Fire Prophet (Son of Angels) by Jerel Law Page A

you, of course. But they are doing very well.”
    “Do they miss us?” said Jeremiah. He blinked at the image of the angel in front of him, his face growing serious.
    “Yes, Jeremiah,” Henry said, his smile fading a little. “Of course they do. They hated leaving you today, and if it had been up to them, they would be with you tonight. But listen, guys, it is better this way right now. It is much easier to keep you all safe.”
    Henry looked off to the right for a few seconds, as if he were listening to someone else. “Yes, sir,” he said. “Right away, Commander.”
    He turned back toward Taryn and the three Stone kids. “I have to go, friends. But I’m glad we got to talk. I miss seeing your faces.”
    Jonah found that he missed his friend Henry too. “Hey, Henry,” he said, leaning forward a little, clearing his throat. “I . . . we . . . feel the same way.”
    “I know, dear friend,” Henry said quietly, smiling broadly again. “Just remember, you are safe there, guarded by the top battalion of angels, and they are providing high-security protection twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week.” He laughed enthusiastically. “You’re safer than you were at home, trust me.”
    Jonah wanted to ask Henry about his vision, to get his thoughts, his take from an angel perspective. But now wasn’t the time. He just didn’t feel like getting into it with Eliza, or running the risk of scaring Jeremiah, who was brand-new at all of this angel stuff.
    “Okay, Henry,” Jonah said, willing himself not to worry anymore about what he had seen. Or thought he had seen. “I hope we can see you soon. Tell Mom and Dad we miss them.”
    Henry nodded and smiled.
    “Okay, kids, time to go,” said Taryn. She glanced at the angel. “Henry.”
    He waved good-bye. She dropped her arms, and immediately, the Angelic Vortex was gone. Jonah looked around at the others. Some were still hidden inside their funnels, while others were standing in the reading room, waiting to be dismissed.
    Quickly, the students compared stories. It seemed that everyone’s parents were safe and doing just fine. They were all worried about their children, and even though most of the kids tried to pretend they didn’t miss them back, Jonah knew that wasn’t true.
    Even Frederick and Hai Ling seemed genuinely moved by their conversations. Only Rupert Clamwater had something negative to say.
    “My father demanded to speak directly with me, and he says we aren’t safe here, and that the truth is that the angels are not as competent at security as MI5 or the FBI. He says that he can’t believe that we are in the middle of New York City and that he is going to file a compl—aaaaah!”
    Andre, the quarterling from Russia, had grabbed the back of Rupert’s collar, stopping him in midsentence and lifting him off the ground.
    “Can you please stop your mouth from moving so much?” the big Russian said, snapping his fingers together with his other hand, mimicking a mouth. “It’s hurting my ears!”
    Jonah and several of the others cracked up laughing.
    “Okay, students. It’s time to return to the convent for the night.” Camilla ushered them to the doorway, back down the steps, and out of the library, the same way they’d come in.
    Jonah yawned as they walked home. The group had grown quiet. He realized for the first time that night how tired he was. All he wanted to do when he got back to his room was get under the covers and melt into the mattress.

THIRTEEN
    D AGON’S P LAN
    A handful of men and women, dressed in business suits and smart outfits, stood in the conference room, each alone with his or her own thoughts. Some gazed vacantly through the massive set of windows, out across the city. The top floor of the beautiful skyscraper had been rented for them—one of the best views in town—but no one seemed to be enjoying it.
    Others paced around the massive mahogany table in the middle. They straightened their ties once, twice, three