I chuckle. It sounds so silly, yet… wow. Another day, more weird.

  “Let’s go home?”

  “Yeah.”

  We step into the portal at the same time.

  I appear in a pure white place, featureless in every direction.

  Azrael is waiting for me a short distance ahead, smiling. Anthony’s not here. Hopefully, he went back to the normal world. I’m alone with the Angel of Death.

  Oh, boy.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Performance Meeting

  “Your children and associates are fine,” says Azrael.

  I look around again at all the white space. “So, what is this? Like an annual performance review with my boss?”

  Azrael chuckles. “Not exactly. You have questions.”

  “Doesn’t everyone?”

  “Yes, but few ever find answers or even truly know what their questions are.”

  “Whoa.” I blink. “Wasn’t ready for this level of deep.”

  He smiles. “To answer your questions, dark masters still exist. Those who were loyal to Elizabeth may withdraw to her fifth-dimension sanctum and ascend. It is more likely they fear their own mortality too much even to claim their full power. Most will return to the Earth and resume their existence as vampires, werewolves, and other creatures, forever trying to evade the cycle.”

  I nod.

  “Supernatural creatures will still exist. Dark masters roamed the Earth before Elizabeth, and they will do so after her. She led a fraction of them. Elizabeth did not create them. She exploited their existence to defy the cycle of creation and seek power for herself. Demons still exist. Your work here is not done.”

  “What am I supposed to do now?” I pause, stuck on the realization Elizabeth must truly be gone if Azrael says so. A force who had so much influence over my reality for so long… gone. It’s going to take a while to sink in. It’s weird of me to feel this way, but some part of me—despite living in constant fear for the last two years of what she’d do to my kids—misses her. “Wasn’t she my whole reason for existing as this… whatever I am?”

  “No.” Azrael chuckles. “It was never your fate to contain her. You already realized she manipulated you. Humans continually ask why do they exist because they didn’t like the answer we gave them years ago.”

  I raise both eyebrows. “Wait, you mean there is an answer to that question?”

  “Of course.” He glances off to the side, faintly smiling.

  “Mind telling me?”

  “Humans exist because you exist.”

  I blink. Not sure if he’s being serious or messing with me. “Umm…”

  “The purpose of humans is to enjoy life and try to be nice to each other.”

  “Really?” I go to scratch my head and realize I’m still holding the Devil Killer, so I put it away, then scratch my head. “That’s it? There’s no greater purpose to it?”

  “Why does there need to be? Life is beauty. No one asks why the sun burns or why rocks and mud are not the same thing. Humanity wastes far too much time worrying about pointless things.”

  I exhale and look down. “So, we exist. I should just enjoy whatever time I have left before I return to the Origin.”

  Azrael nods. “Enjoying one’s existence is a purpose. You were expecting something more grand? More meaningful?” He gestures to the side. An image forms of four-year-old Tammy curled up beside me after I’d been shot. At the time, I’d been in a ton of pain, and didn’t really notice the ‘OMG you almost died’ look in her eyes. Also, it never occurred to me a child her age could even contemplate death. “Look into her eyes. Do you see anything more meaningful to her than your mere existence?”

  I wipe a tear. “No… Azrael, am I going to return to the Origin? I don’t have a dark master anymore.”

  “Do you want to keep going around and around?” Azrael tilts his head at me.

  “Oblivion is kinda scary… But, even if I reincarnated, I wouldn’t remember my past existence, so I guess it really doesn’t matter. In the end, it’ll feel the same to me.”

  He clasps his hands in front of himself. “There you go. No reason to worry about things you cannot control, especially when they do not matter. Worry about meaningful things.”

  “Yeah… how am I going to handle Tammy being elderly? I assume Anthony is immortal.”

  “You assume correctly. Regarding Tammy, I’m sure you will find a way. You always do, Samantha. Remember, she’s still a young woman with her entire life ahead of her.”

  “True.”

