe Wayne, Sam said. Ethan

looked up. Sams head was in the sun, and the brazen light made it
look as if her head were on fire. She sat down and Ethan was
momentarily blinded. Look, there was nothing you could do about
that, Sam continued. You didnt even know where he lived

But what if I had known? What if

What if questions suck, Sam said. Now, if it makes you
happy, I promise I will not under any circumstances go near the lake
when we get to Anitas house.

Thats a good promise, Ethan said.

Now, please, cheer up.

42: A Little of the Devil

Ethan stood on the dock and looked out over the lake. From a
distance, with the bright rays of the setting sun shining on its surface,
it sparkled. But, up close, the waters were dim and murky. Behind
him, at a distance about the length of a football field, Nicolais
mansion stood, three stories high, all brick and red gables. He could
hear the sounds of laughter and music coming from the open
windows. Since he and Sam had arrived, no one had entered or left.
No one had come out to the lake. Thick woods clustered, dark and
forbidding, on the other side of the lake. Ethan wished he could laugh
at the notion that anyone or anything could be watching him from
those woods and hed never know. But he didnt have that luxury.
He sat down with his back against one of the wooden posts on the
edge of the dock. If he turned to his left, he could see the mansion; if
he turned to his right, he could see the lake and the woods.
So far so good.
He pulled a notebook out of his backpack and began to draw.
Dusky shadows grew as the light dimmed. The sounds of the party
swelled and ebbed through the open windows of the lake house.
Ethan was intent on his work when something bright and shiny shot
past his vision and thudded into the wooden deck.
Ethan turned.
It was a long knife, a dagger maybe. It had a gold hilt, intricately
carved, and a shining white blade that seemed to glow. It was as long
as his forearm. Ethan scanned the far shore of the lake and the
bordering trees, but the dagger seemed to have fallen out of the sky.
Ethan reached for it, slowly curling his fingers around the hilt. He
pulled the point out of the wood and stared at the blade. It seemed to
pull the light of the evening into itself and cast it back at him. Truly
alive.
Strike first or be first struck!
The words seared as though spoken. Ethan jumped up and spun
around, knife in hand, looking for whoever had spoken into his mind.
There was nobody no one he could see.
He looked back at the knife in his hand. Had it spoken to him?

Looking for someone?

Ethan turned around to face whoever it was coming up behind him.
It was Arioc, absent his mohawk. He had a freshly-shaven head, but
Ethan would recognize his smirking face anywhere.

What are you ? But, of course, now it was apparent.

What am I, what? Doing out of jail? Arioc said.
I know what you are now, Ethan said. His grip tightened on the
dagger and he felt a pulse ofsomething energy, adrenaline
that set his nerves all on fire.
Arioc laughed, his voice rough and harsh. You say that like its a
good thing. Knowledge for its own sake is not always benign. His
face suddenly turned doubtful. I do wonder, though, why you are
even able to stand on your own.
Ethan felt a small bit of satisfaction that there was at least one thing
Arioc didnt know. He twirled the dagger in his hand.

What are you going to do with that? Arioc said. Are you a vigilante
now? Youre going to take my life for Josephs? Is that it?

No. Youll get your payout someday.

Good, Arioc said. Someday is a very long ways off and I havent
got all night. He pointed his finger at a spot behind Ethan. A spark,
fiery gold, rippled off his finger and struck the deck.
There was a hissing noise, like drops of oil hitting a frying pan, and
the smell of burning wood. Ethan was resisting the urge to jump out
of the way when he heard a stammering, but familiar voice behind
him.

What ? Where ? Ethan!

Sam! Ethan spun around. His sister was standing in her forest green
party dress at the end of the dock, inches away from the water.
Ethan, whats happening? She started to walk toward him, away
from the water

and slammed into thin air. She raised her hands and pushed,
brows creasing in confusion. She slammed her fist against the
invisible wall and stared in confusion at her hand as it bounced back
forcefully.

Ethan whirled to face Arioc. What have you done? Let her out of
there!
Arioc walked calmly past Ethan.

What are you doing? The image of Sam underwater pulsed behind
Ethans eyes, possibility blending with reality.

Im removing this player He pointed at Sam. from the

board.
Strike first or be first struck. It was a command.
Ethan lashed out with the dagger, swinging for Ariocs face. The
diamond-white blade sliced into his flesh, unfurling a curtain of dark
red blood on his cheek. Ethan swung backwards for a follow-up blow,
but Arioc caught his arm, his fist like a vicegrip. Ah, I see you have a
little of the devil in you, too, he said.
Arioc let go of Ethans arm and slammed his palm into his chest.
Ethan felt his feet leave the ground as he flew backwards,
somersaulting in the air, feet over head, before he hit the deck face
down.

Leave him alone! he heard Sam screaming.

Ethan groaned and pushed himself to his knees. He had once
wondered what people meant when they said theyd had the wind
knocked out of them. Now he knew. Several feet away, Arioc stood,
looking murderous with blood masking half of his face. Ethan barely
registered that the cut on his cheek had closed up.
Arioc turned, momentarily distracted, and Ethan followed his gaze.
Anita, the birthday girl, was running toward them, a cheap-looking
tiara on her head.

Arioc, what are you ? she started to ask.

Go back inside, Arioc said, his voice thunderous. And stay there.
You did your part.
Anita quailed, turned, and sprinted back to the mansion.

Listen to me, Ethan gasped, feeling as though his voice was

clawing its way out of his throat. Let her go. Please. She has nothing
to do with this.

Now, you beg, Arioc said, stalking slowly toward Ethan until he
loomed over him. You kneel before me like Im a god. So, I will give
you the answer that God gives humans who ask of Him regarding

things they do not understand. He dropped to his knees on the deck,

placing his bloody face just inches from Ethans. He said in a quiet
tone, I shall do as I please because I know whats best.

No, Ethan said. You dont understand

Shhh. Arioc cut him off with a raised finger. I do understand far
better than you do. You said you know what I am. He nodded as if
they were sharing a secret. If thats true, then you should know that
my thoughts are not your thoughts and my ways are not your ways.
He slammed his fist into the deck. The bells have been rung, Ethan
Eclaan. And you are not ready. So, Ill make things a little easier
going forward. Consider this mercy.
Ariocs mouth twisted into something unearthly. He uttered a word, or
a phrase Ethan wasnt sure, but it sounded malicious and flung
his arm backward toward the end of the dock.
Ethan felt the breakage in the air as the invisible cage Arioc had
made around Sam shattered. Sam went flying backwards up and
out over the lake. She screamed. But her screams were cut short as
she plunged into the water.
Ethan jumped up and leaped over Arioc. He ran to the end of the
dock, sucked in a gulp of air, and dove in.

