I CLAPPED MY hands over my ears at the same time Reuel's heavy hand slammed against my back and grasped my shirt, ripping me off the ground. He threw me forward and sideways away from the train with so much force that I sailed through the air and crashed against the corner of the attendant's station with my left hip. I landed hard on my stomach, followed by my cheek and forehead smacking the cold cement.

Pain, unlike any I'd ever felt, ripped through my abdomen. My body twisted as it gripped me, and I uncontrollably spewed the Earl Grey that was still warm in my stomach.

A solid boot connected with the back of my head and spun me around enough to see the sparks showering the landing as the wheels of the derailed train scraped across the concrete. The noise blistered my eardrums. People stampeded through the station and dived across the platform. In the blur and through the haze of dust and smoke, I watched the train fall back onto the tracks and slow in a firework show of wild electricity and bright flashes down the dark tunnel ahead.

Warren suddenly appeared over the top of me with a crack that echoed off the walls. He shielded me with his body from the people running off the train we'd arrived on. It had never left the station. Some passengers fled to the street above, others to the transfer tunnel below. We were caught in the middle of the two stairwells, and feet pounded all around us. I brought my hands up to cover my skull, and I closed my eyes and prayed we wouldn't be trampled to death in the stampede.

Another razor-sharp pain tore through my stomach, and I may have blacked out for a second. It all happened so fast I couldn't tell. Nothing made sense. Then I felt the familiar tingle of Warren's hand as it clasped my arm and hauled me to my feet. He gripped both of my elbows as my stance wavered. Someone bumped into us as they ran past, and he pulled me close, curling his strong arm around my body.

"Are you OK?" he shouted above the noise of the mob.

I clenched the fabric of his shirt and bent at the waist, forcing him a step back. "The baby" was all I could choke out before my knees buckled under me.

Warren caught me before I hit the cement again, and he scooped me up into his arms and carried me across the platform away from the direction the fleeing passengers were moving. The crowd thinned, and the noise had decreased so that it no longer rattled my brain. I saw the last car of the train that almost killed us poking out of the tunnel.

He laid me on an empty waiting bench and knelt beside me, gently resting his hand on my forehead. "Talk to me, Sloan."

"It hurts. Something's wrong." Then I screamed out with a massive contraction.

"Breathe," he said as he gently lifted my shirt up over my belly. "What hurts?"

My teeth clenched, and tears leaked back into my hair. "Everything."

I felt his hand slide between my thighs and when he raised it back into the air, his fingers and palm were tinged with red blood. His eyes widened. "We need to get you to a hospital."

I tried to sit up, but it hurt too much.

"Lie still. I'm going to get help."

Before he could move, a frantic woman in a blue uniform bent over me. "Paramedics are on the way." She began blowing a whistle and pushing the surrounding people toward the stairs. "If you are able to move, I need you out of the station! Move it, people!"

Another contraction ripped through me and a burning pain seared through my stomach below my belly button. I gripped Warren's hand and pulled it against my broken face as I screamed. Before the contraction subsided, another one began. This time a gush of warm blood spread through my jeans.

"Help me," I said, gasping for air.

Terror was etched all over Warren's pale face. He slipped an arm under my legs, the other behind my back, and lifted me again. "Everybody, move!" He pushed his way out of the subway tunnel. I heard sirens in the distance.

Then I was gone.

* * *

Beep…beep…beep…beep…

"I'd hate to say I told you so."

My eyes fluttered open, or at least the right one did. The left was too swollen to flutter. Backed by the halogen glow from the overhead lights, Azrael was leaning over me. I smelled antiseptic. And blood.

I coughed. "Then don't." My voice was rough and slight. "Just keep your mouth shut for once."

A heavy weight lifted from my hand. It was Warren's head. Tears streaked his dirty face. There was a swash of blood across his forehead where he'd wiped it with his hand. "Oh my god." He panted as he collapsed over me, cradling my head in his arms. "I thought you were going to die."

My weak hand tangled in his hair. "I'm not that easy to kill, remember?"

