Year 3: Rebellion: Guardian Angel Academy, #3

By Tamara Hart Heiner

I wasn't created to feel. Certainly not to love.

 

But I did. I fell in love with an angel, and I lost him.

 

I have no hope of winning him back, but I will spend this year proving to him—and to myself—that I am not the same creature who destroyed his father.

This is my third year. The year I become a Guardian in Training and receive an earthly assignment, something I've been anticipating for two years.

But something more sinister is afoot, something the archangels have been waiting for a thousand years.

 

The Great War has begun.

 

And Darkness is seeping into every crevice of the earth.

 

Including Arcadia.

 

Welcome to Guardian Angel Academy.

 

Year 3: Rebellion is the third book in an exciting new teen/YA paranormal angel academy series with a slow burn enemies-to-lovers romance. Perfect for fans of Supernatural Academy, Dark Angel Academy, Shadowspell Academy, and Evermore Academy.

 

One click today to dive in!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tamark Books
• Release date: Feb 28, 2021
• ISBN: 9781393838340

Tamara Hart Heiner

Tamara Hart Heiner lives in Arkansas with her husband, four kids, a cat, a rabbit, and several fish. She would love to add a macaw and a sugar glider to the family collection. She graduated with a degree in English and an editing emphasis from Brigham Young University. She's been an editor for BYU-TV and currently works as an editor for WiDo Publishing and as a freelancer. She's the author of the young adult suspense series, PERILOUS, INEVITABLE, the CASSANDRA JONES saga, and a nonfiction book about the Joplin tornado, TORNADO WARNING. 

Book preview

Year 3: Rebellion

Guardian Angel Academy

Tamara Hart Heiner

paperback edition

copyright 2021 Tamara Hart Heiner

cover art by Fantasy Designs

Also by Tamara Hart Heiner:

Perilous (WiDo Publishing 2010)

Altercation (WiDo Publishing 2012)

Deliverer (Tamark Books 2014)

Priceless (WiDo Publishing 2016)

Vendetta (Tamark Books 2018)

Goddess of Fate:

Inevitable (Tamark Books 2013)

Entranced (Tamark Books 2017)

Coercion (Tamark Books 2019)

Destined (Tamark Books 2019)

Kellam High:

Lay Me Down (Tamark Books 2016)

Reaching Kylee (Tamark Books 2016)

The Extraordinarily Ordinary Life of Cassandra Jones:

Walker Wildcats Year 1: Age 10 (Tamark Books 2015)

Walker Wildcats Year 2: Age 11 (Tamark Books 2016)

Southwest Cougars Year 1: Age 12 (Tamark Books 2017)

Southwest Cougars Year 2: Age 13 (Tamark Books 2018)

Southwest Cougars Year 3: Age 14 (Tamark Books 2019)

Springdale Bulldogs Year 1: Age 15 (Tamark Books 2020)

Springdale Bulldogs Year 2: Age 16 (Tamark Books 2021)

Tornado Warning (Dancing Lemur Press 2014)

Eureka in Love Series

Shades of Raven (Tamark Books 2020)

After the Fall (Tamark Books 2018)

Guardian Angel Academy

Year 1: Renegade (Tamark Books 2021)

Year 2: Redemption (Tamark Books 2021)

Year 3: Rebellion (Tamark Books 2021)

Year 4: Revolution (Tamark Books 2021)

Print Edition, License Notes:

This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

IN THE BEGINNING, ANGELS were ordained to minister to mortals and aid them in their journey back to Shamayim. But the damned souls of Sheol had their own plans to prevent mortals from attaining any degree of glory.

Chapter One

THE RAIN FELL UPON the city of New Orleans. A constant drizzle that forced the inhabitants to don raincoats and open umbrellas while complaining about the cooler weather plaguing them.

But I wasn’t watching them. I was watching the mortal boy, Logan, whose soul was in peril. He’d withdrawn from his friends, and though he sat beside DeeDee and Henry at the lunch table, his thoughts were far from them. A bitter Darkness ate at his heart, and guilt ate at mine. I had not put the shadows in his soul, but I hadn’t helped him, either.

My bed sank slightly as my roommate, Iblis, sat down beside me.

Jez, she said, her eyes sympathetic as she looked between me and the open window, you’ve got to stop this.