43: Up Against Fate

All Ethan could think of was that Sam couldnt swim.
That she would suffocate.
That she would drown.
That she would die.
That his vision would come true.
He kept his eyes peeled against the water. Down below, the depths
were shadowy with the evenings gloom. He swam forcefully toward
the center of the lake where Sam went under. Already, his lungs
demanded air.
He kept swimming

and swimming.
Small fish meandered through the water, oblivious to Ethans
desperation.
Finally, with his chest feeling as though it were about to explode,
Ethan shot upward, broke the surface of the water just long enough
to suck in a lungful of air and went back under.
Where is she?
Suffocating.
Drowning.
Dying.
Ethan swam faster, figuring he was at the very center of the lake by
now.
Then he saw her down below and to his right. Her arms were
spread wide, her eyes half shut, her body making no effort against
the water that gave way beneath her and closed above her.
She slipped further into the murky depths.
Ethan dove after her, knowing that she was dead already that it
wouldnt matter what he did.
Something lithe and snake-like shot up out of the darkness at the
bottom of the lake. A tendril of something some water creature

Ethan didnt want to think of. The tentacle slinked around Sams ankle
and tightened like a noose. Another tentacle rose up, curling around
her waist.
No!
With one last stroke, Ethan was able to grab his sisters arm. He
pulled her upward, away from whatever awaited at the bottom of the
lake.
One of the tentacles fell away but the other tightened its grip, yanking
down on Sams ankle.
With fire in his chest, Ethan lashed out with the dagger that he
somehow had managed to hold on to. He sliced through the tentacle
easily, and inky blood billowed into the water.
Ethan kicked away from the cloud of bloody water and reached for
Sam. He wrapped one arm tightly around her and pushed downward
with his free arm.
But he only flailed weakly.
His vision blurred.
His lungs were empty.
He could barely feel now.
Mustering a last reserve of strength, he turned to look at her,
dragging his free arm around to cage her body in, to make sure she
didnt drift away.
He thought of home, his mother and father, and wondered if they
would ever know how their children died.
His eyes fluttered shut as he trained his thoughts on one thing one
last image to fill his mind as he and his sister went the way of all
flesh.
The living room at home. With Mom and Dad there. And Pixie, his
best friend. And Sam safe, and happy, and alive
The pinpricks began all around him, like heated needlepoints against
his skin.
Streaking whiteness behind his eyes.
The rushing heat and the bright white took him. Sucked him in

and spit him out, landing him on something solid and dry. He
gulped in a warm breath and blinked furiously to get the water out of

his eyes. Sam had landed beside him. She was still, and her skin was
white too white.

Come on, Sam. Wake up. Ethan pulled her to a sitting position, and
she responded as if being attacked, flailing her arms and convulsing.
Ethan let her go and she sank forward onto her knees, palms on the
ground, heaving and coughing. She spat up a stream of lake water,
and then sat back, sucking in huge breaths of air. She looked around,
eyes wide, water dripping from her hair. Ethan looked around and
realized they were in their own living room. Then she turned to Ethan,
asking hoarsely, What just happened?
Ethan, who wasnt quite sure himself, pulled Sam into a hug. His
heart was galloping. Hed been certain they were done for. But they
had went up against fate and won. Sam hugged him back tightly.
Ethan realized she was shivering they both were. And they were
soaking wet.
Hurried footsteps sounded from the stairs, and Reagan burst around
the corner into the living room. Kids! He was holding his shotgun. It
was very old, and Ethan had never seen him use it. I heard noises
like someone breaking in.
The heavy clopping of Amandas crutch sounded from the stairway.
When she caught sight of Ethan and Sam, she stumbled over the last
step, but caught herself against the wall. Put that down, she told
Reagan. What happened to you two?
Sam looked at Ethan.

We, uh, almostdrowned, Ethan said. He looked down and

realized he was still holding the dagger. He slipped it under his shirt
as he stood up.

What?Oh, no. Get up here and get out of those wet clothes.
Amanda waved them toward the stairs. And, then, you are going to
tell us everything.

No, Mom, Ethan said as he passed her at the foot of the stairs.
Then you are going to tell me everything.
...

What did he mean, you are going to tell him everything? Reagan
asked when the kids had disappeared into their rooms.

You know what he meant, Amanda said. She suddenly looked tired
and weary.

Oh. Reagan slung the shotgun over his shoulder and scratched his
stubbly beard thoughtfully. Intent on his writing, he often forgot to
shave.
Amanda hugged herself as if cold. Ive been afraid recently that this
day was coming soon, she said. Hes been having those
nightmares again. And Ive seen the things hes been drawing.

What things?
II cant describe it, but theyre so real. Amanda shuddered. And
the way he got beat upSomeones trying to kill our son.

But he healed unbelievably fastinhumanly so, Reagan said.

Someones out there protecting him too.

But from what? For how long? Amanda patted her husband on the
arm. Go up to my office and get the file. You know which one.
...

Are you serious? Sam said as she entered Ethans room. He was
sitting on his bed in dry clothes, turning the dagger over in his hands,
peering into the dimly glimmering blade as if to see his reflection.

About what?
What you said to Mom. Sam had showered quickly and was
toweling off her damp and tangled hair.

Yes.
Why now?
Ethan put the knife down on top of the bed. Because you almost
died.

But I didnt. You saved meagain. She sat down beside Ethan.
The last thing I remember was thesethings coming up from the
bottom of the lake. And then I saw you coming, and then I was in
the living room. How did you do that?

I dont know. And thats the problem, Ethan said. There was just
thisthis white light all around and it got very hot. Not, like, burning
hot, but heat that you could feel I dont know how to describe it.

Like the burning bush fire, but nothing gets burnt, Sam said.
Yes, exactly like that, Ethan said, feeling a thrum of excitement.
Did you do anything else? Sam said.
Ethan shook his head. I just was thinking of getting back here
safe And then we were here.

Thats it, Sam said. You think of where you want to be and then
youre there! You can teleportlike Hiro Nakamura!

Im thinking I want to be at The Rink right now so why am I not

there?

You have to think really hard. Hiro does like this. Sam squeezed her
eyes shut and scrunched her face in concentration, creating ripples in
her forehead and across the bridge of her nose.

I can think hard without looking like that, Ethan laughed.

Just try it, Sam said. Think about going to the front yard and then
come back here.
Ethan sighed. Okay. He visualized the front yard in his mind
green grass, no trees, stone walkway down the middle, a driveway
leading up to the open garage. He willed the white heat to take him.
He thought he could feel it at the edges of his mind tickling,
teasing. He strained, grasping for it, but it slipped out of reach. He
opened his eyes, feeling strangely tired.

What happened? You didnt go anywhere, Sam said.

Maybe I went and came back so fast you didnt notice.
Did you?
No. Ethan motioned toward the door. Theyre waiting for us. Lets
go.

After you. Its your funeral.

44: Secrets of Life

Downstairs, Reagan sat in his easy chair and Amanda sat on the
couch. On the low Chinese table in the middle of the room a green
folder was open with a variety of documents stacked in it. Ethan and
Sam sat opposite their parents on the couch underneath the window
just behind the spot where they had been dumped out of the ether
minutes before.
Reagan leaned forward and placed his elbows on his knees. I guess
youve seen these before.
Ethan nodded, unsure if that was meant as an accusation.

What did you think?

I dont know, Ethan said. That theres a lot about me that I dont
know. And that seemsunusual.

It is, Amanda said. Ethan, we never hid from you the fact that you
were adopted. Its just that you were adopted under unusual
circumstances.

Id like it if youd explain what that meant unusual circumstances,

Ethan said. And why there are letters about me in there from
someone in France. I didnt even know you spoke French, Mom. And
why my real parents names are blacked out. And why you ignored
me all those times when I told you I was seeing things, real things.
And why I had to wake up every day knowing I might look the devil in
the face. And I dont know what it means What does it mean?
Amanda looked as if shed been smacked across the face. Tears
welled in the bottom of her eyes.

Ethan, sit down, Reagan said.

