Now I remember where I’ve seen that guy. It’s Xavier.

Mom breaks the kiss, giggles, and rubs her knuckle against my father’s belly. I’m totally grinning from ear to ear. Mom spies me in the doorway.

“Myla, what are you doing up?”

I reposition my weight against the doorframe. “I heard voices.”

Xavier spins around to face me. “Hello, Myla.” His turquoise eyes sparkle. He’s now clean-shaven, so he looks more like the man from my dreamscapes: short brown hair, muscular frame, square jaw, and high cheekbones. Time with Armageddon left its mark: his cocoa-colored skin hangs as loose on his bones, as does his suit.

My father takes a few tentative steps toward me. “It’s good to see you awake.”

I smile. “It’s good to see you, period.”

He shakes his head. “I’m still not sure you’re real.” He takes another tiny step forward.

I scope out the space between us. At this rate, we’ll be at it all day. I stagger over to him and wrap my arms about his neck. “I’m here, I’m real, and I love you.”

Xavier folds his arms around my shoulders. “My girl. My beautiful girl.”

My knees get gooey. Walking around wasn’t my best idea.

“Let me get you back to bed.” Xavier props me against his side, leading me past the couch and back into my room.

Mom follows us up to the doorway, and then she pauses. “I’ll give you two some time.” She closes my door with a soft click.

Xavier helps me onto the mattress and tucks the covers under my chin like I’m two years old. It’s sweet. He drags a rusted chair beside the bed, sits down and adjusts the too-loose collar of his crisp white shirt. His voice cracks as he speaks. “Thank you for saving me.”

“Any time.” My heart thuds so hard, I’m almost surprised it doesn’t break out of my rib cage. My father is here! My real, non-ghoul, totally awesome archangel father. I have so much to tell him, even more to ask him. Where do I start?

He reaches toward my face, freezes, and drops his hand.

I grin. “You’re still having issues with the whole ‘is she real’ thing, am I right?”

He nods, tears welling in his blue eyes.

I take his palm and press it against my cheek. It’s calloused but warm. Suddenly I know exactly where to start: the number one interest we share. “Name a demon, any demon.”

“What?”

“You name the demon and I’ll tell you how to defeat it.” This is going to be so much fun, I can’t stand it.

He inhales a shaky breath. “Limus.”

I roll my eyes. “Please! Fire, end of story.” I push his hand back at him and grin.

He laughs and cries a bit at the same time. “Okay, how about Papilio?”