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  Cayne gave her a reason to hold herself together. He was too weak to walk any distance, so she was practically carrying him. Occasionally he'd glance at her guiltily, and she would make herself smile.

  It was hard to put on the brave face when all she wanted to do was curl into a ball and cry forever, and it only got harder when they began to hear noises below them. Things that sounded like yelling.

  "I think I should go ahead," Cayne murmured as they slowed their steps.

  Julia threw him a skeptical look. “Dream on, weakling.”

  Cayne grumbled, and she could see the wheels turning in his head. But he couldn't deny what she'd said. Their theory was that channeling so much energy had overwhelmed his body, which explained why he got worse instead of better when she tried to heal him.

  Julia's ears strained, but all she could make out clearly was a male voice; it seemed to be booming, as if over a microphone, and it only took a few more steps down the narrow hall for Julia to identify it.

  “Nathan,” Cayne said in unison with her thoughts.

  The sound seemed to be coming from their left, probably from behind the two big, stone doors a few dozen feet down the hallway.

  They were almost to them when the doors flew wide and Shea stepped into the hall. Julia shrieked. She seriously shrieked just like a horror movie victim, and Cayne stepped in front of her, summoning his blood dagger.

  Julia had last seen the girl near the gate to Heaven outside St. Moritz, where Shea had been fighting on the wrong side. Right now, the girl's eyes were huge, and she definitely didn't seem to be after them. She backed up, bumping into the stone door, then fumbled behind her.

  "Watch out," Julia warned, bracing herself for whatever trick the girl might play, but a second later Shea was holding a pad and pen, looking like she wasn't sure if she should use it or bolt. With a frightened glance at Julia, she held up her finger and started writing, holding up the pad when she was finished.

  Nathan asked me to summon Julia, and to make you both invisible before I led you into the commons.

  Julia frowned, and Cayne took the note from her. When he finished reading it, he gave the poor girl the evil eye.

  “You can put your blood dagger away,” Julia murmured. “We're fine.”

  She stepped around the girl and peered into the common room. The vast room, with mud walls, stone floors, and an arched wood ceiling was filled with hyped up Chosen, plus a bunch of broken, wooden chairs and tables, and Julia was, for a moment, shocked to see Nathan and Carlin on a big, stone dais situated at the far left corner of the room.

  What she didn't see was The Adversary. Julia shook with relief, which she tried to hide, and took the pen from Shea. Did he tell you why?

  The younger girl shook her head, but then wrote: Perhaps to hide the Nephilim as you enter the room. After a second's hesitation, she added: It's not a trap. And by the way, I'm sorry about Switzerland. Really sorry.

  Julia turned to Cayne. “What do you think?”

  He shrugged, and Julia wrote: Details?

  It's just an illusion. Promise.

  “Okay.” She nodded, and Shea got to work.

  By the time Julia and Cayne had both been magicked—something they couldn't tell had been done at all, as they could still see each other—and were walking into the common room, Julia had heard enough of Nathan's talking to piece together what had happened after she passed out.

  From what she could tell, The Adversary and a bunch of Demons had passed through shortly after the net had come down. They'd killed fifty-three Chosen, wounded dozens of others, and shocked everyone else, who, aside from noticing that Dizzy, Adam, and a few others had run out of the dormitory area, never to return, had no idea anything out of the ordinary was transpiring.

  As they followed Shea toward the dais where Nathan was speaking, Julia noticed that a few sheet-cloaked bodies still dotted the room. The sight drove the air out of her lungs, and again her mind cried: not true, not true!

  Meredith was not—

  No way was she—

  Julia gritted her teeth. Every time she thought about Meredith, diving into the fray to save her...

  Out of nowhere, a sob rose in her throat, and she had to stop in her tracks to breathe through it.

  Cayne wrapped his free arm around her, and Julia tried to focus on the moment. A Chosen woman was saying something about food rations. Another mentioned burning the dead. Cayne was leaning on Julia heavily, and she wondered how long it would take him to be back to normal.

