The human teen—he couldn’t have been more than twelve or thirteen—tried to scramble backward. Jett pulled the kid to his feet by his collar. He reeked. He must have rubbed pine oil all over himself.
“I-I’m not armed! I surrender!”
Lark arrived then, two blades drawn. He cocked his head when he saw the kid.
“This happen often?” Still holding the child by the shirt, Jett arched an eyebrow at the other demon.
“This is a first.” Lark stepped closer and lifted the boy’s chin with the tip of a blade. “What’s your name, kid?”
“Drew.” His face had paled at the touch of the weapon and he spoke in a whisper.
“Short for Andrew?”
“Yeah.”
“You stink, Andrew. Like one of those nasty car air fresh-eners.”
“Drew. And everyone knows demons can smell a human a mile away.”
“Everyone?”
“The older kids at school.”
Jett surveyed the ground where the human had been lying. One candy bar, one empty wrapper, and binoculars. He held Drew in place as Lark frisked him. Another candy bar. Two more wrappers.
Lark shook his head. “Human nutrition at its best.”
“It was a long walk,” the boy muttered.
“Bring any friends, Drew?”
“No.”
“We’ll see.” Lark turned to Jett. “You got him?”
“We’re fine.”
“I’ll check the woods.” Lark disappeared.
Jett assessed the child. Though he looked pale enough to faint, determination filled his eyes. “What brings you out here, kid?”
His hands trembling, Drew lifted his hands to his neck. He pulled a gold necklace with a large, clear diamond surround by a bunch of smaller diamonds out from under his camouflage jacket. “I brought this to give to the archangel Raphael.”
What the fuck? “Not his style.”
Drew’s chin jutted out. “It’s worth a lot. He has to take it.”
“Why?”
“Can I talk to him?”
“No.” Jett got onto his knees to look the kid in the eye. “Why are you here, Andrew?”
“My mom’s dying. They said it’s an inoperable tumor.” The kid’s hands balled into fists, and he spoke in a rush. “My pastor says Raphael the archangel is a healer, but this Raphael isn’t the same one as in the Bible. I don’t believe that. He has to be. He has to help my mom.”
Well, shit. Jett had experienced Raphael’s healing talent firsthand the day they’d escaped Thornton. The archangel had healed the gunshot, even in the near-death condition he’d been in himself.
But humans died every day, and healing took energy from Raphael, limiting how much he could do in a given period of time. Even if most humans didn’t want him dead, he’d never be able to save humanity from the ways of nature. Armies of healing archangels would be needed for such a Herculean task.
If Raphael helped this woman, word would spread, and before long, the colony would be fighting to keep out poachers and hordes of people looking for a miracle. Fuck.
But Jett couldn’t make this decision. “Stay right here. Do not move.”
Drew nodded, chewing on his lower lip.
Jett stepped a few yards away, keeping the kid in sight, and flipped open his cell phone. Keeping his voice low, he relayed the kid’s words to Raphael. “What do you want me to do?”
Moments ticked by before Raphael answered. “Take him to the patio.”
“Are you sure—”
“Yes. I’ll talk to him.” The archangel disconnected.
Sensing Lark’s presence, Jett sought out the other demon’s gaze among the trees.
“I heard,” Lark said. “Go ahead. I’ll keep watch out here.”
Jett returned to the boy and led him across the lawn.
“Really?” The word came out of the human’s mouth as a squeak.
“He’ll see you. I can make no other promises.”
They entered the garden gate and the boy tried to run ahead. Jett held him back by the sleeve. Spunky little shit. “Please take off your shoes and your jacket.” Though Lark had searched the kid, he had to check and recheck. “I need to search you again.”
That done and the kid baring nothing more dangerous than the coating of balsam oil, Jett led him to the patio at the back of the house that overlooked the garden. Raphael waited under the exterior lights, dressed in jeans and a gray sweater that would have given him a casual appearance, but his wings ruined that effect.
Drew came to a dead halt, his eyes wide.
“Something wrong, kid?” Jett rested a hand on his shoulder.
“Um…” Drew remained a statue.
Raphael crossed the stone patio and knelt, lifting his wings off the ground. “Hello.”
Andrew’s voice squeaked more than not, but he stam-mered out his request.
“Is this your mother’s?” Raphael lifted the diamond pendant with his fingers.
“It was. It’s for you.”
Raphael shook his head. “You need to keep this safe. Perhaps give it to your wife one day.”
“But—”
“Even if I could help you, I wouldn’t accept something with this much personal value.”
Drew’s breath hitched.
Raphael continued, “I am not capable of the miracle you seek.”
Tears fell down the boy’s cheeks.
Jett cocked his head, surprised Raphael chose to lie. But, it probably was the least hurtful way to let the kid down.
The archangel met Jett’s gaze with a brief shake of his head before he returned his attention to Andrew. “I’m sorry. You should go home and be with your family. That is the best thing you can do for her and your father.”
“My father’s dead.” The spark left Drew’s voice. “I’m going to end up living with his father. Grandfather’s the one who told me my pastor was right, that you’re a healer.”
“Did he, now?”
“Yes. He’s a scientist. He knows stuff.”
Jett tensed and studied Andrew’s face, never one to believe in coincidence. How many scientists talked to their family about healing archangels? “What’s your full name, kid?”
“Andrew Lawrence.” He wiped his eyes.
Damn.
“Did your grandfather send you here?” Raphael whispered.
“No. I asked him if we could come here together, and he got mad. Told me it wasn’t safe and you wouldn’t help.” Accusation filled Andrew’s eyes.
“I am truly unable to help you, child. I can heal certain things. Cuts, sprains, even severe injuries. I’m simply able to speed up the body’s natural healing ability. Cancer and other conditions the body is not capable of healing on its own are out of my reach.”
Ah, so that explained it. Interesting. Lawrence more than likely believed Raphael was a walking miracle. Jett spotted Lark among the shadows of the garden and crossed the clipped flowerbeds to join him.
“Victor Lawrence’s grandson,” Jett said, keeping his voice low.
Lark nodded. On the patio, Raphael continued to speak with the child, their voices plenty loud enough for Jett’s keen hearing. The conversation turned to the dying mother, Raphael offering comforting words and encouragement.
“We’ll have to make sure the kid gets home safely,” Lark said.
“Which means we’ll get an address out of this,” Jett said. “From there, we’ll be able to find Lawrence.”
“And put that kid in foster care?”
Jett stared at Lark, gaping. “Certainly you’re not suggesting we let Lawrence live.”
“I’m only saying we need to take a step back and take a deep breath here. Lawrence is the only family Andrew will have left.”