"Nefesh!" the pastor cried.

"I'm not - "

"You drew from your blood."

Ah, crap. The lock pick. I went on alert, ready to bust out my magic, but he didn't try to hurt me or burn me with holy water or anything.

He pressed his palms together in supplication. "God sent you."

"Say what?"

Pastor Nephus opened the door at the far end of the room.

A coltish young woman about Isabel's age, with hair the color of bleached-out wheat, ...