Sorry, Ethan looked around, just then realizing he had been
standing. What does it mean? he said again.
Everyone was quiet for a second. Ethan stared at the tables, and the
folder that held the secrets of his life. All of them, he hoped. Sam
placed her hand on his arm. Reagan worried the end of his sweater
sleeve. Amanda stared off in the general direction of the kitchen.

Theres something you need to understand, she said finally. I hope

you can understand. When you were given to us, we were told that

you were not ours forever. That things would happen, and we would
eventually have to give you up. She gave a little laugh. But you
were just a baby. And we fell in love with you our son Her voice
trailed, and she stared off into the kitchen again.

What shes saying, Reagan picked up, is that somewhere early on

we crossed the line from being your caretakers to being your
parents.

The plan was for us to tell you everything a long time ago, Amanda
continued. We were going to many times. But we kept putting it
off because we knew it meant we couldnt see you as our son
anymore. She looked at Ethan. Do you understand?

I understand, Ethan said. So what happened?

Amanda flipped through the papers from the folder. She pulled out a
photograph and turned it facing Ethan. It was of a womans face,
young and pretty, with long, straight black hair and soft eyes.

Is this my, uh, my biological ?

Amanda shook her head. No, thats Cecille St. Amand. She gave you
to us when you were an infant.

Oh. Ethan felt as though the truth had slipped between his
fingertips once again.

The truth, Reagan said, is that we dont know who your real
parents are. He pointed to the Certificate of Adoption. The blackouts
are there, but there was nothing written beneath them. Cecille had to
forge documents so she could travel with you shortly after you were
born, and so we could bring you back to America. We had to pretend
that your real parents didnt, um

Didnt want me? Ethan said, not sure if he were asking a question
or stating a fact.

No, Amanda said. Didnt want us any of us to know who they

were. Cecille said it was for your protection.

Protection from who? Ethan asked.

Reagan and Amanda exchanged a glance. Well tell you what she
told us, Amanda said.

July 1997
Cafe Angelina, Versailles, France
Maybe shes not coming, Reagan said as he sipped from his third
cup of tea.

Shell be here, Amanda said. But she had already hitched her purse
under her arm and was clutching the strap as she looked out the
window. The sky was grey and a chill breeze brought the promise of
rain later that night. The high walls of nearby buildings and the
imposing corners of the Chteau de Versailles blocked her view of
the setting sun.

Why are we doing this again? Reagan said. This trip was
supposed to be about us.

Because Cecille is my friend and I told her I would always be there

whenever she needed me.

And whenever included adopting a child under these not entirely

aboveboard circumstances? Reagan said.

Youre always telling me not to be afraid of new thingsadventure.

Well, thats what this is. Amanda twisted the ivory-inlaid gold
wedding band on her finger. Besides, its been two years. We dont
have to wait anymore for a child.
Bells tinkled as the cafes entrance swung open. A woman in a long
black overcoat and flat shoes walked in. Her chestnut colored hair
was frenzied and windblown. She smoothed it down as she muttered
bonjour to the barista and turned to the array of small circular
tables, most of them empty.

Cecille. Amanda rose to greet her friend with a hug. Its good to
see you. You seembusy these days.

We havent much time, Cecille said. The Sisters are waiting for me
at the airport.

Can I get you anything? Amanda asked.

Time, Cecille said, tapping her watch. Lord knows I shouldnt have
interrupted your anniversary to drag you into this. How are you,
Reagan?

Hoping for the explanation you promised, Reagan said.

Amanda creased her brow at him. Play nice.

Youll get it, Cecille said. But you must understand it is a strange
history and difficult to believe.
Reagan chuckled. I believe a good number of strange things, he
said, nodding toward his wife. Shes the one youll have to convince.

Do you remember when Christ died? Cecille said.

Yes, Reagan said. I mean, no. I wasnt there. But Ive read some
accounts.

Thatll do, Cecille said. When he died, it is said there was an

earthquake throughout all of Jerusalem. Graves opened, and many of
the dead, hundreds of them, walked the earth again. Cecilles eyes
darted between her listeners and the window.

So, what happened to the walking dead people? Reagan said.

They were called Revenants those born again from the dead.
They lived long lives, married, had children. But the most important
thing is that whatever happened to them when they came back from
the dead stayed with them. They had the Sight the ability to see
the demiworld, beyond the veil that separates the material from the
immaterial, the physical from the spiritual. For this they were called
Seers. And thats not the only thing. They had special gifts, powers
shapeshifting, teleportation, earth-moving. They could read and
speak languages they had never learned while they were alive.

Alive? Amanda said, looking at her husband uncertainly.

I mean alive before, Cecille said. Their first life. She went on.
Many of them joined the early church and employed their gifts in the
war against the Dark Kingdom. For this, they were hated and
persecuted by the enemies of the church, the Dark Angels and their
allies. The Revenants eventually scattered across the Near East and
Europe. A small tribe made their way to England. They were
persecuted even there and not allowed to live in peace. During the
reign of King Arthur, the sorceress Morgana and her demonic allies
stamped out every Revenant in Britain. Their race was extinguished.
Or so it was thought.
Reagan rubbed his hands together. I think I like where this is going,
he said.

Its not just a story, Cecille intoned. Merlin helped three of the
Revenants escape. It is believed he sent them to the New World,
which, at that time, was far from being discovered. There, they hid
their powers. Their children married the natives, and since Revenant
blood is dominant, they kept the line alive. Which brings us to today.

The child is a Revenant? Amanda said.

Yes. There are other stories of Revenants escaping persecution and
going underground during the Dark Ages.

Where are his parents? Amanda said.

His mother is a troubled woman. She gave the child to me to keep
him out of the wrong hands, but I have become a target. As long as
the child is with me, hes not safe.

Youre saying someone is still out there trying to kill the Revenants?
Reagan said.
Cecille nodded as her gaze darted out the window again, her lips
pressed into a thin line. But with you, he will be anonymous. At least
he can have something of a normal childhood. But, one day, of
course, he will have to be made aware of his heritage. A Guardian will
come for him. So, you must be willing to give him up.
Amanda reached across the table and took one of Cecilles hands
between her own. You know, Id only even consider this because its
you asking.

I know, Cecille said. And thank you.

So, where is the baby?
Hes just been dropped off at your hotel room. She reached inside
her purse and unfolded a letter-size envelope. Im leaving the
country tonight. Here are the adoption papers for you to sign. Since
you are both U.S. citizens, the child will be admitted as a lawful
permanent resident of the United States. Here is his travel visa. You
should leave the country as soon as possible tomorrow. I pray
nothing happens between now and then.
Amanda signed her name on the adoption papers and slid them over
to her husband. Where are you going? she asked.

Back to Virginia.
To the convent?
Cecille nodded. There is much work to be done.

Still in Versailles
Amanda and Reagan were out of breath by the time they reached the
door of their hotel room. They had run up five flights of stairs since
there was a line waiting for the first floor elevators.

Do you really think she they left a baby unattended in our

room? Reagan said. What if he fell off the bed?

Lets hope they didnt put him on the bed or that hes asleep.
Amanda fished the room key out of her pocket and waved it in front of
the door handle. Click. A green diode blinked once. She shoved the
door open and they hustled inside, leaving the door slightly ajar.
The baby was, in fact, on the bed, and he was not asleep. He was
bathed in the gray evening light from the big window that opened
onto a rainswept sky. He had black hair and steady grey eyes that
turned to meet them as they entered. He was loosely wrapped in a
cornflower blue blanket. On his left wrist, he wore a leather cord with
three wooden beads strung on it.
Amanda exhaled as reality set in. Reagen stood very still, watching
the baby, then he went and sat down on the bed. Amanda scooped
the baby up and sat beside him. Well, she said. The baby watched
them both as if they were curious new things to observe.

