I kept my back to him and didn't answer.

He waited, but finally said, "Okay, I'll just leave it here for you."

His footsteps receded, then the door clicked shut. He'd gone home for a day or two to see Penn and his family for Thanksgiving, and part of me wished he'd stayed there, away from all this. I wondered what he brought me, but was too tired to look. Probably double-chocolate brownies from Millicent. Nice try, but I wouldn't eat. If I didn't eat and didn't talk, then I'd disappear. And that's what I wanted-to be a shade in the world of the living. I had no home here. Everything I'd been before was gone, burned away in that fortress.

Interest lost, I closed my eyes and sank toward sleep.

Someone sat down on the side of the bed, startling me out of a doze. A soft hand brushed my cheek and a scent I knew better than anything enveloped me.

Vanilla shampoo.

Ella bent to kiss my temple, even as I burrowed deeper into my pillow, thinking to escape. An intervention. Why didn't I see that coming? Will had gone home to stage an intervention, bringing in the one person he thought could break me down.

I hated him for it.

"I'm sorry I didn't come sooner," Ella said. "My family wanted to fly home as soon as we saw what was going on in Colorado, but air traffic was halted all over the country. By the time I got to Billings, Will asked me to wait and come back with him. He said things were bad here."

I held completely still. Maybe she'd think I was asleep and leave.

She leaned in close, her breath warm on my neck, and whispered, "Talk to me, Matt. Please? Don't shut me out."

I started to shake and snapped my jaw shut tight, holding back everything I wanted to say. If I kept my mouth closed, the pain wouldn't come pouring out. Swallow it. Swallow it until I choke.

"We miss her, too. And we miss you." Her voice was thick with tears. "Because we love you. I love you. More than life itself. I can't lose you now. Please talk to me."

I didn't deserve her. I didn't deserve any of them. I never did. Tink took away everything I loved and left a sh.e.l.l where my life used to be.

"She wanted you to live, not die along with her." Ella twisted on the bed to lie down next to me and wrapped an arm around my waist. "Mamie saved you for better than this."

And I'm broken.

The howl of rage I'd held in for days burst free. I couldn't keep it contained any longer, there was just too much. Ella rocked me back and forth as I cried, down to the last drop of pain. If I had been able to trash my room, there wouldn't have been anything left whole. But I was too weak, so I sobbed, and it was ugly. I knocked my water jug off the side table and pulled my own hair. That wasn't enough physical pain to kill what was ripping me apart inside, and Ella held me tight to keep me from hurting myself.

Footsteps and angry words filled the hallway outside my room. Over it all, Will shouted, "No one goes in. No one! I don't care if you're the Queen of England. Get away from this door!"

Still had my back, even today.

I couldn't say how long I went to pieces, but it was a while. Pouring out three years' worth of pain took time, and I had to purge what I could. The anger at knowing my family had to pay the price so everyone else could live. The resentment for being chosen. The agony of knowing I couldn't bring Brent or Mamie back and a metric ton of guilt for being the one to survive while they died.

Ella never let go.

Eventually I calmed down, feeling two things: relieved to my core, and embarra.s.sed as h.e.l.l. But I also found my voice.

"I love you, too," I said in a ragged whisper. The words burned my throat, but I was ready to talk, even if it hurt. "I'm glad you came."

She kissed the back of my neck. "Will knew you needed me here."

I leaned against her, fitting into the curve of her body and laughed a little, sounding snotty from my crying jag. "Do my parents know I have a girl in my bed?"

"Not sure if you heard the scuffle, but Will's standing right outside the door. He's been playing bouncer to make sure we're alone. A few nurses may be ready to kill him, but honestly, I don't think anyone else minds what happens in here, as long as you start talking and eating again."

I rolled onto my back, looking at her for the first time. Her green eyes were red-rimmed, and tear stains of her own covered her cheeks but she smiled and a familiar rush of electricity tingled in my limbs. "I wonder if he's thinking he'll get to hear us making out through the door, despite the hospital bed and the broken leg. High expectations, don't you think? I've been practically catatonic the last few days."

We burst out laughing. Irreverent? Yeah. But a little humor made my heart feel less like stone.

Ella brushed her lips against mine. "Maybe his expectations were a little high for today. Tomorrow we'll see if we can't do better."

Mamie saved me for this.

On the last Tuesday in April, five months after the worst days of my life, I sat on the deck behind my house, soaking in the late afternoon sun with my bad leg propped up on a plastic table. It still ached on cold days, but I could walk without a cane now, as long as I moved slowly.

Mom came out once to check on me and wrapped a blanket around my shoulders, but otherwise left me alone. The smell of pot roast drifted through the open kitchen window. Dad would be here for dinner soon. He'd left the CIA and had moved to Billings right after we lost Brent and Mamie, saying he'd had enough. That he'd missed enough. He ran a private security business now and had more work than he could handle. He seemed happy.

