Neal snorts. “Fair enough. There’s been some of that, too. The mass hysteria.”

He settles back a little against the bench, looking across the park, watching pedestrians. “Honestly, like this, minus the weirdness. No magic. No Entities. No end of the world. I was in a very ordinary Paris helping with museum and gallery security.”

He studies Jesus with curiosity. “What happened to make you think you were dead?”