I’ve never seen so many worried faces.

“Well,” says Stephen, after a minute. Apparently he’s the master of ceremonies at tonight’s event. “Have a seat, both of you.”

Great. No small talk, no good to see you in one piece—straight to the interrogation.

People scoot to make room for us at the front of the circle, and we hunker down in the grass. I pull the blanket more tightly around Web, like that will shield him from all the curious stares he’s getting. He reaches a tiny hand out in the direction of the fire, his golden eyes reflecting the light.

“Before we open this up for discussion,” Corbett Phibbs says, stepping forward, “we’d like to hear what happened, in your own words. That way we’ll all be sure to understand.”

I let Christian tell it. I struggle to keep my face passive as I listen to him relate the events without embellishment, the way we talked about on the drive over, without getting too much into the gritty details. Christian keeps it simple: We showed up. Asael wanted Angela’s baby. He told one of his minions to kill Anna Zerbino, then left, taking Angela, leaving the others to burn the place. We found where Angela had hidden Web, fought our way out of the Garter, and fled. The bare bones of what happened.

After that the congregation peppers us with some questions Christian doesn’t know how to answer. “How did Asael know about the baby?” and “How did Angela know to hide the baby before the Black Wings arrived?” and, finally, “How did you fight them off?”

“With a glory sword,” Christian replies, which makes them collectively gasp. I guess how to wield a glory sword isn’t common knowledge among them. “My uncle taught me.”

The first of the lies we plan to tell tonight.

It sucks not being wholly honest with the congregation, but if there’s anything that Christian and I have had ingrained in us by our parents, it’s that we should never admit to being Triplare. Not to anyone. We don’t even want to let on that we know the Triplare exist. That’s why Corbett asked us to tell our story this way, so we can spin it the way we need to, without revealing ourselves, or Web. Only Corbett and Billy know the truth.

“So the girl’s body they found in the Garter isn’t Angela,” someone confirms. I locate the source of the voice: Julia. The voice of dissent every time we had a meeting last year. Not my favorite person.

“No. Asael took Angela,” Christian answers.

“Why? What would he want with her?” Stephen asks.

“She’s his daughter,” Christian says. “At least, that’s the way he was talking. Like he’d been keeping tabs on her.”

My throat closes briefly. Asael had been using Phen to keep tabs on Angela. All that time, all of what she felt for Phen, all that she thought she knew about him, was a lie. He was following orders. He didn’t seem to enjoy following them, but that doesn’t change the truth. She was a job to him.

If I thought Stephen’s expression was serious before, it’s apocalyptically serious now.

“I see,” he says. “And who is the father of Angela’s child?”

“Some guy at school,” I reply quickly. Lie number two.

Stephen frowns. “Some guy?”

“His name’s Pierce. He lives in our dorm. But it doesn’t matter who the father is,” I say, my voice louder than usual. “We need to find Angela. We need to get her back. Web needs her. So I’m really hoping you’ve got some awesome kind of plan.”

Silence. Even Corbett looks uncomfortable for a minute.

“We do have a plan,” he says gently. “But it involves the baby, not Angela.”

“What do you mean? How can it involve the baby and not Angela?” I hug Web tighter to me.

“We think it might be best if you give the baby to Billy. She’s agreed to care for him, guard him, and protect him, perhaps indefinitely. Until there are further developments.”

“Further developments?” I exclaim. “What does that mean?”

“Clara,” Christian murmurs. “Calm down. They’re doing their best.”

“What, you don’t care?” I challenge. “Angela’s one of us. She’s been kidnapped. Aren’t we even going to try to get her back?”

“It’s not that we don’t care,” Billy says. She’s been quiet up to now, sitting behind the fire, stirring the embers with a stick. “It’s that we don’t have the power to save her. From what you’ve told us”—her eyes meet mine across the fire, meaning from what you’ve told me—“it sounds like they took her to hell.”

I knew that. They took her to hell, and I did nothing to stop them.

I clear my throat. “Well, then, we have to get her out of there.”

Corbett shakes his head sadly. “We can’t get into hell. Even if we had the ability to move between dimensions, it’d be impossible to find her. Hell is as vast as the earth, or so we believe. You couldn’t hope to locate Angela without some kind of guide, some idea of where to go.”

“A guide. Like an angel?” I ask.

Corbett scratches at his beard. “A real, full-blooded angel could do it. But none of us here know any of those.”

My dad could help us, I think, but he said he was going away for a while. He said I’d have to make it on my own. He said he couldn’t help me.

We’re going to have to find some other way.

“We think the two of you have been so brave, and faced so much,” Billy says as my mind churns with this new information, and the congregation murmurs their agreement. “You did everything you could, and we’ll do everything we can to help you now. I volunteered to take Web because I thought it’d take some of the burden off you.”

“But what would we do? If we gave Web to you, where would we go?” Christian asks.

Billy nods like she was expecting the question. “We’ve had some disagreements about that, but the majority of us think that you should remain in hiding. We could funnel you to one of our sister outposts, anywhere in the world.” She sighs like the idea totally depresses her.

My hope turns to a leaden ball of dread in the pit of my stomach. “You’re saying we can’t go back. To our old lives. Ever.”

Her smile is sympathetic. “We can’t make that decision for you. But yes, that’s what I’m saying. The general consensus is that it’s not safe for you to go back to California.”

So that’s it. No more Stanford. No more dreams of becoming a doctor. No more normal life. We’re going to be expected to start over.

“I think the baby should stay with us,” Christian says. “We’re doing fine with him.”

“But won’t the Black Wings be looking for a couple with a baby?” Julia says from the circle.

Shut up, Julia.

“I don’t care,” Christian says fiercely. “Web stays with us.”

Because we’re already a family, he feels. Because we’re responsible for him. Because it’s the least we can do, for Angela.

There’s not much to say after that, and the meeting is adjourned. Billy and Christian and I cross through the tall grass toward the trail that leads back to the truck, a sleeping Web snuggled up against Christian’s chest in a baby carrier that someone in the congregation gave us. It’s always full summer here no matter what the season outside, and I try to take a moment to enjoy the sweet air, the smell of grass and fresh water and summer wildflowers. The sky, unsullied by clouds. The stars wheeling bright over our heads.

I’m dragging my feet, literally. Something inside me doesn’t want to leave this place. It’s like I’m waiting for something else to happen.

I stop walking.

“What?” Christian asks. “What’s the matter?”

I can’t make myself go any farther. I’m crying. All this time, since the night the Garter burned, since everything fell apart, part of me has been numb. Silent. Paralyzed. But now I’m crying buckets.

“Oh, kid,” Billy says, enveloping me in her arms, rocking me. “Just breathe. It’s going to be all right, you’ll see.”

I don’t see. How can it be all right, if we’re going to leave Angela in hell? I pull away and wipe at my eyes, then start bawling all over again. I thought we’d find a solution to our problems here. I thought I’d finally be able to do something about what happened that night at the Garter. To save Angela. But here I am, giving up. Going back into hiding. Running away.