AZRAEL CALLED SILVERS to let her know what we'd found. I continued searching through the boxes and sorted through records on sixteen different patients. The first eleven had few notes on them. It appeared the strains of bacteria didn't evolve enough to develop the drug resistance. The last five, however, were heavily documented and updated as recently as October. I set them aside. "These girls are sick. We need to find them," I said to Warren.

"Do you know where they are?" he asked.

I shook my head. "All I've got are their names and information. That's not enough for me to go on."

"You need the files from the FBI." He crossed the room and put a hand on Azrael's shoulder to interrupt him. "Tell Silvers we need to meet with her and see the list of girls who were rescued."

Azrael pulled the phone away from his mouth. "She's going to come to the hotel in the morning. They're going to process this place tonight."

"Make sure she brings the list," I called to him, "with pictures if possible!"

He gave me a thumbs up and turned his back to me.

Knowing we'd have to leave everything behind for the police, I used my phone to snap pictures of the girls' records in case the government lost the files. One of the girls, Amalia, was only eight. I had to close her folder before I fell apart completely.

Warren took the folders and put them back in the box. "That's enough for tonight, Sloan. We'll find them tomorrow." He pulled me close and put his arms around me. "Are you getting hungry?"

I rested my head against his chest. "No."

He looked at me. "Are you lying?"

"Yes."

Laughing, he pulled back and took my hand. "I know the perfect place for dinner."

Behind us, Reuel's stomach growled.

"I guess Reuel is ready to go," I said, turning toward him.

He smiled and nodded.

Azrael walked back over, stuffing his phone in his pocket. "We need to clear out. They're on their way here."

"What about our fingerprints?" I said. "Won't we get in trouble for being here?"

"Silvers will handle it. Don't worry." Azrael zipped up his coat. "Ready?"

"Pequod's for dinner?" Warren asked him.

He smiled. "Sounds good."

We walked a few blocks west, toward the golden sun that was sinking behind the buildings, before Azrael used an app on his phone to call an Uber to pick us up. Pequod's Pizza was about a twenty-minute drive, and I knew the second we stepped on the curb that the wait would be worth it. The aroma drifting from the building was intoxicating.

Warren held the door for me. "You can't come to Chicago without deep dish pizza."

"My stomach might eat itself if they don't serve us soon. This place smells so good I wanna die," I said.

The hostess showed us to a table, where we ordered drinks and five large pizzas for the four of us. The waitress joked that she'd bring some to-go boxes when she brought our food; I bet her five bucks she wouldn't have to.

When our drinks were delivered, Azrael balanced his elbows on the table. "I need to talk to you both about something."

We needed to talk to him too.

"What's up?" Warren asked.

Azrael tapped his fingertips together, obviously trying to be careful of his words, which was very uncharacteristic. "Warren, I'd like for you to go back to Claymore."

I sat back in my seat. "Not this again."

"Hear me out. I'd at least like you to think about it. I'm not going to force you to go," he said, still not looking at me.

"Why do you want me there?" Warren asked.

"I want you to train Nathan."

Warren laughed. "What? Why? He doesn't listen to me now. He's not going to listen to me there."

"You won't be his lead instructor, but it would be beneficial for him to have a supernatural perspective on things that only you can give," he said.

"Why can't Enzo do it?" Warren asked.

"Enzo already has too many responsibilities as it is."

"What about Kane or NAG?" I asked.

"NAG is a pilot, not qualified in ground combat. And Kane's shadow has more leadership skills than he does, and he's already assigned to the Asheville detail." He looked pointedly at Warren. "I need someone I can trust."

Warren opened his mouth to speak, but Azrael stopped him.

"Take some time to think about it and you two talk it over." Azrael met my eyes. "You can always stay with me while he's gone. It's only eight weeks."

I shook my head. "No, thank you."

Warren reached over and squeezed my hand. "We'll talk about it."

Azrael seemed satisfied. "Anything interesting happen today?"

Warren nodded and lowered his voice. "At least once today, maybe twice, we've seen an angel that I don't know."

"What did he look like?" Azrael asked, leaning forward with interest.

I sipped my water. "You're such a chauvinist. Why do you assume it was a man?"

He ignored me.

"It was a male," Warren began, and Azrael held his hands up, glaring at me as if to say "See?"

Warren didn't stop for us to argue. "Couldn't see his face, so I can't judge his age, but he was about Nate's size. Perhaps a little smaller."

Azrael sat back in his seat. "I have no way of knowing who that could be."

