But we didn’t have a choice, and we both knew it. No matter how we felt about each other, we had to do something about what was happening.

I leaned against Alex; he put his arm around me and drew me close. His jaw had tensed – the special number to call if you’d seen me was flashing on the screen again. “God, I’m tempted to just stay here for a few more days,” he muttered. “No one would expect you to be holed up so close to Denver. We should wait until things have calmed down a little, so that—”

“Alex, wait,” I broke in. Urgency had swept through me; suddenly I felt sick with tension. The front desk, I thought.

I could see it in my mind: the slightly battered counter where Alex and I had checked in the night before, both of us so tired we were reeling. It had been covered by a sheet of glass, with a motel map on display underneath it. There’d been an old-fashioned bell too, the kind with a little button on top for guests to ring for attention. The inane details beat through my head, feeling dark and ominous. I had to go there. Now.

Concern came over Alex’s face. “Willow? What is it?”

“I’m fine, I just...need to go check something,” I got out.

I could see him start to protest at the thought of me leaving the motel room; then he realized what I meant. “Yeah, okay,” he said. “Be careful.”

I nodded. And taking a deep breath, I went within, reaching for my angel.

She was there, waiting – a radiant winged version of myself; the halo-less angel who was part of me. Her wings were folded gracefully behind her back, and I saw that her hair was short too now, framing her serene face. My shoulders relaxed a little. Just being near her was a caress.

With a mental flick, I shifted my consciousness to hers and lifted out of my human form. My angel wings stretched wide; I passed through the motel roof with a shimmer, soaring up into the Colorado late afternoon. Flying. Even at a time like this, it gave me a stir of pleasure. I was still getting to know my angel self; for most of my life, I hadn’t even known she was there.

The chill of November stroked my wings as I flew to the reception building. Another brief ripple as I glided through the wall – and then I saw the clerk from the night before, talking on the phone with one elbow propped on the front desk. He was staring at a TV that was on in the corner of the lobby.

On the screen, my school photo smiled back at him.