“Why? Don’t they know about the prophecies?”

“Absolutely, but prophecies are thwarted all the time. I think they were just surprised it was really happening. I mean, you’re bringing something onto this plane that, well, maybe doesn’t belong? No, that’s not the right way to put it.”

“So, Beep won’t belong here?”

“I didn’t mean that. It’s more like … a birth like hers doesn’t happen every day. I’m not sure how to say this without going to confession right after, but from what I can tell, they are saying the daughter of a god will be born here. But that’s wrong. There is only one God, so I’m sure I’m misunderstanding them.”

“Right. I’m sure.”

“I did hear that she will change something that they hadn’t expected to be changed. It’s kind of freaking them out. It’s like when you expect your car to run out of gas before you make it to the station, but you’re still surprised when it does.”

“Okay,” I said, trying to grasp every nuance of her meaning. I gave up. “Bottom line, she isn’t in any danger from them, right?”

“From heaven? Absolutely not.”

“Oh, good. That’s good. Hey, how do you have a cell phone, anyway? I thought cloistered nuns had to give up worldly crap.”

“I’m not a cloistered nun, and I have a cell phone because, in my position, it’s beneficial. It’s all been approved.”

“I’ll need to see those documents.”

“No.”

“Have you ever considered the fact that the term ‘cloistered nuns’ sounds like an appetizer? Or a punk band?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, well, let me know if you hear anything. I’d like to lead a normal life someday.”

“Ten four.”

*   *   *

Showers were God’s reward for working hard enough to get dirty. I dried off, wrapped myself up in the plush robe Reyes had bought me, and stepped to a foggy mirror.

Before I could wipe it off, a letter appeared in the steam. I glanced around. No one was in there, but another letter appeared as though someone were tracing letters in the condensation with a finger. I stood back and waited for the full message to appear, then read it aloud.

“Spies.”

What did that mean? There were spies here? Did we have a mole in the convent? And if so, who? No, the bigger questions would be, whom was the mole spying for? Whom would he report to?

I reached up and hurriedly wiped off the mirror. Two things came to mind immediately. First of all, that was my dad’s handwriting. It was exactly the same, which was odd and a little disheartening that I’d have the same handwriting when I died. I had thought there was hope for me. I thought good handwriting skills were a perk of heaven. That maybe we’d magically know angelic script and have this fluid, flowing handwriting, but no. I was doomed. The second thing was that there were apparently spies among us.

But who? Who would be—?

It hit me like a nuclear blast. I strode down the hall back to my room. Reyes had left, but I knew one person who hadn’t.

I opened the closet door to the agonizing sobs of the tax attorney. Reaching inside, I grabbed her arm and dragged her out. As long as I kept ahold of her wrist, she couldn’t vanish.

She stumbled to her feet and raised a hand to her face, sobbing uncontrollably.

“Save it,” I said, jerking her arm to snap her out of it. “Who are you spying for? Who sent you here?”

For a split second, I actually suspected my husband. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d sent someone to watch me. But why would she be putting on a show like that?

No, I suspected it was someone who knew I’d try to help her, and they wanted her to get very close to both me and Reyes.

“Answer me, or I’ll—” Crap, I had nothing. What would I do? I was a portal to heaven and threatening to send her there didn’t seem like much of an incentive to talk.

But she stopped crying anyway and glowered at me.

“Who are you spying for?” I repeated.

Her glower twisted her pretty mouth into a defiant smirk.

Suddenly, I knew what to do with her. “I’ll mark your soul. You will be devoured by a soul-eater and cease to exist.”

A split second of fear flashed across her face, but she recovered quickly. “I’m not the only one,” she said. “You have no idea what’s coming.”

“Enlighten me.”

“Bite me.”

“Hmm, no, I think I’ll leave that up to Osh’ekiel.”

Her jaw dropped open. “The Daeva? He’s here?”

“You’re not a very good spy.” She tried to jerk out of my grasp, but I held her tight. “Once I mark your soul, there is nowhere you can hide that he won’t find you.” Then something else hit me. A scent. Lavender. It was coming from the closet and had seeped into her soul. “You pushed me!” I said, appalled, remembering the scent just before I went face-first down a mountainside.

She raised her chin and refused to talk.

Dang it. Where was a waterboard when I needed one? I wondered if an ironing board would work.

But then she had to open her big mouth and make me mad. Not a good idea. “She will never see the light of day on this plane,” the tax attorney said, quite enjoying herself. “He’ll eat her intestines for breakfast. You have no idea the plans he has for your daughter.”

Anger surged through me lightning quick, and before I knew it, I’d marked her. I saw a symbol brand into her soul like a flash of light; then it was gone and all that remained was the burned imprint of the mark.

She gasped, looked at the mark on her chest, stumbled back, but I kept my hold.

Soon, Reyes and Osh burst through the door. Reyes was beside me at once while Osh fairly crooned when he realized what I’d done.

“What have we here?” he asked as the woman cowered away from him.

I turned from him to Reyes. “Your father has sent spies. We have spies! Did you know we have spies?”

Osh’s gaze dropped with guilt. But Reyes’s gaze never wavered from the woman’s.

“Were you planning on telling me?” I asked my husband.

“Not today,” he said.

I stood aghast. No idea why. The guy had more secrets than Victoria.

I thought Sheila was scared of Osh, and she was, but when her gaze landed on Reyes, she screamed and fought my hold. Just as she slipped through my fingers, Reyes took hold of her shoulders. “How many more?” he asked as he shook her.

“I don’t—” She cried out when his fingers bit into her. “Two. Maybe three.”

“What are his plans?”

“I don’t know. I—I swear. He doesn’t tell us.”

He shoved her away from us, the revulsion he felt evident in every move he made. “She’s all yours.”

She caught herself, straightened, and raised her chin, resigned to her fate.

“Dinnertime,” Osh said with a wolfish grin, and what happened next made me pee a little.

We looked on as Osh backed her against the closet door, not as though he were about to eat her alive, but as though he were about to make love to her.

“He’s just waiting for the right moment,” she said in one last act of defiance, one last attempt to scare us shitless. It was working. On me, at least.

“And what moment would that be, love?” Osh asked as he caressed her neck and lifted her face to his, his touch as gentle as a summer breeze.

She curled her hands into fists at her sides, waiting for the inevitable. “That moment when no one is looking.”

He leaned into her, pressed his hips into her, ran his lips along her neck. “We’re always looking, love.”

The grin that spread across her pretty face was both sad and terrifying. Her gaze landed on me and her grin widened. “Not always.”

Before I could ask what she meant, Osh bent over her and covered her mouth with his, the sensuality of the act surprising. And arousing. A shimmer of light escaped from between their mouths, and Osh pulled back from her, just enough for me to see her soul passing out of her and into him. His eyes were closed, his hands holding her head as she stared wide-eyed at the ceiling. She seemed to weaken almost instantly, her fists relaxing, her arms falling limp. Then her body grew more and more transparent. She began to dissipate. Pieces of her drifted into the air like ashes until she disappeared completely.