WARREN WAS BESIDE me, as promised, when I opened my eyes the next morning. I assumed it was morning, anyhow, since there were no windows in the apartment. Lights were on downstairs and Warren was reading by a bedside lamp. "What time is it?" I asked, stretching my arms up over my head.

He pressed the button on the side of his tactical watch and it lit up in lime green. "Just after nine. How did you sleep?"

I rolled onto my side toward him and hugged my pillow. "Like the dead. What's this new voodoo trick of yours to get me to sleep?"

He grinned. "Pretty nifty, isn't it?"

I nodded. "Nifty, yes, but I worry it's habit forming. Have you been here all morning or did you go out?"

"I went out for coffee earlier and poked around in Azrael's office for a while." He held up his index finger. "Apparently, I have access to everything now."

"Is it just me or do you feel like he's one step ahead of us?" I asked.

He closed the manila folder in his hand and turned it around so I could see. The tab at the top said FOR WARREN. "He definitely knew this was coming."

I pulled down the edge of the file folder. "What is it?"

"I'll read it to you." He opened the folder again. "Dear Warren, if you're reading this, then I'm already gone. If you've happened upon this letter on your own, I can only assume my exit was hasty. No matter the circumstances precluding my departure, I trust you know I would not leave were it not absolutely essential—"

I snorted and flopped back on my pillow. "Essential because he knew I was going to kill him."

He continued. "I cannot tell you where I am going, nor when or if I will return. This is what I can tell you: The Morning Star is your greatest enemy. Not Phenex. Not Kasyade, even. The Morning Star is behind everything, and he is as smart as he is dangerous."

"Great," I mumbled, draping my arm over my eyes.

"Echo-10 at Claymore is the safest place for Sloan and the baby, but it is far from absolutely impenetrable. In the event you are driven underground, safe houses have been strategically placed around the world that only you and Sloan have access to. And should this come to war, which I pray it doesn't, you have an army at your disposal. Enzo can fill you in on all the details, but my special ops team, SF-12, has been trained to execute a number of scenarios.

"Depending on when you find this letter, you should have a small window of time to prepare. The Morning Star will not attack before the baby can survive outside the womb, sometime around the end of March."

I shot straight up in bed. "The end of March? That's in a couple of weeks!"

He put his hand on the back of my neck to help calm me and kept reading. "Thanks to Taiya, we know their original plan was to wait till the kotailis, but you should exercise extreme caution any time after the fetus is viable. Sloan will know when that is. You likely will as well."

I held up both hands. "How the hell am I supposed to know?"

He shook his head. "It doesn't say."

"Continue," I said, willing my lower lip not to quiver. I was determined to not start crying before I even got out of bed.

"Remember, angels who are not tied to this world can move across time and space freely. They are your biggest threat. This includes The Destroyer, should he still be at large.

Finally, it is imperative that Sloan continues her training. She must free Lamal. His freedom is the key to unlocking the next phase of my plan. Warren, you must help her. Reuel and Enzo are great resources as well. Use them. Until I see you again, my son. Azrael."

I grabbed my cell phone off the nightstand.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"Googling fetus viability outside the womb," I said.

"I already did." He looked over at me. "Some sources say as early as twenty-two weeks with intensive neonatal care. The standard age of viability is twenty-four weeks."

The tears were hard to keep at bay. "I'm almost twenty-four weeks now."

It was in Warren's nature to uncork a geyser of bullshit to make me feel better when I was sad or worried, but in that moment, he silently stared at the letter on his lap as lost in fear as I was.

I pushed myself off the bed.

"Where are you going?" he asked.

"Well, first, I'm going to look for a toothbrush. Then we've got work to do." I pointed back to the bed. "I figure I can lie here all day feeling sorry for myself, or I can get to work and maybe try to learn something before Satan comes to kill me."

He nodded and stood up to follow me to the bathroom. "That's a plan I can get on board with."

"And I want to see Taiya this morning before we do anything else."

"Definitely."

In one of the drawers I found a toothbrush and my brand of toothpaste. Staring at the tube of Colgate Total Whitening (paste not gel), it suddenly became impossible to hate Azrael.

I sighed and shook my head. "I hope he knows what the hell he's doing."

* * *

Maybe it was the cold of the night before that had made Taiya so pale, or maybe it was her proximity to me that brought color back to her cheeks—whatever the reason, there was a marked difference in the pallor of my freaky little friend when we got to the medical clinic. Melinda was sitting in a chair by the bed, playing what sounded like a slot machine on her cell phone.

