My dreams were full of angels charging through Cibola Forest at shadowy demons on motorcycles. Fire burned so hot that the trees were dancing blades of blinding white. All I could see against the incandescent flames was Leo astride his Packmaster and a halo of seething metal chains lashing out at me like a nest of angry oversized snakes. I flew at Leo on six out­stretched wings, bright angelic power blazing all through me. I dove, slashing through cruelly barbed chains with a sword made of light until I reached Leo… and kissed him.

Finally, the rising sun woke us. Without our cell phones and un­willing to trust the sleepy clerk at the motel’s front desk to manage a wake-up call, Leo and I had left the curtains open, and now the sunrise stabbed metaphorical golden knives right into my eyeballs. It wasn’t as early as a morning at the garage back in Crayhill, but I still groaned and stuck my head under the pillow. We had stopped late last night and dreams of flying into some demonic war didn’t make for very peaceful sleep.

But hey, we actually got to sleep through the night in beds! Unless I wanted my nightmare to come true, though, we had to get back on the road to San Diego.

I heaved myself out of bed with a grunt while Leo pulled on his boots and yawned. He offered me a fresh t-shirt, this one branded with the Harley-Davidson name and shield logo. It was huge on me and hung like drapes. That much fabric flying in the wind on the back of a motorcycle would get real annoying real fast, so I twisted the hem up into a knot just above my navel. I was a little self-conscious about displaying so much skin, but I felt Leo’s eyes on me and he didn’t object.

It didn’t take us long to pack. After two nighttime attacks, we didn’t have a lot of stuff left. I considered the gun still sitting on my nightstand. Finally, I picked it up – carefully – and held the weapon out to Leo.

“I don’t have any way to carry this thing,” I told him. “I mean, unless I want to just stick it in my jeans. But that doesn’t seem very safe.”

“It works in a pinch, but not particularly well,” Leo admitted. “I’ll hold onto it.”

He took the black semi-automatic and tucked it away into a pocket. I wondered how much safer that was… Leo didn’t seem to have holsters for those guns. If any of the dead Knights of Hell had carried their weapons more securely, Leo hadn’t collected their holsters. And remembering the Knights’ contorted bodies and their blackened, bulging veins, I couldn’t blame Leo for not touching them.

“But, uh… keep that gun nearby?” I suggested.

Leo nodded and then we headed out into the little truck-stop town to get a quick breakfast. Outside, my impromptu midriff seemed like an even better idea than it had in the motel room. The early morning was warm and growing swiftly hotter. It was already too hot for leathers and Leo stuffed his jacket into one of his saddlebags. He pulled the gun from his pocket, gave me an apologetic little smile, and then thrust it into the waist of his jeans.

I smirked at Leo, but the back of my neck prickled with the sun’s heat. Already? We had just stepped out the door… I eyed the sky. A few fluffy white clouds obscured the sun, but were swiftly burning off in the bright morning warmth.

“Let’s grab breakfast to go,” I said.

“Yeah,” Leo agreed. “Something feels…”

“Weird,” I finished.

Leo nodded slowly and rubbed his temple with one hand.

“You know what? Forget breakfast,” he said.

Leo put on his helmet – riding without his jacket was questionable enough – and swung one long leg over the Packmaster. The engine purred in immediate answer. At least the motorcycle seemed to be in a good mood today and I jumped quickly onto the back, circling my arms around Leo’s waist.

The bike was in a good mood… God, my life had gotten strange in the last few days.

Leo took us back out onto Highway 44 and we moved west, toward California. I watched the road for more police cars. Why the hell had that cop tried to pull us over yesterday? Were they looking for Leo? He had robbed a bank… Which was the least of our problems right now, but the cops might not see it that way. So I kept my eyes peeled for flashing lights.

The sun rose higher overhead as we drove across the border into Arizona, and shadows shortened under the trees and road signs. The warm morning became the hot one I had predicted and both Leo and I were soon sweating.

Something still felt… off, though. Alternating flashes of hot and cold raced all through my body. The waves of feverish heat weren’t just like a sunburn now, but more like I was standing way too close to a raging bonfire. But the chills were deep and icy, as cold as a northern wind. You know those cartoons where a dark rain cloud follows some sad sap around? It was as though the sun and that animated cloud were warring to see who could get me to claw my skin off first.

What the hell is this? I asked. What’s going on?

Uriel remained silent inside my head. The angel had been strangely quiet since last night. Why? It wasn’t like Uriel to pass up a chance to pick a fight with me. I actually worried a little bit about them.