  “Take a few weeks off. Enjoy life. See where Earth takes you.” He turns as if to leave, but pauses to say, “Oh, and check the toolshed.”

  I stare at the departing angel for a few seconds, bewildered. “Say again?”

  Azrael keeps walking away, not turning to look back at me. “Someone will soon hire you to find a missing dog. Check the toolshed.”

  He fades invisible and disappears.

  I stand there in silence, surrounded by immaculate whiteness in every direction, and a door-sized portal a short distance away on my left.

  So, Elizabeth really is gone. The great moment—facing her—that had defined my life for so many years has finally come and gone.

  Huh. How about that? I’d expected a bit more fanfare. For what it’s worth, I hope she found peace, at least for a little while before she ceased to be. Oh, well. Don’t wanna keep Fido waiting. I gaze around at the nothingness one last time, and walk into the glowing doorway.

  My son’s immortal...

  Yeah, kinda figured that.

  Chapter Twenty

  Exit Point

  Anthony appears in the Venezuelan jungle—right in the middle of everyone.

  Light Warriors, Max, Tam, and Allison all look at him. Despite the awkwardness of the Fire Warrior yet again shredding his clothes, he keeps his chin up and tries not to act as embarrassed as he feels, grabbing the closest palm frond to cover himself. Worst was having Allison see him in such a compromising position. Not that he’d ever act on it, but he crushed on her so bad. Sort of the way his friend Topher crushed on Ariana Grande. Zero expectation of anything ever happening, but… yeah.

  Allison gestured at him, summoning an illusion of clothing.

  He relaxes, tossing the big leaf away, wondering if his angelic powers include summoning stuff to wear?

  With the awkwardness gone, he realizes his mother wasn’t standing next to him. Before worry sets in, he somehow knows she’d been pulled aside by Azrael for a quick chat. Tammy dashes over, almost hugging him, but she stops herself upon remembering he’s wearing only illusions.

  “Where’s Mom?” she asks, her voice painfully desperate.

  “She’s fine. Talking to Azrael. Shouldn’t be long.”

  “Oh.” Tammy slouches. “What happened to you guys?”

  “Demons sidetracked her. Me, too. We had to—”

  “Gross!” She gags. “Why did you make me see that?”

  “I, uhh, didn’t. You looked.”

  Tammy clamps a hand over her mouth, trying not to throw up. Typical Tam. She did something then blamed him for it without truly blaming him for it. More generally complaining at having seen or experienced something. Not his problem.

  Max approaches. “Where is your mother?”

  “Talking to Azrael.”

  “Ahh, yes.” He gazes up, then nods. “Anthony, I was wondering if you might consider joining my school?”

  “Are you seriously ‘Professor-X’-ing my brother?” asks Tammy. But she knows the question was coming. They all did. Heck, Anthony is surprised it took this long. Then again, he suspects Max had waited for the right time. And the death of his mother was that time.

  Max chuckles. “In a way, yes. I always expected the confrontation with my mother would be my exit point.” He looks at Anthony. “But you kept me around, kid. The least you can do is go to my school.”

  “Exit point?” asked Tammy. “Oh, you… wait, you wanted to die?”

  “Want and acceptance are not the same thing.” Max smiles. “I merely figured the machinery of the universe allowed me to extend my life as a sort of counterbalance to Elizabeth. It seemed proper that the two of us met our ends at the same time.”

  Anthony takes in some air. “Well, I’ve been thinking about it.”

  “Ordinary school isn’t going to do you any good, son. Your life is on a course far more important than whiling away the days in a cubicle under fluorescent lights.”

  “Is it really in the center of the Earth?”

  “Close to it.”

  “Can I, like, come home on the weekends or something?”

  Max claps him on the shoulder. “As often as you want. Well, within reason. There is, after all, much to learn. Think of it as a sort of prerequisite to becoming an angel.”

  “Sounds good to me. The hard part will be convincing Mom.” Anthony grins.