I know. I waved a hand, dissolving the window between Arcadia and New Orleans. But though I could no longer see the rain and the city’s soaked inhabitants, I knew it still fell. I can’t control it.

Iblis reached a hand out and stroked the edges of my wings, then wrapped her arms around me in a hug. I inhaled as she rocked me, feeling the comfort of her touch.

I didn’t know it was possible for an angel to be so sad, she whispered.

I haven’t mastered my emotions. I shuddered as the tears crept down my face. I needed more time.

Unlike the rest of the angels at the academy, I wasn’t born a mortal. I didn’t live out my life on earth and die before coming to the academy. I was created in hell. Because of my lack of human compassion, the archangels sent me down to earth for a crash course in feelings.

Which I failed, in every possible way. Except one.

I now felt human emotions. In fact, they ruled me. I felt them all at once, magnified, too large for my angel heart to handle. They overwhelmed me. My heart had become my soul, and I was blue and broken and desolate.

But New Orleans, Iblis said, keeping her face close to mine. You’ll drown the city in your sorrow.

I resisted the urge to open another window and peer down at the city on earth, to check on Logan again. While New Orleans had been the source of my greatest failures, it had also been the place where I learned what love was. Where I felt love for the first time. I longed to go back. If only I could undo the past two weeks and return to those moments of happiness.

But it wasn’t the past two weeks that turned Maalik against me. It was what I’d done a decade earlier. And there was no undoing it. There was no fixing it. There was no atoning for it.

I’ll stop crying, I whispered. Somehow, I’d created a connection between me and the city, and the weather in New Orleans was tied to my own feelings.

The residents cursed me without knowing it. Two weeks of dismal rain.

It’s time for the Progression Ceremony, Iblis said, pulling me to my feet. You don’t want to miss this.

Yes, I do, I said, resisting her pull. Put on a white dress and pretend I’m excited for the coming year? I don’t think so.

You will be. She tugged harder and managed to get me to stand. Things are going to get better, Jez. You know this. Her tone carried a note of chastisement. This too shall pass.

This too shall pass. It was their motto, the angels. Every hardship, every heartache, would eventually pass, they believed.

They were wrong.

I don’t care anymore, I said. I don’t want to be a third year. I want to go back to Sheol. That’s where I belong. Maalik had said as much the last time we spoke.

She jerked my arm, forcing me to lift my eyes. You belong here, she said, her clear eyes sparking. You belong with us.

I’m not one of you, I said.

"Oh, enough of this pity party, Jez. You are one of us. You’re an angel too. She cupped my face in her hands. And Maalik is going to forgive you one day."

He won’t, I said the best I could as she squished my cheeks together.

He will. He’s an angel. It’s what we do.

I kept silent as she opened my wardrobe and pulled out the white ceremonial gown.

She didn’t know Maalik the way I did. She didn’t know his rage.

Change, she said, tossing the gown at me. We’re both moving up to third year. You should be proud.

Should be. A few weeks ago I’d received the Light of the First Emissary, which enabled me to touch and be touched by my fellow angels. Today I’d receive my white wings. In a few months, I’d receive my first official assignment as a GIT, or Guardian in Training.

On paper, it looked as if everything were going my way for the first time since my creation a millennia earlier.

In reality, I couldn’t care at all. I might not have ever died physically, but I felt spiritually dead.

I SAT WITH MY FELLOW third year students, marveling again at how I felt no pain when their wings or shoulders or elbows bumped into me. I’d gotten so used to the shocks, the constant reminders of my Darkness to their Light, that even now I flinched when they neared me.

They knew what had happened with Logan on earth, when I killed Maalik’s assignment. But they didn’t treated me differently. His death had been an accident, and though I’d broken rules and skipped protocol by borrowing a dagger, it had shown determination to protect a human at all costs. While I felt as if I should have been punished or cast into hell for the deed, I was found redeemable. Barachiel, our eldermaster and an archangel, believed me capable of great goodness. He had enough sway with the other angels to convince them.

But none of my fellow students knew what I’d done to Maalik’s family. If they did, I was certain they would not forgive so easily. I was surprised Maalik hadn’t told them. He could turn the whole student body against me with a few well-placed words. And I would accept anything they dealt me, because I deserved it.

Master Selaphiel stood on stage, smiling, though an aura flickered behind her, one with shades of gray worry. I tilted my head, studying her. The masters and archangels controlled their emotions so carefully that I rarely saw their auras. For me to perceive anything now testified of how deep her concern ran.

