"But we know what you are now, and things wil be different. You're Gabriel, bound in human form, the archangel of revelation, mercy, resurrection, and death. There's nothing you can't do."

His words ignited fear in me. I wasn't ready to ful y understand what I was, or how to accept it, or what would happen once I did.

"I'm going to take a shower before we go," he said. "In the meantime, think of plenty of imaginary stories to entertain your parents about your up-north adventures with Kate."

I forced my own smile. "Definitely."

I pul ed on jeans and a tank top, discarding my towel on the floor. I lay back down on the bed on my side, tucked my knees to my chest, and stared at the wal . I tried my best not to think about the night before, but I felt horrible for the poor crew of the Elsa. Because of our task, because of me, they were al dead. Jose's blank face stared back at me when I closed my eyes. A flash of a different vision--one of my own body clutched in Geir's monster hands--struck me, sending shivers al the way down to my bare toes. Wil had promised me that my ful strength would return along with my memory, but I was afraid that it would come al at once, traumatizing me, damaging me. In that last battle, I'd been able to control the other side of myself that my power had created. But if that was only a fraction of what I was capable of, then it was possible that I wouldn't be able to control al of it. I wasn't sure I could handle the truth about my past and what I was meant for. It seemed far too simple: kil some reapers, die, live again, kil some reapers, die--lather, rinse, repeat. . . . What if that wasn't it? What if there was something more?

What if I real y was an angel--Gabriel, the archangel, God's left hand?

What Mr. Meyer had said to me the last day I saw him echoed through my mind: "Life is going to test you in ways it never has before. Don't let your future change the good person that you are or make you forget who you are."

The bathroom door opened and Wil stepped out, clad only in jeans. As he brushed past me, I caught his clean scent and sat up, my half-wet hair in tangles. He rummaged through his bag for a dark chocolate tee that brought out the green in his eyes and shrugged it down over his lean torso. The idea of its being forbidden for me to touch him the way I wanted to and for him to touch me was absurd. It was impossible not to want to explore every last inch of him. He sat down on the edge of the bed to tug on a pair of socks, then his shoes. He turned his head to look at me as he slipped the chain of his crucifix over his head and tucked it into his shirt. I crawled forward and knelt beside him. I wasn't anything close to the infal ible, perfect vision of the angel Wil had told me about. I felt like a girl sitting next to a boy who I cared for more than anything else. Just a sil y girl who liked shopping and eating ice cream. This whole thing was too beyond me, too out of my control. A few months before, I hadn't even been sure that God existed, but now people were talking about Him as if He and I were old pals. How do archangels behave? Would I have to stop swearing? Stop watching horror movies? What else would I have to give up, if I had to give up anything at al ? I kind of lied a lot. That wasn't angelic in the least. Was it possible for me to go on with my life as normal knowing what-- who--I was? I didn't want to feel different. I didn't want anyone to treat me as if I were different. I wanted Wil to look at me the same way he always had. I didn't want him to look at me as if I were more of a freak of nature than I already was. I couldn't handle it, damn it, and I sure as hel wasn't going to stop saying damn and hell.

"You about packed?" Wil 's breath was cool and minty from his toothpaste. The dampness of his hair brought out its maple shine, and it was tousled wildly from vigorous drying with a towel.

"Yeah," I said. "I didn't bring much. This wasn't exactly a vacation, so . . ." I trailed off.

He smiled crookedly. "Sorry about that. Maybe one day."

"Are you promising me a real vacation someday?" Hope fluttered through me, giving my words a lilt.

"Maybe," he said with an edge to his voice.

"With horses?"

"Maybe."

He wrapped a hand around my cheek, stroking the corner of my lips with his thumb as softly as if a feather brushed against them. My pulse quickened, and something fluttered through my chest.

"I told you I wouldn't let them kil you," he whispered. Then his eyes changed suddenly and he took his hand back, turning away from me.

I frowned, climbing off the bed to walk over to the dresser, and I turned around to face him. My fingernails tapped impatiently on the cheap wood. My confusion over how Wil felt about me had distracted me from the horrors of the night before and what was to come. I couldn't help thinking that it was actual y Bastian who had prevented my death--but, of course, only so he could kil me later. He had had the perfect chance to finish me off in the hold of that ship, but he hadn't even tried. I knew Bastian was actual y trying to figure out a way to get the Enshi back, awaken it, and destroy my soul so I could never be reborn again. I couldn't let that happen.

"What's wrong?" Wil asked.

The question was funny since there was absolutely nothing wrong with me. I should have asked what was wrong with him. "Do you think Bastian wil find more thugs to do his dirty work, since we kil ed most of them off?"

He nodded. "I would imagine that as word gets out among the demonic reapers of what Bastian is trying to accomplish, more wil flock to him. There's no tel ing what sort of monsters he wil find."