  “Oh, I think I know how to talk to her.” Max winked.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Little Bit Clingy

  Talk about a weird feeling.

  It’s been two days since I reappeared in the Venezuelan jungle and teleported everyone back to California. Despite our victory over Elizabeth, the Light Warriors were somber. Of the seventy-two who’d gone with us, eighteen died. Given the power of the ascendant dark masters, it’s honestly an impressively good result for mostly ordinary mortals.

  Tammy has been under my skirt like a six-year-old ever since we returned home. Not like crying or clinging or scared, more like just wanting to be around me. Being in our house reminded her of the scenario watching her alternate self melt down, and worsened her guilt at being bratty a few years ago. At least she hasn’t taken it to the point of wanting to sleep in my bed at night.

  She beans me with a small couch pillow. “I’m not that bad. Just… grateful. You know how they say ‘you don’t know what you got until it’s gone?’ Yeah. Watching that other version of me made me realize what I had.”

  I reach out and hug her... because, yeah, she’s sitting that close to me.

  Tammy laughs. “I’m gonna try to get into a college close enough to stay living here. Maybe Cal State Fullerton. Most of my friends are staying local. Only Paige is talking about going to school out of state, but she still might not. It sucks being far away from all your friends and family.”

  “Some people like taking adventures.”

  “Yeah, but I’m not one of those people. Does it bother you if I get a little clingy for a while? The ‘out-of-control druggie nightmare me’ is really messing with my head. I keep hearing the thud.”

  I shudder. Her reminding me of a version of my daughter head-butting a truck at ninety miles an hour makes me grab her. “I should have asked Azrael to wipe that memory out of my head. Maybe yours, too.”

  “It’s okay, Ma. I think I needed to see that. Helps me sorta get my head on straighter. Makes me want to do more with my life.”

  “That makes me happy,” I say. “More than you know.”

  “Oh, I know.”

  “This feels so weird,” says Anthony from the nearby recliner, where he’d been sitting quietly with his eyes half-closed.

  “Being an angel-in-training?” I ask.

  “That, too. But I mean not worrying what Elizabeth is cooking up.” He rolls his head to look at me. “It’s like we’re finally free. Don’t have to worry about some horrible thing happening to us out of nowhere at any moment.”

  I sink into the sofa with Tammy still in my arms. “Yeah. It is nice not having to be hyper-vigilant all the time. Going to take me months to relax.”

  “Demons are still after you,” says Tammy.

  “Gee, thanks for reminding me.”

  Anthony suddenly stands. “It’s more difficult than you think for them to enter our world. Maybe I should bless the house so they can’t get in.”

  Tammy raises an eyebrow. “Seriously, you can do that?” Her expression of curious interest shifts to panic. “Oh, God. No. Don’t you dare f—”

  My son expels gas so loud a car alarm outside goes off... well, almost. The car alarm just happened to go off. Merely a case of perfect coincidental timing. However, Anthony is guaranteed to send Topher a text claiming to have triggered the alarm.

  Tammy holds her breath and runs to open the front door. I stand, spread my wings, and flap to clear the air.

  “Aww, Mom, it’s not that bad,” says Anthony.

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Mom Mode

  So, it’s Wednesday, three days after our return from Venezuela.

  Anthony wants to transfer to Max’s school. I’m torn. On one hand, I want him to have as normal a life as possible, which includes the high school experience. Then again, Max’s school is a legit school even if it’s kinda closer to Hogwarts than anything. He’ll still have the experience there, and even be among teens more like him… or at least ones he can talk to about ‘the weird stuff’ openly.

  Max confirms that they do real school work there, too, among all the other craziness. His school is linked to real schools around the globe, all of which provide real documentation and diplomas. Only, the “physical” schools have portals to the real school somewhere in the center of the earth.

  Okay, maybe it is better for him to go there. Do we transfer him in the middle of the school year or wait until his junior year? Max said the transfer appears legitimate, which has me worrying his school isn’t actually legitimate. Then again, what government official would accredit ‘magical studies’ without whiskey or weed being involved?