The day only got hotter as we drove. Heat shimmer turned Highway 44 into a black river of mirages and cars were pulling over on the gravel shoulder with their hoods up, steam billowing from their radiators. A few cranky overheated drivers shouted at Leo as he wove his way through the slowing vehicles, but even their curses seemed lackluster and tired.

A huge green Cadillac slowed down next to us, then began angling into our lane. Another car honked urgently, but the big land-yacht continued sliding across the highway. Leo swerved around the Cadillac, but I turned to stare. The driver wasn’t on his cell phone or anything – he was doubled over in some kind of coughing or sneezing fit. His car kept drifting until it went all the way onto the shoulder… then over and into a ditch on the other side.

Leo braked to a stop and swung the Packmaster around. The motorcycle growled hungrily beneath us as Leo eased it back along the edge of the highway toward the crashed car. Its rear end stuck up out of the roadside ditch, tires still spinning. The main airbag had deployed and was now deflating like a giant scoop of melting ice cream. The middle-aged man inside seemed uninjured – it hadn’t been a high-speed collision – but there was definitely something wrong. He was too pale and his head lolled forward. The man coughed again and clutched at his throat.

“What the hell?” I asked. “Is it heatstroke?”

“No,” Leo said.

His voice was tight and I could feel his body tense so hard in front of mine that his muscles were trembling.

“It’s something else,” Leo growled. “Something’s coming…”

Another car slewed and skidded to a stop halfway over the double yellow line. A pickup truck heading the other direction plowed right into it, sending both vehicles spinning out across Highway 44. That cold sensation inside me was tightening into a knot of uneasy ice in the pit of my stomach… even as it felt like my skin was on fire.

“Shit,” I said. “We need to–”

What? Call the police or an ambulance? Neither Leo or I had cell phones anymore. And even if we did, being here when cops showed up was a really bad idea.

A slick, shiny red motorcycle suddenly appeared out of the heat shimmer, slicing its way through the scattered cars like a bloody knife. It was a Baracca Cavallo V4, a professional-level street racer. Packmasters were more big, brutal cruisers, but that Baracca was all about speed.

The bike’s rider didn’t match his motorcycle at all. He wore an expensive but wind-rumpled gray suit instead of protective leathers, and no helmet. The man was tall, thin and white, with short pewter hair that had probably been meticulously styled before he climbed onto the back of the Baracca. He looked a lot more like he belonged in a boardroom than astride that road-rocket.

“That’s him…!” Leo growled in a voice that sounded like a thunderstorm.

“That’s who?” I asked.

“The man I saw in the vision. When we found the Knights.”

Pestilence! Uriel snarled from inside me.

“Oh, shit,” I said.

The cherry-red Baracca sliced smoothly toward us between stalled and crashed cars. The driver of the crumpled pickup staggered out of his truck, clutching at his throat. He fell to his knees as black lines crawled up the sides of his neck. The man’s eyes bulged and then blood ran from them like horrible scarlet tears. My whole body was burning and freezing, and I couldn’t stop shivering.

“Leo, we… we have to go!” I said through chattering teeth.

But if Leo heard me, he didn’t move. He was a knot of tensed muscles as the other biker stopped in the middle of the highway. Pestilence dismounted and the red Baracca’s kickstand snapped itself out as the horseman in the charcoal suit walked toward us. The Cadillac driver began vomiting all over his steering wheel. Pestilence’s skin was an ashy white-gray color, but its wide eyes were pure and unreflecting black, more like empty sockets than actual eyes.

“Death,” Pestilence said. “I have been searching for you.”

Its voice was so loud that I wanted to clap my hands over my ears, and it buzzed like a nest of wasps. I could feel the sound crawling over me and the acidic urge to throw up clawing at the back of my throat.

“Leo? Leo, that’s Pestilence!” I gasped. “We have to get out of here!”

I shook Leo. At least, I tried to… but Leo was a big guy, all tensed muscles under those tattoos. I might as well have tried to shake a statue. Leo’s hands clenched into fists so tight that the leather of his gloves creaked. Sweat soaked his shirt and it clung to his skin.

“No! That thing killed my friends,” Leo snarled.

He jumped off the Packmaster and charged the horseman closing in on us. Leo grabbed his revolver from the waist of his jeans, whipped it up to aim at Pestilence, and pulled the trigger. He thumbed back the steel hammer and fired again, over and over, until the cylinder clicked empty. But Leo’s bullets punched right through the insurance adjustor or whatever the man in the gray suit had been before Pestilence took over. But it didn’t fall or even slow in its march toward Leo.

