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Chapters (81)
  1. Title Page
  2. Copyright Page
  3. Dedication Page
  4. CONTENTS
  5. 1
  6. 2
  7. 3
  8. 4
  9. 5
  10. 6
  11. 7
  12. 8
  13. 9
  14. 10
  15. 11
  16. 12
  17. 13
  18. 14
  19. 15
  20. 16
  21. 17
  22. 18
  23. 19
  24. 20
  25. 21
  26. 22
  27. 23
  28. 24
  29. 25
  30. 26
  31. 27
  32. 28
  33. 29
  34. 30
  35. 31
  36. 32
  37. 33
  38. 34
  39. 35
  40. 36
  41. 37
  42. 38
  43. 39
  44. 40
  45. 41
  46. 42
  47. 43
  48. 44
  49. 45
  50. 46
  51. 47
  52. 48
  53. 49
  54. 50
  55. 51
  56. 52
  57. 53
  58. 54
  59. 55
  60. 56
  61. 57
  62. 58
  63. 59
  64. 60
  65. 61
  66. 62
  67. 63
  68. 64
  69. 65
  70. 66
  71. 67
  72. 68
  73. 69
  74. 70
  75. 71
  76. 72
  77. 73
  78. 74
  79. 75
  80. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  81. ABOUT THE AUTHOR

“You’re not really going to risk all of us, are you?” asks Daniel. He sounds as if he thinks she will. “We have to give him the closest thing we’ve got to what he wants. You know that.” Fear vibrates off him through the intensity of his eyes and the tension of his shoulders.

Madeline closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. Whoever Doc is protecting must be very special to her.

“Okay,” she breathes out. “Get them ready.”

Daniel looks over at us. Everyone follows his gaze and watches us. I don’t like the mix of sympathy and relief in their eyes.

We get special attention even though the workers look frazzled and harried. After a whirlwind of showers, lotions, perfumes, haircuts, dresses, and major makeovers, we stand in front of Madeline.

Our masks are sparkly makeup rather than a plastic disguise. Playful ribbons of blue and silver makeup tease each other from our temples and curve around our eyes and over our cheekbones.

We wear matching dresses with silky drapes of burgundy that cling to every curve. Headbands with plumes of peacock feathers. Thigh-high nylons with elastic bands to keep them up. Shapely, sparkly, gorgeous but uncomfortable heels.

People are fighting for their lives on the streets, and I’m here minding my p’s and q’s in four-inch heels that pinch my toes.

Madeline walks in a slow circle around us. I have to admit, we look like twins. My hair has been cut to Andi’s shoulder length, and there’s so much gunk in it that it would take hurricane-force winds to tweak a strand from the matching curled halos around our heads.

“Nice touch with the eyelashes,” says Madeline. We wear shockingly long fake lashes tinged with silver at the tips. I doubt that Uriel would remember me from his brief glimpse in the old aerie basement, but it’s reassuring to know that even my own mother probably wouldn’t recognize me now.

Madeline nods after she finishes her inspection. “Come with me, girls. You’ll get the next shift with the archangel.”

50

Image

URIEL’S SUITE is spectacular. The living area is enormous—the kind of thing you see in Hollywood movies. Two of the walls are lined with large windows that give a stunning 180-degree view of the ocean. A bank of fog is rolling in over the horizon, curling and tumbling above the water. The view is breathtaking, and we can’t help but slow down to gawk as soon as our heels hit the plush carpet.