  They followed Shea up the stairs and onto the stone dais, which was about the size of a living room, and Julia gestured to a spot where the dais met the rocky wall. She helped Cayne over, and the two of them sat side-by-side. After a second, Julia realized they were indeed invisible, and she curled up against Cayne, wondering what Nathan's plan was for them—and if she even wanted to find out.

  She felt nauseated as she listened to the distraught Chosen describe how the floor shook, and up from the depths of the pyramid, dozens of Demons had emerged, streaking through the halls with big, red wings, bringing death and mayhem and terror. She rested her head on Cayne, and leaning on him, feeling his warmth, she was able to bear what she was hearing. With a little focus, she actually managed to tune the people's voices out; they were all telling different versions of the same story, after all.

  It felt incredible to let her body sink into its weight, to forget her troubles in the steady beat of Cayne's heart. She was in an almost-comfortable daze when she noticed the room had fallen silent. Every eye clung to Nathan.

  “I can’t think of anything that will soften this blow, so I’m going to tell you directly.” His voice carried across the room, and everyone watched quietly, eyes wide. Julia recognized what Nathan was doing; he was soothing them, using his ability. Despite her earlier anger at him, she was impressed that Nathan was able to rise above his grief to work the skill so deftly. Even more impressed when he spoke clearly and purposefully.

  “The Three betrayed us.” Murmurs traveled through the crowd, some of them angry. "Many of you were led to believe that they were elders, venerated Chosen leading us against aggressors but inherently no different from you. Some among us, myself included, knew part of the truth. The Three were Methuselah, an archangel, sometimes known as a Celestial deity, and his two eldest sons.”

  There was an explosion of angry noise, and Julia was on pins and needles as Nathan tried to quiet the crowd. Some of them were yelling things like "Blasphemy!" and Julia remembered her first impression of these people—that they were cult members.

  "I knew Methuselah's true identity," Nathan was saying. "So did select others. But we did not know his true plan. It had nothing to do with saving us from Nephilim. He wanted to use us to start a war with Heaven."

  More angry yelling, and Julia actually moaned. "It will be okay," Cayne assured her, but Julia didn't think so. People were demanding to know what happened, and once Nathan calmed them down, he gave them the whole story, unabridged. Most people reacted as expected—with shock and horror and fear. Many were angry, and there were still a few who insisted Nathan was spreading sacrilege. He had his hands full trying to calm them and answer their questions.

  Julia leaned her head against the cool, stone wall and shut her eyes as she tried again to tune the noise out. Cayne played with her hand, and she pretended they were in a school assembly, listening to the principal drone on and on...

  The idea brought tears back to her eyes.

  Meredith would be a cheerleader. Nathan, SGA. Carlin would be too cool for group activities, but she would have her own posse, and they would all wear designer clothes. Drew would be the school newspaper editor, and all the boys would heart him.

  Julia wondered how she would have placed Cayne, back when they first met. She probably would have stuck him at the jock lunch table, or the punk table. Now she knew neither one was true. He would sit at her table, wherever that was.

  Feeling a half smidgen less despera
te, she opened her eyes and touched Cayne’s still-bare chest. “How are you feeling?” she whispered.

  “Fine.”

  “Nice evasion, tough guy.”

  He winked, and Julia was feeling all gushy inside when Drew grabbed her arm. "You're on."

  As Shea stepped closer, making Julia visible again, Nathan turned and touched her wrist. His brown eyes were full of apology. “I know you're angry at me…but I'm going to need your help. I can corral everyone and give direction, but you're the one with Methuselah's power… And you weren't fooled by him, either.”

  "What kind of help do you need?"

  "You being here is enough."

  Julia nodded, and after a second, told him, "I'm sorry for what I said earlier." The truth was she did blame him, at least a little bit. And she didn't trust him as far as she could throw him.

  But Nathan nodded all the same. His eyes got watery, and after a long moment holding her gaze, he turned back to the crowd.

  "Most of you probably know Julia's name. She was identified as The One, the Chosen selected by Methuselah to be manipulated and used in his schemes. Methuselah didn't get the chance, but she inherited his power." Murmurs. Gasps. Every eye turned to her. "She didn't ask to be stuck with this burden,” Nathan continued. “Unlike most of us here, she never believed in the mission of The One—to her credit. But she knows as well as I, and as well as you should, that The Adversary must be stopped. Hell must not be allowed to control Earth."

