Standing in the target range with the muted thumps of gunfire around me, I braced myself for the kick of the pistol as I aimed – and then that strange prickling feeling nagged at the nape of my neck again. I knew no one would be there, but I still had to glance and check. Only the wall of the range looked back. I let out a breath, wishing I could get over feeling so self-conscious in this place.

As target practice continued, part of me wondered why I was even bothering to learn how to shoot now, apart from my personal safety. When Alex and I had talked some more about the Council attack, he’d convinced me that it wasn’t a good idea for me to go – that the threat of my aura attracting attention and putting the team in even greater danger in that situation was too great. I hated it, hated it. This was my fight too. I couldn’t bear the thought of staying behind while Alex and the others risked their lives; of not being there to do whatever I could to help them. But I knew he was right. No one had any idea what Paschar’s vision meant, including me...and meanwhile, my aura was like a big neon arrow pointing right at me. This was the only chance we were going to get. My personal feelings about not being included didn’t even come into it.

I sighed and squeezed the trigger, felt the report jump through me. A hole appeared just at the edge of the bullseye. “Hey, that’s a lot better,” said Alex, pausing to watch. He glanced at me; his mouth creased in sympathetic amusement. “You still totally hate this, don’t you?”

“Me? No, I was born to be a gun moll.” I set my jaw as I started to aim again.

He reached over and corrected my hold on the gun slightly, his fingers warm on mine. For a second he was almost his old self again. “You make a really cute one, you know that?” he said in an undertone. “All you need is one of those thirties gangster suits.”

“Ho, ho.”

I saw the kiss he wanted to give me in his eyes. Then he was gone again, heading towards Brendan. I held back a smile as I looked after him, wishing as usual we’d had longer to talk. Returning to my target, I squared my shoulders – and somewhere inside of me, my angel gave a flutter, darkly restless. In an awful way I’d gotten used to this by now; only half thinking about it, I pushed her aside in my mind.

Only this time it didn’t work.