I mustered up my strength and let go of April. I turned and faced my neighbors. I could see the same question forming on all their lips. “Thank you for your show of support,” I said in my best impersonation of Dad’s authoritative-yet-reassuring voice. “I am truly moved by your love for my father. His condition is still critical, but he has improved some in the last hour. I will make sure someone spreads the word whenever I hear something more.”

I was immediately bombarded by a string of questions about how it happened, and I told them the same lie I’d told the police who had questioned me in the ER: that Dad had been scouting out a new location for a rescue shelter in the city, but I had no idea what had caused the explosion.

More questions followed, and then at least three of my neighbors offered to bring over dinner.

“Thank you for your offers,” I said. “However, someone else in the parish needs your help more than I do. I was at the hospital just now when Pete Bradshaw unfortunately passed away.”

April gasped next to me, along with several others in the crowd.

“I am sure his mother could use your love and goodwill more than I can at this moment. Please, put your energy to use for her.” I knew that was what my father would want them to do. Pete had his problems, but his mother didn’t deserve to lose her only son.

I thanked everyone again and then turned to go inside. April followed me up the rest of the porch steps. We ducked into the house, and as I closed the door behind us, I watched a few of my neighbors slowly head down our street toward Rose Drive, where Ann Bradshaw lived.

“You almost sounded like a pastor,” April said. “Maybe you have a future in public leadership.”

“I doubt that,” I mumbled.

“I do not,” came Gabriel’s voice from the kitchen. I peered down the hallway and saw him rise from his seat at the table. “And that future may be sooner than you think.” He set what looked like a sketchbook on the table and looked at me. “We need to talk, Grace.”

FIVE MINUTES LATER

April made her excuses to leave, as if by a prearranged cue from Gabriel. I knew exactly where she was headed.

“Is someone with Jude now?” I asked.

“I sent Ryan and Zach.”

“Does he know?”

“He knows there was some sort of accident, but I told the others not to say anything yet.”

I sighed with relief, but then I knew what needed to be done next. “You should tell him. But keep Ryan and Zach there with you, in case.… I don’t know how he’ll react.”

I knew I should be the one to break the news to my brother, but I just couldn’t do it. What if he didn’t react at all? What if he didn’t care? I just couldn’t bear to see that happen.

And I have something more important to do now, I thought as I patted the moonstone in my pocket, just to reassure myself that it was still there.

As April went out the front door, Gabriel beckoned me to the table. The sketchbook I didn’t recognize sat in front of him, and he clenched a charcoal pencil in a white-knuckled grasp. I wanted to tell him that I didn’t have time to talk—that I needed to focus all my energy on figuring out how to use the moonstone to bring Daniel back now that I had it—but the grave look in Gabriel’s eyes, and the way April had bugged out of here, told me that whatever he had to say was serious. And honestly, I still didn’t know if I was ready to trust anyone else with the truth that I had the moonstone.

I pulled up a kitchen chair and sat next to Gabriel.

“First of all, I’m sorry,” he said. “As your father’s junior pastor, it should have been my responsibility to address his parishioners outside. However, considering the circumstances, I did not think it was wise with all of this.” He indicated the bandage on his face that covered the cut that had reopened during our failed healing session, and the bruises that painted his jaw. It had been a couple of hours since I saw him last, but they looked just as dark and painful. I wondered how long they would take to heal.

“I am the one who is sorry. I was just so desperate to help my dad. I should have known I wasn’t ready.”

“It is my fault. I should have been aware of how much anger you’re holding inside of you.”

I stared at him.

“Are you familiar with the story of the unmerciful servant?”

I really wasn’t in the mood for a Bible story, but I could tell Gabriel’s mind was set, so I nodded my head.

“Then you know that a merciful king forgave his servant’s great debt when he could not pay. But when that same servant went to collect a lesser debt from a fellow countryman, and found that he could not pay, the servant was angry and threw him into prison. When the king heard of this, he was wrothful with the servant for not showing the same compassion he had been shown, and the king threw the servant into debtors’ prison as well.”

“I’m not sure what that has to do with anything right now,” I said, with more frustration than I had intended.

“You are so full of anger, Grace. I could feel it when we were connected. All that anger swirling inside of you—it will eat you alive if you do not deal with it. It is a power just as strong as love. You channeled it instead of your positive energy. It is like letting your inner wolf attack somebody else—but from the inside. That is what caused this.” He indicated his damaged face. “You reopened my wounds. I just hope I took the brunt of the attack, and not your father.”

I dropped my head. So I was the reason those monitors went off in Dad’s hospital room. “You mean, I can hurt people—literally—with my anger?” I clasped my hands together. They felt like dangerous weapons.

“Not as much as you can hurt yourself. We have discussed this before, but the wolf inside of you feeds on your negative emotions. You must recognize your anger and get rid of it before you give your wolf more power. I know you are strong enough to withstand an attack from the outside—you proved that in the warehouse. Yet letting the wolf attack you from the inside is much more insidious.” He picked at the bandage on his face. “Tell me, Grace, who are you angry with?”

“I don’t know. No one.” That wasn’t true. “Everyone.” They’ve all let you down, and now he’s giving you a lecture? I concentrated on the stone in my pocket to help regain some control. “I’m angry at my father for not letting me go to the warehouse and insisting that he go instead. I’m angry at Talbot for letting Dad get hurt, and for being a lying son of a…” I let the sentence drop off.