I stirred the lemon around in my drink with the straw. "I'm still not sure it was him that I saw at the church."

"The church?" Azrael asked.

"I took her to St. Peter's today," Warren said.

Azrael crossed his arms. "On a little stroll down Memory Lane?"

"Something like that." Warren shifted uneasily on his chair. "Az, what happened to my mother?"

Azrael's head pulled back, then anger slowly burned away his surprise. "What brought her up?"

Warren hesitated, so I answered for him. "We met a woman at the church today who was there the day Warren was found. She said the priest died of an aneurysm while holding Warren that morning. So he accounts for the number of deaths Warren knows he's caused. Nadine can't be one of them."

"No one ever said Warren caused Nadine's death," Azrael snapped.

"I just assumed," Warren said. He held up his hands in defense. "I'm sorry. I know you don't like talking about her, but she was my mother. I would really like to know."

Azrael tapped his index finger hard against the wooden table. "Your mother is gone for one reason, because I"—he jammed the finger against his breastbone—"wasn't strong enough to save her. That's all you need to know."

I looked around, bewildered. "On what planet is that all he needs to know? Geez, Azrael. I think you owe him the truth."

Warren was rubbing his temples like he was getting a headache. "Sloan, it's fine—"

"It's not fine." I pushed back from the table. "We didn't ask for any of this. You and Kasyade forced this life on us. The least you can do is explain. What happened to Nadine?"

"Phenex happened to her, Sloan." His face was flushed, and he barked at me through a clenched jaw, "Phenex happened to her!"

I bit the insides of my big, fat mouth.

Azrael slumped over the table, leaning on his elbows and cradling his forehead in his hands. "I went out early one morning to handle some business and came home to find her in our bed, blood soaking through the mattress. Phenex was holding Warren because she'd cut him out of Nadine's belly."

I tasted blood as my lower teeth cut into my lip.

"I had to choose between saving Warren or saving my wife." His voice was soft, and for the first time ever, weak. "I couldn't do both."

Warren swore quietly.

Without another word, Azrael rose from the table and walked out. My damp eyes were fixed on his empty chair. After a second, I stood up. "I'm going to go after him."

The door chimed when I pushed it open. My eyes scanned the streets until I spotted him walking, head down, hands stuffed in his coat pockets, half-way down the block. "Azrael, wait!" He didn't stop, so I ran and finally caught him by the arm in front of a small fitness center. There were two women riding exercise bikes in the window. Their pedals slowed as he turned around to face me.

"Azrael, I'm sorry." My nose was running from the tears and the cold. "I had no idea."

He shrugged. "You're right. You didn't know, and I should have told you and Warren sooner."

I let out a deep breath. "But that doesn't excuse the way I pushed you about it. Please forgive me."

Silently, he studied my face. "I won't forgive you."

I blinked with surprise.

He pointed his finger at my nose, stern, but no longer furious. "I won't forgive you because you didn't do anything wrong. That lurking bitch inside you is going to be the thing that saves your life someday. Don't you dare let that slip for the sake of my feelings."

My mouth fell open.

"Are we done?" he asked.

My head cocked to the side. "Did you call me a bitch?"

"Yes."

"Huh."

He offered me his arm. "Come on. Let's go back. I'm starving."

* * *

No one brought up Nadine again during dinner, and when we left, the waitress owed me five dollars. I didn't take it out of her tip, however. God knows she'd earned her pay trying to keep up with the rate Reuel could drain a glass.

We took the train back to the hotel and retired to our suite for the night. I took a bath to soak my tired legs, then joined Warren in our separate bedroom. He was bare-chested under the bed sheet watching sports commentary about the upcoming Super Bowl. He turned it off with the remote when I walked in wearing the hotel bathrobe.

"You look cozy," he said, turning onto his side and propping up on his elbow to watch me undress at my suitcase.

"I look relaxed." I smiled at him with my eyes half-mast.

I grabbed a pair of panties and one of Warren's t-shirts and laid them on the bed. Then I slipped the robe off my shoulders and let it fall to the floor around my feet.

"Sloan?"

Warren was gawking at me, but not the way I would have hoped while I stood before him stark naked. I covered my front with his shirt. "What?"

He sat up and reached for me, an unmasked frown cemented on his face. "Come here."

I held the shirt closer. "No. What's that look for? You look repulsed by me."

He shook his head. "I'm not repulsed, I'm worried. Come here."

"Worried?"

When I was close enough, he pulled the shirt away from my body and tossed it on the bed. He put his hand over my belly. "Are you feeling all right?"

