My vision, which had blurred for a few seconds, resolved itself. A black woman with a white stripe in her shoulder-length hair leaned forward and peered at me through red glasses. ‘‘Are you all right?’’ she asked, concern evident in her warm brown eyes.

‘‘I . . . yes. I think.’’ As I was about to ask who the woman was—and, more important, how she’d gotten me out of Abaddon—a flicker of movement at the edge of my peripheral vision had me spinning around, my heart suddenly singing at the sight of the man who stood there.

‘‘Gabriel!’’ I shouted, and flung myself into his arms as he ran forward to catch me.