There was a lot I needed to be focused on right now. During the upcoming Transfiguration, which was only weeks away, Gabriel planned on creating a rift between Earth and Heaven so that the demon Bael and souls that belonged to Hell could enter Heaven. I needed to find a way to stop him. That was my duty as the Trueborn—what I’d been waiting for—but I knew I wasn’t enough to defeat Gabriel on my own. That was why Roth and Layla were trying to bring Lucifer topside. That was why the Throne had said I needed Zayne to defeat Gabriel. I should be working on a plan in case Roth and Layla failed, but Zayne...he was the priority now.

My duty would have to wait, and I didn’t care if that ticked God off.

So the first thing I did when I walked outside the church was pull my phone out of my back pocket. Thankfully, the thing had survived me being thrown around like a rag doll.

Squinting at the light of the screen, I opened up my contacts. At some point, Zayne had added Nicolai’s number in my phone. In case of an emergency, he’d said one night while we’d been hunting the Harbinger and the demon Bael.

If this wasn’t an emergency, I didn’t know what was.

I needed to give Nicolai and the clan a heads-up about Zayne just in case they came into contact with him. If he didn’t remember me, I doubted he’d recognize them.

Heart heavy, my fingers tightened around the phone. Nicolai, the head of the DC clan of Wardens, answered on the second ring. “Hello?”

“Nicolai? It’s Trinity,” I said, keeping my eyes peeled wide, just in case Zayne decided that staying hidden from humans wasn’t high on the priority list. “I need to see you. It’s an emergency.”

“Is everything okay?” he asked, concern evident in his voice. He’d visited more than once, along with Danika, while I’d been healing. He and Danika were...dating? Wardens didn’t really date. They met and mated, but Nicolai and Danika were breaking with that tradition. “Hell,” he said after a moment. “That’s a stupid question. Are things as okay as they can be?”

“Well.” I drew the word out, watching the blurred faces of people passing by, holding their umbrellas as if they had a hope of stopping the rain that was coming in sideways now. What I needed to tell him was not something to be done over the phone. “Kind of. And kind of not. I need to talk to you in person.”

“You at the apartment? I can be there in twenty.”

“I’m not at the apartment,” I answered. “I think I’m at Saint Patrick’s church?”

A moment of silence followed that statement. “Do I want to know what you’re doing there?”