I turned to Iblis and whispered, Do you see her aura?

Iblis nodded. I’m sure we all do. What do you think it means?

I didn’t dare speculate. But I sat up a little taller and paid attention.

Congratulations on finishing another school year, students. We are so proud of you and what you’ve accomplished, no matter what level you are or where you’ll be next year. Many of our fourth year students are graduating this year and moving into positions as Guardians. Other are accepting positions in Shamayim under various capabilities. Please come to the stage when I call your name.

The fourth years moved up to accept their positions one by one. Although the passing of the years didn’t show on their immortal faces, they radiated Light and determination and success. They accepted their placements and their halos, their resplendent white wings beating with anticipation, opening and closing and creating a small breeze in the closed auditorium.

I pulled my own black wing around so I could see the feathers. How I loved these wings. I’d only had them for a year. Maybe I wasn’t ready to be a third year. Even if my masters recommended me, I could decline, decide to stay in the year I was.

But I would lose Iblis, and as I watched her clap for each name as it was called, I realized I couldn’t. She was all I had left. My roommate, my best friend, my family. My sister.

The tears sprang unbidden to my eyes, and I tried to force them back by imagining more rain falling on New Orleans. I didn’t want to drown the city anymore. What an emotional sap I’d become.

Iblis glanced over at me, and a gentle smile spread across her face. Crying again? She took my hand in hers.

I was grateful for her concern, but I knew she didn’t want to baby me. Jerahmeel, her boyfriend, for lack of a better word, sat on her other side. He had been especially kind with me since I’d returned from earth, but I felt like the unwanted member of their group. I pulled my hand free and offered a stiff smile.

No tears. See?

She laughed and leaned into Jerahmeel, who put an arm around her and tugged her against him.

Master Selaphiel stood up front again, and this time she had more control over her aura. Congratulations to our former fourth years. Now for the third years who are moving up to fourth year. Having proved themselves capable as Guardians In Training in their third year, fourth years will receive a year-long placement without the supervision of a Guardian Mentor. Please come forward when I call your name and receive your assignment.

I willed myself not to react, but my skin flushed hot, while my body ran cold at the same time. I froze in my place.

Maalik would be in this group.

I hadn’t seen him in two weeks, not since he told me to go to hell and stay away from him. I moved around campus with my head down, not daring to look up for fear I’d see him.  At first, I’d tried to stagger my meal time so I wouldn’t see him, but on occasion he’d walk into the cafeteria while I was still there, or I’d walk in and see him, and I’d have a verifiable panic attack.

So I quit going to mealtime. I didn’t need to eat, anyway. While food was a quick and easy way to replenish our Light, I could get it from prayer and Shema also.

My efforts were working. We hadn’t crossed paths.

Fourth years were still GITs, but this time when they received an assignment, they were expected to handle it on their own, without a mentor. Instead, they would also juggle the responsibilities of overseeing third-year angels on ministering assignments. They spent hardly any time on campus.

Which will only be a good thing, I told myself. The less chance we’d run into each other.

So why did my heart squeeze so painfully in my chest? It was a visceral reminder that feelings were spiritual and not reliant on a physical body to house them.

Master Selaphiel began calling out the names, and my breath grew a little more ragged with each one. Any moment now, she’d call out Maalik’s name, and I’d be able to gaze on him from my row without censor.

Or would he notice me from there? Would his glare burn into me like hot coals for daring to cast my eyes upon his face?

Now for our third years, Master Selaphiel said. Moving from second to third is a special year, when students progress from apprentice to trainee. This is the year angels receive their white wings, something you will carry with you for the rest of eternity as a symbol of your study and devotion.

Wait a minute.

You will also spend the interval between school years in practical application ministering to humans on earth before receiving your assignment during the first semester.

Wait a minute, I hissed, clutching Iblis’s arm. She missed a student.

Iblis had her gaze glued to Master Selaphiel’s face, anticipation bright in her eyes. What? she asked, not taking her gaze from the stage.

Arella, Master Selaphiel said, calling up the first of our classmates.

Maalik, I said, shaking her arm to get her attention. She didn’t call Maalik’s name!

Iblis faced me, missing the moment when the Light fell over Arella and changed her wings from black to white. What? she repeated, but this time I knew she was listening.