At least he likes us, I think, Reagan said.

Yeah. Amanda placed her finger against the childs tiny palm. She
ran her thumb underneath the leather cord. I wonder what this is.

Lucky charm, I hope, Reagan said, twisting one of the tiny beads
on the cord. It had a black mark, like a letter in a foreign language,
painted on it.
Just then, the door swung open, the metal handle slamming against
the wall. Reagan and Amanda looked up. A young woman was
standing in the doorway wearing a long, black jacket and tall boots
with block heels. Her dark irises appeared nearly hollow. But the most
startling thing about her was the weapon she brandished a curved
sword with a thick silver blade.

Who are you? The babysitter? Reagan said.

The girl ignored him. Rona, she called over her shoulder. Found
him.

Amanda and Reagan exchanged worried glances as two more

figures stepped into the entrance: An older woman, brown-skinned, in
jeans and a flowing Prussian blue trench coat. And a young man with
a long black hair. He, too, carried a curved sword.
The older woman, apparently Rona, walked slowly into the room. She
pressed her palms together and looked greedily at the infant. Isnt he
lush, she said, springing her hands apart. She spoke with an accent
that was neither French nor American. Amanda clutched the baby
tighter.

So, how do we do this? Rona said.

Do what? Reagan said, standing up between Rona and Amanda.
Rona shoved him out of the way and he staggered halfway across
the room. She was stronger than she looked. The young man
knocked Reagan to the floor and stood over him, sword drawn.
Rona stepped closer to Amanda, bending a little to peer at the baby
with her midnight blue eyes. She reached behind the lapel of her coat
and flicked out a tiny knife small handled, with a blade no longer
than her finger. This is how we do it, she said, slipping the tiny blade
beneath the leather cord around the infants wrist,

If you want the bracelet, just take it, Amanda said.

Oh, its the bracelet thats preventing me from getting what I want.
Rona glanced up into Amandas eyes as she began drawing the knife
back and forth very carefully, slowly cutting into the leather. Amanda
could see flecks of white in her irises, like stars in circles of night.
Oh, youre a new mother, Rona said, patting Amandas arm with her
free hand. I was a new mother once, several decades ago. Word of
advice: Try very hard not to love this child. If you want to keep from
feeling as though your heart is being run through with a sword one
day, that is. You just cant not when it comes to children of the
demiworld. The demiworld is cold and cruel. It takes them for itself,
and theres nothing you can do about it. To love them is to hurt. To
love them is to bleed. And you will feel the pain if you let yourself
love. You must always be ready to let them go.
Amanda sucked in a sharp breath. That was what Cecille had said.
Shed have to be ready to let this child go one day. Before she could
think of a response, something thudded against the window. Rona
paused her cutting, looked up, and scowled. Amanda risked a quick
glance over her shoulder, only to see what looked like hundreds of
cracks growing in the glass. She turned back around, bending herself

over the baby as the window came shattering down in a thousand

pieces.
The roar of the wind swept into the room. And with it came Cecille,
swinging in on a cord as though dropping from the sky. She landed
on her feet, crossing her arms over her chest, her hands reaching for
the leather sheaths strapped to her shoulders. In one swift motion,
she pulled out two objects, sharp and shiny, and flung them at Ronas
companions.
Amanda had never seen Cecille like this determined and deadly.
The throwing knives found their mark. The first landed in the young
mans shoulder. He dropped his sword and reeled away from the
impact. The other knife embedded itself in the girls arm, momentarily
pinning it to the wall behind her. She jerked her arm free and lunged
toward Cecille.

Tell your people to stand down, Cecille said.

Rona raised her hand and the girl stopped moving.

Leave. Cecille pulled two more throwing knives from her arm
sheaths and spun them in her fingers. The Sisters have this building
surrounded. Your people are stretched thin. And you dont want to
further antagonize Celeste.
Rona looked from the baby in Amandas arms to Cecille. And my
daughter?

Felicia is waiting for you in the lobby, Cecille said.

Rona seemed to contemplate this for a moment. She slowly tucked
the tiny knife beneath her lapel. Well then, she said, spreading out
her arms. It has been a pleasure doing business with you as usual.
She turned and marched out of the room, her companions following.

You know her? Reagan said getting up from the floor, looking
significantly upset.

Our paths have crossed, Cecille said. She came around the side of
the bed to where Amanda was. She examined the damage Ronas
knife had done to the babys bracelet. You should get a new cord for
this. Its the only thing he has from his mother.

What is it? Amanda said.

Its supposed to be some kind of protection, Cecille said. I would
tell you if I were sure of its viability. But I dont want to give you false
security.

False security? Reagan said. You left that baby unattended

here. You sent us here with no warning. And then these people show
up trying to kill us!

They werent trying to kill you, Cecille said pointedly. But Im sorry I
had to use you to draw them out one last time. Its risky, I know. But
Ronas reasonable. You wont have anymore trouble from her. The
faster you get back to the States, the safer youll be.

45: Angels Gleaming Dully

So Ethan is a zombie? Sam said, breaking the silence after Reagan
and Amanda had finished their story. I have so many good jokes
prepared for this.
Everyone else remained silent until Ethan said, What happens
next?
Amanda had laced her fingers together. Now she opened her hands
and looked at her palms as though the answer could be found there.

She said a Guardian would come for you, Reagan said. So, I
guess we just wait.
Ethan stood up. Yeah. Just wait.

Im going to fix dinner, Amanda said, grabbing her crutch and

pulling herself off the couch.
Ethan went up to his room and sat down in his desk chair, spinning
around to face the bed, the bookshelf, the closet door. After hearing
what his parents had to say, he had expected to feel differently about
all these things. He didnt. He felt the same.
He was the same. It was mildly depressing.
Maybe it would take time for something to click into place for
something to provide the answer to the Why of it all.
The door swung open and Samantha stuck her head in.

I asked Dad if we could go to the cathedral tonight. He said yes.

Why tonight? Ethan asked.
The government passed a resolution or something to tear it down.
Theyre holding a final service tonight.

Oh, Ethan said, distantly, wondering what would happen to all those
stained glass angels

You coming?
Yeah, yeah. But well probably be the only people there, you know.
...

They were, in fact, not the only people who climbed the steps into the
cathedral that chilly night. They were two of approximately two dozen
who entered from under the starlit sky to participate in a candlelit
service.

I have a funny theory, the rector said. And you can agree with me
or not. But I think buildings, like people, have souls or ghosts, if
you will. Once they are gone, they still linger in our hearts and in
the memories of what was done in those special places.
Ethan and Sam slipped into a pew close to the back. The stained
glass windows soared up on either side of them. Since it was dark out
and the only light from the inside came from candles, the angels
gleamed down dully on the parishioners.

So, yes, the stones of this building will soon be gone, the rector
went on. The beautiful stained glass windows auctioned off for
charity. The foundation pulled up and the ground repaved. A new
structure built over this spot. But the ghost of this building will always
remain, the soul of this building will never fade as long as its memory
exists in your hearts.
Everyone applauded politely.