"How is she this morning?" I asked, sinking down carefully on the edge of the mattress.

Melinda's phone chimed with a jackpot tally as the sound of digital coins falling echoed around the stale triage room. She silenced the phone and laid it on the bedside table. "Ah, she looks good today considerin' the hell they put her through last night. The nurse says her vitals are better than they have been since she got here."

Warren squeezed my shoulder from behind.

I took Taiya's hand and focused on sending my healing power into her. I wasn't sure if her condition was something I could fix, but it couldn't hurt to try. I looked over at Melinda. "Can I ask you a question?"

She sat back in her chair and crossed one leg over the other. "Sure."

"What happened with you and Abner Tuinstra?" I asked.

She made a vomiting noise.

"We don't have to talk about it if you don't want to," I said.

"Nonsense. I wouldn't mind talkin' about the bastahd to someone who doesn't think I'm crazy. Whatd'ya wanna know?" She flipped her hair back over her shoulder.

Taiya's hand was warm in mine. "How did you meet him?" I asked.

She laughed. "Where you meet all the good men, honey. At a bar in Brooklyn. I was nineteen, flauntin' around my fake I.D. for the first time." Her eyes drifted toward the corner of the room. "And Abner slid onto that damn barstool next to me like he was Humphrey-Freakin-Bogart, or somethin'." With a huff and an eye roll, she shook her head. "The moves that guy had."

"You were in a relationship with him?" Warren asked.

"Ha, if you can call it that," she said. "He's a weird one, Abner."

"How so?" I asked, knowing why I thought Abner (Ysha) was weird. And terrifying. And hopefully burning in hell, or something.

"I thought he liked me, certainly put on a good front like he did. Asked about my friends and my family, like he was real interested." Her gaze drifted off again. "And I was a smitten kitten from the word go. Like he hung the damn moon or somethin'." She sighed. "I couldn't get enough of him, even when he was so hateful to me. I guess that's why I got pregnant so fast. Found out a couple of weeks after that night at the bar."

"What did he do when you told him you were pregnant?" I asked.

She laughed. "He told me I was pregnant like he had some kind of crystal ball stashed away in the back of his damn Mercedes. He kept me at his house, locked up in the damn bedroom till I went into labor. Made me deliver her in that bed like we were on Little House on the Prairie, or somethin'."

"Didn't someone report you missing?" Warren asked.

"Nope. My dumb ass told everyone I was in love, and I was an adult so I was movin' out. What's funny is, I didn't even really want to, but I did it anyway."

I didn't think it was funny. I knew what that kind of control was like. "What happened after Taiya was born?"

"When Taiya was born, he took her from me and kicked my ass to the curb," she said. "I went to the police, even filed charges against him. But that Abner was crafty. Convinced everyone I was a nut job!"

I shook my head. "You're not nuts."

She jammed her fingers into her breastbone. "I know that. Try tellin' those doctors. You know, they didn't even believe I'd had a baby? Called it pseudocyesis, a 'hysterical' pregnancy." She used air quotes around the word hysterical. "But God as my witness, I never stopped lookin' for my girl. No matter how many times they called me crazy."

"You couldn't find her?" I asked.

"No. And I wasn't the only one lookin'. That's how I first met Azrael—called himself Damon Claymore back then. He's the one that told me Abner was a devil." She smirked. "Hell, I didn't need to be told that one."

Warren sat on the other side of Taiya's bed. "When did he come find you?"

"A few weeks after Taiya was born. He was hopin' to find me still pregnant, I think, but he'd just missed it."

I looked at Warren. "I think she's pretty fortunate he didn't find her still pregnant, don't you?"

Warren stared back at me.

"You think he would've killed me, right?" she asked, tapping her nail on the table. "Because I think he would have too."

"You don't trust Azrael, then?" I asked as the last of my power flowed from my hand into Taiya's.

Melinda laughed, really loudly. Then she leaned forward and pointed at my face. "Sloan Jordan, I don't trust you neither."

* * *

Warren jingled a set of keys in front of my face as we walked out of the clinic. "Enzo gave me a HOK to use while we're here. If we hurry, we can get a hot breakfast in the dining hall. I think they stop serving at ten."

"We can't take the car?" I asked.

He shrugged. "We could, but this way I don't have pay for gas."

