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  His brow narrows; suspicion fills his eyes as I feel his intrusion in my mind again.

  After a moment, he resumes walking.

  “His file has not been read,” Michael replies.

  “Did Protector Andrew say how the Influencer killed Ben?”

  “You know as well as anyone that Influencers cannot kill. They can influence one mortal to kill another, but it is up to the mortal to follow the suggestion.”

  “These were not suggestions!” I shout.

  His eyes widen.

  I take a moment to calm myself. “I apologize, but his actions will ripple through all of us. He did not influence Ben or the elderly woman. He compelled them to kill themselves.”

  “Compulsion cannot be used in that manner,” he scolds. “You should know better.”

  “Be that as it may, he still managed it.”

  Michael strokes his chin, fixing his blue eyes on me. I feel him digging through my mind. “Do you have proof to support your claim?”

  I lean toward him. “No. Not yet. But I would like your permission to look into the matter further.”

  “You did not ask permission when you called on the other Protectors,” he says. “Why are you now?”

  I consider my next words carefully, not wanting to upset him further, but knowing it will anyway. “It is my fear that a member of the Fallen may be responsible for the Influencer’s boost in abilities.”

  Michael clenches his fists and breathes so hard his nostrils flare.

  I try to conceal my own surprise as I watch him. Like all angels, he should have no emotions. That’s what we’ve been told. Yet he’s been reacting in a way he never has before. Is he faking it, as John had earlier? Or have the Archangels lied to us the whole time?

  Michael calms himself, then he leans toward me. “Tread carefully,” he warns. “The Fallen are forbidden from aiding demons. Violating that treaty is an act of war.”

  My body tightens, reacting to the threat of war, yet in his eyes I see a glimmer of excitement.

  He wants a war.

  “Will you grant me permission to look into it or not?”

  Instead of answering, he remains quiet. He’s so still that, if I didn’t know better, I’d swear he was a statue. More than likely, he’s communicating with his brothers—Gabriel and Raphael.

  Time is meaningless here, so I have no idea how long I’ve walked with him. I can’t tell him to hurry up. Still, the silence is driving me crazy.

  I shift, and he blinks. He meets my gaze, and I suspect he’s reading my mind to see why I disturbed him. I think about the killer. I think about Amber. I think about all the troubling things I’ve shared with him and my own displeasure that I have no answers for him.

  “Is this why you have gone against protocol and erased the memories belonging to the Page family instead of allowing it to be done by the Perfugae?” he asks.

  I had a feeling this question would come up, so I’ve already rehearsed my answer. “Their minds were altered by the Influencer. Because I suspect the Fallen may be involved, I thought it best to handle the Page family myself.”

  He stares at me a moment longer before turning away. We’re now back at the Pearly Gates. They’re still closed. We’re still the only souls on this side.

  “Do you require further assistance?” he asks, his tone short.

  “Does this mean you’re granting me permission to look into the Fallen?”

  He takes a moment to answer. “If you do this, you will report your findings to us immediately. Do you understand?”

  “Yes,” I reply, grateful for his approval.

  “Then it is done,” he says. “Go with peace, Protector MJ.”

  The Gates open, and he walks toward them.

  “Will you send the Perfugae back in?” I call after him, holding my breath.

  “You appear to have the situation under control,” he says.

  He walks away with his head bowed.

  I turn back to the Great Divide, ready to return to Maddy.

  I’ll have to be more cautious next time. The last thing anyone needs is Michael and the other Archangels to come to Mortal Ground. If that happened, we’d be doomed.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Maddy

  I smile at the glow-in-the-dark stars decorating the ceiling. I’m home. I did it. Granted, it was only possible because Damien’s essence was still lingering inside me, but it’s still a big step forward in understanding my abilities. I don’t need to be touching an angel or a demon to send myself somewhere else—I just need to “borrow” their essence.

  “Maddy?” Tamitha asks, her tone cautious.

  Disappointment fills me. If she’s here, that means MJ isn’t. I roll over toward her. “Yes.”

