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The next day …

Sunday, November 28, 1999

11:30 a.m.

Angela stepped out of the taxi in front of the church near Ezekiel’s dealership, standing in the shadow of the belltower that had afflicted her vampiric friend the night before yesterday. She paid the driver, and once the cab pulled away, Angela trudged up the steps to the building’s main entrance. Services had ended half an hour prior, and the church was vacant, save for a few individuals who remained to pray in solitude.

Angela wasn’t sure why she came here, but what happened to Ezekiel the other night weighed on her thoughts. The pain the church bell wreaked on her friend had been so relentless—so vicious—and Angela had to go inside this building. Why? To confront the divinity that resided within? How? Even if she could, what would she say? She didn’t know, but she couldn’t let what happened to Ezekiel go unaddressed.

It was warm inside the cathedral, but Angela shivered all the same, chilled by the austere atmosphere. The walls were gray stone, a vast vaulted ceiling loomed overhead, and the only decoration in the bleak nave was a large ugly sculpture of Christ fixed to the wooden cross behind the podium. This place was nothing like the church Angela attended with her grandmother. Their cathedral had been bright and welcoming, with beautiful stain-glass windows depicting Christ’s various miracles.

It had been so long since Angela stepped inside a church—the last time had been for her grandmother’s funeral. Without Fiona, the church service felt meaningless. Even now, the gesture of dipping her fingers in the basin of holy water and making the sign of the cross felt mechanical and empty. Angela slipped into one of the back pews and folded her hands in her lap.

Cathedrals like this always made Angela uncomfortable, the silence so absolute that the sound of her own mind seemed to thunder in her ears.

Maybe if my thoughts are this loud, You’ll finally hear this, Angela thought. Was that You the other night? Are You really the force that hurt Ezekiel when the church bells tolled? What did he do to deserve that? He begged You to stop—begged for Your forgiveness, but You just wouldn’t relent. Why? Aren’t You supposed to absolve those who ask for Your forgiveness?

Angela strained to hear any answer in the resounding silence of the cathedral. She needed God to answer. If not God, how about His only begotten son?

Christ, are You listening? I need You to hear me. Having You in my life hurts Uncle Corin and Ezekiel. I just speak Your name, and it causes them physical pain. Why? Why do You think they deserve to suffer? They don’t want to hurt anyone. You have to know that!

No answer.

Ezekiel and Uncle Corin didn’t ask to become what they were turned into. They’re trying so hard to be good people. Why doesn’t that matter to You?

Still no answer.

I love Uncle Corin, and while I haven’t known Ezekiel very long, I care about him too. They’ve both been there for me when I needed them. Uncle Corin has loved and protected me my entire life. Ezekiel saved me. They are the two kindest men I’ve ever known. How can I worship a god or messiah who doesn’t see how wonderful they are?

The stillness was deafening.

Angela heaved a sigh. You’ve been a part of my life for as long as I can remember. As angry as I am at You for hurting Uncle Corin and Ezekiel, I don’t hate You. I could never hate You. I don’t want to give You up, but I don’t know what else to do. If you won’t stop hurting them, at least help me understand why you hurt them. Please.

Angela’s thoughts went silent, and she sat there in the unyielding stillness of the cathedral, waiting for some kind of response—any sign whatsoever that she’d been heard. It was only when the belltower tolled noon that Angela accepted once and for all that neither God nor Christ would entertain her appeals.

*****

Five days later …

Friday, December 3, 1999

6:00 p.m.

“Ezekiel would understand if you’re too tired for tonight’s practice,” Corin said, driving toward Mallory Forest. He glanced at Angela when she didn’t respond and realized she had dozed off, resting her head against the window of the passenger door. “Angéline?”

Angela jerked awake and blinked several times. “What?”

“I was just saying that if you’re too tired—”

“I’m not,” Angela interjected, sitting up straighter and rubbing her sleepy eyes. “I just nodded off for a second.”

Corin rubbed the back of Angela’s head. “You’ve been working so hard in your seminars. You really should take it easy this weekend.”

Angela stretched her arms. “Ezekiel already let me postpone my training the last three days to catch up on my coursework. I don’t want to defer my magic practice for too long. What if innate magic is like a muscle and the little control I’ve developed grows weaker with neglect?” She picked up her thermos of coffee and took several gulps.

“My powers don’t grow weaker from disuse. Why should yours?”

“Your magic is endowed,” Angela countered. “We don’t know whether endowed powers and innate powers function in the same way.”

“No, I suppose we don’t.” Corin gazed at the road ahead, freshly cleared of a recent snowfall. The plowed snow had been piled high on both sides of the street. “We’re almost there.”

“This doesn’t look like the way to the overlook,” Angela observed.

“We’re not heading to the overlook. Ezekiel wanted to meet near a lake further north.” He took the next turnoff, and they soon arrived at the aforementioned lake. “And here we are.”

Ezekiel had arrived before them, standing by the edge of the lake near a picnic area. His back was to them, arms folded, and he appeared to be tapping his foot as if he were restless or impatient. He didn’t seem to hear the approach of Corin’s vehicle.

Angela popped her door open and exited the car, and Corin followed. It was an icy evening, and Angela shivered despite her thick winter coat and wool hat. Corin removed his trenchcoat and placed it over her shoulders. The gravel path leading to the picnic area had been cleared, but there was still a two-inch-deep blanket of snow on the surrounding grass.

They approached Ezekiel, who didn’t turn to greet them. He seems distracted, Corin thought. He should’ve heard our approach by now. He cleared his throat. “Mon ami?”

Ezekiel snarled and spun around to face them, his wild eyes glowing crimson and his complexion pale like a corpse.

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