  Someone cried, "What do we do?" and Nathan turned to Julia.

  She opened her mouth to say, "I have no idea," but Shea appeared at her side. "She's going to amplify your voice," Nathan said.

  Julia thought again of Meredith, and came to a split-second decision: She wanted this. Maybe even needed it.

  When she opened her mouth, she had no idea what was going to come out, so she surprised even herself when she said, “I have Methuselah's Celestial power, and I'm going to use it to destroy The Adversary. As soon as I can get to Heaven's gate, I have an appointment with The Alpha." She watched the news sink in and glanced at her friends. Drew was surprised, Carlin was nodding. Cayne was grim-faced—but maybe that was because he wasn't feeling well. “I'm going to speak to The Alpha. I'm going to get his aid. There is a way to defeat The Adversary, to kick him back into Hell."

  The room was silent, every Chosen staring at her with uncertain eyes. It was overwhelming. "We can do this!" she said, with as much enthusiasm as she could muster. Which wasn't much, but Shea worked her words into a rallying cry fit for a superhero movie.

  Cheers broke out among the crowd—not a chorus of joy, but at least some people seemed to feel better. She tried to smile confidently as an old man yelled, “She is The One!”

  And for the first time, she kind of felt like it.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Several hours later, Carlin picked a beige Hummer with huge black tires, and Drew found the key labeled “43” to match the huge SUV's slot in the hangar.

  It was hard to believe that just days before, Julia and her friends had arrived by plane in this same hangar as prisoners of Methuselah, with Nathan in the role of Chief Betrayer. Julia had been tortured by Dizzy, who apparently was dead now. She'd been terrified to find out what The Three had in store for her. And Meredith had been there...

  For the thousandth time in the last few hours, Julia felt like a big, stiletto boot had stomped her heart. It was all she could do to keep from clutching her chest. When she thought back to her first meeting with Cayne, she realized she'd felt the same those few days in the warehouse: that grinding, utterly unbearable ache of wanting someone who wasn't physically present anymore.

  When she'd lost Harry and Suzanne, she had been alone and adrift, no idea who she was or what she would do. Now at least she knew the answer to the first, even if she didn't like it. She was The One. She was strong, and she was loved. She had a place in the world, even if it was a scary one. And she knew what she wanted: for the scariness to end. For all of this to just be over.

  She tried to make her aching heart feel hard, like a character in an action movie. She was on a quest for vengeance, and she wouldn't stop until the bad guy got got.

  Unfortunately, she was after the consummate baddie, and he was already spreading major badness. They learned just how much after Julia's impromptu speech, when Nathan ushered Cayne, Drew, Carlin, and her to a small room off the main hall. There they were to wait while Nathan organized the Chosen and found another healer to try to rejuvenate Cayne.

  When Carlin discovered a computer, she demanded to use the Internet, and Nathan had to summon a lanky woman named Mary to get them set up.

  It only took Carlin a few minutes to notice the news: American Marines run out of a long-held base somewhere in Africa, a man getting shot in British Parliament, a rash of suicide bombings, a deadly tsunami. The sad thing, Julia reflected, was that the devil didn't need to be on Earth for those things to happen. But there was the very palpable feeling that things were happening fast, and getting worse.

  Now, with Carlin driving, Drew riding shotgun, and Julia holding hands with a tired-looking Cayne in the backseat, they listened to the radio on the only English station Drew could find. They bumped over the dry desert toward Cairo for a full six minutes before they realized the heavily accented voice was just talking about Taylor Swift.

  “Go to any of the Arabic stations,” Cayne said finally.

  “You speak Arabic?” Carlin asked.

  “Some.”

  After a few minutes listening to a passionate-sounding man, Cayne signaled Drew to turn it down. Julia could tell by his face that the news wasn't good.

  “Egypt is having a resurgence of violence. The Cairo airport has been overtaken by... You could translate the word to mean 'renegades.'”