  “Ar-are you well?”

  I take a moment to be sure. While I no longer feel Damien’s essence inside me, it doesn’t matter. I feel refreshed. Energized. But best of all, I’m not cold.

  “I feel great,” I reply. “Why?”

  “I’m just . . . being thorough,” Tamitha says. “MJ has never given me an assignment this important. I don’t want to fail him.”

  “I’m not an assignment,” I snap.

  “Right,” she says, bobbing her head. “Of course you’re not. You’re so much more than that. You’re the one who’s going to change everything.”

  I look away.

  “I should stop talking now,” she says. “We have a big day ahead of us, and I’m keeping you from getting ready.”

  “Ready for what?” I grumble. “School doesn’t start for three hours.”

  “I know. But you have an itinerary—which you’re now running behind schedule on. So . . . get up! Shake a leg! Put some pep in your step!”

  “What itinerary?” I ask, sitting up.

  “MJ was very specific.” She pulls a long piece of paper out of thin air.

  I shiver, thinking of Justin and the Binding Agreement.

  Instantly, she’s in front of me, worrying over me as Mom used to do before I completely pushed her away.

  “Are you feeling okay? Can I get you anything? I can call for Alexander—he’s just in the park ensuring it’s safe for you.”

  “I’m fine,” I reply, leaning back. She fusses worse than MJ.

  Worry lines deepen on her face.

  “That paper is from MJ?” I ask.

  After a moment, she straightens and smiles, although her brown eyes still look as if they’re scanning me.

  “Yes,” she replies. “In case he wasn’t back when you woke, he wanted us to wake you up at five, take you for a run, let you watch the sunrise, then feed you breakfast. If MJ is still not back, then we need to explain how school is going to work in his absence.”

  I snort. “You’re serious?”

  “Quite. As is MJ, so quit wasting time, and let’s go.”

  “What do you need to ‘explain’ about school?”

  “I’ll tell you after breakfast. Which we’ll be late for too if you don’t hurry up.”

  I glare at her as I grab my running clothes—which she already had sitting out—and go in the bathroom. I take a few minutes longer than necessary. I’m not trying to screw up her plans, but from the sounds of it, this will be the only opportunity I get on my own until MJ is home.

  As much as I love seeing MJ, I’m used to being alone. Dad’s either working, practicing his guitar, or gone with the band. Mom’s busy with her cooking classes, and whenever she publishes a new cookbook, she goes on many radio and TV shows to promote it. On the weekends, she goes with Dad to his concerts. Hannah’s gone from sunup to sundown just about every day. I don’t think she likes being alone.

  The idea of someone dictating how I spend my time is less than appealing. But it’s not really Tamitha’s fault. She’s just doing as she’s told. I will be discussing this with MJ when he comes back.

  . . .

  “Can’t we just walk side by side?” I ask Alexander, ignoring his outstretched hand. He glances at Tamitha,
and she shakes her head.

  Alexander is leaning on MJ’s truck, which he drove here to school. Amber is behind him, popping bubbles with her gum while tapping the toes of her kitten-heeled shoes on the pavement. Tamitha is across from us, alternating between looking at her watch, then me—her nonverbal way of reminding me about the schedule.

  “No,” Alexander says. “Everyone else will see me as MJ, so we have to hold hands. It’s what you would do if he were here. Just . . . don’t send us anywhere, please.”

  My arms tighten farther around me. “He told you about that?”

  “In order for me to protect you while he was gone, he had to.”

  My frown deepens, knowing he’s right. Still, I wish MJ had told me he was sharing such details with Alexander and Tamitha. What else has he told them? My abilities already make me feel like a freak; I don’t need everyone else thinking I am one too.

  He moves his hand closer, waiting for me to agree.

  “Look,” I say, “I know this is stupid, but MJ is the first guy I’ve actually enjoyed doing this kind of stuff with. So it feels like”—I pause, trying to find the right words—“it feels like I’m devaluing our relationship by faking it with you.”