Maalik, I repeated, breathing hard. Why didn’t Master Selaphiel call him up with the other third years?

Iblis blinked, silent for a moment as another name was called. She didn’t?

No! I trembled, trying not to panic. Was he here? Had he left the academy? Did he hate me so much he would rather forsake his education than spend another moment at the same academy as I was? Or had he requested a transfer to one of the other campuses?

I’m sure there’s a logical explanation, Iblis said. Stay calm, okay? We’ll get to the bottom of this as soon as the ceremony is over.

Maalik, Master Selaphiel said.

Both Iblis and I spun our heads toward her voice. I watched, stunned, as Maalik stepped onto the stage.

Oh, Father, I whispered. I felt unworthy to utter the name of the Great Father. But now my heart was breaking for a different reason, and the prayer was not uttered for my sake.

He’s repeating the year, Iblis said, speaking what we both realized.

It wasn’t unheard of. Angels repeated years if they had more to master before moving on, and there was no shame in it.

But not Maalik. He had already repeated year one four times. He was one of the most advanced angels I knew. And his soul was pure and undefiled.

There was only one reason I could think of for him to repeat the year, and it pointed back to me: Logan.

Logan had died under Maalik’s care. He’d been Maalik’s assignment. But the fault had been mine.

Maalik showed no emotion as he stepped up to Selaphiel and accepted a rolled parchment. He already had his white wings and thus did not need to linger on the stage to receive the greater output of Light.

He held his chin up as he moved offstage, and all I could do was stare until he disappeared in the crowd of students. Then I buried my face in my hands.

One more reason to hate me.

Jerahmeel was called up next, then Iblis, and a few angels later, my own name was called. I rose, feeling the uneasiness all the way into my core. I felt as if every eye stared at me, judged me, though I knew it was my own paranoia. There was one person present who judged me, and he was probably doing his best not to look at me.

Congratulations, Jez, Master Selaphiel said as she handed me my rolled parchment. She gave a smile.

I tried to return it, but a moment later a rush of warmth and Light enveloped me. I closed my eyes against the brightness. A soothing feeling like sunshine brushed along my wings and tingled my shoulders, and with it came a sense of peace and hope.

Then it was gone. I blinked against the sudden darkness and hugged myself, longing for that warmth again.

My wings fluttered, and I shot a quick glance behind me to confirm what I already knew: they were white.

I stepped off the stage and rejoined my classmates, a dichotomy of disjointed emotions flooding me. On one hand, I had received the blessings to be a third year. I had white wings, something I’d never dreamed possible two years ago. And I’d felt comfort and acceptance in that moment when the pillar of Light shown upon me.

But with it gone, my feelings of unworthiness and doubt came creeping back. Like this was an oversight. A mistake on someone’s part. They didn’t understand who I was or what I’d done, or surely they wouldn’t let me be here.

Or maybe my empathy was working overtime and I was reflecting what Maalik thought of me.

The ceremony continued, with the first years moving up to second year. The first years would not arrive until the start of the academic year, so the ceremony ended there. My classmates stood up and hugged, a definite celebratory feel in the air.

Jerahmeel wrapped his arms around Iblis and flashed me a smile over her shoulder. Coming to the celebration, Jez?

At the end of each Progression Ceremony, the masters put on a fantastic party, with food and music and dancing.

Dancing. My stomach turned over, and I shook my head. I’m not in the mood.

Iblis pulled back and exchanged a knowing look with Jerahmeel.

Come on, Jerahmeel said, extending a hand. There’s more than one handsome angel out there.

Not for me. Besides, Maalik said that when angels loved, they loved for eternity. He might have discarded me, but I couldn’t stop what I felt for him.

As if reading my thoughts, Iblis said, You weren’t Bound to each other, Jez. You can still find someone else.

The Binding ceremony. One of the most sacred ceremonies in Shamayim, and something I knew almost nothing about. Fourth years had a class on Bindings, as they prepared to graduate and continue their lives outside the academy. The rest of us learned about the ceremony from them, and it felt shrouded in secrecy. What I did know was that it could not be undone. Unbinding the two souls would destroy them, since individually they would no longer be whole.

But that was theoretical. An Unbinding had never been performed. The holiest of loves joined two angels together, and thus far that pure, holy love had never failed.

