“That calls for a witty comeback."Whatever," I say.”

“My friends call me Wrath,” says Raffe. “My enemies call me Please Have Mercy. What’s your name, soldier boy?”

“Who says I belong in Heaven?”

“You," he says, with a dirty look, “don’t deserve salvation.”"As if you could give it to me,” I croak. “Why would I want to go to Heaven anyway when it’s crammed full of murderers and kidnappers like you and your buddies?” “Who says I belong in Heaven?”

“We walk for about an hour before Raffe whispers, “Does moping actually help humans feel better?” “I’m not moping,” I whisper back.“Of course you’re not. A girl like you, spending time with a warrior demigod like me. What’s to mope about? Leaving a wheelchair behind couldn’t possibly show up on the radar compared to that.”I nearly stumble over a fallen branch. “You have got to be kidding me.”“I never kid about my warrior demigod status.”“Oh. My. God.” I lower my voice, having forgotten to whisper. “You are nothing but a bird with an attitude. Okay, so you have a few muscles, I’ll grant you that. But you know, a bird is nothing but a barely evolved lizard. That’s what you are.”He chuckles. “Evolution.” He leans over as if telling me a secret. “I’ll have you know that I’ve been this perfect since the beginning of time.” He is so close that his breath caresses my ear.“Oh, please. Your giant head is getting too big for this forest. Pretty soon, you’re going to get stuck trying to walk between two trees. And then, I’ll have to rescue you.” I give him a weary look. “Again.”I pick up my pace, trying to discourage the smart comeback that I’m sure will come.But it doesn’t. Could he be letting me have the last say?When I look back, Raffe has a smug grin on his face. That’s when I realize I’ve been manipulated into feeling better. I stubbornly try to resist but it’s already too late.”

“I make a show of lifting him and puttinghim into the chair, grunting and staggering as though he’s terribly heavy. I want the watchers to think the angel is as heavy as he looks, because maybe then they’ll conclude that I’m stronger and tougher than I look in my underfed five-foot-two frame.Is that the beginning of an amused grinforming on the angel’s face?Whatever it is, it turns into a grimace of pain as I dump him into the chair.”

“Hey, I don’t call the shots,” he says. “If I was good at marketing, I’d spin you an empty story that sounds profound. But the truth is that we’re all just stumbling around in the dark. Sometimes we hit something terrible.”“That’s it? It can’t be as random as that.” I don’t know what I want to hear, but that’s not it.“It’s always as random as that.”He sounds more like a seasoned soldier than any angel I’ve ever heard of. One thing’s for sure—I’m not going to get a lot of answers out of him.My hand stays out with the offered food long enough to make the moment awkward. “Don’t you want it?” I ask.“That depends on why you’re giving it to me.”I shrug. “Sometimes, as we’re stumbling along in the dark, we hit something good.”