And Mom? It took three months of convincing, but she finally let him move back into our house. Maybe she decided we'd lost too much not to give him a second chance. It was another month before she let him move back into the master bedroom, though. He'd followed her rules with good humor, never complaining, and I think that's what persuaded her to let him stay. So far, he hadn't disappointed us.

I shifted in my seat, readjusting my leg. I still had a ton of physical therapy ahead of me, but it would be better in time for school in the fall, despite the high fitness requirements. Even now, my accelerated rate of healing astonished my doctors. West Point's acceptance letter was on my desk upstairs, and I knew I'd go. Mamie would've wanted me to.

Next to the acceptance letter sat my diploma from Greenhill High. Mrs. Stevens had graduated me in her office two weeks ago. I'd earned enough credits through my online coursework, and she said a diploma was better than a GED, so she enrolled me for one day to complete the paperwork. The ceremony had been only her, me, Ella and Mom. Perfect.

A gentle knock sounded on the back door. Funny, someone was knocking to come out, instead of to come in. The door swung open, and a man I wasn't expecting moved on silent feet to take the chair next to mine. Jorge smiled, his strange eyes alight. In honor of his visit to the States, he'd abandoned his field pants and tunic, wearing chinos and a bright blue polo instead. He looked weird.

"Sorry not to visit sooner," Jorge said. "I had some issues back home I needed to address." He looked me over. "You seem to be healing."

"Some," I said, staring across the backyard. I hoped he hadn't flown up from Peru just for a pep talk. "I'm better than I was, anyway."

"Hmm."

Always so much loaded into that one syllable with him. "Hmm, what?"

"You still blame yourself, and you shouldn't. Mamie's path wasn't yours. It never was. Marked by blood, Matt. All three of you were. Don't you see?"

I shrugged, having wrestled with these thoughts for months now. I didn't think my survivor's guilt would ever leave me. "It should've been me. I don't understand why it had to be my sister, why it was her sacrifice to make. She could've shared her gifts with the world. What am I going to do to compare to that?"

"Other than graduate from West Point, go to medical school and spend your days saving lives?" He raised an eyebrow. "What indeed?"

I stared at the trees. "It's still not enough."

"To a.s.suage your guilt? Maybe not. But it will be more than enough for the people you save, and for their families." Jorge eyed me keenly. "Why did the demons take Mamie, do you suppose?"

"Because she was The Archer. The proxy of all light," I said. "To set us in motion for the final battle."

"Killing her would have had the same result, yes?" Jorge asked. "Why take her and keep her alive? That always seemed odd to me. He could've ended the war right then, so why not kill her?"

I froze. "He wasn't going to kill her, was he? 'My special pet' he called her." I got short of breath. "I thought he was taunting me, but he planned to keep her alive."

"Yes," Jorge said. "Brent could die. So could you. Mamie could not. Killing her would've allowed the Light to rise, to reclaim its rightful place. He wouldn't survive that. Once he knew who she was, he had to keep her contained-and safe. Mamie figured it out in D. C.. I could see it in her eyes the day we interrogated Ann Smythe. She understood that to close the rift, she'd have to let go of this life."

Sick, I asked, "So, she had the burden of knowing how this would end for her?"

"It was a burden, but not one she would ever shirk." Jorge gave me a long look. "Matt, did your sister ever do anything morally reprehensible? Anything that could compromise her innocence?"

When I'd insisted that I'd beat the c.r.a.p out of any guy who touched her, my sister's response had been that I didn't have to worry, she was saving herself for something special. Not someone. Something. Then there was her sweet gullibility. Her kindness, even to strangers. And her anguish over someone else's pain. No matter what power she revealed to us the last few months, her whole life had been something beautiful.

"No, she never did."

"Then you can't blame yourself," Jorge said. "She prepared herself for her role, much as you prepared for yours. You can't let it eat your soul. Three parts to one puzzle, each with your own part to play-one to fight, one to guard, one to shine. Mamie's was to break the cycle of darkness. Yours was to fight off the onslaught. And Brent? His role was to protect her with all he had."

"Brent was a defensive player on his football team," I said, as a clammy drop of sweat dripped down my back. "Guarding against an enemy was his life's work. You should've seen him fighting off those demons when they invaded our house. He was amazing. I still wonder why the knife chose me. He would've been an incredible wielder."

"Because you fight for what's right, Matt," he said. "You always have. Brent might've been suited to guard what was important down to his dying breath, but you were the one who had the drive and patience to hunt down our enemies, to contain the war until Mamie's time came. You also had the strength to follow through to the end, even when it was hard. That is a rare quality."

