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made the late-night news and will be all over the Richmond papers in the morning.”
    “Gotta love good news,” Brian responded, sheathing his sword in the leather baldric at his side. His broad hand reached for Lena’s, and he tugged her close. “Speaking of which, we heard from Murdoch. The sixth Ignoble might be more than a rumor after all. He says he’s got a solid lead.”
    Uriel pointed at the stack of demon carcasses. “Let me take care of this, and then you can tell me what he found.”
    Brian nodded. “Meet you back at the ranch house. Okay, folks, let’s vacate the premises. We don’t want to be here when our little band of Satanists returns.”
    He and Lena led the Gatherer group up the stairs.
    Em stayed behind.
    She watched Uriel rub his hands together, admiring the fat globs of white sparkles dripping to the floor. A look of intense concentration briefly overwhelmed his glowing beauty, then a flash of brilliance exploded into the room and the havoc bodies dissolved into a pile of pale gray dust. He murmured several indiscernible words and the painted pentagram faded, sinking into the cement.
    “Uriel?”
    He glanced up at her. “Is something wrong, Emily?”
    “Not exactly.” She drew in a deep breath and mustered her courage. “There’s a plan for me, right? It’s pretty obvious the Trinity Soul is expected to fix this whole mess with Satan and the relics. Well, it would be really helpful to know how. And when.”
    His brown eyes gentled.
    “The situation is very fluid, Emily. We can sense the momentum building, but at this point we cannot see what shape the final confrontation will take. A lot depends on our actions over the next few months.”
    She frowned. “Doesn’t God know everything?”
    Uriel shook his head. “The future has not been written, only loosely sketched. There are still many possible outcomes.”
    “But how do I know I’m learning the right stuff? How do I know there’s not some special tool I’m supposed to have that I know nothing about?”
    “There is no special tool, Emily. You are the tool.”
    “Makes sense,” Em grumbled. “I sure feel like a tool.”
    He frowned, confusion in his eyes.
    “ Tool is another word for moron .” She sighed. “Look. Here’s the problem: The Gatherers have a job to do. I don’t. I’m not responsible for anything. Since no one knows what I’ll be called upon to do in the Apocalypse, they make me study everything. But that just makes me a master of nothing. It would be nice to have a task I can focus on.”
    “I understand that you’re frustrated. But you must be patient, Emily. Everything will become clear in time. Just continue to study, and learn as much as you can.”
    “I have been learning. Lots. Ask Lachlan,” she said. “I can pop wherever I want, whenever I want. I can recite forty-plus spells from memory, and I’m getting pretty darned good with a sword. That’s not the point. With focus, I could become an expert at something. Maybe I’m supposed to spend some time with you and the angels? See the job from a different perspective?”
    “No. The lessons you must learn are here, among your own kind.”
    “My own kind? As far as I know, I’m the only one of my kind in existence. Unless there’s some other Trinity Soul you forgot to mention?”
    He cut through her sarcasm with a reproving stare. “You’re still a human, Emily.”
    “Barely.”
    “The middle plane already offers you a unique perspective, one that neither Our Lord nor Satan possesses. You see things we do not. Use it to your advantage.”
    “I don’t actually see them. More like hear them.”
    His brow arched. “Them?”
    “The creatures from the between. That’s what you meant when you said I could see things you guys couldn’t, right? Because the barriers God erected between the planes don’t work on me?”
    “Not exactly,” he responded drily. “I only meant that you could see into all three planes. What noises do you hear from