Iblis’s words implied that since we hadn’t been Bound, I was free to love another.

But I couldn’t.

Thanks, I said, not bothering to explain my inner feelings. This was enough for me. I think I’ll go rest.

I turned and pushed my way out of the row before either of them could call me back, but I heard Iblis whisper to Jerahmeel, She’s been doing a lot of that.

Yes, I had been. Resting. Sleeping. Anything to make the days pass by.

The tears sprang to my eyes again, and I brushed them away as I pushed open the doors of the auditorium.

This was my own personal version of hell. Eternal torment. I doubted the passage of time would ease my pain.

I intended to go to my dorm, but the sunlight sparkling off the fountain in the middle of the quad called out to me. I moved toward it without thought, toward the water that both frightened me and energized me. I sat on the edge and dipped my hand in, relishing the coolness, feeling the life that rushed through my body.

My tearful reflection shimmered back at me, white wings opening and closing, soaking up the sunlight. In my white gown with the matching wings, I looked angelic and holy. But the fountain could not show the blackness of my soul.

What do I do now? I whispered to myself.

There was no answer, of course. I cast my eyes heavenward and called toward Shamayim, What do I do? I am trapped under the weight of my sins. I’ve lost those who once cared for me. I don’t know what path to take.

The cloudless blue sky stared back at me, unwavering, unresponsive.

A figure out of the corner of my eye caught my attention. I shifted to see Eldermaster Barachiel making his way to the MAB, or the Michael Administration Building, where his office was. On impulse, I jumped up and ran after him. My new wings surprised me by doing some of the heavy lifting, and my feet glided over the ground until I stood behind him.

Eldermaster? I called, coming to a halt.

Eldermaster Barachiel turned. Jez. How can I help you?

He also wore his ceremonial robe instead of the standard academy suit he wore during the day. And for once, his golden wings were visible, stretching out far behind him, indicating his archangel status. His very presence would strike fear into the heart of any Renegade or Fallen.

But I did not fear him. Barachiel had shown me kindness when I deserved none. He had taken me under his wing, literally, helping me find a place at the academy and discover who I truly was.

That realization gave me strength.

May I speak with you? In private?

Of course. Let’s retire to my office.

Chapter Two

I FOLLOWED ELDERMASTER Barachiel down the familiar hall, my nerves calming with each step. I could speak my mind and my fears here.

He led me into his office and sat down behind the desk. I dropped into the chair in front of him.

What’s troubling you, Jezbathasat? he asked.

He wore an expression of such tenderness that I blinked rapidly, fighting against the tears. So many things were troubling me. But when I opened my mouth to answer, only one word escaped: Maalik.

Go on, Barachiel said. What about him is troubling you?

I swallowed against the lump of raw, hurt feelings in my throat. I would not cry like a teenage girl over the boy who rejected her. I understood why he did that. Instead, I would focus on him.

Why did he not move on to fourth year?

You know the reasonings behind the recommendations are private. I cannot share with you how the masters came to that decision.

But it’s not fair, I said, leaning forward. Whatever failure you perceive on his part, it’s not true. Maalik is the embodiment of goodness and charity and love.

Maalik has many of these qualities. But he still has shortcomings.

Is he required to be perfect before he can be a fourth year? I demanded. If that’s the case, nobody should have moved up at all!

Although we strive for perfection, it’s never required. We all fall short in some way.

Is it because of Logan? My throat clenched, and I forced my words out. That was my fault. He should not be held responsible for the death of his assignment.

I can assure you Logan has nothing to do with the decision, Barachiel said.

I furrowed my brow and shook my head. Then what? Can’t it be undone? He deserves to move up.

This life, like the one before, is not always about what we deserve.

Was he chastising me? Was he reminding me that I didn’t deserve to be a third year? I lifted my gaze and said, I shouldn’t have moved up either.

Jez, do you accept the Light given to you from the Father?

The Light expanded within my heart at the mention, and I felt how it lifted my soul. It brought me to a holier level, put me on the same field as my fellow angels. Yes. I’m grateful for it every moment I breathe.

Then let your past sins harrow you up no more. They are atoned for, and if you continue to let them torment you, you mock the gift given to you. Move forward with honor and grace, existing worthy of the payment.

I nodded, only vaguely understanding his words.

But I understood enough. There was no reason to feel guilty for what I’d done in my previous existence.

