I chuckle. “Oh, I don’t know. There was plenty of resisting for a while.” I eye Verus carefully. “Was that why you made the thrax stay longer in Purgatory?”
“Yes, but that’s all I can tell you.” Verus’s mouth stretches into an all-knowing, other-worldly smile. It’s a little irritating.
“Fine, keep your secrets. I’ve got healing to do and souls to zap around or whatever.”
Verus bows slightly. “Until the summit, then.”
“Yes, I’ll see you there.”
The world turns quiet and dark. More voices echo through my dreamless sleep. I open my eyes, blink and yawn. Cissy and Zeke stand near my bed. I drink in the sight of them and smile. They’re safe, alive, and bickering up a storm. Everything feels a little more right with the universe.
Cissy stomps her foot. “I know it’s been days since she’s eaten.” She wags her finger at Zeke. “But Senator Lewis said not to wake her up.”
Zeke points to me. “Well, she’s up.”
Cissy’s tail wags up a storm behind her. “You’re awake! We brought you some broth.” She sits at the end of my bed, bowl in hand.
I pull myself up onto my elbows. “How long have I been out of it?”
“Four days.” She holds a spoon level with my mouth. “Open up.”
“I got it, thanks.” I take the bowl from her hands, raise it to my mouth and swallow. The liquid’s warm and tasty.
“Guess what?” Cissy beams. “I’m going to Verus’s summit too. I’ll be your Mom’s Junior Senator.”
“That’s great. You wanted diplomatic service.”
Zeke sets his palm on Cissy’s shoulder. “My parents are excited to keep her around.” He kisses the top of her head. “And so am I.”
Strange voices sound from the living room. My face crinkles. I’m not really up for meeting any strangers right now. “Who’s that?”
Zeke and Cissy share a pointed look.
“We should get going.” Cissy pulls the empty soup bowl from my hands. I must have been hungry; I don’t remember finishing it.
My friends make their goodbyes and step out the door, careful to close it behind them. The voices grow louder.
I force myself onto my feet, stumble over to the door, and open it a crack. Mom stands in the living room in a red dress, talking to tall man in a gray suit. I can’t see his face. My hazy head tries to place the outline of his body. It’s familiar somehow.
Mom laughs, her chocolate eyes shimmer. An aura of confidence and power surrounds her. I can’t remember the last time I saw her look so lovely and alive. Happiness makes me a little lightheaded. I lean against the doorframe for support.
The man wraps his arms around Mom’s shoulders, pulling her into a long kiss.
Now I remember where I’ve seen that guy. It’s Xavier.
Mom breaks the kiss, giggles, and rubs her knuckle against my father’s belly. I’m totally grinning from ear to ear. Mom spies me in the doorway.
“Myla, what are you doing up?”
I reposition my weight against the doorframe. “I heard voices.”
Xavier spins around to face me. “Hello, Myla.” His turquoise eyes sparkle. He’s now clean-shaven, so he looks more like the man from my dreamscapes: short brown hair, muscular frame, square jaw, and high cheekbones. Time with Armageddon left its mark: his cocoa-colored skin hangs as loose on his bones, as does his suit.
My father takes a few tentative steps toward me. “It’s good to see you awake.”
I smile. “It’s good to see you, period.”
He shakes his head. “I’m still not sure you’re real.” He takes another tiny step forward.
I scope out the space between us. At this rate, we’ll be at it all day. I stagger over to him and wrap my arms about his neck. “I’m here, I’m real, and I love you.”
Xavier folds his arms around my shoulders. “My girl. My beautiful girl.”
My knees get gooey. Walking around wasn’t my best idea.
“Let me get you back to bed.” Xavier props me against his side, leading me past the couch and back into my room.
Mom follows us up to the doorway, and then she pauses. “I’ll give you two some time.” She closes my door with a soft click.
Xavier helps me onto the mattress and tucks the covers under my chin like I’m two years old. It’s sweet. He drags a rusted chair beside the bed, sits down and adjusts the too-loose collar of his crisp white shirt. His voice cracks as he speaks. “Thank you for saving me.”
“Any time.” My heart thuds so hard, I’m almost surprised it doesn’t break out of my rib cage. My father is here! My real, non-ghoul, totally awesome archangel father. I have so much to tell him, even more to ask him. Where do I start?
He reaches toward my face, freezes, and drops his hand.
I grin. “You’re still having issues with the whole ‘is she real’ thing, am I right?”
He nods, tears welling in his blue eyes.
I take his palm and press it against my cheek. It’s calloused but warm. Suddenly I know exactly where to start: the number one interest we share. “Name a demon, any demon.”
“What?”