“Grandma, you said it yourself: If he gets out of there, we’re all dead anyway. Whether from Jared or from this war, it doesn’t matter.” A sickly kind of despair had taken over. A desperation. “The end results will be the same.”
She couldn’t argue that point, and she knew it. With fear and sadness stiffening her expression, she let go.
I walked past Granddad. “Pix,” he said, reaching out for me, but I ducked under his arm and sprinted into the vault. Jared had Cameron in a choke hold, and for a second, I thought Cameron might lose consciousness, but he elbowed Jared in the gut and wrenched himself free.
“Jared,” I said, holding out my hand to him.
His gaze snapped up for a split second. Barely enough time to blink. And Cameron took advantage.
While I thought he would score the skin where the brand was inlaid, just enough to disfigure the symbol, he snatched the knife from his waistband and plunged the blade into Jared’s back.
Without thought, I ran to him, but Cameron tackled me down. By the time we turned back, Jared was holding the knife.
Cameron’s eyes widened. “There it is. Do you see it? That spark of light?”
Jared looked down at the knife in his hands, at the blood dripping from his fingers, and he stumbled back. He leaned against the metal wall, his breaths raspy and spent, then slid down it, falling onto all fours.
“Crap,” Cameron said. He was shielding his face with both hands, squeezing his eyes shut as though a bright light were saturating the room. “I can’t see,” he said, struggling to his feet.
Everyone glanced around, clearly unable to see what he was seeing. He fell onto his knees and cradled his head. His father ran to him and covered his head with his body. Cameron groaned through gritted teeth.
And Jared was doing the same. Cradling his own head, fighting something deep inside.
Then they both collapsed onto the floor in choreographed unison. I ran to Jared as Brooke did the same for Cameron.
Jared was completely unconscious, his solid body impossible for me to move. I looked at his face, ran my fingers over his strong jaw.
“Pix,” Granddad said, rushing toward me. “We don’t know if it worked.”
“It worked,” Cameron said, taking in huge gulps of air. “It worked.”
They picked Jared up and placed him with great care onto a table they brought in. His T-shirt, torn and bloody, hung off him like an overused rag. Granddad turned him over as Mrs. Strom stepped cautiously inside. She worked at the hospital and was the closest thing we had to a doctor in the Order. Jared’s limbs hung limp, as though all the energy they’d once contained had evaporated. And yet, even unconscious, he looked powerful, like a sleeping panther. No one could deny the omnipotence of such a lethal animal.
I stripped off my jacket and placed it under his head as Granddad examined the knife wound. “The scar was healing fast. It probably would have been gone in a matter of days.”
“And that would have been too long.” Cameron joined us, his face swollen, his eyes bloodshot.
“Whatever they had planned is going to happen soon.”
“What did you see?” I asked him, relieved that Jared would be okay and wouldn’t kill everyone I’d ever loved. Instead of waiting for an answer, however, I touched his arm.
And the nuclear flash that hit me almost knocked me off my feet. The moment the knife plunged into
Jared’s back, it started. A tiny spark became a beam, then a flood, then—in one massive burst—Jared’s essence infused the room in a blinding light.
It was similar to how Cameron had explained the darkness, only with light. It was so deep, so forever, an infusion of warmth, genuine and radiant, I doubted I would ever be the same again. Knowing that such a love existed. Knowing that such affection was out there. And then slowly a balance began to settle around him. The darkness and the light merged to become the essence of Jared, of Azrael the archangel, the supreme being who may have been created for one specific reason, but could choose his path.
I blinked back to the present and gazed at Cameron.
“Isn’t that cheating?” he asked me.
“You saw?” Brooke asked, astonished. “You have to tell me everything.”
“Okay,” I promised.
“That’s definitely cheating.”
Brooke and I both gave Cameron a grateful hug, each of us on either side of him. He hugged us back.
“Should we break more of the lines?” Granddad asked him. “The knife wound is already healing. What if —?”
“It won’t,” Cameron and I said in unison. I smiled up at him, having caught a glimpse of his world, now knowing a miniscule amount of what he knew. The things he must have seen. The miracles he must have witnessed his whole life. I almost envied his heritage at that moment before I realized what lay on his shoulders. It was bad enough being the prophet that was supposedly going to stop the coming war. I hated war. I hated even worse that so much was riding on my paltry abilities. But to have to be responsible for so many, to have been created for such a specific purpose.
“It’s okay,” Cameron said to Granddad. “Whatever kept the light at bay is gone. But it took a lot out of him. The repercussions of such a trip into darkness could very well be long and lasting. It may take him a while to come back to us. I just hope he hurries. We clearly don’t have much time.”
With Cameron’s assurance that Jared would be back to normal when he woke up, we moved him to the spare bedroom on the first floor of our house. Mrs. Strom came over to clean and bandage Jared’s wound, while Grandma and I bathed him with cool washcloths.
“You were amazing,” Grandma said.
I let a breathy laugh escape me. “Cameron was more amazing.”
“But he couldn’t have done it without you. I just—” Her eyes watered as she glanced down, embarrassed.
“Grandma,” I said in surprise, “I—I wish you would trust me more.”
“I’m so sorry, pix.” She hugged me to her and I let her, even though I still wanted answers.
“My turn,” Granddad said from beside us.
I smiled and let him hug me, too.
“We’re so proud of you, pix. What you did—”
“Was probably stupid. I’m sure I’ll look back on it and cringe.”
He chuckled and set me back from him. The sheriff came in then, regarded Jared a moment, then placed a hand on my shoulder. “That was kind of magnificent.”
“Hey, why is she getting all the attention?” Glitch said, frowning as he brought in more water. “She always gets all the attention.”
“She does,” Brooke agreed, following him in with an armful of towels. “I think we should strike.”
“I think you should get to bed,” Brooke’s mom said. Her parents had stuck around the church to help clean up the mess compliments of one Jared Kovach. Man, he could tear stuff up. The archive room would never be the same. Then they came over to check on things here.
Mrs. Prather had gathered bedding and was slipping a pillow under Jared’s head. She handed me back the jacket I’d left at the church. “He’s something, isn’t he?” she said, eyeing Jared with both reverence and appreciation. “What happened was not his fault, Lorelei. I hope you know that.”
I thought back to the picture, the one of Brooke’s seventh birthday party. She had hardly changed at all.
I wished I could tell her where her brother was. I wished something good would come of my visions instead of just darkness and fear and impending doom. I hated impending doom.
“I do. Whoever did this is very powerful.”
“Yes, but so are you,” Grandma said, and my reservations came crashing to the surface again. They had such hope. Dang it.
Still, there was something in her eyes. In Granddad’s, too. A fear. An apprehension. They were still planning on sending me away. The first chance they got. I could see it. Feel it. And I didn’t trust them as far as I could throw them.