Youre dismissed. Please feel free to mingle. The doors remain open
till midnight. I cant say what would happen to you if you get locked
inside. The rector thought this was funny and everyone humored
him.
As the attendees rose from their seats, some split off into little
chattering groups and others kept to themselves, solemnly walking
the aisles, gazing up at the stained glass windows.
Sam tapped Ethans shoulder. Dont you know that girl?
Ethan looked to where she was pointing. Ari sat on the other side of
the church, at the end of a pew beneath one of the windows. She
was leaning forward, clutching something in her lap, her body tensed
up as if she were getting ready to jump. No one else seemed to
notice her. Yeah, Ive seen her at school, Ethan said. Were not
exactly friends.
Ari glanced over at them just for an instant and then turned
facing forward as though she didnt want to be disturbed.
Ethan felt it suddenly a cold reaching up from his lower back as
though someone were dragging an ice cube up his spine. His throat
tightened and his vision shifted. Something or someone supernatural
was nearby. Perhaps, even in the building. Before now, he would

have dreaded seeing whatever it was. But now, all he felt was
indifference. This was who he was. He could see things that other
people couldnt. What had Cecille and Rona called it? The demiworld.
He knew more than ever that he was a part of it. He had every right
to walk in the unseen realm as any angel or demon. He wanted to
find out who was nearby. He needed to.

Sam, Ill be right back, Ethan said. He got up and left the pew
without waiting for her reply.

48: Dies Irae

Ethan didnt know exactly where he was going, but he followed an
instinct that arose unbidden. Most of the attendees were out on the
church steps now. He weaved around small clusters of mostly elderly
people conversing with each other. Standing on the bottom step, he
let the night smells wash over him. He sensed the supernatural
presence coming from his right around the side of the church. He
walked around to the side of the stone edifice where vines stretched
high, clinging to the building. Overgrown bushes came in handy as
Ethan neared the end of the church building.
He crouched behind one of the bushes and listened. He heard
humming or singing a high-pitched voice that floated on the night
air. Ethan could sense the songs rhythm, but he couldnt make out
any words. A full moon, glistening as though it had just been dipped
in a vat of oil, came out from behind the clouds, casting its silver light
on the scene.
The cold that gripped Ethans spine grew as he made out someone
kneeling on the ground in the open, grassy area behind the church.
The person appeared to be a boy, perhaps a year or two younger
than himself. Dressed in black jeans and a faded Megadeth t-shirt,
his bright sapphire colored hair seemed to glow in the moonlight. He
had a long, thin white object in his hand, and he was dragging the tip
of it across the ground, his lips moving in song. He did this for a
moment, writing or drawing something on the ground. And then he
got up, moved a few paces to the left, stooped down, and started
drawing again. All the time he was singing.
Ethan crept closer, hoping to hear the words of the song. But the
song suddenly stopped. Every line in the boys body went rigid. He
looked up, and something feral crossed his face, like a cat feeling
cornered. Ethan thought the boy sensed his presence, so he kept
very still, his fingers closing around the dagger in his pocket.
A loud crash like bushes and foliage being broken through
sounded from the other side of the clearing.
Ari streaked across the clearing, a bow and sword strapped to her
back, long, black hair flying behind her like a comets tail. She seized
the boy by the shoulders, lifted him, and flung him against the trees.
There was a gut-wrenching crack, like the sound of bone being
snapped. But the boy got back up, howling, his open mouth revealing

a second row of teeth, sharp and deadly. (Apparently, it was the tree
that had cracked.) The boy scrambled on the ground for his wand-like
object. He found it, pointed it at Ari, and spoke something guttural
that sounded like a command.
Ari, who had been stalking toward him, slammed into an invisible
wall. She stayed on her feet, spinning to the side, seeking the edge of
the force field. Failing to find it, she retreated, snapped an arrow to
her bow, and shot it straight up into the air.

Run away, little angel, the demon taunted from behind his wall.
Run, run away.
Ari watched quietly. The arrow came down on the other side of the
force field, embedding itself in the boys wand arm. He grimaced and
dropped the wand, staggering backward to the ground. Drawing her
sword, Ari darted in and brought the thin, slightly curved blade down
on the wand. It broke in half. But, as it did so, a ball of bright, white
light flared up from it. It looked like a tiny star dying.
The boy ripped the arrow out of his arm and tossed it aside. But
before he could get up, Ari was on top of him, pinning him to the
ground with her sword. Tell me, where does Nicolai keep his
prisoner? she demanded.

What? And youll let me go free? the boy rasped.

Ari seemed to consider this, but shook her head. Only if you promise
to stop working for him.

Never, the boy rasped. To this end I was made, and for this cause I
came into the world. I only do the will of him who made me. He
raised his free hand and grabbed the blade of Aris sword, clenching
his fist around the sharp edges until dark red blood burbled between
his pale fingers. He opened his palm and slapped Ari in the face,
smearing blood across her cheek.
Ari held her face turned away for a second like a wrestler waiting a
dramatic second before a blow. Ethan could see the blood dripping
from Aris face onto the boys. It made his stomach crawl. Then Ari
lashed out with her free arm, slamming her fist against the boys face.
His head bashed against the ground Ethan imagined it leaving a
small crater there but snapped back up almost instantly. He was
laughing.

Last chance, Ari said. Tell me now. You die anyway.

The boy twisted his head and spat blood onto the grass. I do have a
message for you, he rasped. Its this:

Dies ir, dies illa

Solvet sclum in favilla,
Teste Soter cum Sibylla.
His chanting voice was sweet, hypnotic, like the way he had been
singing earlier.

Quantus tremor est futurus,

Quando Judex est venturus,
Cuncta stricte discussurus!
Ethan, who had no idea what the boy had just said, could see the
unfamiliarity register on Aris face. She didnt know either.

Are you done? Ari asked. The boy let out a rattling breath. Ari raised
her sword and brought it down on his neck. Ethan glanced away as
the boys head rolled to one side, exposing his bloody innards, but he
turned back in time to see his body disintegrate, melting into dust.
Before he had time to consider all he had seen, the sound of a single
persons slow applause echoed from beyond Ethans view. A boy
stepped into the clearing. He was tall and lanky with spiky, electric
blue hair that glistened in the moonlight. He wore a sleeveless vest
and had two swords crossed like an X at his back, their hilts sticking
up over his shoulders. His black boots were so polished they shone
in the moonlight.
The new boy clapped once more and clasped his hands together. I
thought for sure you were going to let that cutie live, considering your
weakness for blue-haired boys, he said to Ari who had re-sheathed
her sword and collected her arrow.
Ari twirled the arrow on her fingertips and ignored the boys gibe. Did
you get all that?

Of course, the boy said, bowing slightly. Ancient Latin hymns are
my specialty. Our now-deceased demon friend was mostly quoting
the Dies Irae.

Mostly? Ari stooped down and examined the remains of the wandlike object. She pulled a small rectangular object out of her pocket. It
was roughly the size of an iPhone and appeared to be made of glass
and crystal. She waved it over the ground where the demon had
been drawing or writing. It flashed and made tinkling sounds.

Yes. He changed one key line. The original refers to David and the
Sibylls coming together to witness or bring about the destruction or
the judgment of the world. Latin is always iffy like that.

David and the Seers, Ari muttered.

He changed it to a Savior and the Seers, the boy said.
And we have no idea who the Savior is, Ari concluded. Is that it?
Not unless you want to unkill your demon so he can serenade you
with all nineteen verses. The boy shrugged. Well figure it out.
Anything on your Archangel friend?

No, but I have a plan for that.

So do I.
Does it involve walking up to him and picking a fight? Ari asked, the
hint of a smile in her voice.

