The young couple walked toward him, the woman holding out a baggage-claim slip.

"These your trunks, ma'am?" Samuel asked.

She smiled. "They are. Sorry we're late. I got off the train, then realized I had to get my brother to bring the truck around for the trunks. They're quite heavy."

"May I ask what's in them?"

"Oh just… personal items." She smiled. "You know how women pack."

Her brother snorted. "Got that right. Two trunks for a weekend visit. You'd think she was moving back home."

The young man moved toward the trunks, but Samuel lifted a hand.

"There's a… funny smell coming from them, ma'am."

The woman's blue eyes widened. "There is?"

"There sure is," her brother said, nose wrinkling. "And there's something oozing out the bottom. Jeepers, Jo, what you got in here?"

Before she could answer, Samuel stepped up to the first trunk. He reached for the latch, but saw that it was locked.

"Ma'am? I'm going to need to ask you to open these."

Jolynn stared at the baggage-handler, as if not understanding his request.

Victoria? What do I do now?

She waited, but her friend didn't answer. She must have been thinking up a plan. As the baggage-handler and Ricky waited, Jolynn rummaged through her purse, pretending to look for the keys.

Victoria?

"Ma'am, I need those—"

"Wait," she snapped. "I'm looking for them."

Victoria? Please, please, please. We're in trouble.

Nothing.

Victoria!

The name echoed through the silence of her brain.

Chapter 10

TRSIEL TOOK US BACK INTO JANAH'S ROOM, WHERE I waited as they went at it. No, I don't mean an angel-on-angel sword-slamming duel, though that would have been kind of fun. This was a fight of the verbal variety… and not much of a fight at that.

Trsiel talked to Janah in what I assumed was her native tongue, and she eventually calmed down, though I suspect it had more to do with his tone than his words. Trsiel had two voice settings. One, probably his natural voice, could have stopped traffic. The moment you heard it, you'd stop whatever you were doing, just to sit and listen. If he kept talking, you'd keep listening, but probably not hear a word he said, too intent on the voice to comprehend the message.

That's the voice he'd first used to get my attention, and it was the one he now used to calm Janah. But when he switched to conversation mode, he adopted a more "normal" tone, one that would be a DJ's dream, but not so spellbinding that you'd ignore what he was saying.

Finally, he changed to English for my benefit. He explained my mission, and with each word, Janah's gaze unclouded, as her mind cleared and focused. Then she turned to me, eyes narrowing.

"They send this one after her?" She snorted. "And they call me mad."

I started to retort, but Trsiel cut me off.

"The Fates know what they're doing," he said.

"No, they do not. She will fail."

"Perhaps, but—"

"She will fail. No 'perhaps.' This is a job for an angel, and she is not an angel."

"Not yet."

"Not yet what?" I said.

"This is her inaugural quest?" Janah leapt to her feet. "This is not—it cannot be—Fools!"

Trsiel tried to quiet her, but she lunged at him so fast I saw only a blur. Trsiel didn't move. She stopped, with only an inch between them, and pulled herself up straight. She barely reached his chest, but that didn't keep her from rattling off a tirade of invective—or what I assumed from her tone was invective, though she'd reverted to her own language. Trsiel put his hands on her arms, but she flung him off and stalked to her window.

"Without the gift, she will fail," Janah said. "Do not ask me to lead her to her destruction. I will not."

Janah dropped to the floor with a thud, pulled her knees to her chest, and turned to stare out her window. Even from across the room, I could see that stare go empty as her mind retreated.

Trsiel laid his hand on my forearm, and we zapped out of Janah's room.

Trsiel didn't take me back to the foyer, but to some kind of waiting area, empty except for two white armchairs.

"She's right," he said, dropping into one of the chairs. "You can't do this without the gift."

"What gift?"

He waved me to the other chair, but I shook my head.

"What gift?" I repeated.

"An angel's power. Full-bloods always have it. The others get it when they ascend. The Fates must know you need it for this, so what could they be…" His voice trailed off, his brow furrowed.

"Is it the sword? I wouldn't mind the sword."

A tiny smile. "No, the sword is a tool. You'll get that, too, when you ascend—"

"Ascend?"

"Yes. But the gift is a skill, an ability. Not essential in most of an angel's tasks, but obviously Janah thinks you need it for this one, and she's not talking until you have it. But you won't get it until you ascend and you won't ascend until you complete your inaugural quest."

" 'Complete'? You think I'm auditioning for angel-hood?"

"It isn't something you can audition for. You must be chosen, and if you're chosen, then you have to complete an inaugural quest. Finding the Nix is yours."

"I'm fulfilling a promise here, not completing an entrance exam. The Fates did me a favor a couple of years ago, a very big favor, and this is how they want it repaid."

"Perhaps I was mistaken, then."

His tone said he didn't believe it for a second, but I fought the urge to argue. The Fates would set him straight eventually. Maybe the misdirection was intentional—assuming Trsiel would be more apt to help a future fellow angel rather than a mere contract bounty-hunter.

"So this gift," I said. "What is it? Maybe we can see whether—"

"See!" He shot up straight in his seat. "That's it. Your father is Balam, right?"

"So they tell me."

"That explains how the Fates expect us to get around the problem." A slight frown. "Or so I think." The frown deepened, then he sprang to his feet. "We'll need to test it."