  I was assured that all paperwork is legit, and passes muster to any and all state and federal departments, in this country and others. I guess the most important thing here is that my son would learn of the evils in this world, and how to fight them. Of course, being an angel-in-training, he had a leg up—or a wing up—on his fellow classmates. Knowing my son, he wouldn’t let that go to his head.

  It’s 3:26 in the afternoon and he’s presently at Jacky’s Gym. Emmett Floyd, Kingsley’s werewolf friend, has taken over as the manager for the time being. Ant might be content to let the guy run the place for the foreseeable future rather than step in as manager. I suspect his life is going to make random demands of his time, so it’s good to have someone there to keep the place running. My son views the gym as a living memorial to Jacky, hence not changing the name or changing much of anything about it.

  Tammy’s still obsessing over her other self, though less and less. At present, she’s in her room hanging out with Dana, Ankita, Renee, Ari, and Veronica. Tomorrow, she’s going to try returning to her job at Wendy’s.

  My cell phone rings. Would this finally be the lady calling about the missing dog?

  “This is Sam,” I say, by way of answering.

  “Miss Moon?” asks a whispery child’s voice.

  “You got her.”

  “Dunno if you remember me. It’s Paxton.”

  “Of course I remember you. What’s wrong? You sound upset.”

  She pauses, sniffling.

  After ten seconds, I ask, “Paxton?”

  “Sorry,” she whispers super quiet. “Someone was close.”

  I sit up. “Are you in danger?”

  “Kinda, yeah.” She bites back a sob. “My dad lied to the cops. He somehow convinced them I tripped and fell down the stairs trying to run away from home. They’re going to send me back to him. I don’t wanna go. He’s gonna kill me. You said I could call you if I needed help.”

  “Totally.” I narrow my eyes. “Where are you now?”

  “Hiding under the bed in another room at the shelter so no one can find me.”

  “I’m on my way.”

  She whispers, “Thank you!”

  “Don’t hang up, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  I close my eyes and picture the room where I met her. The dancing flame appears in a field of blackness. It rushes toward me, even as I move toward it...

  I’m in a darkened room full of bunk beds. Luck is with me; no one else is here, including Paxton. At this hour, the displaced teens who live here are probably out at their part-time jobs, maybe in counseling sessions, or elsewhere in the shelter. The TV-and-game room is a lot more entertaining than a space full of sagging beds.

  “Pax?” I say into the phone.

  “Yeah?” she whispers.

  “Can you go back to the room where we first met?”

  “Why?”

  “I’ll explain later. Trust me.”

  She doesn’t say anything back, but I can almost sense her nodding.

  Twenty seconds later, the door opens and she pokes her head inside. I wave.

  “Sam?”

  “The one and only.”

  Her eyes are the same reddish-pink as the dress she’s wearing, her face wet with tears. She practically faints at the sight of me, grabbing her mouth in both hands. A bracelet on her right wrist, a bunch of plastic ‘crystal’ hearts, slips halfway down her arm.

  Paxton looks at me the way a kid might look at a firefighter kicking in the door of their burning house. Once she processes me being here, she runs over and grabs me, trembling. Her thoughts are a scramble of panic. The only reason she thinks her father would demand she come home is so he can punish her. The things he called her while throwing her around her bedroom after catching her kissing another girl… yeah, I don’t understand why he’d want her back, either. Unless he lied about her injuries to avoid prosecution for child abuse. What kind of heartless bastard of an investigator believed his version of the story?

  “Please don’t let him kill me,” whispers Paxton.

  I sit on the edge of the nearest bed, comforting her, reassuring her repeatedly I won’t allow anyone to hurt her. It takes about twenty minutes, but she eventually stops trembling. If this girl had claws, she’d be digging them in to hold onto me for dear life. She’s not acting at all. Her thoughts are full of dread. In her mind, her father’s screaming at her over and over again.