Nothing quite as dramatic, the boy said. It involves getting us into

the very exclusive Lucy Furs.

The nightclub?
The boy nodded. Every demiworld scion in North America is a cardcarrying member. House of Grey, House of White, House of Black,
Faerie ambassadors, Liliths Regents. Ive heard if you want to find
somebody important or find important information, you go there.

Sounds like youre their salesman, Ari said, turning to leave the
clearing.

Theyre lucky to have me, the boy said, following her. Its the best
place for demiworld gossip in the Western Hemisphere. There will be
drinks. There will be music. There will be dancing.

49: Dark Curtains

Ethans mind buzzed with too much information as he left the shadow
of the church building and climbed the steps to go back inside.
Nicolais prisoner?
ArisFriend? Boyfriend?
Demiworld nightclubs?
And had he really been written about in an ancient Latin hymn?
He passed the remaining trickle of attendees coming out of the
church and found Sam still inside saying goodbye to the rector who
disappeared into the little side door that Ethan presumed led to his
office.

Where did you disappear to? Sam said when he had reached her
side at the front of the church.

Just outside, Ethan said.

So, you dont want to talk about it?
Not now. Lets go home. Ethan turned to head down the aisle.
You do realize you may not have the option to do that one day?
Something in her tone made Ethan freeze. He stared at the door
between him and the night outside and wished, not for the first time,
that there was a door he could shut to keep away the night in his
soul. But there wasnt. He turned around slowly. Thats what this is
about. All of this He waved his arm, indicating the now-empty
sanctuary around them. Youre afraid that, one day, Im going to be
just gone. That this Guardian is going to come and hes going to take
me away. Hmm? Ethan shook his head. It doesnt Im sure it
doesnt work like that.

But what if it does? Sam said. You dont know. Her emerald eyes
had grown large in the candlelight.
Ethan reached in his pocket and took out the dagger. Youre right,
he said. I dont know how any of this works. The silver-white blade
glowed in the dimness. It was the brightest thing in the room, a deathshaped star. If Mom and Dad are right, one day, I will be gone. And I
dont know what happens after that. But I want you to keep this as a

reminder that, whatever happens, angels are always watching over

us.
Sam took the dagger carefully and held the blade up between them.
Yeah, and demons too, she said.
Ethan laughed. I was trying to be hopeful.

Hope is for those unburdened by fate, a muffled voice intoned.

Ethan and Sam turned to face the direction of the voice. They
realized that all of the candles had gone out in the sanctuary, and the
stained glass angels, washed of their color, stared down as somber
witnesses.
A dark figure stood in front of the large, wooden doors of the
cathedral. It was impossible for the doors to open and shut without
making noise, so Ethan wondered how this person had gotten in.

Who are you? Ethan asked.

To you, we are agents of fate, the muffled voice said again. He took
a small step closer, his feet soundless on the floor, and Ethan could
see that he had a scarf wrapped around his head, leaving only a slit
for his eyes.
Us? Ethan looked around to see who else the masked man might be
referring to. I dont believe in fate.

Everyone who says that hasnt really stopped to consider the

possibility. The man took another small step forward.
Sam grabbed Ethans sleeve. Are you two really having this
conversation now? she whispered. We need to get out of here.

Are you the Guardian? Ethan asked.

Do I look like one? Another step.
Okay, no. Ethan thought of the little door the rector had gone
through a few minutes earlier. He started moving backward toward it,
taking Sam with him.
They had only gone a few feet when Sam gave a startled noise.
Ethan turned, taking his eyes off the masked man. What?
Sam pointed. Near the front of the church something had dropped
from the high ceiling. It looked like a black curtain, about a foot
across, blocking their path. The curtain was thin; the shape of the
pulpit could be made out behind it.

Before they could figure out what it was, a noise like a whisper caught
their attention and they turned to face it. To their right, out over the
pews, another black curtain dropped from the ceiling.

Ninjas, Sam said.

The whispers sounded all around them. A third black curtain dropped
from the ceiling. Then a fourth, a fifth, and a sixth.
For a moment, all was still.
Then the curtains began to sway and tremble.
Ethan and Sam looked up to where the curtains blended with the
shadows cloistered against the ceiling. There they saw things moving
descending.
Ethan realized that the things were people. They slid silently, like
acrobats, down the silken curtains. They were dressed all in black like
the first one who had spoken and had scarves wrapped around their
heads, leaving only slits for eyes. And in one hand, they each carried
curved silver swords.

Now would be a really good time to try your teleporting powers

again, Sam said.
Ethan clenched his eyes, reaching deep within for the white fire and
the rush of heat. He conjured the image of his own bedroom, held it
in his mind. Tried to focus. But the whisper of swords in the air around
him frayed his nerves. His eyes snapped open. Its not working.

You cant escape fate, the first masked man said. And neither can
we. It has been foreordained that either you or us will meet death
here tonight. He drew his sword and stepped forward.

Fine. Just let my sister go, Ethan said.

Her life is not in the balance here. The masked man raised his
sword to his shoulder.

Go, Sam. Get out, Ethan said.

Sam didnt move.

You heard him. Go, Ethan said.

Sam eyed the big double doors and then the small exit to the side of
the podium. She shook her head. Im not going anywhere, she said,
holding up the dagger Ethan had given her. Angels, remember.

Ethan took the dagger. Then its their turn to help. He turned to face
the dark swordsman if he was a man. He was close enough to see
the glint of white in his eyes now. Ethan wondered if he really
believed what he had said about fate. If so, this swordsman was likely
as scared as he was.
But he didnt show it. He raised his sword above his head and
charged.
At the same time, the other six swordsmen, who had been standing
silently where they had descended from the ceiling, rushed toward
Ethan. Two ran on tiptoe across the back of the pews. Two leapt over
the pews from opposite directions toward where Ethan and Sam
stood. Two jumped straight up into the air.
All had swords extended.
Sword blades first two, then three, then four entered Ethans
vision. Silver slices of death, heading straight for his head and his
heart. There was barely any time to react. The swordsmen were fast.
Ethan focused on the sword blade directly in front of his face, waiting
for the moment when it would slice into his skin. He refused to close
his eyes. Strangely, he could feel the pressure of the weapon even
before it touched him.
Then, suddenly, the pressure was gone. There was a noise
a pop like trapped air being released. The sword and the
swordsman were vanishing.
Ethan strained to see in the gloomy church. The swordsman was
disintegrating right in front of him turning into what looked like
particles of dust before his eyes.
Ethan turned. As each of the masked swordsmen brought their
swords down on his head, his neck, his chest, his arms one tried
to swipe his legs out from under him the same thing happened.
A soft pop, and the swordsmen turning to dust.
Ethan stared in mute astonishment as the last swordsman fell to the
ground in a shower of dust. He felt a sharp pain in his right wrist.

Th-theyre dead, Ethan said, unsure what to make of it. What just
?

That is seriously the freakiest thing I have ever seen, Sam said.
Ethan knelt and pressed his fingertips to the ground. Hard particles
sharp and tiny like salt crystals pressed back.

50: Enter the Demiworld

The stars had vanished from the night sky by the time Ethan and
Sam, feeling distinctly tired, climbed the steps to their home. Ethan
took out his key. Just between us, he said. Thank you for staying
back there. That was brave.

