“Okay, so where was I?” she says. She ticks it off on her fingers. “Objective one, find a way to block the sorrow. That’s mostly a job for Clara since she seems to be extra sensitive to it. I was with her when we saw the Black Wing at the mall last year, and I didn’t get anything from him but a mild case of the creeps.”

“Hold up,” interrupts Jeffrey. “You two saw a Black Wing at the mall last year? When?”

“We were shopping for prom dresses.” Angela heaves a meaningful look at Christian, as if the whole incident was his fault somehow because he was my date.

“And why did I not hear about this?” Jeffrey asks, turning to me.

“Your mom said it would put you in danger, knowing about them. According to her, when you’re aware of Black Wings, they become more aware of you,” Angela answers for me.

He looks skeptical.

“So she must think you’re all grown-up, since she told you about them now, right?” Angela offers helpfully.

I think about the stony look on Mom’s face the morning after the fire, when she told Jeffrey about Samjeeza. “That, or she thought it might be necessary for Jeffrey to have a clue about Black Wings in case one of them shows up at the house wanting revenge,” I add.

“Which brings us to objective two,” Angela segues smoothly. She glances at me. “Did you finish the book I gave you?”

“Ange, you just gave it to me at lunch.”

She sighs and gives me a look that conveys what an amateur she thinks I am. “Can you get it, please?”

I hop down to fetch the book out of my backpack. Angela decides that maybe a table would be more comfortable to get down and dirty with the research, which she evidently means to jump right into. We reconvene around a table, and Angela takes The Book of Enoch from me.

She flips through the pages. “Listen to this.” She clears her throat. “It happened after the sons of men had multiplied in those days, that daughters were born to them, elegant and beautiful. And when the Watchers, the sons of heaven, beheld them, they became enamored of them, saying to each other, ‘Come, let us select for ourselves wives from the progeny of men, and let us beget children.’”

“Okay. Enter angel-bloods,” I comment.

“Just wait for it. I’m getting to the good part. . . . Then their leader, Samyaza, said to them, ‘I fear that you perhaps may be indisposed to the performance of this enterprise; and that I alone shall suffer for so grievous a crime.’ Does that name sound familiar?”

A shiver zings its way down my spine.

“That’s him, then, Samjeeza? The angel who attacked Mom and Clara?” Jeffrey asks.

Angela sits back. “I think so. It goes on to talk about how they married the human women and taught mankind how to make weapons and mirrors, and showed them sorcery and all kinds of taboo stuff. They had tons of kids, which the book describes as evil giants—the Nephilim—who were abominations in the sight of God, until there were so many of them and the earth became so evil that God sent the flood to wipe them all out.”

“So we’re evil giants,” repeats Jeffrey. “Dude, we’re not that tall.”

“People back then were shorter,” Angela says. “Poor nutrition.”

“But that doesn’t make sense,” I say. “How could we be abominations? How is it our fault if we’re born with angel blood in our veins? I thought the Bible describes the Nephilim as heroes.”

“It does,” Angela answers. “The Book of Enoch isn’t in the Bible. I have a theory that it might be some kind of anti-angel-blood propaganda. But it’s interesting, right? Worth looking into. Because this Samjeeza fellow is right in the middle of it. He’s the leader of this group of Black Wings called the Watchers, which, according to some other research I’ve been doing, is a band of fallen angels whose basic job is to seduce human women and produce as many angel-bloods as possible.”

Fabulous.

“Okay, so objective two is finding out more about Samjeeza,” I say. “Roger that. Are there any more objectives?”

“One,” Angela says lightly. “I thought one objective of Angel Club should be to help each other figure out our purposes. I mean, you two have had yours, but didn’t fulfill them. So what does that mean?” she says, glancing at Christian and me. “And Jeffrey and I still have ours coming. Maybe if we all put our heads together, we can understand this whole purpose concept better.”

“Great. Hey, look, I’ve got to go,” Jeffrey says abruptly. “Practice started ten minutes ago. Coach is going to have me running laps until I drop.”

“Wait, we haven’t got to the rules part yet,” Angela calls after him as he books it for the door.

“Clara can fill me in later,” he calls back over his shoulder. “Or you could make, like, stone tablets or something. Angel Club ten commandments.” Then he’s gone.

So much for finding out exactly what he knows.

Angela looks at me. “He’s funny.”

“Yeah, he’s a barrel of laughs.”

“So. The rules.”

I sigh. “Lay them on us.”

“Well, first, and this one’s a no-brainer, no one tells anybody about this. We’re the only ones who know about Angel Club, okay?”

“Do not talk about Angel Club,” says Christian with a smirk.

“I mean it. Don’t tell your uncle.” Angela turns to me. “Don’t tell your mom. Don’t tell your boyfriend. Got it? Second rule: Angel Club is a secret from everybody else, but we don’t keep secrets from each other. This is a no-secrets zone. We tell each other everything.”

“Okay . . . ,” I agree. “What are the other rules?”

“That’s it,” she says.

“Oh. One per stone tablet,” I joke.

“Ha. Ha.” She turns back to Christian. “What about you? You’ve been awfully quiet this whole time. You’ve got to swear too.”

“No, thank you,” he says politely.

She leans back in her chair in surprise. “No, thank you?”

“To the rules. I won’t go blabbing about this thing to my buddies on the ski team. But I tell my uncle everything, and I’m going to tell him about this.” His eyes seek mine, pin me. “It’s stupid not to communicate what you know to the adults. They’re only trying to protect us. And as far as the no-secrets zone, I can’t agree to that. I don’t even really know you guys, so why would I tell you my secrets? No way.”

Angela’s speechless. I find this kind of funny.

“You’re right,” I say. “We ditch the rules. There are no rules.”

“I think it’s great, though,” he says as a way of soothing Angela. “Meeting and finding out what we can do, trying to figure things out. Count me in. I’ll be here, whenever, until it snows and then I have ski team, but maybe then we can move this to Sunday afternoons, which would work for me.”

Angela recovers. She even whips up a smile. “Sure, that’s doable. Probably better for Jeffrey’s schedule, too. Sundays. Let’s do Sundays.”

There’s a moment of uncomfortable silence.

“Okay then,” Angela says finally. “I think this meeting is adjourned.”

It’s almost dark when I leave the theater. Storm clouds are brewing overhead, churning like a grumbling stomach. I guess I should be grateful for the rain, since the storm put out the fires, which in the end probably saved people’s lives and homes. It’s only weather, I remind myself, but sometimes I wonder if this particular weather’s been sent to bother me personally, a punishment, maybe, for not doing my job, for failing at my purpose, or some other sort of ominous sign.

I try for a quick, casual good-bye to Christian at the corner, but he puts his hand on my arm.

“I still want to talk to you,” he says in a low voice.

“I have to go,” I manage. “My mom will be wondering where I am. Call me, okay? Or I’ll call you. One of us should definitely call the other.”

“Right.” His hand drops away. “I’ll call you.”

“I gotta run. I’m late.”

And then I’m off in the opposite direction.

Coward, says the nagging voice inside my head. You should talk to him. Find out what he has to say.