Father Peter furrowed his eyebrows. "I'm not sure I understand what you're trying to tell me, Riley."

"They aren't angels," I tried again. It was hard to say it any other way.

Father Peter sat quietly for a moment, then he sighed and leaned back into his chair. "Riley, I don't know what to say. It's nice to see that there are others here who feel the same as I do, but what does it matter? Everyone else in town believes they are. There are times I even doubt my own certainty. If it looks like a duck and quacks like a duck..."

"We have proof," said Gabe with a grin.

Father Peter finally had a reaction. He sat up straight and turned his head to look at Gabe through his left eye as if somehow that would focus him better. "What do you mean you have proof. Where?"

"Here," replied Gabe.

"Here. In this town?" asked Father Peter.

"In this room."

Father Peter looked at me, then at Gabe, then at me again.

"What is he talking about?"

"He's just being cute." I leaned over and smacked Gabe in the shoulder. He flinched.

"That actually really hurt. affected by our power anythingkidd "

"No it didn't." I rolled my eyes. "Father Peter, I'll start at the beginning."

I told him the whole story, didn't leave anything out. Told him everything, right up to two weeks before and talking with Etta Mae. Told him our plan.

And asked for his help.

By the end of the story he was up pacing around his little office.

"This is..." he said. He'd been saying "This is" every few moments for a while now. I thought maybe I'd broken him. Then again, I had warned that this was going to be a huge deal. Why didn't people ever believe me when I said things?

"Father?" I asked finally. He looked up at me, as if startled we were still there.

"Riley, this is..."

"Incredible. I know. But let's get past it for a moment and talk about my idea. Will you help us?"

He laughed and rubbed the top of his head. "Riley."

"People really seem to like saying my name a lot."

Father Peter nodded and wandered back over to the desk, sitting himself on the edge.

"You're asking me to help you two build an army."

"Well, more like recruiting snipers," I said. "But we'll need probably a few people because we never know where the angels are going to appear."

"Haven't we tried this before?" asked Father Peter. "I thought Frank Tinsley had tried to shoot at one of them and now has a guard on him or something because of it."

"Some individuals have tried in the past, but it's never been planned. We could practice specifically for this purpose. And we'd have greater numbers. It wouldn't just be some guy and his shotgun."

"Why me? Why do you want my help?"

"Because you're the only person I could think of who absolutely loathes Pastor Warren."

Father Peter looked genuinely concerned about that. "Is it that obvious?"

"Don't worry, only to me."

"Good."

"And you can shoot. I remember that once you told my daddy about having gone hunting, back when he was all worried about owning a shotgun."

Father Peter shook his head. "I still don't know how much I can help."

"Right now we're recruiting. We have nearly four months until the next Taking. We have some time, but we need to get into training as soon as possible. You're still invited to dinners by people in town, right?"

"Not as many as I used to. But yes, some people still invite me over. As long as it looks like pity, as long as they don't come into the church..."

"Well, okay, see that's something. These are the people who like you, who aren't totally brainwashed by Pastor Warren. These could be people who'd be on our side."

"You make a point."

"Of course she a point, but a good one. oes, not just

So we went about trying to find folks to recruit. Gabe had made friends with the Alexander brothers who had returned from college and were back living in the swamplands. I'd kind of known them when they'd been at school, and it turned out they were nephews of Etta Mae. Gabe was pretty sure they'd be interested. The way Gabe described them, it seemed they were pretty angry about the town's recent interest in angels when their community had already gone through something similar without anyone giving a d.a.m.n. Even though they weren't around in the 50s, they'd heard eye contact with him

First day of training was nervewracking. I'd picked up Father Peter in town, and when we arrived Gabe was already at his place talking to the Alexander brothers. Triplets. They looked pretty much the same as when they'd been in school with me, tall lean, hair super short. They'd been two years ahead of me. I had had no idea they were related to Etta Mae. Had no idea much about any of them. They'd always kept to themselves. I remember the big thing when Coach had tried to get them to try out for football. But they weren't interested, none of them, and things had gotten pretty nasty when it'd been implied that if they didn't do football then they'd probably never make it to college. Well, Coach had been proven wrong. Now they were all attending the University of New Orleans on academic scholars.h.i.+ps-not sports ones. All three. That was pretty cool. In fact, I'd always kind of thought of them as brainiacs and had been a bit surprised when Gabe had said they were interested in shooting.