Well, somebody had to be, Sam said as Ethan opened the door.
I hear your implication much louder than your actual words.
The lights on the first floor were off, and Ethan figured his parents
were up in their offices. He flicked on the lamp by the front door
and froze.
The light revealed someone sitting in his fathers chair a girl who
looked to be about twenty years of age. She wore black cargo pants
and a black tank top that left her brown arms bare. Her shoulderlength black hair swished in a halo as she turned to face them. She
was leaning back casually, legs crossed as if it was her house and
she had been expecting them. On the floor beside the chair was a
black duffel bag that looked full. And, in the girls right hand, was one
of those wand-like things Ethan had last seen in the hands of a
demon.

Youre late, she said looking directly at Ethan.

Ive seen you before, Ethan said.
Good. Then we can dispense with introductions. Were already
behind schedule.
Ethan shook his head. Who are you?

Havent you been expecting me?

Did the Guardian send you?
I am the Guardian.
Ethan didnt know what to say. Suddenly, things that he had only
vaguely considered had become very real.

You look surprised, the girl said. What were you expecting?
Ras al Ghul or somebody, Sam muttered.

The girl stood up. Ive already discussed things with your parents.
They knew I was coming. The paperwork has already been prepared
stating that you are transferring to a private school north of Dallas.

So, you expect me to What? Just walk out of here with you?
Ethan said. I dont even know your name.

My name is Ember, she said, taking a step closer.

Ethan took a step back. What is that thing?

This? Ember held up the wand, which appeared to be made of

glistening white stone. This is a virge. It allows those of us without
supernatural powers to access the primordial energy of the Earth and
the universe. Which some call magic. If it makes you feel better
She slipped the virge into a pocket. Theres another thing I can tell
you which, hopefully, will set your mind at ease.

Whats that? Ethan said.

I can tell you why the seven who tried to kill you tonight ended up as
particles of dust. Ember held out her hand as if expecting to receive
something.
Ethan looked at it. What?

Your arm, Ember said.

Ethan raised the arm with the leather bracelet and wooden beads his
birth mother had given him the only thing he had from her.

The Marks on these beads are the names of three angels Senoy,
Sansenoy, and Semangelof, Ember said, twisting the beads around
so the painted side faced up. The black Marks looked glossy in the
lamplight, like tiny, twisted rivers of ink. When Lilith rebelled and left
the Garden of Eden, the Immortal Throne sent these angels to
convince her to come back. They caught up with her at the River
Gihon thats the Nile in Egypt but she refused to return. She
declared war on all of Adams descendants. The best the angels
could do was get her to agree that she and her offspring would spare
the lives of all those who bore their Marks. For the most part, she and
her people have kept the agreement. And you already know what
happens to those who dont.
Ethan remembered the burning sensation he had felt around his wrist
as the swordsmen fell dead. Perhaps the angels names or Marks
had somehow been activated. What Ember was saying seemed
plausible. But he said, Thats an interesting story.

You think I just made all that up? Ember said, her voice tilting
toward annoyed. Ethan detected a faint British accent;
Embers up sounded like ahp.

Not really, Ethan admitted.

Good, because there are records hundreds, thousands of years
old. Knowledge. Power. Preparation. I will teach you, Ember said.
Soon, you will join the other Seers

There are others? Like me? Ethan said. Where?

All in due time, Ember said. Now we must hurry. She picked up
the duffel bag and slung it across her shoulder.

Whats in the bag? Ethan said.

Your things. Everything youll need.
I dont own a black bag, Ethan said, stalling.
Black. For dark things and swift travels in the night.
You cant just take him, Sam protested.
Well, I can. But I probably shouldnt, Ember said. She spoke directly
to Sam. As if all his trials havent made it clear enough already,
Ethan belongs to the demiworld. And sooner or later, the demiworld
will suck him in, drag him down. Every souled being has a destiny
including you. Some willingly take destinys hand. Others must be
dragged kicking and screaming to their fate.
Sam glanced at Ethan. Dont say that word around him.

Providence, destiny, fate, time, eternity whatever you call it

eventually, they take back what belongs to them. And everyone
belongs. Man has free will but only for a time. Sam nodded,
fiercely trying to blink back the tears in her eyes.
Ember looked at Ethan. Im not one for sentimentality. Say your
goodbyes. She took her virge out of her pocket and turned away to
the center of the room.
Ethan placed his hands on Sams shoulders. Im going. I feel like I
have to. I have to find out why all of this is happening, and what Im
supposed to do. He thought of the Latin hymn. Dies Irae. The
Saviour and the Seers. What Im expected to do. But I will be back.
As soon as I can. I dont think I could stay away from you and Mom
and Dad for long. He waved an arm around the room. This, here, is
my life too.

Ethan took the dagger out of his pocket and handed it to Sam.
Meanwhile, you keep being brave, just like you were tonight. Your
destiny will find you. And I want to be here when it happens. He
hugged her tight, but a sound like lightning seemed to split the living
room.
Ethan and Sam turned to look. Ember was drawing a circle in the air
with her virge. The edges of the circle glowed a brilliant white, lighting
up the room in a fierce glow. A rush of warm air roared into the room,
rustling the curtains and rapidly flipping the pages of the Bible that sat
on the Chinese table. The lamp by the front door tilted dangerously.
The circle crackled and hissed as it spat out white-hot sparks.

Are you trying to set the house on fire? Sam shouted over the rush
of air. She backed up against the wall and shielded her face against
the white light.
Ember didnt look worried.

What is this? Ethan said. He felt connected to it somehow, and then

realized that the white light and heat of the circle reminded him of the
three times he had teleported.

Its a Portal, Ember shouted. Its how we get to where were going.
Ethan looked into the middle of the circle. All he could see was
swirling light and colors pulsing like rushing clouds. So, I just walk
through there?

Yes, lets go.

Ethan looked at Sam. She nodded for him to go ahead.
He marched to the edge of the Portal and stepped in. Ember
followed.
The Portal snapped shut, leaving behind the smell of sulfur and burn
marks on the ceiling and the floor.

51: Summoning
The early November night was chilly. The black waves of the Gulf
crashed against a pale strip of beach. Wind whistled up on the jagged
rocks embedded in the sand drifts.
Felicia, the leader of the Clan Morgana, stood on a rock halfway up a
sand drift. She wore a grey-blue, fur-trimmed cloak that rippled in the
wind. Her raven, who was in a disagreeable mood having been
roused from its sleep late at night, perched on her right shoulder.
Irritated, he kept rustling his feathers and tucking its head under a
wing.
Further up on the sand drift, Rion, the Jinn leader of the Clan
Morgana, stood watchful, sentry-like.
Down on the beach, two more of Liliths Children were present: a
succubus, Dabria, who was bored with the whole Summoning
business and was amusing herself by throwing a trio of daggers in
rapid succession at Sadhu, a Jinn, who stood at the waterline. She
was aiming for his eyes, which were pale green, and stood out in the
grey, black, and dark blue of the night.

You know, Sadhu said, as he caught the daggers and sent them
spinning back, if this is your idea of flirting, it explains why you dont
have a boyfriend.

Who said I was flirting?

It also explains why Bryun came back to us looking like hed been
used as a pincushion. He didnt mean it literally when he said hed
catch a blade for you.

Hush, you two, Felicia scolded.

At that moment, the raven stirred itself and cawed loudly, shattering
the natural quiet of the beach.

She approaches, Rion said.

A scarlet serpent crested the sand drift and slithered down among the
rocks. A few feet away from Felicia, it paused. There was a snap in
the air more felt than heard and Celeste, the Mother Regent of
Liliths Children, stepped onto the sand. Her braided hair was coiled
high on her head. But over her traditional royal dress, she wore a
grey cloak of mourning.