  “Prude,” Amber says.

  “Shut up,” Alexander and I reply in unison.

  Alexander’s quick snap at Amber reminds me of MJ’s intolerance for Amber’s personality. I fight back a grin.

  “Maddy,” Alexander softly says. “This goes beyond your relationship with MJ. So many dark things took place here at school. But even in the shadow of the demon’s influence, your entire class took note of the way you interacted with MJ on Monday and Tuesday. The demon was erased from their minds, but you two weren’t. Your friends are waiting in the lobby—I can hear their thoughts from here. They’re anxious to see how your relationship has blossomed in the last two days.”

  “My friends?”

  As my gaze rests on the school, a knot builds inside me. The last time I saw them, they were all compelled by Justin. He made them question our friendships. He made them turn their backs on me. And I made it easy for him because I had taken my friends for granted all these years.

  I’m no prize. They are. Each of them has a unique light. Luke and Mason are adventurous and always quick to joke around. Shawn is smart and humble. Jake, Kayla, and Maggie—the triplets—are quiet, kind souls. Kelli is fiercely loyal and not afraid to be herself. Just being with them makes me feel balanced.

  “They’re all inside, waiting for you,” Alexander says. “Waiting for us—with me as MJ. Seeing you walk through the doors holding MJ’s hand will make them happy. Only the five of us here will know it’s me and not him. And MJ, of course, as this was his idea.”

  Five of us. Alexander, Tamitha, Amber, and I make four. I flinch as I realize Sissy is the fifth. I should have known—she’s part of the team protecting Amber. But I’m still nervous—unsure of how close she is or what she could be doing without my knowledge.

  MJ trusts Alexander, I remind myself. So as long as I’m connected to him, Sissy shouldn’t be able to do anything to me.

  “Okay,” I say. I put out my hand and close my eyes, waiting for him to grab it.

  “You’re really against this, aren’t you?” he asks.

  “I’m sure MJ will be touched,” says a female voice behind me.

  I turn, and there stands Sissy.

  My heart rate spikes, and my lungs crave more oxygen than I can give them. I can’t speak.

  “While he may have eternity to wait on you,” Sissy continues, “the rest of the world does not. Do you have any idea how much we’re risking by lying to the Council to hide you?”

  I shake my head. “What’s the Council? Are they like the Perfugae?”

  Sissy chuckles. “The Council is—”

  “Sissy, don’t,” Alexander warns.

  “No,” she protests. “MJ may be fine with the consequences, but I’m not.”

  “What consequences?” I ask, hating that MJ has once again left me in the dark.

  “The Council is the Archangels. For lying to them, we’d be discharged forever. We won’t even be allowed to be Guardians. We’d either be stuck up there as standard angels, or we’d have to be reborn. And no matter how good we are or how many people we help with our future lives, we can never again be Protectors.” She narrows her eyes at me. “So either play your part and pretend that Alexander is MJ or go home. I became a Protector to save mortals from demons. You are a threat not only to mortals, but to us as well. I did not sign on to babysit someone whose entire mortal beginning is in question.”

  Heat courses through my veins. What the heck does she mean my “mortal beginning is in question”? But there’s more to my anger than just Sissy. How dare MJ keep all that from me? Did he even give the others a choice in coming to help me?

  “I didn’t ask to be born,” I say through my gritted teeth. “And I sure as hell didn’t ask for your help. As far as I’m concerned, you can leave.”

  A gust of wind suddenly kicks up and knocks Sissy off balance.

  Alexander and Tamitha take defensive stances around me.

  Amber’s mouth pops open.

  I smile. The wind—I think I know what that means. Elizabeth must be okay. She’s still with me. Sissy’s comment must have really upset her.

  Sissy regains her footing, then takes a step away from me. Her eyes are wide with confusion. “What did you just do?”

  I stare at her, not understanding her question.

  Tamitha and Alexander straighten and face me. Alexander takes a tentative step toward me.

