The clock read 4 a.m. by that point, and my eyes were bleary from tears and a need to sleep. I put down Seth’s book—which I was now more than half-way through—and turned off the light. Dante shifted and threw an arm around me, resting his chin on my shoulder. His breathing grew heavy and regular, and before long, I joined him in sleep.

The phone woke me up at an ungodly hour later in the morning. Dante was gone already. I found that surprising, but seeing as he hadn’t gotten three hours of sleep, it might not have been that much of a leap.

“Hello?” Finding the phone had been feat enough, let alone checking the caller ID. A frantic voice answered me.

“Georgina? This is Blake.”

“Blake?” I didn’t think I knew any Blake.

“Don’t tell me you forgot about us?”

He pronounced “about” as “aboot,” and it came back to me through my sleep-addled brain. “Oh, God. I’m sorry. Blake. From the Army.” Him calling me couldn’t be a good sign. I sat up straighter in bed. “What’s going on?”

“They’re doing something today . . . I’m not supposed to tell anyone, but I’m worried. I don’t know much, except that it’s big.”

I was up and moving now, clothes and hair shape-shifting as I walked. “Do you have anything else? A time or place?”

“Not yet. Evan’s being really secretive about what he’s telling us. He says the Angel wants it to be a need-to-know-thing and that we won’t find out the details until the absolute last minute.”

“Fuck.” I suspected the Angel was also trying to limit my knowledge as well. Flattering, but frustrating. “Okay, well, listen, I’m in Seattle, but I’m getting on the road right now. I should be there in two hours.”

“You can’t get up here in two hours,” he said incredulously.

“I can if I don’t drive the speed limit.”

There was a bit of congestion within the city itself, but once I got a little north of it, the traffic cleared up. It was the morning commute; everyone wanted to get into Seattle. Once I had clear highway ahead of me, I dialed Cedric. I knew he wasn’t going to like my lack of information, but considering how angry he’d been after last time, I had to at least make the attempt here to keep myself out of trouble. It was Kristin who answered.

“He’s having breakfast right now,” she told me. “It’s kind of a special time for him. He doesn’t like to be disturbed.” There was an anxious tone to her voice, and I could almost picture her arranging a breakfast tray just-so for him.

“Yeah, well, he might be disturbed whether he likes it or not.” I told her what Blake had said, and her response was similar to mine.