"Is the food in the dining hall like school cafeteria food?"

He shook his head. "No, it's pretty good actually."

"OK. I'd like to talk to Enzo about training."

Warren raised an eyebrow. "Like Azrael suggested?"

I sighed. "Yes."

He nodded and pulled his phone out of his pocket. "I'll call him when we get outside. There's no service in this building at all."

"Makes sense, I guess."

He dialed the number when we walked through the double doors at the end of the hall into the chilly sunlight. As he talked, I followed him toward a high occupancy ATV, commonly known as a HOK in the Claymore world. We got in and Warren ended the phone call. "Enzo's going to meet us at the galley."

I nodded. "Cool."

We drove a few minutes up the road to a large, single-story, brick building. Inside it looked like a school cafeteria, except that it was speckled with soldiers wearing camouflage. The woman behind the cash register reminded me of Virginia Claybrooks, if Ms. Claybrooks was a lunch lady in a hairnet instead of a jail guard with a Taser.

The woman looked up at the clock on the wall. It read 9:43 a.m. "Skating in under the wire, aren't we?"

"Yes, ma'am," Warren said politely as he pulled out his wallet.

She rested her fingers on the keyboard of the computer in front of her. "Name or ID number?"

"Warren Parish," he answered.

She straightened as she typed. Whatever she saw on the screen made her do a double-take. "Oh, I guess you can come eat breakfast anytime you want, Mr. Parish," she said with a smile as she looked up at him, then at me. Turning sideways in her chair, she gestured toward the trays that were stacked behind her. "Help yourself."

"Was that weird?" I asked as we walked to pick up our trays.

He didn't look at me. "Yep."

Warren was right. The food was delicious. Certainly not the powdered eggs and limp bacon I remembered from my elementary school. I had an egg fried over hard, two sausage links, a bowl of grits, and a glass of chocolate milk the size of my head. Maybe an awesome breakfast was a sign of good things to come. Then again, maybe the need to parlay grits into my greatest hope for survival was sadly indicative of how dire the situation really was.

"I want to go see Taiya when we're finished," I announced, changing the subject that I wasn't actually verbalizing.

He skewered a piece of pineapple with his fork. "That's a good idea."

I looked around the room as Enzo walked in the door and removed his cap. He waved from the door and came over. Warren stood and shook his hand. "Morning, sir," Enzo said.

Warren shook his head. "Don't start with that 'sir' bullshit with me."

Enzo laughed as he sat. "Yes, sir."

"Good morning, Enzo," I said.

He smiled, his mismatched blue and green eyes were bloodshot and tired from the night before. "Good morning, ma'am."

I pointed at his face. "Definitely don't call me 'ma'am.' We've been over this. My name is Sloan. That's an order."

Warren cut his eyes at me and smiled. "You're not allowed to give orders."

I stuck out my tongue.

"Did you rest well?" Enzo asked.

I nodded. "Azrael put a lot of thought into that apartment, didn't he?"

"He did. He's been working on it steadily since he's been here the past few weeks." He gestured toward us. "While your arrival was certainly unexpected, it actually came at a pretty good time."

Warren pushed his plate back and leaned his elbows on the table. "How unexpected were we? I found a letter from him this morning in his office, so he knew we were coming at some point."

Enzo looked like he wanted to answer but was hesitant to, like a Secret Service agent the breakfast after inauguration day.

Warren leveled his gaze at him. "I need to know what you know."

Enzo took a deep breath. "He was supposed to call me toward the end of this month to move Taiya into the Claymore trauma center across the compound." He split a glance between me and Warren. "The trauma center isn't equipped with high-Z in the walls."

I straightened. "Azrael was going to let me find her? He was using her to lure me here?"

He nodded. "I believe so."

"Why?"

"Because once you fully come into your power, The Morning Star will come looking for you, and we're in the best defensive position here."

Warren reached across the table and put his hand on mine. "We're early, so don't freak out just yet."

"We're early," I whispered to myself, pressing my eyes closed.

Warren turned to Enzo. "In his letter, he said SF-12 was trained for a number of scenarios should there be a war. He said you could fill me in on the details."

Enzo looked around the room. It was mostly empty, but he lowered his voice anyway. "We are ready, sir. Azrael intends to take the fight away from Claymore, to catch the enemy by surprise, rather than wait here for them to prepare and come to us. So SF-12 has orders to be one hundred percent mobile at a moment's notice. We have a plane and helicopters at our disposal, as well as safe houses all over the map."

