A stray shiver danced down my backbone. I looked carefully at the young woman, probably five years younger than I was, but there were no marks on her neck or wrists. Then again, there had been no marks on Sarah’s wrist just after Raziel had fed from her. I squirmed, still bothered by the thought.

Though far more bothered by the notion of Raziel at Sarah’s thin, blue-veined wrist than of anyone else feeding from her.

“What blood?” I asked, helping myself to the lasagna, too hungry to be squeamish. I didn’t really want to know, but I was trying to be polite.

“The blood I give Sammael,” she said simply. “Garlic affects clotting time.”

This sounded perfectly reasonable, if you didn’t consider what they were doing with the blood in the first place and how they were getting it. I forcibly swept it out of my mind. “Do you want some of this?” I gestured toward the overburdened plate. They seemed to bring me twice as much as I wanted. At this rate I’d get—no, I wouldn’t.

“I’ll wait and eat with Sammael. He prefers it that way. Right now he and the other Fallen are looking at the defenses before the meeting, making certain there’s no way the Nephilim can break through. There have been rumors that they’re going to try.”

“There are always rumors,” Sarah said softly, coming in from the kitchen. “It’s better not to pay any attention to them. The men can walk around and mutter things and feel important, but in the end the Nephilim will either break in or not, and I don’t think there’s any way we can affect that.”

“And the Nephilim are the flesh-eaters?” I asked, suddenly taking a good look at my bright red pasta. I set my plate down again.

Sarah nodded. “There are no words to describe them. A living nightmare. They’ve never been able to pierce the walls of Sheol, but that’s no guarantee they won’t.” She fell silent for a moment, as if she were looking at something in the distance, something unbearable. And then she rallied, serene as ever.

“In the meantime all we can do is live our lives. They’ve been a threat since the beginning of time—worrying gets us nowhere.”

The lasagna was no longer sitting very well on my stomach, but I knew that the ice cream would take care of my nausea. There was nothing in this world, or whatever world I was in, that ice cream couldn’t fix. I headed for the fridge, pausing to look out the windows at the men on the wide expanse of beach.

“When would they be likely to attack?” I asked, staring at them. At him.

“After dark. The Nephilim cannot go out in daylight—it burns their flesh. They sleep during the day; then the hunger rouses them and they go in search of whatever they can find. And apparently they have found Sheol.”

“Found it?”

“Sheol is guarded by the mists. They were lifted when you were brought in, and we’re afraid that was enough to alert the monsters.”

“You mean, I’m to blame for letting the crazies in?” I turned away from the beach.

“Of course not,” Sarah said in her soothing voice. “They’re not in, and they won’t get in. They can storm the gates and threaten, but they cannot come in unless someone invites them. And no one would invite their own death.”

Suddenly the air felt cold, almost clammy, and there was a feeling of foreboding that I couldn’t shake. So much for a cheerful afterlife. “What about the Fallen? They can go out in the daylight. Do they have to be invited into a place before they can enter?”

She shook her head. “That’s only for the unclean.”

“And vampires aren’t unclean?”

“We don’t use that term,” Carrie spoke up. “They’re blood-eaters.”

“It has too many negative connotations,” Sarah explained. “The roles of the Fallen and the Nephilim have gotten mixed up over the years, and people have made them the stuff of nightmares. Only the Nephilim are the monsters.”

“Who created them? Your just and loving God?”

Sarah ignored my sarcasm. “God sent new angels after the Fallen, to destroy them. To make certain they weren’t tempted, he made it impossible for them to feel. They fell anyway, and were driven mad, and he cursed them as well, made them flesh-eaters and abominations. After that, he stopped trying.”

“But they can’t get in, right? The Nephilim, I mean. And even if they did, they’d probably have a hard time getting to the top floor of this place, wouldn’t they?” I wasn’t usually such a wuss, but I had a horror of cannibalism. Jeffrey Dahmer made me physically ill. I always figured I’d been eaten in a previous lifetime, though the way things were going, maybe that was part of my future and not my past.

“If they get in, everyone will die,” Sarah said. “There will be no place to hide, not even up here.” She must have seen my expression, for she quickly came up with a slight, dismissive laugh that was almost believable. Almost. “But you’re right, they’re not going to get in. The Fallen are worried because they’ve reached our borders, when they never have before. They still won’t be able to break through the final barrier.”

She sounded very certain. And I didn’t believe it for a minute. I needed ice cream.

It was Cherry Garcia and Super Fudge Chunk, which cheered me up, at least partially. I grabbed one container and a spoon and went over to sit crosslegged on the pristine sofa next to Carrie’s silent figure. I was half-tempted to spill some, just to add some color to the place. I gestured with the round container. “Either of you want any? There are more spoons. Sharing Ben & Jerry’s is a very bonding experience.”

Sarah laughed. “We’re already bonded, Allie. The ice cream is unnecessary. You enjoy it.” She took the seat opposite me. “How are you and Raziel getting along?”

“He hates me,” I said cheerfully. If I couldn’t have him, I could at least enjoy annoying him.

“Oh, no!” Sarah said. “Raziel doesn’t hate anyone. At least—”

“Trust me, he hates me. I’m not too fond of him either.” It wasn’t exactly a lie. “He thinks I’m a pain in the ass.”

“Surely not,” Sarah said.

“Surely yes. And explain to me about the hive mind.”

“The what?”

“How does Raziel know what I’m thinking when I’m with him? How did you know I wanted lasagna and Ben & Jerry’s? Does anyone have any secrets, any privacy, in this place?” I knew I was sounding querulous but I couldn’t stop myself.

“Secrets usually cause trouble,” Sarah murmured. “But there is privacy. While most of us can discern what other people are thinking if we listen carefully, it’s more polite not to. We can pick up on your basic needs, if you want food, or would like to go for a walk, or want company. The more important things will only be accessible to Raziel. And I’m afraid he doesn’t have to be in your company. He knows what goes on in your mind even when he’s elsewhere.”