He pulled back and wiped his eyes before pressing his mouth against mine. "Are you OK?" he whispered.

I nodded. "The baby?"

He straightened. "She's fine. It was close. Something about a uterine rupture. I don't know. They said there was scar tissue on the ultrasound. They didn't understand why there was so much blood because the tear was closed."

The rupture had closed on its own before they ever even saw it. If anyone needed a medical identification bracelet labeled "Mystery," it was me.

"What happened down there?" I asked. "I don't remember much."

"The train left the tracks, and Reuel tackled it and pushed it back off the platform."

"Where is he now?"

Warren shook his head. "I haven't seen him since he disappeared into the tunnel ahead of the train."

The curtain around my triage room pulled back, and a stout man in a white lab coat walked in carrying a clipboard. His face was wide and round with spots from the sun and heavy wrinkles around his eyes. And he had a short beard that was now more gray than brown that faded into an overgrown tapered haircut with a high receding hairline at the side part. The breast of his coat pocket said DR. DANIEL JOHNSON, M.D. OB/GYN, but he looked more like a deep-sea fisherman.

"Ms. Jordan?"

I gave a little wave.

"How are you feeling?"

"Sore. Tired."

He nodded. "I'm sure. You appear to have lost quite a bit of blood."

"But the baby's OK?" I asked.

He squeezed my foot under the blanket. "The baby is fine. Strong heartbeat and doing somersaults." He put the clipboard on top of my legs and moved over beside my head. He pried my swollen eye all the way open. I winced. "You have some ruptured blood vessels here. How's your vision?"

"It's fine."

"Not blurry? No spots?"

"No, but my head hurts."

"We did a head CT, and it looked fine. You have a hairline fracture below this eye, but it's nothing time won't heal. You were extraordinarily lucky today."

"Did anyone die?" I asked, afraid to hear the answer.

"No casualties so far. A few broken bones, but mostly bumps and bruises."

I exhaled slowly, my chin quivering as I tried to hold back my emotions.

He picked up his clipboard again. "Your uterus is a bit of a puzzle. There has been a significant tear at some point. Do you know what caused it?"

Being thrown out of the path of a train.

I shook my sore head.

He put his hand on my shoulder. "Make sure your regular obstetrician keeps an eye on it during delivery."

I nodded. "I will."

"Also, we saw an excess buildup of amniotic fluid. Have you noticed?"

"I've noticed," Warren said, squeezing my hand and flashing me an apologetic smile.

"Well, it may have saved your baby's life today," the doctor said. "It's a condition you need to keep an eye on, but the extra padding in there did nothing but good things for both of you today."

I gently rested my hands on my sore belly and silently promised to never curse my weight gain again. I didn't understand it at all, but I knew it wasn't a coincidence. "Thank you. Can I leave?"

He read over his notes. "I'd really like to keep you overnight for observation."

"I really have no desire to stay here," I said.

He studied my face. "Well, I can't legally keep you here, and your vitals have been fine since you arrived, so I won't object too much if you want to leave. Please take it easy the rest of the day."

"We're supposed to fly home to North Carolina," Warren said.

The doctor shook his head. "No flying today."

Warren stood and shook his hand. "Thank you, Dr. Johnson."

When he was gone, Azrael folded his arms over his chest and scowled at me. "What were you thinking, Sloan?"

"I was thinking about a little girl who's spent the past two years being raped by grown men. I was thinking that without my help she could develop sepsis and die, or best case scenario never be able to have children."

"A lot of innocent lives could have been lost today because of your selfishness."

"Well, they weren't."

"No thanks to you."

I thought about shooting him the bird, but I didn't because I knew he was right. Maybe it was my selfishness, coupled with my insanity-inducing hormones, that almost killed a lot of people that day. It was only because of Reuel that no one died. Without him, the story would be quite different, and I would be responsible. As if the universe was making my point, at that very moment an elderly woman on a gurney was wheeled past the foot of my bed. The man who held her hand had white tousled hair and dirt on his face that matched the dirt on Warren's.

