I didn’t need to be told twice. I was pulling into the driveway of the Guard house about fifteen minutes later. I tromped up the steps and knocked, but no one answered, so I let myself in. Malachi had left a note for me on the kitchen table. I smiled at the tiny, neat script. And then I processed the words: Jim has not returned. Henry and I are training in the basement. Come down.

I groaned. We were supposed to pick up Tegan in an hour, and one of my Guards was still missing. And, with a twinge of guilt, I realized I wasn’t that broken up about it. Maybe we’d be better off without him. Not the most charitable thought I’d ever had, but there it was. Jim was a problem, and I had too many of those already. I could only hope Raphael and the Judge would realize that assigning him to this mission had been a mistake.

I paused at the top of the stairs, listening to the sharp breaths and grunts of my Guards sparring. The basement of the Guard house was a near-perfect replica of the training room used by the Guards in the dark city, except the light was provided by halogen bulbs instead of gas lamps, and it was about a third the size. Malachi had told me that Raphael sometimes opened some kind of door to the Shadowlands down here, and that the morning after we’d arrived on Earth, Michael, the Guards’ weapons supplier, had done the same. I guessed it was something only angels could do because the foul-tempered fat man had magically appeared, along with his entire blacksmith’s forge and a respectable arsenal. Along the far wall, staffs, knives, and sharp things I didn’t even recognize hung in orderly rows. Cloth dummies were clumped together in a corner. The floor was covered with a thick rubber mat, soft enough that we wouldn’t break bones when we hit.

And that was good because Henry crashed to the mat with a loud thud right as I reached the bottom of the stairs. His face was twisted in a grimace, showing all his crooked teeth. A weird wheezing sound was coming from his throat. I was about to ask him if he needed Raphael, but then realized he wasn’t in pain.

He was laughing.

Malachi leaned down and offered his hand, which Henry accepted. Once Henry was on his feet, the two of them stepped apart, both breathing hard. Malachi gave Henry a genuine smile as the older Guard wiped his face on his sleeve.

“Henry’s a very crafty fighter,” said Malachi.

Henry grunted. “Doesn’t matter much when your opponent is both stronger and more efficiently brutal. You have some things to teach me. I’ve always been better at a distance. In the Wasteland, I used a crossbow.”