"You're Riley?" asked Curtis shaking my hand.

"Yeah. You wouldn't remember me, but I remember you guys."

"'Course you do. We were front page news."

"How's school?" I asked.

"Awesome. Just finished end-of-term exams."

"Cool."

"I'm Curtis. This is John and Daniel," he said, even though I remembered. Well, okay, they were identical, so it was helpful that he'd said who was who.

"Hey," I said.

And in unison they responded: "Hey."

"Thanks, guys, for helping out," I said as I got my mother's shotgun out of its carrying case from inside the trunk and followed them around the back of Gabe's place to the yard and the bayou.

"Well, we've been wanting to do something about all this for a good long time," said Daniel.

"How'd you come up with this plan anyway?" asked John.

"Once everyone's here, we'll explain it all. It's...kind of a big story."

"I'm good with that," said John.

We joined Gabe at the back porch. He'd done some decent work on it, and there was now a frame up. There still weren't any planks across, but we could sit and lean against the supports.

Gabe was sitting on the far end of the frame staring out at the bayou, one leg dangling and one foot up on a cross beam. He was in a tank top and jeans and looked very comfortable in his own skin. I envied him so much. I was terrified about all of this even though it was all my idea. Maybe, actually, because it was my idea. But there he was, looking as cool as ever, like this was just any other day.

"Hey," I said approaching him. I left the brothers to chat with Father Peter who was standing at the water's edge.

He turned and looked at me as if he was surprised to see me. "Hey, sweetheart."

"What were you thinking about?"

"Nothing." Gabe hopped down off the frame. "Everyone here?"

"Still waiting for Lacy and Wild Frank."

"Makes for a very interesting army the tears welled up3D felt ."

"If by interesting you mean ridiculous, then yeah."

"So the brothers brought a rifle each, and you've got your shotgun," he said nodding toward me. I wondered if he was thinking about the time I shot him in the face with it.

"Yeah, was tricky getting it out of the house," I said. "Father Peter also has a rifle, and I'm sure Wild Frank is going to bring lots of options."

"And Lacy..."

"If Lacy comes at all, I'll be surprised. But I don't know if she'll be able to bring anything with her."

"We're pretty well-stocked if she doesn't." Gabe jammed his hands in his pockets and looked at me. He didn't say anything, and that made me feel a bit awkward.

"So..." I said.

"So."

I lowered my voice. "We're going to have to tell them everything."

"I know."

"You ready for it?"

"Have to be."

There was the squeal of tires from the road and we turned to see a plume of dust rise up from behind the house.

"I think Wild Frank's here..." I said.

Sure enough: "Where's this army? I'm ready to kick some serious angel a.s.s!"

Wild Frank turned the corner, his long greasy hair shoved messily into a camouflage trucker cap. He was wearing a fis.h.i.+ng vest-you know, the kind with hundreds of pockets that you put tackle and lures in-but he had the pockets filled with other stuff. I think he thought he was dressed like an army commando or something. 'Course he wasn't wearing a s.h.i.+rt under the fis.h.i.+ng vest.

"Frank," said Father Peter approaching him. I think Father Peter felt responsible for him. He was, after all, his suggestion.

"Father Priest!" said Wild Frank taking his hand and pulling him into a manly hug, complete with three hard smacks on Father Peter's back.

"Glad you could help us out," replied Father Peter, wincing from the pain.

"Do you think he'll be able to keep his mouth shut about you?" I asked Gabe in a whisper.

"Don't think it would matter if he didn't. No one would take that guy seriously."

"Now that's what I like to see!" called out Wild Frank. "A hot blonde with a shotgun."

He must have meant me. I was the only blonde in sight. So I raised a hand and waved slightly reluctantly. He grinned back, then held up his hand. "Be back in a sec!"

"Oh G.o.d, this was a terrible idea," I said, turning toward Gabe.

He laughed. "It'll be okay."

"Check it!" called Wild Frank returning.

Gabe glanced over his shoulder. "Or maybe not."

Wild Frank was brandis.h.i.+ng two sawed-off shotguns, holding one in each hand. At his hip was his usual sidearm. "I'm ready! Just tell me where to aim."

"That's...great...Frank..." I said approaching him. "But first we have to talk about the plan and everything. And wait for Lacy Green."