His shoulder feels solid, the way a shoulder should feel. That’s a relief, both for me and for him. He’s probably not some new ghoul that the angels have created, but a regular man they injured.

At first, I think he’ll continue to ignore me. But then he nods, slightly.

I hesitate, wondering if I should ignore the elephant in the car or if I should ask him what happened to his face. From spending time with my sister’s friends, I know that people with disabilities sometimes wish others would simply ask and get it over with, while other times, they want to be treated normally and not have their disability define them. I choose to get on with business.

‘Where are we going?’ I keep my voice as friendly and casual as I can.

He says nothing.

‘You’ve got the wrong girl, you know. Lots of people have weapons. Just because I had a sword doesn’t mean I’m the girl the angels are looking for.’

He continues to drive.

‘Okay, I get it. But do you really believe the angels will give you safe passage? Even if they don’t kill you today, how will you know they won’t kill you next week? It’s not like every angel will get a notification with your picture that says you’ve captured the girl they wanted.’

The big band music continues to fill the car, and he keeps on driving.

‘What’s your name?’

No response.

‘Do you think you could slow down a little? Maybe a lot? Maybe even stop for just a teensy second and let me out? There’s been a mistake. I don’t belong here. Come to think of it, neither do you.’

‘Where do I belong then?’ His voice is harsh and full of anger.

It’s hard to understand him. I guess it’s not easy to talk when your lips have been ripped off. It takes me a minute to translate what I heard.

I have more experience than most in figuring out what someone with a speech impediment is saying. Paige had a couple of friends with disabilities that kept them from communicating easily. It was her patience with her friends and her translations that finally allowed me to start understanding them. Now it’s second nature.

‘You belong with us,’ I say. ‘The human race.’

Isn’t this what Raffe’s been saying all along? That I belong with the human race and he doesn’t? I push that thought away.

The driver glances up at the mirror in surprise. He didn’t expect me to understand him. He probably spoke just to scare me off with his otherness. His eyes narrow as though he’s wondering if I’m playing a trick on him.

‘The human race doesn’t want me anymore.’ He watches me as if suspecting that I just got lucky in understanding him last time.