Sometimes, as we're stumbling along in the dark, we hit something good.

In the long second before everyone absorbs what just happened, I see the angel rolling his eyes heavenward, like a teenager in the presence of overwhelming lameness. Some people just have no sense of gratitude.

I look up to say something but he puts his finger to my lips and whispers, “Don’t talk. You’ll just spoil my fantasy of rescuing an innocent damsel in distress as soon as you open your mouth.

I’m fine, Mom. Thanks for asking.”...“Of course you’re fine.” She keeps walking. “You’re the devil’s bride and these are his creatures.”...“I’m not the devil’s bride.” “He carried you out of the fire and is letting you visit us from the dead. Who else would have those privileges except his bride?

Was that you, Pooky Bear?

If we get separated there’s not much hope of us ever meeting anywhere, but I need to keep up the pretense of hope because that may be all we have.

I have better things to do.’‘Like what?’He opens one eye and looks at me. ‘Like convince a stubborn girl to admit she’s madly in love with me.’I can’t help but smile.‘So if it’s not a pig farm that you want, what is it?’ he asks.I swallow. ‘How about a safe place to live where we don’t have to scrounge for food or fight for it?’‘It’s yours.’‘That’s it? All I have to do is ask?’‘No. There’s a price for everything.’‘I knew it. What is it?’‘Me.

His pupils dilate when he sees me. His lips part as he momentarily forgets to marshal his expression, and I could swear he stops breathing for several heartbeats.

The feedback from the speakers changes and begins blasting death metal music so loudly into the sky that I swear the bridge suspensions are vibrating.The twins were in charge of the music selection.I catch sight of them on the side of the bridge, each with an arm raised, holding up their forefingers and pinkies in a devil sign, head-banging to the beat. They’re mouthing the words to the garbled voice screaming over the intense electric guitar and drums blasting out of the speakers. They might look pretty badass if it weren’t for their hobo clown outfits.It’s the loudest party the Bay Area has ever heard.

He is the one pocket of warmth in a sea of ice.

So that’s your sister?” asks Dee in a quiet voice.“Yeah.”“The one you risked your life for?”“Yeah.”The twins nod politely in that automatic way that people do when they don’t want to say something insulting.“Your family any better?” I ask.Dee and Dum look at each other, assessing.“Nah,” says Dee.“Not really,” says Dum at the same time.

My mother hasn’t asked the questions that a normal person would ask, and I’m grateful for it. It’s like the world has become so crazy that it makes sense to her now. I turn on the engine and drive us out. ‘Thanks, Mom. For coming to rescue me.’ My voice comes out reedy and a little wobbly. I clear my throat. ‘Not every mom would do that in a world like this.

Who will guard us against the guardians?

They always always understimate women

When a man in purple and screaming pink stares at you, you know it's time to change your appearance.

You should be with a nice human boy. One who takes your orders and puts up with your demands. Someone who dedicates his life to keeping you safe and well fed. Someone who can make you happy. Someone you can be proud of.

NO!" Raffe grips me as if he can bind my soul to my body. An upside-down view of the doorway shows up in my field of vision. Smoke waft through it. Although the pain obscures Raffe's warmth, I feel the presure of his hug, the rocking of our bodies back and forth as he repeats the word, "No.

You don't even like me, remember?" That's what I try to say. What actually comes out of my mouth is closer to a baby's first attempt at babbling. "Shh." He runs his fingertips along my cheek, caressing my face. "Hush. I'm right here." He looks at me with deep anguish in his eyes. Like there's so much he wants to tell me but feel it's too late now. I want to stroke his face and tell him that it will be okay. That everything will be all right. And I wish so badly that it would be.

We're at war.On the verge of an apocalypse filled with monsters and torture in a nightmare world.And I'm standing here, a moonstruck teenager pining for an enemy soldier. What am I, crazy?This time, I'm the first to turn away.

What's with all the cheering over the apocalypse, anyway? Oh, yay, we get to kill poor helpless humans.""The excitement over the apocalypse had nothing to do with humans.""Could have fooled me.""Humans are incidental.""Killing and destroying an entire species is incidental?" I can't help but sound like I'm accusing him (Raffe), even though I know he wasn't part of the plan to wipe us out.Or at least, I think he wasn't personally involved, but I don't really know that, do I?"Your people have been doing it to all kinds of species.""That's not the same.""Why not?

One second, we are surrounded by angels holding their swords. The next second, one of their arms drops and his sword thunks to the grass like a lead weight. The angel stares at his blade uncomprehendingly.Another sword drops.Then another.Then a whole bunch, until all the other unsheathed swords fall, thudding on the grass like subjects bowing down to their queen.The angels stare at the swords at their feet in utter shock.Then everyone looks at me. Actually, it’s probably more accurate to say they’re looking at my sword.“Whoa.” That’s about the most intelligent thing I can say right now. Did Raffe say something about an archangel sword intimidating other angel swords if she could gain their respect?I swivel my eyes to look at the blade in my hands. Was that you, Pooky Bear?

The only thing that matters in the end is your own survival. It's what humans and cockroaches are best at.

So does anyone have a good survival strategy, or is there no hope for getting out of this nightmare?’ asks the Colonel.‘We came up with a big, fat zero. I don’t know how we’re going to survive the blood hunt,’ says Dee.‘That wasn’t the nightmare I was referring to,’ says the Colonel. ‘Death by stupid comments is what I was talking about.

