Bex led the way through the dusty, cement hall. My footsteps echoed throughout the capacious room the hall opened up to, encased by a hundred dirty windows.

As before, we waited in the center.

Jared’s and Bex’s faces were marked by soot from the fire. Their expressions were composed, waiting for Eli to decide to show himself.

An hour passed, and still we waited. Jared slid his arms from his jacket and hung it on my shoulders. I hadn’t even noticed the cold, but once the added heat was around me, I shivered.

“Patience,” Jared said. His words could have been directed at me or at Bex, I wasn’t sure.

After another hour, the columns of glass were ignited by the rising sun. Rays of white pierced through, illuminating the elegantly floating dust motes in its path. Glowing yellow squares infringed upon the shadows, and soon the entire floor glowed and warmed with the glorious grace of morning light.

“Nina,” a voice called from across the room. Eli walked toward us, his eyes focused only on me. He was dressed in the same attire he wore the last time we met: The crisp, white shirt, the jeans and sandals, and the spiky blonde hair. He made a click noise with his tongue. “You aren’t getting enough rest.”

“But you knew that,” I smiled sleepily.

One corner of his mouth turned up, but it wasn’t quite a smile. “I’m sorry, Cupcake. I haven’t been much help.”

“Can you help us now?” Jared asked.

“We would love to, Jared. We’ve been instructed not to,” Eli said. Compassion was in his eyes, but not apology.

“But…why?” Bex asked, genuinely confused.

Jared watched Eli for a moment, and then frowned. “They won’t intervene unless The Balance is disturbed.”

Eli reached his hand to me, and I took it. He pulled me into him gently. He towered over me, and I felt like a child wrapped in his arms. Emotion overwhelmed me, and I let myself tremble and weep unreservedly in the quiet sanctuary of his embrace. Jared’s hand touched my shoulder; Bex’s smaller hand touched my back. A sob that had been hiding somewhere deep within me found its way to the surface.

It felt good to cry. I had just seen my father for the first time since his death. The pressure and horror of being the center of a story Hell took very seriously, and now hearing that Heaven was unwilling to help, hope was dwindling. Crying was a sweet release, and in Eli’s arms, it was natural, much like a tearful moment in my father’s lap when I was hurt or frightened.