  “Maddy,” he says. “I know you can’t control your abilities, but I’d like to know what you did or what we did”—he nods toward Sissy—“to spur that reaction from you.”

  If Elizabeth will be doing things like that, I won’t be able to hide her for long. I’ll protect her name, as the masked demon told me to, but I can’t keep lying.

  “I didn’t do that,” I start. “You guys aren’t the only supernatural beings watching out for me. That wind is a friend. She helped me at Justin’s house too. Apparently she didn’t like the way Sissy talked to me.”

  Tamitha and Sissy gape, but Alexander appears unaffected. “This wind,” he says, “it’s the same one from the park the day you met MJ, isn’t it?”

  “You know about that too?”

  He nods. “MJ followed it. It’s a spirit, but the trail went cold. So who is she, and how do you know she’s a friend?”

  I can’t believe this. MJ tells Alexander everything and yet he barely tells me a thing. Elizabeth showed me MJ’s death. Justin told me about my abilities. Other than revealing that he’s an angel—after I knew he died—MJ hasn’t been forthcoming about anything. I should have learned all of that from him. But I didn’t. So much for his “no more secrets” promise.

  “I’m not saying another word about her until I talk to MJ. For now, we can either go home or we can continue with his stupid plan of acting like everything is normal.”

  Alexander rubs his neck and looks away. “My orders are to take you to school. Sorry, Maddy.”

  I huff and grab his hand. A warm, tingly sensation rushes into my palm. His essence. It spreads through the bones, muscles, and veins in my hand, but stops when it reaches my wrist and begins pooling.

  And pooling.

  And pooling.

  I look at our joined hands, expecting to see mine swelling from the pressure building, but then the built-up essence releases back into Alexander. It’s as if his essence met a wall, and even though it tried to break through, it couldn’t.

  I’m glad his essence didn’t go farther. I don’t need him knowing just how miserable I feel. The slate storm clouds stretching the sky above us do a fine job of showing that, anyway.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Justin

  I should’ve just used the blade on that Protector instead of pushing her. She deserved it for saying that shit.

  Mads�
��s mortal status isn’t in question. She’s human. The real question is, what gave her all her abilities? Mortals typically gain supernatural abilities from a supernatural event. Whatever Mads lived through, it had to have been big. Maybe if I find out how she gained her abilities, I can figure out how to control her.

  I look around Maddy’s bedroom and sigh. Even though I’ve combed her home several times before, I’m going to do it again. From a previous search through her parents’ minds, I discovered that the first big events in Mads’s life are missing from their memories—someone compelled them to forget it all. They can’t recall the pregnancy, her birth, or the first three weeks of her life. They—and I—have no idea what happened during that time.

  The thought of something hurting Mads when she was an infant is appalling. We don’t mess with those who can’t fight back. Even the vilest demons honor that principle.

  So then who was stupid enough to go after Mads when she was a baby—and why?

  I move from room to room, searching through files and pictures, trying to find anything useful. In the basement, I stop and stare at her father’s guitar. It’s an Ibanez SR505 five-string bass. It has a beautiful mahogany finish. My fingers itch to touch it.

  I pick it up, and my left fingers take their places along the frets while my right hand strums along the strings. The vibration of the chords fills me, calling out to a part of me I thought I lost with my last mortal death.

  The basement of Mads’s house is gone, and in its place is the memory of the dank, grungy shithole of Mike’s garage.

  . . .

  The walls and floor rattled from the combination of the nonstop pounding from Mike’s drums, the kick-ass strumming on Paul’s lead guitar, and my wicked fingering on bass. Eric belted out the ending lyrics, and the song faded into silence.

  My fingers shook as my heart still raced with the fast rhythm of the song. Music was my one true passion. It awakened me from my numb state. I lost myself in it. For however long the guitar was in my hand, I could forget all the crap that existed in my life. It only got better with the blended harmony of the drums, lead guitar, and vocals. This was my calling. I needed it more than ever.