"I'm afraid of Bastian," I confessed. "But I'm prepared to fight him."

He stood up from the bed and walked toward me. "I know you wil ." He slid a tentative hand around my waist, but he didn't pul me closer, or hold me tightly. His hand was just--

agonizingly--there. I wanted to wrap my hands around his neck and pul him down to kiss me, but I could see the fight in his gaze, feel it in the rigidity of his body. Was he afraid to touch me?

The front door swung open--Wil and I sprang apart--and Nathaniel appeared, looking more tired than I had ever seen him. Dark circles rimmed his lower eyelids, and his face was white as a ghost. I wondered if he had eaten anything since his injuries the t night before. "I've checked us out and the cab's here. Time to go."

He gave us a nod before leaving the room again. When he shut the door, I realized I hadn't breathed since he'd opened it.

"We should get going," Wil said.

As he stepped around me, I held a hand to his chest.

"Wil . Was that real y Michael back on the ship? Was what he said to you true?"

His gaze fluttered away for a moment. "That was the angel who came to me centuries ago. The one who told me to protect you."

"You recognized him?"

He nodded. "Being mortal for so long must have made you forget. You're drifting farther away from who you real y are."

"Do you believe that?"

He stepped away from me and ran a hand through his hair.

"Please don't let that be a yes," I groaned.

"We should get out to the taxi."

"So that's it, then? You're just going to shut me out and treat me like a leper after what you found out about me?"

"That's not what this is about."

"It's not?" I snapped in chal enge. "You look at me and I know you want to touch me, but you hold back. How does knowing what I am change things?"

"Michael gave me a warning. I don't know how to explain it to you."

"That's because you can't. I accepted what you are when you told me. Why can't you do the same for me?" The color of his eyes flashed, and I could tel he was getting angry, but it felt like he was angry with himself and not me.

"El ie, it's not about what I want and think. You are an archangel."

"Do I look anything like Michael?" I asked. "Look at me. No wings, no glow, no anything." I took both his hands and set them on my hips. "This body is human, Wil , solid and warm, and I know you can feel that." I squeezed his hands when he tried to withdraw. I stepped up close to him and tilted my head back as our bodies touched. "I'm just a girl with a few weird things about me, but al you can see is a girl--the same girl you've known for centuries. The same girl you fight for. The same girl you've kissed. I'm no different. In another world I may be who Michael said I am, but right now, right here, with you, I'm just El ie. I don't care what he said to you--

I just care about right now."

He gazed down at me, his lips parted as if he wanted to say something, but he remained silent. Then he took his hands away and stepped back, his gaze fal ing away.

"You're acting like a dumbass," I said.

He stopped and stared at me, and ran his hand through his hair. He seemed shocked. I almost laughed. I'd give him something to be real y shocked about.

In a single long stride, I swept up to him, stretched to the tips of my toes, cupped his face with both of my hands, and kissed him fiercely. He stiffened at first, and as soon as he melted into me and his fingers wrapped around my waist and tugged at the band of jeans, I let him go and continued past him, refusing to look back.

I'd let him think about that for a little while.

34

LAUREN MET US AT THE DETROIT METRO AIRPORT. She seemed especial y overjoyed that Nathaniel had made it home in one piece. She dropped Wil and me off at my house on her way home. Wil wished me luck before disappearing to my roof, and I went inside to face my parents. My mom was cheerful and eager to hear my stories from the weekend trip. Of course, I fed her sugarcoated lies with a cherry on top. I accomplished this more easily than I'd thought I would, but tel ing them the truth would have gotten me locked up in a psych ward. It was al just too terrible and strange--I was doing them a favor by keeping them in the dark. I prayed my parents would never find out how much I'd lied to them in the past couple of months, but in my heart I knew that I had bigger things to worry about in my life than household rules and curfews.

I cal ed Kate to thank her for covering for me and, consequently, had to explain to her many times over that nothing had happened . . . at least not the way she thought things had happened, anyway. I'd have to do this al over again when I saw her in class on Monday.

I felt too restless to change into my pajamas and go to sleep. Instead, I tugged a sweater on over a pair of jeans, climbed out my window, and scaled the roof to where Wil was sitting. He watched the sky serenely, his arms folded over his knees. He peeked over at me as I crawled up to sit beside him.

"So, is this what you do when you're sitting up here by yourself?" I asked, playful y nudging his shoulder. "Stare at nothing?"

"Among other things," he answered. "I don't usual y think this much. Keeping a lookout keeps me preoccupied."

I studied his face for clues, but his gaze was soft and without worry. "What are you thinking about?"

"Too much."