I shuddered. "My uncle said something like that a long time ago. That intense situations gave me strength and focus."

"Truly." Jorge reached out to grip my forearm. "Now your part is to live. That's your burden, so make the most of it. Earn the gift you've been given."

He reached for a paper sack at his feet. "I brought you something." After laying the parcel on the table next to my chair, he said, "Be whole."

Jorge disappeared as quickly as he'd arrived. If it weren't for the paper bag, I might've believed the whole conversation was a hallucination to soothe my conscience. When I reached for the bag, though, chills ran down my arms and I knew it was all real. I tore the sack open and pulled Jorge's gift free.

My knife's handle flashed blue-the same, familiar bone handle as before. The blade was whole, remade, but not exactly as it had been. The metal had a different cast to it, and it was heavier. I wondered if Jorge had melted down the sword to make it. If so, this wasn't just my knife-it was all of them.

"Thought you were lost in the cavern," I said.

We thought you were, too, all five voices answered, perfect in their harmony. Bought by Mamie's blood.

I couldn't decide how I felt about holding it, knowing the price. "I have half a mind to bury you in the yard. You killed my sister. All of you."

And we wept.

I closed my eyes against yet another round of tears. I thought about the sixteen-year-old Matt who wouldn't cry at Schmitz's funeral because he thought it made him look weak.

Boy, was I stupid back then.

"So what now?"

This time, Tink's voice rose over the others, and the depth of her pain was audible. We will stay with you. It is what she wanted. We honor her sacrifice, so we will watch over you for your lifetime.

I wiped my eyes, hearing my dad slam the front door. He exchanged h.e.l.los with Mom. A silence long enough for a kiss followed, proof that Brent and Mamie had done the impossible. They'd saved the world.

And they'd brought Dad back to us.

"You know, the Dark Master underestimated my brother and sister," I said. "He didn't know my family at all, did he?"

But I did.

Epilogue.

Four Years Later.

"Lieutenant Matthew Jonathan Archer."

I stood and straightened my cadet uniform jacket. My black shoes shone blinding-bright in the sun as I crossed the stage at Michie stadium. I'd never forget that split second-a moment that would be forever distilled in my brain-when I understood how far I'd come in the last eight years.

General Richardson handed me my diploma-his right as the new Superintendent of West Point. "Well done, Lieutenant. Carry on."

I saluted. "Thank you, sir."

He motioned me 'at ease' and broke the solemnity for a moment by pulling me into a hug. "Work hard in medical school, but have some fun, too. You've earned it."

"Yes, sir."

"Good luck to you, then, Dr. Archer."

I saluted him again and took my seat. Dr. Archer had a nice ring to it. Maybe in three years I'd deserve that t.i.tle. We'd have to see what the USUHS medical school taught me first. After all the death I'd seen, saving lives would be an amazing change.

At the end of graduation, my cla.s.s prepared to take part in an old tradition, and I was lucky that Katie was old enough to partic.i.p.ate with me.

Earlier in the day, I'd torn a hundred dollar bill in half. I kept one half and the other went inside the lining of my cadet uniform cap. On that half, I'd written my new address in Bethesda. Children, aged six to ten, waited at the edge of the field, knowing that pretty soon we'd toss our caps in the air, and they'd be allowed to take one.

If the kid who got my hat wrote to me, I'd mail him or her the other half of that hundred dollar bill.

The graduates gathered together, all of us a little shaky with emotion, and on the count of three, threw our caps toward the sky. Little kids scrambled madly to catch them as they came back to earth and all I could do was smile. Mamie would've loved this.

After the ceremony, Mom cried all over my uniform. I laughed. "Mom, it's okay."

"My baby, all grown up." She cried harder.

"Dani, save some of those tears for the wedding, would you?" Uncle Mike said. Shaking his head, he squeezed my shoulder. "You find a tux big enough for Will yet?"

"He bought Armani suits for all the groomsmen as part of his wedding gift, so he had his custom tailored." I said. "He offered to buy me one, too, but I want to wear my dress uniform."

"Part of his wedding gift?" When I nodded, Mike asked, "What's the rest of it?"

I grinned. "A BMW. Just a 3 cla.s.s, but I like it."

Mike barked out a laugh. "Well, I guess the Vikings pay pretty well, on top of the trust fund. Seriously, is there anything he can't do? All-American first string at USC, first round draft pick, richer than G.o.d, former knife wielder. Makes you want to hate the kid, doesn't it?"

I laughed, too. "Yeah. If he weren't such an awesome friend, he'd be pretty easy to hate."

Katie ran up, towing Aunt Julie behind her, and wormed her way in between us. She clutched a cadet cap tight in one hand and her favorite possession in the other. "Pick me up, Matt!"