Kyle Messenger

Kyle was his parents’ pride and joy, a dark-haired, blue-eyed ball of energy. From chess to go, from coloring books to blueprints of gothic cathedrals, he was always desperate to learn something new. His teachers called him precocious, gifted. He knew the truth of what he was: afraid. Of the voices in his head, singing softly to him at night. Of the Hebrew letters that glimmered on the walls and doors everywhere he went. Of the chords he played on his harp that made the statue of the Holy Mother weep tears of blood when Asrael came calling.