"Yes. Why? What's wrong?"

"You're bigger today than you were yesterday."

Embarrassed—no, humiliated—I swatted his hand away. "Leave me alone. We just ate deep dish pizza."

"This isn't about the pizza and this isn't about you getting fat," he said, sitting back against the pillows as I pulled on his shirt. It may have fit me a tad bit closer around the middle than I expected.

"It's probably all the salt and all the walking around today," I said, moving around to my side of the bed.

The crease in his brow said he disagreed.

"The doctor said the baby's fine. She's still wiggling around in there." I folded the covers back and climbed in next to him.

"Still, I think you should go back to the doctor when we get home."

"If it will make you feel better, I will."

"Yes. It will." He leaned over and kissed me on the nose. "So, I promised Az we'd talk about the Claymore thing."

I glared.

He chuckled.

"Do you want to do it?" I asked, turning over onto my side to look at him. "Answer honestly."

He laughed harder. "Hell no."

I nodded. "All right then."

"Did you and Az make up on your little walk down the street?"

"He called me a bitch," I said.

He shrugged. "Well…"

I laughed and hit him with my pillow.

He reached his arm across my side and pulled me under the covers closer to him. I snuggled against his warm chest. "I still feel bad about how I yelled at him," I said. "I can't imagine what he must have gone through when your mom died."

"Me either."

I looked up. "He made the right decision though."

His head tilted. "What do you mean?"

"She would have wanted him to save you instead of her." I reached up and traced the line of his jaw with my fingers. "And I want you to promise me that you'll do the same if it ever comes down to me or her."

He rested his forehead against mine. "Sloan, I can't even think—"

I gently pushed him back to force him to look at me. "I'm serious, Warren. We don't know how crazy this ride is going to get before it's finished. And if things go worst-case-scenario, please know that's what I want. I want her to be the priority. Promise me."

He studied my eyes for a moment before finally nodding. "I promise." He leaned his head against mine again. "But I swear I'll never let it come to that."

"I know."

His hand slipped under my shirt to my belly. "Her life's going to be different."

I smiled. "Her life is going to be amazing." I raked my fingers through his black hair. "Our lives are going to be amazing."

He lowered his mouth to mine. "My life already is."

* * *

Warren didn't bother turning out the light before he expressed his gratitude twice for the amazing life we'd built together. After seeing stars the second time, I passed out flat on my back with one arm slung across Warren's chest beside me and the other bent sideways against the bed frame. My hair was plastered with dried sweat over my face like Cousin It and only one leg had made it under the bed sheet. At least that's how I woke up the next morning when Azrael pounded on our bedroom door.

I groaned. "Go away."

"Get up. Silvers is in the lobby," Azrael called with one final thump against the door.

I tried to brush the hair out of my face. "Why does everything have to start so early?"

Warren looked at his watch and chuckled before letting his arm fall back across his eyes. "It's almost ten."

"Seriously? Wow." I rolled toward him and rested my face against his shoulder. "I still don't wanna get up."

He raked his fingers down my bare back. "I know, but we have to. We have to fly home this afternoon."

"What time's our flight?" I asked.

"Six," he said.

I laughed and pushed myself. "We'd better leave now so we can make the pilgrimage back through O'Hare in time."

He sat up and rubbed his face. "You sound like a native Chicagoan already."

Silvers was waiting at the cafe inside the lobby when we stepped off the elevator. Her makeup was minimal, and her strangely unpainted lips dipped low in the corners. The bags under her eyes were heavy, and I was pretty sure she was wearing the same clothes as the day before. "Agent Silvers, are you all right?" I asked as we approached.

Her hands curled around the large coffee in front of her. "I had a long night and a very early morning."

I slid into the booth across from her. Warren touched my shoulder. "Would you like a drink?"

She held up a hand to stop him. "Can it wait? I'm afraid I cannot."

All of us exchanged puzzled glances.

"What happened?" Azrael asked.

She took a deep breath. "There's no easy way to say this." She looked at me. "Marisol Juarez is dead."

I turned my ear toward her and blinked. "Excuse me?"

She cradled her head in her hands, obviously needing a moment to regain her composure. "They found her this morning in her cell. She hung herself with a rope she fashioned from her mattress pad."

I covered my mouth to keep from screaming or crying out. "It can't be!"

Warren wrapped his arm around my shoulders.

I grabbed Agent Silvers's wrist. "Are you sure someone didn't—"

She shook her head. "She left a note."

