“You don’t sound very optimistic,” I said.

“Home should be a place of comfort and safety. For your friends downstairs, and for people like Deborah here, I’m not sure any such place exists.”

Deb grimaced, but didn’t correct him, which surprised me. I’d never seen her let anyone get away with calling her Deborah.

“If it’s futile, why bother?” I asked.

“You’ll never hear me say it’s futile. Whether we succeed or fail, we’ve given these people one night of comfort and security. We’ve shown that not all humans fear them. And really, Isaac. You don’t do what’s right because you know it will work out. You do it because you know it’s right.”

“Are you part of Vanguard?”

He smiled. “Lupe and I are part of an informal network founded by a Quaker in Pennsylvania. ‘The Society of Friends.’ I’ve always admired the elegance of that phrase. We extend friendship to those who need it. Some of our more politically active members have taken to calling themselves Vanguard, yes.”

“Does that friendship come with a price tag?”

His brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“You don’t know?” I turned to Deb. “You haven’t told him someone was using Vanguard to recruit soldiers and assassins, or how you brainwashed those werewolves into attacking the capitol?”

Rabbi Miller had gone very still. Deb’s eyes were tight, and her lips peeled back from her teeth. Smudge shifted to watch her. The smell of smoke rose from his body.

“Is this true, Deborah?” Miller asked at last.

Deb was still glaring at me. “You son of a bitch.”

“Just because we worked together over the past twenty-four hours doesn’t erase what you did.”

“Judge not, lest ye be punched in the face for being a self-righteous prick,” Deb snapped. “I didn’t have a choice. We don’t all get to be the new Johannes Gutenberg, living in magical luxury, away from the blood and death and hate.”

“You planted that hate in their minds! You sent them out to kill and to die!”

“Isaac, could you please head downstairs and leave the two of us alone?” asked Rabbi Miller. “You were right to tell me.” Deb started to protest, but he silenced her with a look. “He was right, and you know it. Secrecy and lies only feed the darkness. I believe you and I need to have a private conversation.”

I stood to go, then hesitated. “Will you be all right, Rabbi?”

Deb looked up at me. “Seriously? You think I’m gonna put the whammy on a rabbi in his own fucking temple?”

I said nothing.

“Oh, just go.” Deb sagged back in the pew. “The good rabbi is trying to demonstrate that he still trusts me. He figures guilt and self-loathing will keep me in line.”

The corners of Rabbi Miller’s mouth tugged upward. “Am I wrong?”