“We have at least a day,” I said, and Nakita looked at me from around her camera. “The flash forward was fuzzy around the edges,” I explained. “You only get the clear visions when it’s just hours ahead.” Grimacing, I looked from her to the school. “I think the seraphs sent this one to me early, knowing I’m not good at this yet.”

Though why they wanted to help me was a mystery. Maybe they didn’t like Ron, my timekeeper opposite. I knew I didn’t. Or maybe they hoped that once I got better at this that I’d start to believe in fate, not free will. Whatever the reason, I was sure that we were at least a day ahead of Ron’s natural, seraph-unassisted flash forward, and I wasn’t going to squander it.

Nakita glanced at Barnabas, and when he shrugged, she looked at the school through the lens, snapping a few shots. “The school is still the best place to look,” she said. “Standard reap stuff. Go where the humans are.” The shutter clicked, and she straightened, frowning at the back of the camera. One of her pictures in our school’s expo at the mall had won top honors, and Nakita had been taking shots ever since.

Ron, I thought, scuffing my yellow sneakers against the stone and wishing the annoying man would ignore me like most adults did. Ron worked for the light instead of the dark, and though we both believed in the same thing—that choice was stronger than heaven’s fate—he’d rather slap a guardian angel on someone than try to get to the root of the problem and change their life. Which was exactly why I was causing trouble with the seraphs, God’s muckety-muck high angels, and trying to change things. Even after having already saved one person’s life and soul, I knew no one but Barnabas believed I really had a chance. And most times, I wondered about Barnabas.

“If we can’t find her here, we’ll just go to her apartment and wait,” I said, scanning the skies past the shifting leaves for black wings.