I interrupt him. “Why would my soul give you redemption? How do you know that it’s not evil and would bar you from your Paradise?” I ask him searchingly.

His expression turns bitter. “The Sheol Seraphim don’t share their information with Reapers; they just give orders—I only know what I’ve observed of you,” he says with his jaw tight with anger.

“So, you don’t know where I came from?” I ask him in a soft tone.

“No, I was assigned to you recently, just before school started,” he replies. “But, knowing you as I do, I find it highly unlikely that your soul has ever been to Sheol, but I really don’t care if it has. Once I take it from you, I’ll purify it one way or another,” he says with smugness. “I’ll have to rip your soul from your body in order to assess its level of sin and evil. We never know what we’re getting until the soul leaves the body…and then the negotiations for it begin.”

I wince at his words. “Purify it? How?” I ask him urgently.

Freddie’s eyes narrow in a belligerent way. “I’m a Reaper. I know every angle there is to achieve redemption—selfless acts, sorrowful amends… Once I have your soul, I will no longer be damned, and I’ll get to keep something of you with me for eternity because I really do love you, Evie,” he says with a semblance of regret. “I would‘ve taken care of you, but you chose to ignore me. I was all you needed, and you ruined it.”

The shock of what he is saying is wearing off, and I am increasingly desperate to get away from him. “Freddie!” I say, while my fingernails claw the door handle, trying to pull it open, but it is locked.

“If you try to leave, I’ll break your arm,” Freddie says with menace. He put his hand on my arm and squeezes it until I think it will break. As I whimper in pain, he lets go of me.

Panting, I whisper, “You’re talking about stealing my soul from me one minute, and then saying that you love me almost in the same breath; it’s a little schizophrenic. Do you expect me just to hand my soul over to you?” I ask in a thin voice. “I don’t know how to do that, even if I wanted to.”

“Don’t worry, I’m an expert with souls—Reaper, remember?” he asks with a humorless smile.

Feeling like an insect trapped in a hot car, I look around for a way out, asking, “So, Reapers are evil, is that it?”

“No, not all Reapers are Fallen,” Freddie says with a darkening frown, “but no one thinks very much of us, on either side. We don’t rank very high among other angels.” He points to his chest vehemently, saying, “I was made promises in Paradise by the ones who said they would change that, but we were all cast out. It was even worse for me after the fall,” Freddie seethes, embittered from the disillusionment of unfulfilled promises. “But…now I’m in charge. I have complete control here. The other angels will follow my orders,” he says, like he is assuring himself more than me. “They don’t like it, though,” he says conspiratorially. “We operate on what you would call a caste system. I’m one of the lowest orders in that system. A Reaper is looked upon very much like a garbage collector. In Sheol, I’m just someone who brings in the trash. They don’t realize how much effort it takes to prove a soul is evil!” he finishes belligerently.

“Freddie, I’m not giving you my soul,” I say in a quiet, shaking tone. “When Reed gets his hands on you, there won’t be anything left to send back to Hell,” I warn him, trying to convince him to stop his plan.

“Are you sure about that, Evie?” Freddie asks with dull-blue eyes. “Because Russell is going to be so disappointed if you don’t.”

“Russell?” I ask breathlessly as he turns the wheel, pulling it into the parking lot of the 7-Eleven.

My heart races, making me feel dizzy as I sit looking at the façade of the 7-Eleven. All of the lights are on, but the windows are blurry; they are obscured by what appears to be waves of heat, like the kind that come off of hot pavement in summer— but it is winter. I can almost imagine it is a mirage that will disappear any moment. Freddie moves supernaturally fast to my door, opening it for me.

He extends his hand to me, but I don’t take it. “C’mon, Evie,” Freddie sighs irritably. “You know I can easily make you go in there without much effort. But, I know I don’t need to, because Russell needs you. You’re not going to let him die, are you—your soul mate? Not when you can save him. I’ll let you save him. It can be your last, selfless act.”

I tremble at his words, spoken without malice. I avoid taking the hand that Freddie offers to me, stepping out of his car without aid. Straightening, I gaze at the building ahead of me, trying to hear what is going on inside. It is silent. No sound penetrates the blurry image, but the smell is like nothing I’ve ever inhaled before. It’s as if the worst offal has been strewn around and left to bake in the sun for days, and even that analogy can’t begin to describe the odor. My wings fly out of my back on their own, just as I turn and retch all over the interior of Freddie’s Mercedes. That might’ve been somewhat satisfying, if it hadn’t hurt so much; my broken ribs ache from the involuntary movement.

“You’re a Seraph!” Freddie growls at me, jealous. I can’t answer him as I attempt to wipe the vomit from my mouth with the back of my hand. “You’re the most beautiful Seraphim I’ve ever beheld,” he says grudgingly. He reaches out and touches my wings gently, and I nearly vomit again. “You know that Seraphim are the highest rank…” he begins.

“I don’t care about that, Freddie,” I reply in a croak.

My comment surprises him. “You want to see mine?” he asks me, but before I can answer him, he takes off his shirt, unleashing his wings.

I don’t know what I would have expected Freddie’s wings to be like, but they are so far removed from the expected that I’m convinced I wouldn’t have guessed this. His wings aren’t like Reed’s wings, or even mine, since ours both resemble that of an avian. No, his wings are the exact image of a dragonfly’s wings; he has four, two on either side of his back. They are an iridescent bluish-green, and they look so thin, I can almost see through them. When he moves them, it sounds like a vibrating buzz saw, just like I would expect from a dragonfly. I reach out with my fingertips in horror and fascination, touching his wing; it feels delicate, like stiff paper.

“I’m so stupid, Freddie, how could I not have known about you?” I ask him sadly, drawing my hand back from him. I want to mourn the death of my friend because this isn’t the Freddie that I know. “I love you like a brother, Freddie. Don’t do this.”

Freddie’s eyes narrow viciously. “Just look at this like sibling rivalry then. You have what I need, and if it comes down to you or me, then I choose me. I can’t go back to Sheol and tell them I failed and let you leave. Reed will never let me near you. I only just avoided him to get this far. He’s not stupid; he would’ve discovered me sooner or later. Although, he’s quite blind whenever you’re around. He has trouble seeing anything but you. You’re his Achilles Heel, if you know what I mean. Now, do I have to go in there and bring out a piece of Russell to convince you he’s in there? Or, are you going to come in and cooperate with me so that I can start my new life?”