A guy with a shaved head, whose name I’d forgotten, popped a chocolate glazed Timbit into his mouth and chewed thoughtfully. “That makes sense.”

Allison didn’t agree. “If that’s what the Angel wanted us to do, we would know. Right now, we need to keep doing just as we have. We are getting strong, and we need to make sure that strength doesn’t wane in the face of our enemies.”

I forced myself to keep smiling. These people didn’t understand anything, let alone their so-called enemies. I turned toward Evan and looked at him through lowered lashes. “Why settle for one goal, though? Evan, I thought you of all people really wanted to make this group great. I thought you wanted to bring more souls to the Angel’s side.”

“That’s what we’re already doing,” argued Allison. She didn’t seem to like me using the come-hither eyes on Evan. For his part, Evan didn’t like being caught between us. He started to stammer out something but was interrupted by the shaved-head guy.

“How?” he asked Allison.

She frowned. “What do you mean, Blake? How what?”

“How are we bringing more souls to the Angel’s side?”

“By striking out at those who deny her greatness.”

“Yeah . . .” Blake frowned and finished eating another Timbit. “But I don’t think doing that is bringing more souls to our side.”

“Are you questioning what we’ve done?”

“No, I stand by it all. It’s just . . .” Blake shrugged. “It seems like the things we’re doing aren’t really swaying souls toward the Angel. If anything, it’s just making them take a harder stand against us.” Finally! Finally someone got it. I could have kissed Blake. Maybe I would later. “I mean, I’m not really sure the Zamboni plan is really going to darken souls. It’ll just make people want to defend themselves against us. Maybe it’s time to do the Angel’s will through more subtle means.”

“Yes,” I cried. “That’s exactly what I—Zamboni?”

With much enthusiasm, they explained an idea they’d come up with to spray-paint a Zamboni with Satanic messages right before it came out on the ice during a hockey game. Still keeping that idiotic smile on my face, I said in a level voice, “I think maybe you should reconsider that.”

Debate went on for the next hour or so. I was a bit dismayed that I hadn’t swayed them all to my point of view immediately, but I’d sent enough ripples through them to make a difference. No matter what they claimed, none of them were really sure what exactly the Angel did want, of course, and while some were comfortable in their rut, others were starting to grasp my logic. I took it as a great sign of victory that when we finally got up to go, they’d decided against taking any action—say, like, the Zamboni plan—until they’d met again.

As we walked out of the restaurant, I caught up with Blake. I’d decided Evan was a lost cause. Blake seemed to be the smartest of the group, and I thought it might be time for a leadership change. With a little help, it wouldn’t take much to topple Evan.