A single flame flickered in the darkness, but even the smothering blackness couldn't completely hide the state I was in. I'd left a trail of bloody footprints across the entryway and down the aisle. A crimson puddle formed on the ground beneath my feet and plastered my back to the pew. None of it was mine.

A sound caught in my throat as the images bubbled to the surface of my mind. Golden curls matted with blood, half her sweet, cherubic face caved in by a sledgehammer blow from one of Listen's fists. The gurgling breaths she'd tried to suck in through her ruined mouth and nose. She hadn't even screamed, too shocked to do anything but struggle to stay alive. She'd lost. I'd cleaned her up as best I could and put her body somewhere the cops would be able to find it. Her parents deserved to know what had happened to her.

Three. She'd only been three years old. Thirty pounds of innocent little girl reduced to a still pile of meat and bone.

I didn't remember how I'd arrived at Saint Mary of the Angels. I had a feeling one of the others had been steering the ship, guiding me to the one place I might be able to get help before I gave into a monumentally stupid urge. I wanted Lasciel. I wanted her so badly I could taste it. My hand ached to feel the contours of her coin against my palm. I wanted her phantom weight to settle warm and comforting across my back. I wanted the sweet lie that everything was going to be alright, that she was here, and she'd make sure Listen never killed again.

Invoco Lasciel virtus. Veni ad me.

Six words. I was six words away from peace. No one else could help me. No one else would help me. Thomas wasn't answering his phone. I couldn't risk being followed to the Carpenter house. Listen was mortal, which meant Dad's bodyguards couldn't do jack against him if he vaulted the fence. Marcone wasn't talking to me. Murphy and the others had frozen me out. I was alone. I was so, so tired of being alone. I needed her.

Tears rolled down my cheeks, turning the candle flame into a golden blob. I hunched forward, blood squelching beneath me.

"Help me," I whispered. "God, please, someone help me."

"The simplest prayers are usually the most effective," a gentle tenor voice said from my right.

I yelped and twisted in my seat to find the source of the sound. I'd been completely alone. I'd made sure of that before settling in the front row. I would have felt a priest approaching, even in this state. It was as if someone had appeared out of thin air. And someone had but it was no priest or idle passerby. He was a young man with dark gold hair that curled lightly over his brow and tucked neatly behind his ears. He had a slightly sunkissed glow to him, and his eyes walked the line between polished silver and the perfect blue of a summer sky. He was dressed simply in a pair of blue jeans and a denim work shirt. He would have looked unassuming if you didn't know who and what he was.

My mouth went dry. I'd seen this man once before, but more than that his mere presence was enough to make every nerve in my body buzz with awareness. I had the fleeting urge to sprint in the other direction. My dirty, hopeless, bloodstained self shouldn't be in the presence of something so holy.

"You're the Watchman," I whispered.

A small smile curled the edges of his mouth. "I am, but you needn't be so formal. You may call me Uriel."

I almost choked on my own tongue. The Archangel Uriel was sitting next to me. I wanted to tell him to move over before a murdered little girl's blood could seep into his jeans.

"Um...hi. W-why are you here?"

"You asked for help," he said simply. "That is my purpose."

"Daniel said your purpose is to preserve free will," I pointed out. "Or was that just my head trying to keep my guilty conscience from eating me alive?"

"You did not imagine him."

A hard knot of doubt loosened in my chest. If he said it, it was true. Even if he was capable, he had no reason to lie to me.

Uriel's fingers skimmed over the back of my hand, and the brief contact lit me up from the inside, raising goosebumps along my arms. His eyes were very soft when he looked at me.

"So much pain," he sighed. "I am sorrier than you can know that you're suffering, Molly."

"It's my fault she died," I whispered. "It's always my fault. I can't do anything right."

"Did you crush Allison's skull?"

"No, but-"

"Then you are not at fault. Do not shoulder another's sins. You have enough of a burden already."

"But I'm always too slow, too small, too weak to stop them."

"Humans have a bad habit of focusing on the things they can't manage, instead of the things they can. You don't see as we do. You do not know that you have saved over million lives through your actions."

I blinked the tears away. "I...what? I mean, yeah, if the dam exploded it would have killed two hundred thousand and I've saved a few people in Chicago but..."

"Do you remember your attack on Count Santiago Cavallero's estate?"

I flinched. "How could I forget? I went to save Salem and Anna. They were both killed."

"You also saved dozens of children and fifteen wizards of the White Council. Wizards that have saved countless people in the cities they are stationed in. One of those children will likely go on to be a politician who will forge new laws that will provide relief for thousands more. The Count's death in and of itself allowed the families being farmed to perform a mass exodus before the next Red Court royal could move into his territory. Penelope Flowers will go on to become a world-class fetal surgeon and save thousands of children in the womb. She would have been farmed with her family within weeks and killed by the Count himself. Others will go on to live full and happy lives because you made it possible. What you consider one of your darkest moments was a beacon of hope for so many."

"But I killed my brother," I choked out. "I almost killed my Dad. He's crippled because of me. If he'd gotten on the chopper, he'd still be a Knight. Instead, he chased after me."

"If your father had tried to get on the chopper, he would have been shot and killed by Palonious Lartessa. Chasing you saved his life. Daniel's presence in the Between has saved more lives still."

"Is that really true?" I asked in a small voice. Tears dripped onto the mottled skin of my hands. The crimson was drying to a rusty brown. "Did I...make a difference? Even when I did things wrong?"

"Yes. And you're right. While you see and sense more than most, you are still small. You can't see the whole picture. Every choice you make has weight. I cannot choose for you, but I'd ask you to rethink the one you're considering."

"Lasciel," I whispered.

"Yes."

"Did I...did I make a difference with her, too?"

He smiled, a bright flash of white teeth in the dark. "She is one step closer to the sister I knew. Far from redeemed but even one doubt was more than I ever expected. Well done. I'd urge you not to indulge her now. That makes a difference too."

Then he was gone, leaving me blinking at the place he'd been sitting only a moment before. The steadily growing puddle of blood on the pew was gone, as were the stains on my hands, clothes, and the floor. I was alone, staring at a flickering candle. A few minutes later Father Forthill entered and found me sitting with my head in my hands. My head was too full to keep myself upright.

"What are you doing here at this hour, Molly?" he asked quietly.

I lifted my head and dabbed at my puffy eyes. "I was wondering if you had a cot I could sleep on, just for tonight. It's been a hard night. I don't want to be alone."

Father Forthill smiled. "Of course. You're always welcome here. Perhaps I can arrange to have Michael and Charity over for breakfast in the morning."

My answering smile was watery. "I'd like that, Father."