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Lizzie?”
Lev argued.  “You said that dybbuks had attacked both Celia and
Griffin.  If it were all about Lizzie, why would they do that?”
    “Because they sense her on all of
you.”  Evan settled his hands on his hips.  “Yes, you all could be in danger,
but Celia is there with you, and once Lizzie is at home where we are not
divided, I can find other angels to help us—angels who are more familiar with
dealing with spirits resistant to having their souls sojourned.”
    “I can’t—”
    Evan quickly cut Lev off.  “I know
you don’t want to leave her, but there’s nothing you can do.  I can protect
her, and I will do whatever I need to.  You have my word.”  He nodded at
Lizzie’s guardian respectfully. 
    “I suppose you think I should just go,”
Lev seethed, “Seeing as how I’m uselessly human just like him.”
    Evan strode over and set his hand on
his son’s shoulder.  “You’re not useless, Lev.  You’ve never been useless. 
It’s just, right now, there’s nothing you can do.”
    “Fine.  Whatever.”  He watched
Lizzie, a flicker of pain crossing his face.  “But if anything happens to her,
I will never forgive you.”
    He didn’t wait for his father’s
response.  Instead, he strode to the door and slipped out.  Jimmie watched Lev
walk out, and for a moment, he considered changing his mind.  Then he saw Evan
amble to the window, his back to him.  He set his arms on the sill and let his
wings show, the austere brilliance lighting the whole room.  In that moment,
Jimmie realized that while he might love Lizzie more than life itself, there
was only one entity who could protect the little girl he’d raised—Evan.
    Sighing, he nodded as though he’d
made some kind of promise and then shifted, stopping by Lizzie for just a
second so he could bend and gently kiss her forehead. Some part of him thought
perhaps she  might sense him and wake before he left, but that was just him
being naïve and blindly hopeful in the wake of fear.  He stared at her face,
trying not to think about how pale and fragile she appeared.  He had to believe
everything would somehow be okay.  That’s when he finally left.
    * * *
    “Griffin?  Can you hear me?” 
    Celia’s voice was distant, and his
head ached beyond measure.  The pain came in throbbing waves, and he wanted to
bury himself deeper in the blackness, hoping that darkness might drive the
unpleasantness away.
    “Griffin?”  The voice was louder and
more insistent, something that wasn’t going to go away.  If only he could think
beyond this raging headache.
    “Head hurts,” he muttered, thinking
that might distract her and let him slip back into the blessed blackness.
    “I know that.  But you need to wake
up.  I need to make sure you’re okay, Griffin, and to do that, I need to see
your eyes.”
                While he didn’t have a
clue just how unpleasant opening his eyes was going to be, just lying here like
this was torture and took everything he had.  Still, if Celia thought it was
necessary, he would do as she asked, no matter how hard it was.
                Taking a deep breath, he
opened his eyes.  Although the lighting wasn’t all that bright, it seemed like
sunlight as it cut through him, forcing a strangled gasp from his throat.
                “Easy…just take it
easy.”  Griffin felt a hand stroke his forehead, a touch of cool glancing
across his skin, and in its wake the pain slowly receded like the tide washing
back to the ocean, which made it easier to blink once…twice…three times. 
                At first, the world
blurred and spun in a way he’d never experienced, not even when he’d had his
only concussion in second grade.  The spinning made him nauseated, and he thought
he might vomit.  Still, at least the pain was dissipating, suggesting that
perhaps he might eventually rebound.
                “What happened?” he
asked, trying to