He broke off with a grin as I started laughing. “Okay, okay,” I said. “Why don’t I just say, ‘thank you very much’?”

“You have said that,” he said, his eyes warm. “And you’re very welcome.”

Chapter Fifteen

SILVER TRAIL, COLORADO, WAS A small mining town high in the Rockies. The place had had a heyday once, complete with several brothels and saloons – now, its silver depleted, it was home mostly to artists and people who wanted to get away from it all. There were also, Raziel believed, several llama farms, though thankfully he hadn’t encountered one. The field he was currently examining appeared to have had cows in it at some point, though. He stepped carefully as they walked, surreptitiously checking the bottoms of his shoes at times.

“See, we could have the school here – and maybe a library or something nearby,” said the man, motioning around him. He was named Fred Fletcher, and his round face was flushed with sincerity.

Raziel had almost cancelled this meeting, but decided it might take his mind off the news about the Council he’d gleaned from Willow’s thoughts two days before – with not a single word from Charmeine meanwhile. Not to mention that there was another half-angel in the world; he’d barely even begun to get his head around the implications of that. The boy’s energy as experienced by Willow hadn’t rung any particular bells for him, though he’d dearly love to know who the father was – it could be a useful little piece of blackmail material if he ever found out.

Raziel took out his phone again as Fred continued to talk. Nothing from Charmeine. Obviously this was what she’d tried to tell him – that the Council was in Mexico City weeks ahead of schedule, at a totally different place than planned. He could sense she was still alive, at least, so presumably their alliance hadn’t been discovered. But what was going on?

“So that was my idea, Mr. Raziel, sir,” Fred summed up finally. “Because you see, as wonderful as it is for people to pledge themselves to the Church and live there, not everyone can do that – lots of us are just as devout, but have families, y’see.”

“Yes, naturally,” said Raziel absently. He linked his hands behind his back, scanning the frosty fields that sparkled in the late afternoon sunlight, with the Rockies a dusky purple rising up behind them. Forcing himself to focus, he saw that Jenny was right. It wasn’t a bad idea at all. Camp Angel: a community where entire families could live in honour of the angels, with schools, a church, a library devoted to angelic works – everything.

“We could have them all across the country,” he said, thinking out loud.

Fred’s face lit up. “Really? You like my idea that much, sir?”