“Nakita…” I coaxed.

“It’s okay,” she said tightly, and dipped the brush back in the bottle balanced precariously on her bent knee. “I’m a dark reaper. It’s my job to kill people. I don’t expect you to like me.”

This was getting worse and worse. Sighing, I set the bottle on my dresser and carefully opened it. “I do like you,” I said, unable to look at her as I put a red stripe on my black nails. “I think you’re great. God, Nakita, you can fly!” I looked up. “But I miss sleeping. I like being hungry, and then feeling good after I eat. I feel bad about lying to my dad and changing his memories. And I can’t be the boss of a system that I don’t believe in. If I can’t change things, then I’m going to give it up as soon as I get my body back.”

She took a breath to speak. Her eyes fixed on mine, and I couldn’t look away. “But you’re good at this,” she said softly.

I’m good at this? Shocked, I stared at her, and a drop of red hit my comforter. “How so?” I said, dropping the brush into the bottle and scrambling for a tissue. “You’ve made it clear you think I’m doing the wrong thing. How can I convince the seraphs if I can’t even convince you?”

Great. Dad’s going to be mad about the comforter, I thought, flustered as I dabbed to get the worst of it, but confusion was pinching her eyes when I looked up.

“I don’t know,” she said, “but you believe in what you’re doing. Timekeepers change for a reason. You’re…passionate about helping people, even if I don’t understand what you’re trying to do. The mistakes don’t matter. It’s what you do when you mess up that does.”

I met her lost expression with my own. I understood what she was saying, sort of, but I couldn’t have it both ways.

“Besides,” Nakita said softly as she turned her attention back to her nails, “I’d miss you if you were gone.”

I sat on my bed, two nails painted, the rest still utterly black. I didn’t know what to say. My curtains moved in a gust of wind, and a roll of thunder gave her last words more weight. The sun was probably still up, but I couldn’t see it behind the dark clouds.

Nakita’s sigh mixed with the first drops of rain hitting the roof. I had to say something, but nothing rose through my blissfully empty mind as big plops of rain hit sporadically and the smell of wet shingles drifted in with the breeze. Still searching for something to say that would give her solace and yet make my intentions clear, I moved to close my window.

“Nakita—” I started, gazing out at the early darkness and the flat gray clouds.

But a soft, oh-so-familiar sound scraped across my awareness like a knife. It was the sound of sneakers finding a grip on the roof. And then the soft tinkling of Grace singing, “There once was a boy on a roof, who kept himself far too aloof. Like a snail he did crawl, till he took a big fall. ’Cause really he was a big stupe.”

Is Barnabas back? “Barnabas?” I called loudly, leaning out the window.

Nakita looked up from finishing her toenails. A sudden scrabbling from higher up on the roof shocked through me. Reaching for the screen, I lifted it free and set it aside. A yelp of alarm from the roof pulled Nakita to her feet, and with the frightening sound of sliding grit, a white shadow fell past my window. Arms and legs flailing, someone dropped off the roof. A loud thump followed by a groan rose up with the soft roll of thunder.

I turned to Nakita. “I don’t think that was Barnabas,” I said.

Her face was calm, but her eyes were silver. “I can’t tell. Whoever it is, he’s shielding his aura.” Eager to find out, she handed me her polish. “I’ll be right back.”

My eyes widened. “Nakita!” I hissed, but she had already sent her hand about her amulet. A shimmer of violet light ran over her, and then her sword appeared in her free hand. “Nakita, wait!” I demanded as I set the polish down, but she was halfway through my window and on the roof.

“Puppy presents on the rug,” I whispered as she stood on the edge of the roof and looked at the ground with a hand on her hip. The wind gusted, and the rain pattered down heavier, the branches over my room blocking most of it.

“Who are you?” she said loudly as she looked down; then she dropped out of sight.

“Grace!” I shouted. Okay, it hadn’t been Barnabas eavesdropping, but someone was, and Grace had made him fall.

The messenger angel flew in, bringing with her the smell of ozone and rain, darting about in chagrin, if a ball of light could look chagrined.

“Darn it, Madison! I didn’t want you to know I was here,” she said, sounding disappointed. “I wasn’t spying on you. I promise! It was that boy of a rising timekeeper. Paul wasn’t being nice, so I made him fall. You weren’t supposed to know I was here!”

“Go get Barnabas,” I said, my hand on the sill.

“You’re not mad?” The glow that was all I could see of her vanished as her wings stopped moving.

“No, but I will be if you don’t get Barnabas. He’s shielded, and I can’t reach him.” Actually, I was furious, but I was more concerned about Nakita and whoever had fallen off the roof.

“Be right back,” she chimed in relief, and she darted out the window.

Taking a breath, I reached for the window again. A faint huff of surprise came from the yard under my window, followed by a ping. It was more of a feeling than a sound, and a wash of violet colored the underside of the leaves of the oak tree arching over my room.

That did not look good. Pushing the curtains aside, I vaulted onto the warm, damp roof and into the heavy night.

My sneakers slid on the damp grit of the roof, and I sat down fast before I fell off. The branches overhanging the house made the night seem darker, and I carefully scooted to the edge, looking down to find Nakita standing over someone. She had two swords, one in each hand. My lips parted as I recognized the guy, now flat on his back in my yard. I’d seen him in the desert through Ron’s eyes. He had an amulet glowing a thick, earthy green. The deep color was echoed in one of the swords Nakita held. His, obviously. Grace had called him Paul.

“Tell me who you are!” Nakita demanded.

Sighing, I dangled my feet and dropped from the eaves, pushing out so I wouldn’t snag my tights on the gutters. I hit the ground hard and tugged my skirt down fast. “Nakita! Take it easy!” I said in a loud whisper as the shock of impact shivered up through me.

She turned to me and I added, “I think that’s Ron’s replacement, Paul.”

“Chronos’s—” she started, then yelped and jumped back when the guy kicked at her. Sandy, our neighbor’s golden retriever, began to bark and jump against the chain-link fence.

The guy scrambled back and up, tugging his clothes straight as he halted well within Nakita’s strike range. Silly mortal.

“Give me my scythe,” he demanded, but Nakita wasn’t listening. Neither was Sandy as I told her to shut up. It was raining harder, and everything not under the tree was getting wet.

“You’re the rising light timekeeper?” she asked, her face shadowy but her tone clear. “You’re hardly old enough.”

I winced in sympathy as he clenched his jaw and held out his hand. “Just give me my sword, okay?” His accent was clearly Midwest American, despite his odd clothes—the same billowy shirt and pants I’d seen through Ron’s eyes earlier today—which had a martial-arts kind of a look. Leave it to Ron to make him wear funny clothes.

Nakita’s chin lifted, and she took a firmer stance. “Why? You were spying on us!”

“Because giving him his sword back is the decent thing to do,” I said, wondering how much of Nakita’s and my conversation he’d been privy to. Great. I really needed Ron to know Nakita was worried about my betraying her.

Sandy finally shut her yap, and I sidled up alongside Nakita. It was nice to feel in control for once, and I stared right back at him as he ran his attention up and down me once. “Go to hell,” he said simply.