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Cherry does one more big convulsion and coughs up a lot of white spittle. She opens her eyes and looks at me blearily.

“What the fuck is happening?”

“Congratulations. I actually believe you’re an oracle, but you’re a shitty one with bad timing.”

“What are you talking about?”

I help her sit up and point to the approaching cloud.

“That was my vision,” she says. “Angels.”

“Do you have anything more helpful to say?”

“Yeah. They’re going to kill us and it’s your fault.”

“Why is it my fault?”

She sits up and I help her out of the ambulance. She looks at the angels, and then looks at me as if I’m the stupidest person in Hell.

“Who do you think they’re looking for, Shit-for-Brains?”

They’re close enough that I can see individual angels in the swarm. Their Gladiuses—their flaming angelic swords—crackle with power and flash like lightning.

“Well, go ahead,” says Cherry. “Save us.”

“What? How?”

“Give yourself up.”

“Yeaaaaah . . . I’m not doing that.”

“Are you going to do anything?”

“Yes—I’m going to go out there and fight them.”

“By yourself?”

“If I have to. Do you have any better ideas?”

“Yeah. Let’s run. This ambulance is gassed up. Let the Magistrate and the Lost Boys distract them while we get away.”

“Right. I’m sure no one will spot that and then we’ll have angels and the havoc after us.”

“How are you going to fight them?”

That’s right. Cherry doesn’t know that my angel half can manifest its own Gladius.

I say, “Like this—”

—and nothing happens.

I look at my hands and there isn’t the slightest flicker of flame.

“Anytime now!” Cherry screams. The swarm is right over the havoc.

I think about screaming, too.

So, let’s see. I’m still fast and I’m still strong. Check. And I still heal quick. Check. But I didn’t think about taking the Gladius out for a test drive. In retrospect, I should probably have checked on it earlier.