I sank back in my seat and let my head fall back against the back of the booth. I closed my eyes and cried.

"Did you find anything at the factory building last night?" Azrael asked.

Reuel got up from the table and went and got me a napkin. "Thank you," I said as I dried my eyes, then blew my nose.

"We brought in a hazmat team that went through everything. There was lots of evidence left behind in the trash and in a few of the exam rooms." She turned her palms up. "It's like they were dabbling in bioterrorism and didn't care if they got caught."

Azrael smirked. "Agent Silvers, they didn't care." He leaned toward her. "You need to keep in mind that you're not dealing with ordinary criminals here. They're not worried about answering to you."

For a second, I thought she might argue, but she didn't. "I'm learning that. We'll identify what was in those vials, but I think you're right. I think they tried to weaponize that bacteria."

"Honey, they didn't just try," Azrael said. "They succeeded. We need to find out if it's contained or not."

"And that starts with finding the infected girls. I need your files," I said.

She nodded and reached into the bag beside her chair. She hesitated before handing me the thick folder. "This is completely off record, Sloan. I could go to jail for this."

"I promise it won't blow back on you, and you need to trust me. I can help them."

She passed me the folder, and I took it before she could change her mind.

"When I figure out who these girls are, I may need help finding them. Do you know where they would have been taken?" I asked.

A deep breath puffed out her cheeks. "All over. These girls were picked up in three different states. Some were sent home to their families, some went into the foster program, some to private ministries…"

Azrael looked at her with smug derision. "Others were deported or turned back to the streets only to wind up in the hands of another pimp."

Her jaw dropped an inch.

I gasped. "Azrael!"

"It's true, isn't it?" He was daring her to argue. "That's what happens to most of these girls who are saved by the system."

She closed her mouth and sighed. "It does happen."

Frustrated, I raked my fingers back through my hair. "That's just great."

"Do you have connections at the CDC?" Azrael asked.

"I can get them," she said.

He nodded. "Good. We're going to need to know of any cases where this thing has spread and what kind of infection rate it has."

"I'll do my best." She pulled her coffee close. "Why would they do this?"

Azrael smiled, and it creeped me out a little. "Because they can."

* * *

When Agent Silvers was gone, I opened the folder full of information sheets with Polaroids stapled to them, and Warren got me a cup of tea. I pulled out my phone and found the photos of the reports from the factory. There were a lot of pages to sort through because the FBI had rescued over two hundred girls from the demons' operation. I divided the stack into four sections and passed them around the table. "The first girl we need to find is Sofia. She's twelve."

I flipped through my pages. Each photo of each sad little face made my stomach tighter and tighter.

Warren held up a sheet. "I've got her. Sofia Fuentes."

I snatched the sheet from his hand and studied the girl's face. "She's alive." I placed her sheet in the middle of the table and turned back to my phone. "The next one is Isabel Valenzuela. She's also twelve."

"Here," Azrael said after a minute. "She's alive."

"The next one is Ariana Padilla, age fourteen," I said. "Oh, wait. I saw her sheet, I think." I flipped back through my pages until I found her. "Yep. She's alive."

Warren was looking at my phone. "The next girl is Amalia. My god, she's only eight."

I groaned.

Reuel waved a paper in the air like he'd won a prize.

I took it and looked it over. "Good job, Reuel. We're on a roll. Amalia Acevedo is alive too. Next one is Natalia, age fifteen."

Azrael's shoulder's slumped as he stopped on a page in his stack.

"You found her?" I asked.

He nodded. "Yeah." He shook his head sadly has he handed it to me. "It says she died here in Chicago about three weeks after they picked her up."

I looked at it. "Does it say the cause of death?"

"Sepsis."

I closed my eyes. "What a depressing day."

Warren nudged me with his elbow. "Focus on the ones we can still help." He looked around the table. "Anyone else see any kids that didn't make it?"

Reuel looked sad as he gave Warren a piece of paper. I shook my head. Warren heaved a heavy sigh while he placed a paper from his stack with Reuel's. He laid those sheets on top of Natalia's.

"Save those for me," I said.

He nodded and rested his elbow on top of them.

I picked up the remaining four girls. I focused on Sofia's face first, then I closed my eyes and reached out with my gift to find her. "She's nowhere close to here." I shook my head. "South somewhere. Far south."

"Texas or Mexico probably," Warren said.

I got the same feeling from Isabel and Ariana's pictures. They were far away from Chicago. But Amalia was different. "She's still here," I said, opening my eyes to read her information. "She's here in the city. Close!" Filled with excitement, I started to get up.