I let out a deep sigh. "Is this really my fault?"

Azrael's face was non-committal as he bent to take a closer look at my swollen eye. "I wouldn't go so far as to say it's your fault, but yeah. It's your fault."

"Who did this then?" Warren asked.

Azrael shrugged. "I don't know. Could be The Destroyer, could be the Morning Star or one of his lackeys. Hell, it could be your mother."

I shook my head. "Don't call her that."

"Is the Morning Star here in Chicago?" Warren asked.

Azrael shrugged again. "It's possible."

Acid churned in my stomach. "Right before the train hit, the man in the red toboggan was standing right next to me."

Warren looked at me, then at Azrael. "I didn't see him."

"Interesting," Azrael said. "I'll look for him when I go try to find Reuel. You say he went into the tunnel and never came back out?"

Warren nodded. "A lot of people would have died if it weren't for him. He forced the train back onto the tracks."

I sat up a little in the bed, and it hurt like hell. "Should I come too? What if he needs my help?"

Azrael gave my head a patronizing pat. "We've survived more years without you than your weak human brain can calculate. I'm sure we'll manage."

"Do you always have to be such a jerk?"

He grinned. "Yes."

A young nurse came in to discharge me. She brought a pair of pants from what she called the hospital's "Blessing Closet" because my jeans were soaked with blood. I thanked her and signed myself out. Azrael waited outside the curtain as Warren helped me get dressed. The bruising on my stomach was alarming. If I'd drawn on two eyes, my belly button could've been a nose and the pooled blood beneath it, a smile.

Warren led me by the hand out of the room to where Azrael waited with a wheelchair. "They said I could push you out," he said with a wicked smile.

I frowned and gently sat down. "Are you going to run me into walls and doors?"

"Perhaps."

They walked and I rolled through the large emergency room triage area that was filled with patients I'd put there. And for what? I never found Amalia. Maybe Azrael was right. Maybe I was selfish.

Warren grabbed the arm of my wheelchair, stopping me so fast I almost fell forward onto the floor. He turned the chair to the right. In a bed, half-way hidden by a partially closed curtain, was a little girl with ashen tan skin. She was lying on her side, curled in the fetal position because I knew her stomach hurt. She was all alone, and she was crying.

I looked up at Azrael, my eyes pleading with him. His shoulders sank in resignation, and he slightly bowed his head to give his permission.

Warren hooked his arm under mine and helped me out of the chair. I hobbled over to her bedside as Azrael checked the medical chart that was resting in a slot on the footboard. I didn't need to know what it said. I knew who she was.

I sank onto the bed beside her. "Amalia?"

She turned to look up at me, her eyes terrified and leaking the biggest tears I'd ever seen come from anyone. I rested my hand on her beaded forehead. She was burning up.

"I'm going to help you," I whispered. "Don't be afraid. Can I touch your tummy?"

Her head bobbed nervously as I gently rested my palm on her tiny stomach. My fingers began to tingle and heat rose in my skin as my power flowed into her. She began to tremble and cry harder but so quietly only I could hear her ragged breaths.

My hand cooled as the last drops of my power left my body. She suddenly relaxed, and her wide eyes blinked up at me. I slowly shook my head as I wrapped my hand around hers. "It's all over now. You're going to feel so much better."

With tears streaming down my cheeks, I started to pull my hand away, but she grabbed it and pulled herself up to wrap her little arms around my neck. She didn't say anything. She didn't have to. It was finished.

Even Azrael smiled.

* * *

None of us spoke as we walked out of the emergency room, but the sun was brighter, the air wasn't quite as chilly, and another miracle was sitting on a bench by the door. Reuel stood when he saw us and waved with the one arm he could obviously move. The other was limp and looked strange at his side, hidden beneath a dark blanket. He was covered in black dust and his shirt was torn at the neckline, halfway to his bellybutton.

"Is it me or does he look like a ghost?" Warren asked.

"He's lost a lot of blood." Azrael slipped on his sunglasses. "Warren, call us a cab, please. A big one."