Something dark seeped from the wounds… No, not seeped. Crawled. Insects buzzed as they poured out of Pestilence’s body. I wasn’t close enough to see what they were – flies or locusts or some unknown species – but thousands of them crawled from the ragged gunshot holes and flew up into the air. Bugs swirled in a shifting, chittering cloud that blotted out the sun.

“Leo, let’s get the hell out of here!” I cried.

“Death, control your vessel,” Pestilence said in a monotone buzz.

Leo flung his empty gun aside with a shout, grabbed Pestilence’s fog-gray silk tie and punched him right in the face. Leo was well over six feet tall and more than two hundred pounds of muscle, but the blow barely rocked Pestilence.

“It is time, Death,” said the pale horseman. “Lead us against the angels and we will claim final victory.”

The insects still pouring out of Pestilence darkened the sky like storm clouds. Leo hauled his fist back for another punch, but Pestilence seized his broad shoulders in an embrace like a long-lost brother.

“No!” I shouted.

Leo’s fist dropped to his side again, but it didn’t unclench. A rictus smile spread across Pestilence’s stolen face and Leo turned around to face me. I never realized how much emotion there was in Leo’s brown eyes – anger and pain and surprising warmth – until it was gone.

Leo’s eyes had vanished, leaving only black, bottomless pits like the sockets of a skull. And those empty shadows stared right at me. The Packmaster growled like a hungry wolf.

Death is manifest, and it will not wait until all eight are gathered to begin the battle, Uriel said. You must give me control of this body, vessel! Now!

If I gave up control, I was just as lost as if the horsemen got their hands on me. Shit!

I jumped off the Packmaster and backed away, shaking and probably sobbing. There was no way Leo’s motorcycle was going to run for me, not with its master glaring literal death down the highway at me. The livid green-black sky boiled with insects.

“Uriel,” Pestilence rasped. “Face us.”

Flashes of red and blue lit the cloud of bugs and the sharp wail of a siren finally tore my attention away from Death’s empty eyes. Another motorcycle roared up the center of the road from the opposite direction as Pestilence. It was black and white, with a stout cop sitting astride the leather seat. My body burned with ethereal fire as he cruised up the highway without even glancing down at the crashed cars or fallen bodies. Heat shimmer caught the police bike’s colorful staccato lights and smeared them out into a glimmering cloak.

No, not a cloak. Wings.

That is the one your mythology calls Michael, Uriel said. My greatest warrior.

Uriel seemed to somehow swell within me, suddenly taking up more space inside my head. I threw my hands over my ears as though I could physically hold the archangel at bay, but I felt Uriel’s light coursing through my body like a fever.

“No! I… I thought you didn’t want to fight yet!” I shouted at the new angel.

The motorcycle cop stopped his bike and had to kick out the stand as he dismounted. Only the horsemen could control their vehicles by will alone, apparently. Michael strode toward me, shiny knee-high boots hitting the asphalt with a sound like gun­shots.

The shimmering glow streaming behind him grew brighter – though the storm cloud of buzzing insects above us was still eclipsing the sun – and spread out into four long glowing wings. They weren’t feathered, exactly… unless feathers were made of fire and molten glass.

Pestilence turned to face the newcomer, but Death’s empty black eyes remained on me.

“I finally found you, Uriel,” Michael said. The angel’s deep voice rolled and reverberated like thunder. “My vessel’s brethren were most helpful in locating yours. These mortals are surprisingly resourceful.”

Was that why the police had chased us yesterday? Because Michael put out an APB on me? And the other angel closing in had to be the source of that burning sensation I kept feeling. Uriel must have known… and hadn’t told me. That bitch!

“And I have arrived just in time, it seems,” Michael said. The angel pointed to Leo and Pestilence. “Go now! The final battle shall be fought when we are all gathered, as was agreed. Stand down, horsemen!”

“Your unyielding adherence to the law will only end in your defeat,” Pestilence buzzed.

The horsemen have no respect for order, Uriel said. I felt my lips forming the words as Michael’s presence strengthened the arch­angel within me.

“Death, restrain your brother!” Michael boomed. “This is not the time for our battle!”

But Leo’s eyeless gaze remained fixed on me, and he didn’t answer. Pestilence laughed and its hovering cloud of bugs drew together into something glistening and solid, ending in a terrible needle point. It flew at the winged motorcycle cop like a massive black arrow. But light flared around Michael and the storm of insects caught instantly aflame, falling out of the sky in burning orange embers.

“Uriel, take your vessel and go find the others,” Michael said. “We must gather our strength!”