Azrael grabbed my arm. "Slow down. You have no idea what you're doing."

I pried his fingers off my forearm. "I'm going to go find a sick little girl and make her better."

Warren put his hand on my leg and leaned toward me. "Chum bucket."

"Oh, crap! I forgot." I sat back and slouched.

"If you heal that girl, you might as well set off a flashing beacon alarm announcing you're here," Azrael said.

I frowned. "What do we do then?"

Azrael drummed his fingers on the side of his coffee cup. "We need to get her somewhere safe. Ideally Claymore."

I groaned loudly. "This again. Are you serious right now?"

He glared at me. "You asked. I answered. You definitely can't do this here. Not now, and not without a team."

"What if I did it really fast, and we—"

From across the table, without touching me, he pinched my lips closed with his power. "I know you want to make this happen, but we need to have a better plan first. We'll come back. I promise." He was still holding my lips closed. "Are you done arguing with me?"

I tried to speak despite the force holding my mouth shut. "Mah-wah-ma-mawa-wah—"

"Is that a yes? You're done?" he asked.

I scowled and nodded my head.

He released my lips.

I pointed at him. "You're not allowed to do that to me!"

Warren looked at him with wide, questioning eyes. "Can you teach me?"

I smacked his arm and laughed.

Azrael tapped his watch. "We need to get our stuff together. Our late check out time is almost up and it's an hour ride to the airport."

"You go on up. I'm going to finish my tea and then we'll be right behind you," I said.

Azrael stood. "Five minutes."

I gave him a thumbs up and started gathering up the girls' files. Warren passed me his stack and Azrael's. Reuel gave me his. I put all the pages together and jogged them against the table to line up all the edges, then I carefully placed them back into the folder.

"Oh, don't forget these." Warren handed me the three pages of the girls we'd already lost.

Natalia's picture was on top. I ran my thumb over the edge of it. She was only fifteen. The thought stirred all of my newfound maternal instincts. They tightened my chest, making it hard to breathe and even harder to think rationally. Across the room, I heard the elevator ding. I turned and watched the doors slide open and The Angel of Death step inside. They closed behind him.

"Screw it!" I pushed myself up from the table. "Come on, guys."

"Oh no. No, no, no, no!" Warren grabbed my hand and hauled me to a stop. "Sloan, you can't do this."

Reuel was arguing with me in Katavukai.

"You're either in or out, Warren, but I'm doing it." I pushed Natalia's sheet against Warren's chest. "What if Amalia is in this stack by the time we come back? She’s eight, Warren. Eight!"

He huffed with resignation. "Damn it, Sloan. You're going to get us killed."

Ignoring him, I closed my eyes and reached out to find Amalia with my gift. "Amalia Acevedo," I whispered and pulled her to me.

* * *

I ran out of the hotel with Warren and Reuel right on my heels. Either of them could have overpowered me if they really wanted to, but I think they knew deep down this was the right thing to do. After all, with great power comes great responsibility. Right, Spiderman?

My moving feet knew where I was going, but I sure as hell didn't. We ran two blocks, turned left and ran three more. We turned right and darted through a group of men in black suits. The subway entrance was beyond them. I ran down the concrete stairwell at Harrison Station.

"This is a bad idea," Warren said as he fumbled for our transit passes.

When we got to the platform, two trains were waiting. I looked at both of them. "This one!" I ran through the open doors of the train on our left. Reuel barely made it through before they closed.

Warren was red-faced and panting. "I love you, but man I could kill you sometimes."

I stretched up on my tiptoes to kiss him. "Think how good you'll sleep tonight knowing that little girl is safe and healthy."

My phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out and looked at the text message from Azrael. Five minutes is up. Where are you??

I powered my phone down.

Suddenly, next to me, Warren's spine went rigid. Azrael was calling him too, not on the phone. He twisted his neck in pain and swore.

I gripped his arm. "We're almost there. Hang on!"

The train stopped again. This time at Jackson Station. The doors slid open, and I ran out onto the platform. Commuters crowded the platform. Some were boarding, some were heading toward the exit. My brain was spinning. I didn't know which way to go.

Someone bumped into me with a strong elbow. I spun toward the blow and saw the man in the red toboggan standing at my side.

Before I could react, the piercing squeal of metal scraping metal ricocheted off the concrete block walls and floor of the station, igniting the horrified screams of the waiting passengers around us. I looked in time to see the front car of the train from the opposite direction coming right for us.