Death and the Girl Next Door

with a rush of panic. Compared to the Southerns’ great room, ours was minuscule, but if I’d stopped to count, I knew I’d find at least fifty people in our living room, probably more.

I took a wary step back, but Brooklyn took my other hand and led me in. With her eyes on the sheriff, she said under her breath, “You were right. We are so busted.” Then she looked up and screeched to a halt. “Mom! Dad! What are you doing here?”

Brooklyn’s mom held out her arms to her. She was the most beautiful African-American woman I’d ever seen, petite like Brooke with the same delicate shape and soft brown skin. But her dad was tall and thin and almost as white as I was. He was super good-looking, though, so I understood the attraction.

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

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

“Cameron.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So, you’re a prince?” Glitch repeated. Still oblivious.

“What good would it do, Reaper?” Cameron said, coming to stand dangerously close to Jared. “She doesn’t need to know.” He tilted his head toward Brooklyn. “None of them need to know.”

Jared’s head tilted in curiosity. “They have a right to know what they are.”

“And what are they?” Cameron asked, closing the distance between them.

“Not again,” Brooklyn said, but her parents had wrapped her in their arms and were pulling her out of harm’s way. “Mom, Dad, it’s okay. They do this crap all the time.”

“Casey,” Glitch’s mom said, waving him toward her. She had soft brown hair and startlingly green eyes, her coloring so opposite that of her Native American husband’s who beckoned Casey closer as well. “Casey, come here.”

Glitch shrugged and threaded through the crowd to her. “Is he seriously a prince?” he asked in a hushed tone.

She clutched him to her, then turned back.

Jared answered Cameron, and as usual, his answer didn’t actually answer anything. “They are taken.”

“Calling the kettle black, now?” Cameron asked, his blue eyes glittering with a not-so-subtle warning. “Maybe your new friends need to know what they call you. The shadow prince. The sin-eater. The grim reaper.” He leaned tauntingly close. “The Angel of De—”

In an instant, Jared pushed Cameron so hard, he flew across the room and slammed into the back wall. The house literally shook with the force, and everyone ducked, though they needn’t have. Cameron landed well above their heads, then fell forward to land solidly on his hands and feet. I cringed. His body had left an indentation in our drywall. I wondered if it was just me, or if Jared really was growing stronger with every minute that passed. Not that Cameron cared.

Mr. Lusk had started forward, but a couple of the men held him back as Cameron coughed and fought for