I watch the beautiful performance with an ache in my chest.Then, just when I can’t stand the sadness anymore, a dancer floats out from the side of the stage. A dancer in ragged clothes, filthy and half starved. He’s not even in ballet shoes. He’s just barefoot as he glides out to take his place in the dance.The other dancers turn to him, and it’s clear that he is one of them. One of the lost ones. By the look on their faces, they weren’t expecting him. This is not part of the practiced show. He must have seen them onstage and joined in.Amazingly, the dance continues without a missed beat. The newcomer simply glides into place, and the final dancer who should have danced solo with her missing partner dances with the newcomer.It is full of joy, and the ballerina actually laughs. Her voice is clear and high, and it lifts us all.

If I’m super lucky, I might be able to fight him off and maybe even the warrior after him, but it’s not a long-term survival strategy. By long-term, I mean the next ten minutes.We’re screwed.

The right thing is a luxury for rich and sheltered people. For the rest of us, the only right thing is staying out of trouble and surviving as best we can.

He leans down, and his lips hover a hair’s breadth from mine. I close my eyes, feeling the tingle of anticipation.Then he presses his lips to mine. His warmth spreads out from my lips down into my chest and stomach. Time stops, and I forget about everything else – the apocalypse, my enemies, watching eyes, monsters in the night.All I feel is the kiss.All I am is Raffe’s girl.

Just this once,’ he says almost more to himself than to me. ‘Just one moment.’ Then he leans down and kisses me.

My head seems to be rumbling. Then I realize it’s the sky. It’s thunder. Suddenly, warm raindrops fall on us, spraying us until we’re completely wet. Raffe ignores it and continues to kiss me. We hold each other, pressing tighter and harder together. We fly in each other’s arms in the rain over a smoldering hell.

Who knew?’ he says. ‘I had no idea that someone could be such a thorn in your foot during a death march and still be irresistibly attractive in some magical, undeniable way.’‘So is that what people call sweet nothings? Because somehow, I expected it to be a little more . . . complimentary.’‘Don’t you know a heartfelt declaration of love when you hear one?’I blink dumbly at him with my heart pounding.He caresses a lock of my hair out of my face. ‘Look, I know that we’re from different worlds and different people. But I’ve realized that it doesn’t matter.’‘You don’t care about the angelic rules anymore?’‘My Watchers have helped me realize that angelic rules are for angels. Without our wings, we can never be fully accepted back into the fold. There will always be talk of taking a newly Fallen’s wings and transplanting them onto us. Angels are perfect. Even with transplanted wings, we’ll never again be perfect. You accept me just the way I am, regardless of whether or not I even have wings. Even when I had my demon wings, you’ve never looked at me with pity. You’ve never wavered in your loyalty. That’s who you are – my brave, loyal, lovable Daughter of Man.

Dee checks to make sure his mic is turned off. ‘It’s not about common sense.’ Dee surveys the crowd with some pride.Dum also checks to make sure his mic is off. ‘It’s not about logic or practicality or anything that makes a remote amount of sense.’ He sports a wide grin.‘That’s the whole point of a talent show,’ says Dee, doing a spin onstage. ‘It’s illogical, chaotic, stupid, and a whole hell of a lot of fun.’ Dee nods to Dum. ‘It’s what sets us apart from monkeys. What other species puts on talent shows?

But I realize now that the toughest choices, the ones that will haunt us for the rest of our lives, are ones that my mom is still sheltering me from.

Here and there, plumes of dark smoke reach into the sky like the fingers of a drowning man reaching up for the last time.

...there’s no such thing as a dirty fight.

That's crazy," I say"In case you hadn't noticed, the whole world has gone crazy. It's time to adapt or die.""By throwing crazy at crazy?

Nothing short of the end of the world would get our eco-conscious techies to toss their latest gadgets onto the street.

You’re smarter than you look,’ I say to Raffe.‘But not as smart as he thinks,’ says Howler.‘I can see discipline has broken down during your vacation,’ says Raffe.‘Yeah, it’s all that lounging on the beach with nothing to do but drink and watch women.

He doesn't even like me.I let the thought roll around in my head. Anything I feel during that time gets shoved into the vault with the ten-foot-think door slamming as soon as it goes in, just in case something in there has any intention of crawling out.

Raffe arches his brow at me. ‘You should be with a nice human boy. One who takes your orders and puts up with your demands. Someone who dedicates his life to keeping you safe and well fed. Someone who can make you happy. Someone you can be proud of.’ He waves his hand at the Watchers. ‘There’s nobody like that in this lot.’ I glare at him. ‘I’ll be sure to pass him by you first before I’ – settle for – ‘choose him.’ ‘You do that. I’ll let him know what’s expected of him.’ ‘Assuming he survives your interrogation,’ says Howler. ‘Big assumption,’ says Cyclone. ‘I’d like to be there to watch,’ says Hawk. ‘Should be interesting.

Of course she’s right. How bad are things when your clinically insane mother is more rational than you are?

Big words from a guy who's trussed up like a turkey. What are you going to do, wobble over here like an upside- down turtle to snap me in half?""The logistics of breaking you are easy. The only question is when.

I'll be sure not to let anyone but you carry me in her arms." He turns and leaves the kitchen before I can figure out what to make of his comment. A sense of humor is one more thing I don't think angels should have. The fact that his sense of humor is corny makes it even more wrong.

If the only one who can kill an angel can’t do it, then who can?’ It’s a good question, one that takes me a minute to come up with an answer. ‘Obadiah West can. Him and his freedom fighters. I’m just a teenager.’‘History is filled with teenagers who lead the fight. Joan of Arc. Okita Soji, the samurai. Alexander the Great. They were all teenagers when they began leading their armies. I think we’re back to those times again, kid.