“Death!” Pestilence shouted. “It is time to fight!”

Michael spread four luminous, sharp-looking wings and rose into the air. Pestilence snapped its fingers and the Baracca’s wheels spun, churning up thick black smoke and the stink of scorching rubber. Greenish fog and shadows billowed out from the seams of Pestilence’s suit, covering the horseman in a cloudy cloak as it leapt into the seat of the already charging motorcycle.

At Pestilence’s touch, the Baracca’s bright cherry finish darkened, turning the red-black of infected blood. The powerful engine rumbled, as dry and rasping as a death rattle.

Fiery golden light exploded from Michael to collide with the rancid shroud surrounding Pestilence and its diseased-looking motorcycle. The fire struck and deflected, carving a molten line across the blacktop. The earth shuddered and I stumbled as one of the crashed cars collapsed in on itself, cut entirely in half by the celestial blast. The gouge went right through the highway and down into the ground so deep that I couldn’t see the bottom of the sudden crevasse.

I screamed and threw myself down on the highway. I didn’t need any angels to tell me it was time to get the hell out of there. But smoke and dirt obscured Leo and his hollow eyes. Could I really abandon him to Death while Michael and Pestilence tore the entire road to pieces?

Pestilence isn’t touching Leo anymore, I thought desperately to Uriel. Can I still get him back from Death?

The horseman’s hold is incomplete, Uriel admitted. Death’s vessel fights to maintain control, just as you do.

I can’t leave him here with those… things!

Your mortal form is no match for Michael’s power and that of a fully manifest horseman, Uriel said. And if you are destroyed, then the four warriors of chaos will fight against only three of light and we will fail.

But if I get Leo away from Pestilence, he might be okay? I asked.

You cannot take that risk, vessel!

Leo came to help me when Gabriel showed up in Arrow and you took over. I can’t just abandon him when Pestilence is doing the same thing!

Michael dove at Pestilence, all four fiery wings pointed at the horseman. The dark red Baracca may have sounded like a dog on its last legs, but it sure didn’t move like one. The street racer screeched around in an impossibly tight arc and Michael missed, slamming to the ground like a lightning strike and blowing a house-sized crater into Highway 44. Pestilence charged at the grounded archangel with an arm out­stretched. The limb lengthened and sharpened into a barbed lance dripping with poisonous-looking green ichor.

Uriel pushed and shoved from inside me, pulling me away from Leo. I was too damned close to Michael… I groaned with the effort of taking a single step toward Leo’s indistinct shape in the dust and darkness.

The road shuddered again as a huge oil tanker barreled into the cloud of insects and smoke, horn blaring, but the driver was slumped down in his seat. Michael rose from the sundered earth beneath the truck, lifting it as easily as if it were just a toy, and flung it at Pestilence. The tanker slammed into the horseman hard enough to crumple like a tin can, but then the metal began to blacken and blister.

From underneath the ruined truck, Pestilence let out a laugh that sounded more like a loud, racking cough.

“Leo!” I shouted.

The tall biker’s silhouette turned away, marching toward his Packmaster. His steed. The engine roared as he climbed into the black leather seat. Death brought the growling bike around to face me.

Go! Uriel urged. Run or fly, but move now! Death will ride you down, vessel!

Leo won’t, I thought desperately.

Uriel felt my terror. You can’t hide much from the voices in your head. And the angel fought me for every inch as I faced Death and its steed. It was like trying to walk into a tornado.

Out in the darkness, the Packmaster revved again – a growl from the throat of hell – and the back tire spun up a billowing cloud of black smoke. The churning cloud clung to Leo in a dark cloak and he gunned toward me.

I’m not ashamed to admit that I shrieked as Leo’s motorcycle raced down the highway at me. Uriel grabbed the reins of my body with both metaphorical hands and pulled, trying to throw us out of the way. I could feel the urge to fly, to fling myself up into the air and away from all of this.

Move, vessel! Uriel demanded.

But I fought the angel and the terror, and stood my ground. Because I’m a stubborn idiot. The Packmaster went from zero to sixty in a single fear-sped heartbeat, shooting toward me like an oversized bullet.

“Leo!” I screamed. “Stop! I’m not your enemy here. Pestilence killed your friends!”

Leo screeched to a halt two inches from my knocking knees. The sudden stop should have thrown Leo right over the handlebars and into the road, but he still sat astride his motorcycle, as motionless as a statue.

“My friends…” Leo said.

The words echoed hollowly, as though they rose up from the bottom of a deep, empty hole.

