BooksBarbecue
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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

Chloe slips out of her dad’s hold. She pauses, staring at Clara. Then she hesitantly steps into Clara’s arm. Once there, though, the older girl clings onto her mom as tightly as her baby sister.

Clara’s husband stares at them, looking like he’s torn between running to join his family and simply running away. He stands there, watching his kids chatter to their mom about how they came here to scavenge, that they’d heard valuable things were left here on the dock. How they’d begged their dad to come here one last time. How they pretended they were coming here for their Sunday lunch like they used to.

Hearing Clara chat softly with her girls brings up a picture of a mom that every kid deserves to have. The girls look cozy and happy in the shelter of their mother. I’m guessing that feels pretty great.

Eventually, their dad steps over to Clara like a man in a dream. Without a word, he enfolds all of them in a hug and begins to cry.

I can almost see this pier the way it was when Clara and her husband brought the kids here for lunch. The sound of the seagulls, the salty smell of the ocean on the breeze, and the warmth of the California sun. I can see the couple walking hand-in-hand as the girls run ahead. Clara, the way she used to be with fresh skin and a smile, holding flowers from the farmers’ market, laughing with her husband on a lazy Sunday afternoon.

I melt back into the shadows.

67

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I BRACE for Raffe to be sarcastic about Clara’s little reunion. He’s leaning against a shop wall that is mostly intact—a dark, menacing figure against the night. If I didn’t know him, I would walk a long way around to avoid him.

When I get close enough to see his face, there’s no sarcasm in it. He watches Clara’s reunion with her family with far more sympathy than I could have ever predicted for an angel, even Raffe.

But then I remember Beliel’s comment about how angels weren’t meant to be alone. So maybe he understands better than I give him credit for.

“I’m revoking your warrior status,” he says as he watches Clara and her family.

“I had warrior status?”

“For about thirty seconds.”

“What heinous crime did I commit to lose my exalted status?”

“A true warrior would have retrieved her sword first before doing personal business.”

“I’m all about personal business. Every battle I have is personal.” I lead Raffe toward the pile of broken wood and shingles where I hid the sword.

“Hmm. Good answer. Maybe you’ll eventually regain your status.”