"Did he say where he intends to have this fight?" Warren asked.

"No, sir, but he was planning to leave at some point. I assume to do recon work. That's why you've been put in charge of everything."

Warren rubbed his chin. "He's scouting out a venue for war?"

Enzo shrugged. "I think he's looking for The Morning Star. But"—his tone was hopeful as he looked at me—"I was told when the time comes, you'll be quite an asset."

I paused with my milk glass midway to my mouth and laughed sarcastically. "So it's certainly not now."

He didn't join my laughter. "He was very clear about it, Sloan." He pointed at me. "He said when the time is near for war, we'll know because you'll be ready."

I shook my head. "That makes no sense."

He turned his palms up. "Perhaps not, but he's never been wrong."

I wasn't sure if that made me feel better or worse.

"Sloan needs a training plan," Warren announced, diverting the conversation. "She's having some trouble with focus and directing her power."

"I've heard," Enzo said. "Have you thought about taking her to the range? Focus, aim…both fundamentals of shooting."

Warren shook his head. "I've thought about it, but she can't shoot. Most doctors advise against it during pregnancy. Too loud and recoil risks."

I looked at Enzo. "I can't shoot when I'm not pregnant either, and it has nothing to do with a doctor's recommendation. I suck."

Enzo laughed, then sat back in his chair and looked at the ceiling. "What about a bow?" He turned to Warren. "It's silent and there's no recoil."

Warren considered it.

I held up a hand. "Hold up. You want to what?"

Enzo pulled back a fake bow and released a fake arrow across the cafeteria.

My head snapped back. "You're serious?"

He nodded. "Why not?"

"I think it's a great idea," Warren said.

"Really?" I asked, still in disbelief.

Warren grinned. "We're not talking about turning you into Katniss Everdeen or anything, but I think Enzo is onto something. It could really help you focus, to visualize where you want to send your power, and of course, how to aim."

"My aim isn't that bad. Not with my powers, anyway. I did pretty good on the battlefield, didn't I?"

"You did," Warren agreed, nodding emphatically. "You're a completely different person when your adrenaline is pumping. Maybe learning something still and quiet like the bow could help you wield your gift through focus rather than frenzy."

"I'm not so good with target practice." I cocked my head to the side. "Do you remember how terrible I was at the gun range?"

Enzo shook his head. "Guns and bows are very different. Like I said, bows don't have recoil or loud bangs."

Warren pointed at me. "And even with the gun, once you got past those things, you weren't terrible."

I crossed my arms and stared at him.

He laughed. "You could improve with practice."

They both stared at me expectantly.

After a moment, I nodded my head. "All right. Let's do it."

Enzo knocked his knuckles against the table. "Awesome."

"Sloan, I'm proud of you." Warren was unable to hide the surprise in his deep voice.

I pointed at him. "Don't be too impressed yet. I may shoot somebody before it's over with."

Enzo laughed. "At least you can heal them if you do."

"Good point," I said.

Warren looked at Enzo. "Do we have bows in the armory?"

Enzo shook his head. "No, but Walmart sells some basic ones. We have guys that buy them there for bow season."

Warren rubbed his palms together. "We'll go get one today. Where can we set up?"

"You should be fine setting up anywhere near the interior fence line," Enzo said.

Warren offered him his hand. Enzo shook it. "You're brilliant, man. Whatever we're paying you, it isn't enough."

Enzo smiled and pushed himself up from the table. "Just doing my job. Let me know if I can help with anything else."

We said our goodbyes and when he was gone, Warren pointed to my plate. "Finish your breakfast. We've got weapons to buy."

* * *

Warren took the long way back to Echo-10 to pick up the Challenger so he could give me a tour of the compound. "How big is Claymore?" I asked as we passed what looked like a television station with satellite dishes on the lawn.

"Around two thousand acres."

"Two thousand? Wow."

I pointed to the roof of the building. "What are those white whirlybird things spinning around up there?"

He leaned across the cab to look up through the opening in my side door. "Those are radar towers."

"A weather forecaster?"

He shook his head. "No. Aircraft radar."

"That makes more sense."

He smiled over at me. "I think we should start calling them 'whirlybirds' though."

A group of people in uniform were running alongside the road up ahead of us. Warren slowed as we passed. "Think that's Nate's group?" I asked.