Even though I did.

What about Maalik? I asked. He should not have to redo his third year.

Maalik has his own cross to bear. Let him make his journey.

Without you. Barachiel didn’t say that, but I heard the words. I willed myself to let go of Maalik. He wasn’t my concern.

One more thing, I said. New Orleans.

Yes?

I gathered my energy and spun open a window. We both peered through the spinning orb, which displayed an afternoon in the Big Easy. Rain fell, as it had for weeks.

Am I causing this? I indicated the falling water. If so, how? What sort of connection do I have to the city?

It’s not unheard of for an angel’s tears to fall on earth, Barachiel said. Anytime there is great mourning or a great emotional disruption, earth often feels the shock wave. A part of your soul must linger there. It will not stay forever. Let yourself mourn and then move past this.

It’s all right? Somehow I’d thought sadness was not allowed in heaven.

Of course. Our emotions aren’t changed, Jez. We simply learn better how to react to them.

I needed more time. I haven’t learned to deal with mine.

You will. Barachiel waved a hand, and my window disappeared. The city will be all right until then.

THE PREVIOUS YEAR, the break between classes was given as free time to visit with loves ones in Shamayim, the permanent dwelling place for souls after judgment. This year, as we were preparing to be actual Guardians, we were given smaller, short-term assignments, called ministering. Any visits to Shamayim had to be in between ministering assignments.

Of course, I didn’t have any loved ones in Shamayim. So I didn’t need to worry about that.

The parchment Master Selaphiel had given me at the Progression Ceremony detailed what would be expected of me during my first ministering assignment. I was to observe the mortal, assess their emotional and physical needs, and heal or soothe where I could. I would go with a partner and a fourth-year mentor. I kept a close eye on my agenda, as I could be summoned at any moment.

Until then, my time was mine. I could spend it in Shamayim, I could study, I could go the greenhouses, I could practice flying, I could learn another language.

I spent it in my room, reading books that took my mind far away.

I was relieved when my screen chirped at me a mere four days after the ceremony, calling me to the entry hall between the dorm rooms. I stepped out of my room and waited.

The front door pushed open, and Grigori, a fourth-year student, stepped in. The tall angel tossed his dark brown hair out of his face and gave me a crooked grin.

Hi, Jez, he said, and I nodded at him. I’ll be your mentor today.

Thank you, I said. Am I going by myself?

No, you’ll have a companion. She should be here any moment—ah, there she is.

Iblis burst in, her eyes glittering, cheeks flushed from running against the wind. Sorry I’m late. I was practicing at the Skyball pitch.

Grigori perked up. Are you trying out for the team?

I thought I might, she said.

You’re my partner? Relief flooded my limbs, and I thanked the Father for pairing me up with a friend.

Looks like it, she said with a bright smile.

All right, let’s go, Grigori said. He held out a hand. I’ll need to synergize with one of you.

Not me. I had too many doubts in my abilities. I looked at Iblis, and she placed her hand in his.

The energy grew between them, and he opened a portal right there on the entry hall floor. I stepped through it without hesitating, eager to get back to earth and put distance between me and Arcadia.

I emerged into a sterile white hallway. Around me, medical staff in pressed white uniforms hurried back and forth, responding to alarms and calling out to each other. Iblis and Grigori stepped out behind me.

Where are we? Iblis asked.

A hospital, Grigori said. The majority of your beginning assignments will be in hospitals. There’s always a plethora of people needing ministering, and plenty of practical ways to teach you.

I can’t understand a word they’re saying, Iblis said, furrowing her brow.

They’re speaking French, Grigori said. Stop trying to decipher the language and concentrate on the meaning. You have the gift of tongues. You can understand them.

I tilted my head and paid attention. At first, it was easy to differentiate the sounds of an unfamiliar language. But they faded away a moment later as instinct took over. I’d spent my entire existence speaking to people in whatever language they understood. It didn’t matter if I spoke it or not; I could communicate thoughts and desires.

Patient in two-oh-seven having heart palpitations. Get a doctor in there. A man handed a file folder to the woman behind the counter.

Still trying to locate the nearest kin for two-twenty, a woman said to another. He might pass any moment.

Oh! Iblis cried. I understand them.

Good job. Grigori smiled. Now you need to pick one for us to minister to.

Another woman put down a phone behind a desk. Number two-eleven needs more meds. Says he can’t take the pain. Where’s Dr. Berger?

