I couldn't speak for the longest time. "You're one of them?" My lips went numb as I asked a question that seemed so unreal. Shock fel on me like heavy snow, and I froze. The blood drained from my head as Ivar's ghastly face flashed across my mind. Wil couldn't be anything like her. It wasn't possible. "I don't understand."

His expression col apsed. "No, I am not one of them. Please don't think of me as evil, because I'm not like that."

I said nothing for several moments to let it sink in. "You're a reaper." Though I said it aloud, the statement stil didn't seem real to me.

"Please don't lose your trust in me because I didn't tel you before. You knew this the day you met me and you know this now. I'm an angelic reaper, but I am also your Guardian. Your Guardians have always been angelic reapers."

"Then you're the good kind," I said, desperate to anchor myself before I freaked out. "Is Nathaniel like you? Is that how he's immortal too?"

"Yes."

I nodded once, slowly, taking it al in. "So that's how you're able to see the reapers. Is that why you're so strong?"

"Yes," he said. "This is why I have survived this long. You're mortal, El ie. My body can take more damage than yours can. We're nearly indestructible and your body is human, frailer, but you have the power of angelfire, and we don't."

I thought about that for a moment. What he said made sense. My human body was a weakness. But what was his weakness? What could kil him? "Can angelfire kil you?"

"No. Demonfire can kil me or leave scars, but the Enochian protection spel that you tattooed on my arm protects me from that and binds me to you."

"Were you ever wounded by demonfire before you got the tattoos?"

"No, but I know others who have been," he said, "and a wel -placed hit to my heart or decapitation can kil me just as easily. I'm not that different from you. Please don't say you hate me. I wanted you to remember it on your own. I don't want you to be afraid of me. You have no reason to fear me."

"I don't hate you and I'm not afraid of you," I said gently, but for a moment, I wasn't so sure about the fear part. "If you're a reaper, then why would you kil your own kind?"

"The demonic reapers kil humans to build Lucifer's army in Hel . They are preparing for apocalyptic war, and we have to do everything we can to prevent that."

"But if you serve the angels, why can't the demonic reapers do the same? Why can't they be good like you?"

He took in a breath. "I was born angelic and the demonic are born the way they are. The demonic don't understand the value of human life and as a result don't respect it. No reapers--demonic or angelic--have ever been mortal, so we've never had to feel ourselves aging, growing weaker, being forced to accept death as something that's inevitable instead of just possible. We only get stronger with time. Because of this, many of us are forever childish and impulsive. With creatures as powerful as al reapers are, that translates into violence and often cruelty. I do know a few of the angelic who are dangerous because of that, but we are taught to cherish human life from birth, because it's fragile and so important. The demonic don't care. From birth they are rewarded for violence. To them the only value in human life is food and a soul to reap."

"Does this al just come down to human souls?"

"Not exactly," he said. "The demonic are reaping souls for Lucifer's army. If that army gets big enough, the Second War against Heaven wil occur. The 'End of Days' Ragnuk mentioned, which I told you about before. That's it. The Apocalypse. Lucifer's army is already countless times more vast than it was original y. If the legions of Hel and Heaven were to clash again, the Earth and the human race wouldn't survive."

Silence fel between us as I weighed his words. "This is bigger than just me and you, isn't it?"

He nodded. "But we're right here on the front lines. You're our best hope to prevent this from happening. That's why you're here. To protect the human world and Heaven. We, the angelic reapers, are here to serve you and defend you against the demonic."

I studied the fervor in his gaze. "So you're born, and not made what you are?"

He nodded. "Correct. We grow up like normal humans, but as we get older, we age more and more slowly, until we just stop aging altogether. We reach maturity in our late teens or early twenties and time sort of stops for us."

I eyed him nervously. "Do you . . . eat people too?"

He gave a soft laugh and shook his head. "No. The angelic don't eat humans. We eat normal food. I like cheeseburgers."

"Not peopleburgers?" For a moment I wondered about the truth behind Manwiches.

"Of course not."

I breathed a sigh of relief. "So you grew up like a normal boy?" I asked, trying to understand. "Where are you from?"

"I was born in Scotland. My mother was English, but that's where she was staying at the time. The year was 1392. There's not real y much to tel about how I grew up."

I tried to imagine Wil speaking with an accent as hot as James McAvoy's, and it was almost enough to distract me from the seriousness of our conversation. "How can you say that? People who've done nothing at al in ten years can talk for hours about themselves. I can't get more than a sentence out of you."