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and how I found him—was ideally suited to get to me and shake me up a little. Certainly it’s reminded me of what’s at stake, and that reminder came when I most needed it. Can that be a coincidence? Can it be wrong, when I’ll definitely be more diligent and circumspect moving forward?”
    “You think he’s . . . what? Some kind of message for you? A nudge in the right direction from the Creator?”
    “Possibly.” She pushed open the door to the supply room. “Or perhaps he’s a test.”
    “Can you pass it?” Malachai shouldered into the room after her.
    Grabbing a box of latex gloves off the shelf for Trevor, she answered, “I don’t have a choice.”
    He crossed his arms, displaying beautifully defined biceps. “That’s not much of an answer.”
    “Listen, Mal.” She let him see clearly into her eyes. “I admire his resiliency and his heart. I’m touched that he’s so grateful instead of angry and resentful. And I feel guilty that we’re supposed to be protecting him from what he suffered and we failed. I wonder how many others we’re failing right this minute. That’s it. That’s the connection.”
    “How do you know that’s not the precursor to a romantic attachment?”
    “Malachai . . . what is this about?”
    His square jaw tightened. “Something about this makes me antsy. I’ll feel better when he’s gone.”
    “I’m sure everyone will. So leave me to his recovery and we’ll see that happen as soon as possible.”
    “How will
you
feel, Siobhán?” he asked quietly.
    She sighed and reached up to tuck her hair behind her ear. “Like we might’ve gone a little ways toward making restitution for what he’s suffered.”
    “Let’s hope that’s all,” Malachai muttered.

Chapter 6
     
    Trevor looked at his face in the gleaming reflection of the aluminum countertop and winced. He looked hallowed out—not exactly the look he wanted to present to Siobhán, the most gorgeous creature he’d ever seen in his life.
    But she didn’t appear to care that he was less than his best. When she returned almost precisely thirty minutes later, she beamed at him. “You look better already! How do you feel? Is your stomach okay?”
    “Oh, yeah. It’s like it’s made out of cast iron.” He’d eaten every last crumb of a meal that could’ve fed a family. Apparently he’d kept the appetite of a starving man with none of the negative side effects. And it felt like all of the fats and whatever nutrients were available in the food were quickly dispersing through his system. Holding up his hand, he could almost watch it filling out and looking less bony.
    “I’m going to check on the subjects,” Aurelia said, heading toward the door. “It was great chatting with you, Trevor.”
    “Same goes,” he said, although in truth he’d found it weird. She was very nonexpressive, so very different from Siobhán, who was so warm. And she studied him like some rare bug under a magnifying glass.
    “I brought you some gloves.” Siobhán held up a box. “And I thought I might walk you through my research and findings, and get your opinion.”
    “My opinion?” He smiled. “I’m flattered. I’m also very rusty.”
    “I can help with that.”
    She reached out to him, but he hopped back quickly. “No, no. We need to talk about the mind-meld thing first.”
    Her frown was adorable, as the rest of her was, when it wasn’t making him think thoughts he shouldn’t. He’d be better off if she kept her wings on display, so he didn’t forget that she was way, way out of his reach.
    “Mind meld?” she queried.
    “When you wipe my memory . . . what will I lose?”
    Her face cleared into an impassive mask. “Aurelia talked to you about that? She shouldn’t have.”
    “Why not?”
    “Because you don’t need anything else to worry about. You have enough on your plate as it is. And it’s pointless to worry about it. You can’t fret over what never happened—for all intents and