How do we choose? I asked, spinning in a circle as I watched the action-packed corridor. So many auras, some maintained, others spinning out of control. Emotion flooded the small space. Everyone here seems to need something.

This is an intensive care unit. All the patients are in dire need. He gave a grim smile. Be grateful I didn’t take you to the emergency room.

I watched as nurses bustled in and out of rooms, and the intercom kept up a constant buzz as it paged doctors. I’ve been to hospitals before, I said. They aren’t usually this busy.

Grigori furrowed his brow and nodded. I’ve noticed this the past few times I’ve visited. There seems to be more sickness than usual, especially in the developed countries.

So how do we pick? Iblis said. Her newly minted white wings opened and closed in a gesture of agitation. Every angel should be here right now, ministering to these people.

There are angels all around you, Grigori said. You don’t see them because you’re looking for mortals.

I remembered this lesson from my time on earth at De la Salle High. Until Maalik told me about the other celestial beings, I’d thought we were the only Guardians at the high school.

Iblis shook her head. I still don’t see them.

That’s all right. They can be distracting. You’ll learn how to shift your vision. Right now, listen. Listen for the mortals crying out to you. Those are the ones we minister to first.

I feel them, I said. I feel their pain. Their fear.

Yes. There is much of that here. But listen for those calling.

I strained my ears, and then I heard a voice. It had almost been lost in the distorted hum of energy in this place, but as I focused in on it, the sounds became more clear.

Help me. God, help me. I don’t want to do this alone.

Another voice cried out, rising above the din. Please be with my daughter. Please take her pain and guide her. She’s only a child . . .

And then another. I’m sorry. Forgive me. Don’t leave me now.

They’re praying, Iblis said, her voice tight. So many of them.

And we’ve been sent to answer their prayers. One by one, as many as we can. So, my young GITs, who do we minister to first?

This one, Iblis said, pushing past us and leading the way down the hall.

The third voice I’d heard grew louder as we approached a room. The same chant, over and over again.

Forgive me. Don’t leave me. I’m sorry.

My heart tightened in empathy. I understood that plea a little too well. Forgive me. I’m sorry. Don’t leave me.

Iblis stopped outside the room. Do I push the door open?

Only if you want to give the dude a heart attack, Grigori said. You’re an angel. Walk through it.

So we don’t have tangible form? Iblis asked.

Not on this plane. You can assume it, but you’ll have to learn how. For now, pretend like the door’s not there and walk through it.

Iblis took a deep breath and stepped through the door.

Go on, Grigori said, nodding at me.

I had done this before, with Maalik, but still I hesitated. It had worked for Iblis, so . . . I did as she had and gave a start when I appeared on the other side of the door next to her.

A man lay shaking on the bed. The sheets were tight around his body and drenched with sweat. A blood-soaked bandage covered most of his face. His body convulsed, and his aura flashed black and yellow and red. Pain and fear and . . . death. His life was leaking away.

What are we supposed to do now? Iblis whispered.

Now you must listen, Grigori said behind me. Everything you do should be the will of the Father. Let him guide you.

Would he speak to us? Would he speak to me? He was not my Father, but I had met him two years earlier, when I made my decision to forsake Darkness and became an emissary of Light. Though I had felt his presence and even heard his voice from time to time, I felt unworthy to ask anything of him except in dire need. I glanced at Iblis. She was his daughter. He was more likely to speak to her.

She already had her eyes closed, lips pressed tight together as she prayed.

You can ask too, Grigori said to me. You should get the same answer.

I did nothing. I’m not sure I’ll get any answer at all.

Lots of people worry about that at first, Grigori said. You have to strengthen your faith in yourself. You have to believe you can receive answers. It takes time, but remember you are doing the Father’s work. He’s going to tell you how to help them. All of them— he gestured toward the bed— are also his children.

But I am not, I whispered.

Grigori paused, and I knew he’d forgotten that one small detail. But you’ve been recommended. He’ll support you.

Iblis opened her eyes and stepped to the bedside of the man. I know what we’re supposed to do.

I joined her, both relieved and disappointed I hadn’t been given the opportunity to ask. I would like to know he spoke to me and considered me worthy of his guidance.

But I couldn’t shake the fear it wouldn’t happen. Not after what I’d done to Logan.

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