"Could be," he said.

I didn't see him.

"This is the Kill House."

I followed the direction of his finger over the steering wheel. In the center of a dead field was a run-down concrete structure with a couple of simple doors and windows. It didn't appear to have a roof but a metal catwalk instead. "Do I want to know why it's called the Kill House?"

"We use it to train soldiers how to clear buildings," he said. "Nothing too sinister."

"What is that big square tower behind it?"

"That's the repel tower."

"Why does it have windows on the side?" I asked.

"To practice window entry and how to shoot through windows," he said.

I blinked with surprise. "You do that?"

He nodded but didn't elaborate.

We took a right turn by a huge asphalt lot where an armored Humvee was driving around a maze of cones and barriers. On top, a soldier was holding onto the biggest gun I'd ever seen. I didn't need to ask what they were doing. It was pretty obvious.

"Tactical pursuit driving," Warren said.

"I can tell. That's a big gun."

"It's called a 50-Cal." He looked at his watch. "Want to see something really cool?"

"Of course."

He pointed toward a tree line up ahead to our right. "Watch the top of the trees for a red flag. I'm hoping we didn't miss it."

"Miss what?"

"You'll see."

My side of the road was a forest blocked by a ten-foot fence with coiled barbed wire across the top. It was marked every few feet with big red signs that said "WARNING: DO NOT ENTER. UNEXPLODED ORDINANCES."

"What's an ordinance?" I asked.

"Bombs," he said. "It's alarming how many unexploded minefields we have in America."

A red flag rippled by the winter wind caught my attention up above the trees. I pointed. "Red flag. There it is."

He drove on until the trees opened up to a huge clearing the size of a few football fields. It was littered with old cars, Humvees, and at least one helicopter laying on its side. Some were scorched till they were unrecognizable, and all were shot up and in pieces. "What is this place? Claymore's transportation graveyard?"

He laughed as he parked on the shoulder. "You could call it that."

BOOM!

I jumped in my seat.

Out in the field, the front passenger door of a sedan and part of its roof was blown into the air in a spray of metal and dirt. "Sweet Jesus!" I yelled, grasping onto the door handle of the HOK.

Warren laughed. "Isn't that awesome?"

"What are they doing?" I asked, still panting.

"This is the M203 range." He pointed to a small group of men beyond the fence. "M203s are grenade launchers."

The group launched another grenade toward the helicopter. Before it struck near the nose, I had the good sense to wrap my arms around my head to muffle the blast. Warren looked over at me. "Cool, huh?"

I smiled and nodded. "I can't deny that it's pretty cool."

"That's one of the top reasons I joined the Marines right there. It's one of the best parts of the job. Next to the armory, this is my favorite spot on the compound," he said, pulling back onto the road.

"Do I get to see the armory too?" I asked.

He reached over and squeezed my thigh. "That's my girl."

The armory was as nondescript as Echo-10. Concrete walls, no windows, and one door as far as I could tell from the parking lot. Warren parked next to a few other HOKs and got out. There was a fingerprint reader on the wall outside the door. He laid his index finger across it and the locks tumbled.

A stocky man with a fair complexion and strawberry blond hair looked up from behind the counter when we walked into the room. It was a large open room with the Claymore emblem painted in the center of the smooth cement floor. The walls were lined with metal cages, each holding different styles of weapons. As we crossed the floor toward the counter, the man's head snapped back when he recognized Warren. "Parish?"

Warren laughed. "Hey, Huffman."

"The Shadow has returned," Huffman said as he came around to meet us. "Wow, long time no see. What are you doing here?"

Warren welcomed him with a hearty handshake. "Just visiting for a couple of days. This is my fiancée, Sloan."

The man smiled at me. "Nice to meet you." He turned back to Warren. "Rumor has it you're coming back on board."

Warren's brow wrinkled and he shook his head. "Don't believe everything you hear." He jerked his head toward me. "We're engaged and getting ready to have a baby."

"I heard." Huffman shook his hand again. "Congratulations." He pointed off to the side. "We've got some new shotguns in if you need to borrow one for the wedding."

Warren shoved him in the shoulder and Huffman laughed.

"I'm kidding," he said to both of us. Suddenly, he looked past us to the other side of the room. "Hey, Fury, look who's back!"

Warren's spine went rigid, and I immediately looked around for Azrael. Instead of finding The Angel of Death, I saw something much, much worse.

A woman.