“Together?” I questioned, glancing at Barnabas and Nakita, both of them wearing sick looks. “Why would it take them both?”

“Because if the light reaper fails to effect a change, the seraphs want a dark reaper there to scythe the sucker,” the guardian angel said cheerfully. “And I’m not spying! I’m evaluating!”

“It’s the same difference!” I exclaimed, then hunched into my seat when the guy reading the magazine looked up.

“Well, it’s not like you really want the job,” Grace snapped. “How much unconditional support are the seraphs supposed to put behind your ideas if you’re going to give up the position as soon as you find your real body and turn living again?”

Nakita’s expression froze, fear a shadow in the back of her eyes.

Oh, crap. The hum of Grace’s wings seemed to grow louder. Nakita wouldn’t look away from me. It was as if I’d already abandoned her—me, the person who had accidentally damaged her perfect angel wisdom with a human’s understanding of death. She didn’t fit in anymore with her dark brethren, and I was possibly the only one who might be able to help her understand why, seeing as it was my memories and fears that had changed her.

“Well, maybe if they’d get behind my ideas a little more, I might keep the job after I find my body,” I said in a loud whisper. It wasn’t the first time I’d considered keeping it once I found my body. Timekeepers didn’t have to be dead—actually, I think I was the first one who was. But I wouldn’t stay the head of a system that I didn’t believe in. Either they let me do things my way, or I was out of here.

“I don’t believe in ultimate fate, and I won’t send dark reapers out to cull souls because people are ignorant of choice,” I said, knowing that through her, my words would be heard. “If the seraphs can’t meet me halfway, then I’m not going to do this, dead or alive.”