Greetings, Felicia said. All of Morgana sends her condolences for

the loss of our brethren.
Celeste stooped down, touching the back of her hand to the ground.
Her serpent slithered into her palm, up her arm, around her shoulder,
and up to its place in her hair. Have you Summoned me here to
strategize or to gloat? Celeste said.

Neither, Felicia said. To inform you of my strategy. And also to

gloat just a little.
Celeste sniffed indignantly. Your strategy?

Yes. Youve had your roll of the dice and lost seven of your own.
Now its my turn. I did warn you to stay out of this.

You dont know what youre playing at, Celeste said, taking a step
closer to Felicia. She seemed to glide over the rough sand.

I cant do any worse than youve done, Felicia said. Im asking you
to step aside. Let it rest.

Let it rest? When your mother told me she had ceased hunting
Revenants, I asked her why, and those were her words. Let it rest.

That was then, Felicia said. Our time had not come. But today is
different. There are Revenants on the Earth, yes. And who says we
have to be their enemies? But there is also one who belongs to
Liliths Children. I have no doubts. You heard what the Starwalker
said.
Celeste smirked. Oh, so you trust Nicolai now?

Not fully, Felicia said. His shadow hasnt been darkening the door
of my bedchamber.
Celeste launched herself at Felicia, seizing her by the neck, the nails
of her thumb and forefinger digging into tender flesh. The raven
squawked and shot into the air. Remember who youre talking to,
girl, Celeste snarled.

Hands off. Rion drew his sword and pointed it at Celeste.

Dabria came up behind him, daggers in both hands. Shall I relieve
her of her hand? she asked.
Sadhu had circled around behind Celeste, spinning a loaded
slingshot above his head.

Felicia strained to stay upright under Celestes pincer grip. She curled
her fingers around Celestes arm. Their eyes locked, and they held
each others gaze Celestes dark eyes fierce and threatening;
Felicias steady and proud. Finally, Felicia squeezed out a command.
Stand down.
Rion lowered his sword and stepped back.
Dabria dropped her arms to her side, but her daggers quivered in her
twitching hands.
Sadhu released his slingshot and the stone flew
wide, cracking against a rock beyond them on the beach.
Celeste released her grip on Felicias neck, and the clan leader
sucked in a huge breath. She touched her fingers beneath her chin.
You know, I could have ordered them to take your head, she said as
she considered the blood on her fingertips. But I didnt. Thats
something. Her raven swooped around the quartet in a wide circle
and glided onto Felicias shoulder.
Celeste jutted her chin at Rion and Dabria. Are these your
advisers?

My closest, Felicia said.

They are loyal. Ill give them that. But they are too young, Celeste
said. You dont even have one on your side whos seen half a
millennia. Theres a reason some of us have lasted as long as we
have.

I trust them, Felicia said. Thats all I need.

Celeste thought for a moment. Forty days, she said.

What?
You have forty days to bring the girl to Liliths Rock for her testing.
Celeste shook her head. And if this one fails, may the Throne have
mercy on our souls. She stooped down, letting her serpent slither
onto the ground. It made its way across the rocks and the sand.
There was a snap in the air, and Celeste was gone.

Rion, Felicia said. The Guardian has taken the Revenant to her
fortress. You know what to do.

You want me to spy on them? Rion said.

No. I want you to befriend them.

Nigh impossible, Rion said. You know they only see the shadow of
a fallen Watcher and our rebel Mother when they look at us. They see
us as devils nothing more.

Now, is your chance to change that, Rion. Felicia smiled. Sadhu,

you are to remain near the girl at all times. The preservation of her life
and her sanity is your sacred duty.

Is that really necessary? Sadhu asked. Celeste just said

I dont trust Celeste, not even after tonight. The old witch always has
something up her sleeve, Felicia said, stroking her ravens feathers.
Okay, were done here. Rion, you have forty-eight hours to reach
your post and report your status. Sadhu, you have two.

Why do the boys get all the jobs? Dabria said.

52: Seal of Solomon

Nicolai was feeling very pleased with himself. The Rift he had left
open to the Abyss was strong enough for Sammael to communicate
with him. Now, the fallen Watcher had sent him a message: He had
located the Seal of Solomon.
It wasnt, as Nicolai had thought, somewhere hidden on Earth, but in
the AshEven, the place of fiery stones where Lucifer himself was
afraid to walk.
But not Nicolai. He knelt on the ground by the lake behind his house,
drawing with his virge three concentric circles one for each of the
Heavenly realms he would need to cross to reach the AshEven. (He
wouldnt be there physically, of course. Not even the archangels
would set foot on that holy ground.) Then he began to scrawl a ring of
symbols within each of the circles the words of the First Tongue
the deeper language that ran through all the Earth and the realms
beyond the language that Adam had used to talk with God. As he
wrote, Nicolai felt the blood boiling against his skin. Sweat glistened
on his eyelids. Lights burned against his eyes.
The blue sky washed out above him, replaced with black.
When he came to, he was lying on a hard surface. He suspected that
what was above him was not sky, but a part of the Void Nothing,
emptiness. He rose to a sitting position and looked around. His virge
had rolled away from him and was resting perilously close to the
edge of the first circle. He plucked it up hastily; he would need it to
get back to Earth.
He stood up slowly and the circle glowed around him. As long as he
remained in it, he would be safe. He looked around. He was in what
appeared to be a valley. At a distance, jagged peaks cut into the Void.
Beyond them, he could see red lightning flashing like spider veins. As
far as he could see in the valley, there were tall, black pillars. A forest
of obelisks. On the surface of each of the obelisks was dense writing,
tiny letters from the First Tongue, etched in what appeared to be ink
made of fire.
But there was no time to gaze. Nicolai could feel himself waning; the
AshEven was draining him. He started moving among the stones of
fire, his circles moving with him. He directed his course by the tallest
of the mountain peaks, aiming for the right of it. He hadnt gone far

when he heard a noise a rustling of air above and behind him. He

ducked behind one of the obelisks, careful not to touch it, and
watched. A Seraph, a massive scarlet-colored creature with what
looked like the body and tail of a lion and the head and wings of an
eagle, soared above, his golden eyes glinting with the reflection of
the stones.
Of course, the AshEven would be guarded.
Nicolai went on more carefully now. Keeping watch above and
around him, but he encountered no more Seraphs and no other living
beings.
Finally, he reached the place that Sammael had spoken of. The Hut
of Asmodeus, the Dark Angel who had stolen the ring from Earths
wisest king. It sat at the foot of the great mountain like an upsidedown bowl. It had a hobbit-like circular door with a knob in the middle.
Nicolai shoved the door open and a shower of dust came tumbling
down. He stooped down and stepped inside the hut.
There was nothing in the hut but a small table. And in the middle of
the table was a ring black, rimmed in gold, criss-crossed with Stars
of David. The Seal of Solomon.
Nicolai picked it up and closed his fist around it. A thrum of energy
rushed into his hand, his being. He momentarily wondered what other
powerful items lay hidden in the AshEven. He could return and
collect them all.
But now he had the Seal. And, again, he was feeling very pleased
with himself. The ring gave him the power to command all of Liliths
Children. They thought they were on the brink of a new freedom, but
they each would bow to his will. They thought they would have a new
queen; they didnt know he would be their king. They thought they
could ally themselves with Revenants, but they were wrong.