Azrael wheeled me across the sidewalk to Reuel. "How did he find us?" I asked, looking up at Az.

He kept his eyes on Reuel. "Chum bucket."

I slouched in my chair.

When we were close enough, Azrael put the brakes on my wheelchair and helped me up. He spoke to Reuel in Katavukai, then Reuel shook his head furiously as he sat back down.

"She can help you," Azrael said in English.

Reuel looked like he might cry.

I took a step over in front of him. "Come on. Let me see it."

Reuel flinched away from where my fingers were trying to grasp the edge of the blanket he'd commandeered. I didn't have to see his arm to know it was bad. I could smell the blood from where I stood.

"En ai fuknam," he said, "nakal vis videre."

I looked at Azrael. "Did he just cuss me out?"

Azrael smiled.

Reuel shook his head.

"I know it's bad, Reuel, but you need to let me see it." I held my hands up. "I promise, I'll be gentle."

He finally let out a reluctant sigh and nodded his huge head. He cautiously looked around, then spoke to Azrael.

"He says you should probably sit down," Az translated.

I sat down, facing him on the bench. Reuel braced himself as I carefully pulled the blanket back enough to see under it.

"SWEET MOTHER OF GOD!" Warren yelled beside Azrael, staggering backward.

Sour bile filled my mouth. I turned my head and gagged toward the ground.

"Eshta!" Reuel hissed, looking around.

Azrael chuckled to himself.

I'd seen my share of horrific injuries. During our last battle alone, I'd fought a demon who'd lost half his skull to a gun blast; I reached inside a man's torso and held his guts together long enough to heal him; and hell, even Reuel (honest-to-god) had been impaled by a tree. None of those compared to what was hidden under that blanket.

I had to take several deep breaths to keep from passing out again.

To be honest, if it weren't for the thumb and index finger that were still somehow attached, I wouldn't have known I was looking at an arm. From what used to be his bicep all the way to the tip of his missing fingers, the arm was splayed open down to the splintered bones like a butterflied and shredded filet being held together by broken kabob sticks. Skin and tendons dangled around shredded muscles and ripped veins. A human would have already bled to death. Reuel, however, had barely broken a sweat.

"I hope he's right handed," Warren said.

Reuel cracked a smile. A small one. Then he gently tucked the arm back underneath the blanket.

Azrael crossed his arms. "How did you do that?"

Reuel gave a long monologue in Katavukai. Azrael did a lot of cringing, some swearing and knuckle biting, but zero translating. I nudged him with the toe of my shoe. "Hello? Want to subtitle this story for us?"

"Sorry." He pointed at Reuel. "His arm was crushed by the train."

I shook my head, dumbfounded. "Good to know my deductive reasoning skills are still sharp. Thanks a lot, Az."

"How did it happen?" Warren asked.

"Yeah. It looks like he tried to chew it free," I said.

"Maybe he did. I'll ask him." Azrael looked at Reuel. "Nankai meltuum ta kai llavacaI?"

Reuel smiled. "Nich, illai nan oru multo temporcik paci vantatu esurit!"

The answer evoked a rare, hearty laugh from Az. He looked at me. "He said no. He was stuck there so long he got hungry."

Warren and I laughed.

Azrael jerked his thumb toward the street. "We need to get a cab."

"We need to stay right here at the hospital. He's got a wet and bloody, busted red piñata for an arm," I said. "He needs help."

"He needs a hacksaw," Warren added. "That thing needs to be amputated."

I shuddered.

"They can't do anything for him here. We'll bandage it up enough to travel, then Sloan can work on setting it right."

I cut him off. "Azrael, there's nothing left to set right anymore."

He turned to face me and used his finger to trace the deep scar down the center of his face. "There wasn't when this happened either, but we're built to recover. Have some faith. You'll have plenty of time on the trip home tonight."

"Tonight?" Warren asked. "The doctor said she can't fly."

Azrael slapped him on the back. "That's right. Cancel your flight and book us a car. We're driving."