  “Are you freakin' kidding me?” Julia gaped.

  Carlin slowed the Hummer, looking over her shoulder at the pyramid; Drew was shaking his head, but Cayne held up his hand and continued translating. "There's more going on around Egypt, but especially in the transportation centers. It's dangerous at the airport. Too dangerous.”

  “What does that mean?” Carlin gasped. “What do we do?”

  Drew met Cayne's eyes, and Julia already knew what he would ask. “Can you fly?”

  “No! No, no!” Carlin cried. “We will not separate! We will never find each other! No—” her voice broke— “I cannot lose another friend!”

  Carlin started to cry, and after getting a hug from Drew, she came around to the backseat and got in on Julia's side, throwing her arms around Julia's neck and crying into Julia's tangled hair.

  “You are my family! You can't leave me!”

  “You're mine, too,” Julia whispered, holding onto her friend.

  “We'll make it back,” Cayne said.

  “What if you cannot?!”

  “We'll find you, Car,” Julia said. “We're tough, remember?”

  “I'm feeling stronger,” Cayne promised.

  “Are you really?” Drew asked.

  “I am."

  Julia managed to hold back tears until they pulled back into the hangar, and a booming, shaking noise sounded from somewhere far away.

  “Was that a bomb?” she asked.

  Drew caught her eye, and his expression gave her a sinking feeling.

  They all climbed out of the Hummer, and Carlin turned to Cayne. “This is real? The bomb? It is not a coincidence?"

  “I can't say for sure. But it's probably not a coincidence,” Cayne said quietly.

  “Be careful with Julia! And be careful, you!” Carlin poked her finger into Cayne's chest, then threw her arms around him.

  “We'll be safe below the pyramid,” Drew said, wrapping his arm around Car.

  “Overthrow Nathan if you need to,” Julia said, only half joking.

  “Will do, Captain.”

  “Be safe,” Drew said to Cayne. They clasped hands, and Julia thought she saw relief on Cayne's face. She wondered if h
e'd been worried that the others would hold it against him—Meredith's death.

  Julia and Carlin held onto each other, with Carlin declaring, “We will go to the spa when this is over! We will go in Madrid!”

  Drew hugged Julia so hard it hurt, pressing his forehead against hers. “I think this is your purpose,” he said quietly, near her ear. “You can do this.”

  After another round of hugs and tears, Drew and Carlin disappeared inside, and Cayne pulled Julia into his arms—only for a second, before they stepped outside, into the brilliant dawn.

  Julia gripped Cayne's hand. “Are you really okay to do this? Even holding me?”

  He nodded. “The healer helped. We'll have to take it slow, but I'm okay.”

  “I'm glad Car found you this,” she said, tugging gently on his green zip-up hoodie.

  “I'd be fine without it.”

  “Tough guy.”

  Cayne smiled, tight-lipped, and scooped her up—and for the first time since they'd headed to Washington on board an Amtrak train, Julia and Cayne were traveling alone.

  ***

  Cayne's charcoal wings looked a little battered, and with the wind whipping around them, Julia could feel his muscles trembling with strain, but he could indeed still fly.

  The sky looked like a watercolor painting: glorious orange with streaks of violet, deep pink, and yellow, all folded around them like a blanket. It was beautiful, so awesome and peaceful, it made Julia feel like crying all over again. But she didn’t want to worry Cayne.

  They were flying slowly, and every few breaths she felt his chest expand as he inhaled deeply. The few times she glanced up at him, he gave her a smile, but it was tight and didn't quite touch the weariness around his eyes.

  For long stretches of time, she drifted in and out of sleep, lulled by the subtle up and down motion of their bodies. She dreamed of smoke and fire, of pyramids and Methuselah's voice inside her head. Sometimes her old, suspender-wearing neighbor, Mr. Jenkins, who'd helped her after the catastrophe at the Raysons' house, would appear and hold her hand. Other times, Cayne would sweep her up and they would fly away, and she would imagine a little house on a quiet street, where they would take their shoes off at the door, and Cayne would have his own apron. They would have cook-outs…