I dropped to my knees beside Daniel just as the spotlight blew out with a crash. Glass showered down on my head. Then, something dark and heavy fell out of the sky with a wet thud. A strangled moan came from the bleachers only a few feet from me. I saw a police sniper's body sprawled awkwardly on the plastic seats. Pale fingers twitched in the moonlight.

"Shit!" I heard a Malachim exclaim over the intercom. "Commander, I've got flechette rifle signatures on scope. Someone on the ground brought down ..."

"The kill was mine, soldier." Rebeckah cut him off sharply. Then, after a click to broadband, she intoned, "On my order the Malachim Nikamah will engage the New York Police Department and the US Marshal. Return defensive fire only. Repeat: We are firing in self-defense only." With a click back to the Malachim's private channel, she added, "Get those spotlights out of commission, boys and girls. Let's keep it clean."

Dots of light twinkled silently in the arena, as the Malachim engaged their laser sights. I turned my attention to Daniel. I rolled him over. I could see a widening, wet spot near his shoulder. The strong smell of blood and gore made me gag. Choking back the bile that rose in my throat, I put my arms around Daniel. "Come on, Danny, we've got to get you to shelter."

His fist clenched on the chain-link fence, and he dragged himself upright. Tears of pain glittered in his eyes, just as tears of desperation threatened to fog my vision. I held him tight around the waist and pulled him slowly toward the stair opening. I repeated words of nonsense, words of encouragement. "You can make it. Come on, partner, just a little farther."

Daniel's body was awkward and heavy in my grasp, and he crawled forward, hand over hand, with maddening deliberation. The constant rapid-fire explosions surrounding us made my skin crawl. Phantom sensations of tiny barbed arrows whizzing nearby jerked me this way and that, as though I might be able dodge something moving so fast.

Searing pain grazed my ribs, but I wasn't sure if it was a stitch in my side from exertion or the touch of a fle-chette. I didn't stop to look. If it were a flechette, I would know soon enough. Most of the barbs were programmed to start digging the second they hit something soft like flesh. I stayed hunched over Daniel, shielding his body as much as I could, as we crawled toward the doorway. "It's going to be all right," I kept saying.

"The Bible," Daniel said through clenched teeth. "Do you have the Bible?"

My helmet and the Bible were somewhere back on the bleachers. "I'll go back for them," I told Daniel. "Once you're in the doorway, okay?"

He clutched at my shoulder, his grip surprisingly strong. "Promise me you'll go back for the Bible."

"I will," I said. I needed to go back for the helmet anyway. Without that helmet, the armor was useless, and I was cut off from two-way communication with the Malachim.

Finally, we reached the arch of the doorway. I pulled Daniel as far into the shadows as I could. He leaned heavily against the wall with a grunt. In a widening circle, wet blood shimmered beneath his trench coat.

"Oh, Jesus, Danny, I don't think I should leave you." I looked around frantically for something to help staunch the flow of blood.

"The Bible," Daniel insisted. "Please."

I frowned at him in concern; he stared at me imploringly. Finally, I nodded. Balling up an edge of his trench coat, I pressed the material and his hand to the wound. "Hold this," I instructed, though I knew it wouldn't do any good. "I'll go back for the Bible."

Looking out into the arena, I could see red dots of light on the bleachers. The hulls of the stealth helicopters were smoking from the continued barrage from the Malachim. The helicopters careened wildly, diving this way and that around the ballpark. Spotlights illuminated retreating shadows of Rebeckah's soldiers.

With a quick prayer to Jude, the patron saint of lost causes, I crawled back out into the bleachers. I pulled myself along on my stomach by my elbows. A scream rose above the din as someone's mark hit home. I winced, not sure who to be rooting for; I wished no one dead. Police or Malachim.

"Oh, God," I muttered, as I inched along. "I'm so sorry."

A spotlight illuminated the space in front of me and headed in my direction. I started to squeeze against the bleacher, but quickly realized the inch overhang wouldn't protect me. When the spotlight reached me, I scrambled to my feet. Adrenaline rushed through my body, and with a whoop, I sprinted the distance to the helmet and the Bible. The spotlight stayed on my heels.

Skidding to a halt, I grabbed for the Bible and the helmet. I stopped to turn around, and looked up into the bright light. A helicopter hung in the air directly overhead. It would be impossible for a sniper to miss.

A shadow, like a soap bubble film, appeared between the helicopter and me. Then, the spotlight blew out with a deafening crash. "What the hell are you standing there for, girl?" Rebeckah's disembodied voice shouted. "Run!"

As with all of Rebeckah's commands, I followed it without a second thought. Footsteps echoed behind, following me to the shelter of the doorway where Daniel slumped against the archway.

Kneeling beside him, I said, "Hang on. We're going to get you out of here."

The intercom crackled as Rebeckah sent out the fallback order to the Malachim. To me, she said, "I'm going to stay and make sure everyone gets out. Get him to safety."

Daniel's face looked ashen. Covered in sticky blood, his hands trembled where he grasped at his wound. There was a thin whistle in his breath and a wet, sucking sound in his chest. I looked up to where I imagined Rebeckah was standing and shook my head. He's not going to make it, I tried to say. Instead, what came out was, "I can't carry him alone."

"Did you get the Bible?" Daniel's cold hand covered mine imploringly.

Tipping the helmet so he could see the Bible nestled inside, I nodded. "It's safe."

"Do you think they'll let me in?" His voice was a whisper.

For a moment I didn't understand what he was talking about. "Heaven?" I pulled out a courageous smile. "Nah, Danny, Saint Peter will stop you at the front gate. I keep telling you: God is a Catholic. You Protestants have got it all wrong."

"We'll see." He smiled,

"Not soon, I hope," I whispered. I looked at the entrance, toward Rebeckah, then down the stairway. Maybe I could carry him out, I thought, if Rebeckah or another Malachim helped. As I glanced back and forth, my gaze strayed past Daniel. Daniel met my eyes and held them. The look he gave me told me he knew; he knew he was dying. "Oh, Danny."

The air shook as one of the helicopters slammed into center field. A fireball illuminated the stadium. I threw myself protectively over Daniel's helpless form. When the debris settled, I still held him close.

"That night -" Daniel's words came out through great effort, close to my ear. "– I wanted to say I was sorry ... really, sorry. Why me? Who had to gain from the Pope's murder?"

I shook my head. I'd asked myself those questions a thousand times over the last year. I had partial answers only – nothing I could give Daniel. "I don't know."

"You remember ... that night?"

^Of course."

"What if ... what if ... that Jordan data ... tripped someone's alarm?"

Daniel had gotten that phone call from the "big guy" right in the middle of searching those files "A trigger. Of course," I said. "That's the connection Danny. Whoever stole that tech for Letourneau had a trigger planted as self defense. You stumbled onto it, and it possessed you. Maybe the same thing has been happening to the Malachim."

"Malachim ... Angels," Daniel's voice broke my excited ramblings. I looked down into his eyes; they no longer focused. Like his gaze, his mind wandered. "Surrounded by angels."