Theo barely leaves my side, and Mom is almost as clingy. The general comes around a few times, and Theo’s excitement wavers when the man wanders too close. They have the same facial features except time has turned the general’s cruel. The only solace Theo finds is in me and in the lab techs he follows around like a duckling. He hangs on their every word. They share notes on the intricacies of my power: how I can bend Graces to my will, coax to life even the smallest viral load, and shatter a death-squad soldier or member of the clergy in an instant if I just put my mind to it.

“What do you mean?” Theo asks, leaning over the table as I watch.

“If you kissed the Grace at Reformation,” the tech explains, “you’ve taken in enough of the Flood to make you sick, right? That’s Flood our Seraph can control. That’s Flood our Seraph can bring to life.” The tech looks over at me with so much love. It makes my stomach, or what’s left of it, turn. “We truly have been blessed.” His voice lowers. “Now, if only we could get the prophet to see that…”

Theo wrinkles his nose. “Shush.”

I want to bring New Nazareth down—but there are so many what-ifs. What if someone who isn’t affected turns on me, what if my power isn’t enough to incapacitate someone, what if I can’t make it out in time? What if Sister Kipling’s confession was just a ploy to get me to show my unfaithfulness, even after my absolution? To show my truth as the worst kind of sinner?

I still need Nick. Even God’s perfect weapon is powerless without people backing it. Just because a soldier would be crucified for putting me down doesn’t mean they couldn’t still do it.

At one point, when Sister Kipling is taking a vitals test, the tech takes Theo into the lab proper to look at some of the processes, even leaning down to whisper conspiratorially in Theo’s ear.

Theo comes back beaming.

“If the world was better, I think I’d have been a biologist,” he says, eyes wide and somewhere far away from us. He is sinking his hands into the Flood again, chasing after his mother’s death, chasing after his own. His eyes slide to Sister Kipling, a smile creeping over his face. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it, Sister?”

Her fingers slip off her instrument, and it hits the ground.

Then it’s the general’s turn. His tests are harder. He brings a small Grace into the lab, and I grab the Flood inside them and build them into something else, turning crumpled masses of flesh into terrifying things with teeth and claws.