Mom’s fingernails tap her porcelain mug. “What happened to you last night? This had better be good.”

I remember Lincoln’s kisses and smile. It was ‘wake up your lust demon’ good.

“Like I said last night, Cissy and I went to a party.” I move cereal boxes back and forth on a shelf. “It was at the Ryder mansion. Things ran late. I didn’t want you to worry, so I didn’t tell you everything about it.” I cross my fingers and set them on my belly. Please let her move on without asking the obvious question.

“And what exactly didn’t you mention?” My shoulders slump. She asked the obvious question.

I start organizing the cereal boxes in alphabetical order, careful to keep my back toward my mother. If she sees my super-guilty face, I’m done for. I steel my shoulders. “Cissy and Zeke were the only other quasis there.”

Mom gasps. “So, who was at the Ryder mansion?”

My face screws up into the mutha of all winces. “Thrax.” Here it comes.

A thunk sounds as Mom slams her coffee cup onto the table. “Not that thrax boy you met at Zeke’s some months back?” What a memory she has. She must keep a list of every angel and thrax I’ve ever laid eyes on. “Did he touch you?”

I can’t help but smile. “We kind of touched each other, Mom. And it was Prince Lincoln. He’s the same boy I met at Zeke’s party.”

“Noooo!”

Mom’s scream rattles my spine. I grip a box of cereal so hard, some of it spills onto the counter. I force myself to breathe slowly. Remember what she’s been through, Myla. My voice comes out calm and level. “Verus showed me why you worry, Mom. I know you’re scared someone will drag me off like Armageddon did to Xavier. But Lincoln would never do anything like that.”

Mom’s voice is raw and low. “Verus told you NOTHING.” She rushes over and grips my arm, spinning me about.

I inhale a sharp breath. “Calm down, Mom. You’re scaring me.”

“Please don’t let it be happening.” She grips my face between her palms, forcing me to stare directly into her eyes. Her face contorts with panic. “Sweet Satan, no!” She releases me and staggers back a few feet, her hand at her throat.

My shoulders knot with fear and frustration. I’ve never seen Mom act this way before. Maybe she’s having some kind of an episode, like a heart attack or stroke? I rush to her side. “What is it, Mom? Are you okay?”

Mom covers her mouth with her left hand, her right points to our bathroom. “Go see for yourself.”