Michael’s blood rushed into my mouth. I staggered from the force of its flow and the power of its images. I’d never known his blood to have such strength, but then I’d never procured it by violent means before.
Looking through Michael’s eyes, I stood on the second floor landing of his house. A tal , elegantly curved grandfather clock stood next to me, and its hands met at twelve. I peered down the curved staircase and caught the tiniest glimpse of my parents and his parents in the entryway. They were talking in hushed tones—presumably so as not to awaken Michael—but I could hear them if I strained and ignored the ticking. Interestingly, though, the scene looked filmy, as if Michael’s vision was hazy.
“What is it, Hananel? You look distraught,” Michael’s mom asked.
“El speth is gone.” My own eyes wel ed up with tears at the despair in my usual y unflappable mother’s voice.
“What do you mean ‘gone’?” She sounded alarmed.
“I mean that she was supposed to be home by five, after she had coffee with her friend, Ruth. I’d given El speth a special exemption from her grounding to meet with Ruth, since their friendship had been strained lately—” My mom’s voice broke, and I saw my dad put his arm around her shoulder as she cried.
“It’s al right, Hananel. What happened?” Michael’s mom prompted her.
“El speth didn’t come home. I waited until six to contact Ruth, who claimed to be confused because she had dropped El speth at our house. But Daniel and I didn’t believe her, so we asked Ruth to come over. She was visibly nervous when she arrived; obviously she knew something. At first, she clung to her original story that she had brought El speth home. We used the vestiges of our skil s to find out more, but al Ruth knew was that El speth had had some kind of fight with Michael. So, at El speth’s insistence, Ruth took her to the train station. Ruth didn’t know where El speth planned to go.” Silently, I cheered on Ruth for keeping quiet about the flying. Even though my parents already knew about it, of course.
“But you’re afraid that it’s more than a teenage fight? You think that she left for other reasons?” Michael’s mom asked.
“Yes, Sariel,” my dad answered. “We talked to El speth last night. We read her the passage about the Nephilim and—”
“What?” Michael’s dad practical y yel ed.
“Keep your voice down, Armaros,” Michael’s mom warned. Sariel? Armaros? Hadn’t I seen those names in the Book of Enoch? Michael’s parents must be “good” fal en angels too, as I’d suspected.
“You didn’t tel her who she is, did you?” Armaros asked, his voice incredulous.
“Don’t be ridiculous. Her ignorance is the only thing that has protected her so far. The same goes for Michael. You know that,” my dad said. He was as angry as I’d ever heard him.
“Then why would you come so dangerously close to revealing the truth to her?”
“Her powers have started to emerge. The poor thing thought she was a vampire. We needed to give her just enough information to dissuade her of that misconception—and explaining the link between the fal en angels and vampires was the only way. We didn’t tel her anything more.” I knew that this last point wasn’t exactly true, but I was glad Armaros didn’t. He was fierce.
“Daniel, how could you be so foolish? We were meant to protect them longer, keep them unaware until they were ready. Until it was time.”
Armaros continued sparring with my dad.
“What were our choices, Armaros? To let her go on believing she was a vampire? And have Michael believe the same thing too? Such thinking would bring them precariously close to darkness. When Ezekiel or the others emerge, as they undoubtedly wil , it would make El speth and Michael easy prey for their dark purposes.”
I felt something snap in Michael, almost like he’d woken up. And suddenly I saw the image more clearly, not through some bizarre haze. I guessed that the haze was the residue of Ezekiel’s influence.
“You’re right, Daniel. But while it is one thing for El speth to be aware of her differences, it is quite another for her to even suspect who she is. You may have opened the door just enough to put El speth and Michael in play, assuming El speth told him what she knows,” Armarmos barked back at my dad. Then he said quietly, “You might have even triggered the end days.”
“You don’t think I know that, Armaros? Hananel and I tried so hard to make El speth feel like a regular human —to align her with mankind when it’s time and to stave off her powers and the clock. You don’t think I’ve worried myself sick over when to tel her who she is? When to begin preparing her for the battle that rages beneath the surface in this naive world? We have walked a very fine line between keeping her safe and innocent and preparing her for war. How can we possibly know the best course for El speth and Michael when we haven’t seen their kind since—”
Armaros interrupted. With venom. “Since the beginning.”
“Enough fighting,” my mom interjected. “We don’t know that either El speth or Michael know anything of significance. We do know that El speth is gone, and we need to find her. We have sent a gifted friend to track her down and bring her home, since obviously we cannot go ourselves—”
“Obviously,” Michael’s mom interrupted.
“And we were hoping that you might send one of your friends to do the same,” my mom finished.
“We would be happy to do so, Hananel.” Michael’s mom paused and then said, “Thank goodness, Michael doesn’t know anything.”
“Nothing?” My mom sounded skeptical.
“He senses his powers, of course. But, otherwise, he seemed perfectly normal at dinner tonight. If a little subdued.”
“He didn’t mention a fight with El speth?”
“No. But then, you know how teenagers are.”