“Yes! The Knights,” I answered. My voice cracked with fear. “Audrey, Sam and Jack… No, Jett! Pestilence killed all of them trying to find you. Remember?”

Leo lashed out, reaching over the front of the Packmaster to grab me by the throat. He yanked me close. I writhed, but his grip was like steel. Death stared down at me and I would have given anything right then to see Leo’s dark brown eyes instead of those bottomless pits.

Fight the horseman! Uriel told me. I will give you the power!

I’m not fighting Leo!

Something glowed at the edge of my vision. Michael…? Was the other angel flying to my rescue? But the radiance came from my own hands. They blazed with Uriel’s power and I clenched my fists. Light flared between my fingers.

“Leo…” I gasped. “Leo, please…!”

He didn’t let go of me, but Leo’s head turned slowly toward the gray-green shape of Pestilence.

“You killed them,” Leo’s hollow voice grated. “You killed my Knights.”

“Yes,” Pestilence hissed. “War knew your vessel was bound by mortal ties. They gave him strength. But alone, he is weak.”

Leo’s hand remained around my throat and no matter how I kicked and thrashed, I couldn’t break free. Uriel’s light blazed in my hands. Michael circled overhead, parting the black cloud of insects in a searing arc.

“Uriel, leave this place!” the archangel was shouting. “Find the others!”

I cannot! My vessel is a fool! Uriel snarled.

I had no idea if Michael could hear Uriel without control of my mouth, but there wasn’t enough time to find out. Michael folded their luminous wings for a dive and Pestilence snapped its attention skyward again. The horseman coughed and dis­gorged a swirling pillar of green from its mouth that rose unnaturally fast toward Michael. Pestilence’s cloud engulfed the angel, but then lit up with an orange glow like a sunset. Four molten wings sliced through, cutting the horseman’s venomous smoke into ribbons.

I was running out of breath. My throat ached where Death gripped me and my lungs burned for air. Michael rained fire down over the highway, but Pestilence’s demon-Baracca hissed and raced between the lances of golden flame.

Leo pulled me in until our faces almost touched. His eyes were closed, but tears streamed down his cheeks, reflecting fire and shadow.

“Leo…” I whispered.

“Jaz, I can’t do this,” he said, voice still hollow. “Pestilence is right… I’m too weak on my own. I can’t fight Death without the Knights.”

His unbreakable grip was tight around my throat, as cold and hard as steel on my trachea, but I wasn’t trying to get away from Leo.

“Your friends died fighting,” I gasped. “Fighting that… thing. Fighting for you, Leo. Now fight for them!”

What are you doing? Uriel cried. You cannot argue with Death, vessel! Use my power and fly!

The iron grip on my throat jerked, tightening with bruising force, but then wrenched open again. The ground beneath us heaved in another explosion and I fell to the buckling asphalt. I didn’t know if that was the work of Michael or Pestilence, but when Leo opened his eyes, they were brown again.

I sobbed in relief, then threw myself down flat on the road as a flaming engine block whistled through the air. Leo ducked over the Packmaster’s handlebars, then straightened and shook his head. Fire and blackened metal rained across Highway 44. Leo held out his hand to me.

“Jaz, get on!” he shouted.

I took Leo’s hand and he heaved me back to my feet. I leapt onto the Packmaster behind Leo, flinging my arms around him. The swift, strong beat of Leo’s heart pounded through his body and I felt the throb of it against me. Pestilence snapped its head toward Leo.

“Death!” the horseman bellowed. “Join us!”

Something boomed and buzzed behind us like thousands of angry hornets. I didn’t dare look back, but I heard the roar of Michael’s celestial fire and the sky lit up above us in red and gold. Heat blasted out in a burning wave, whipping my shirt and making the sweat on my skin sizzle.

“Uriel!” Michael thundered.

Leo stomped the Packmaster into gear, but the motorcycle snarled at him and refused to move. It didn’t want to leave Pestilence and its horrible clotted-blood-colored brother.

“I said go!” Leo growled right back.

The big motorcycle’s engine guttered, but Leo tightened his grip around the handlebars until his whole body went hard with the tension of… whatever fight for control was going on between Leo and his bike.

The Packmaster ground, groaned – and then finally roared. Leo twisted the throttle and I hung on for dear life as the motorcycle leapt into motion, racing away from Michael and Pestilence. I buried my face against Leo’s shoulder as the thunderous sounds of their battle faded into the distance. Within moments, the only ominous rumble left was the demonic Packmaster be­neath us. But I kept my eyes squeezed shut and let the hot wind whip my tears away.