Rosario didn't notice it either, the darkening of Johnny's voice. Nor did she notice straightaway the colour trickling from Lyra's face. Her eyes had fallen to the arrow again, though her mind was not on the owner, but an entirely different Archer.
Saints and gods.
No way, she thought. There was nothing divine about him. There was definitely nothing Christian about him. And it had been dark that night, and Lyra and Avery had been one floor up and drinking could they really be sure that it hadn't just been a blood nose and shit, she was doing it again!
Working hypothesis: we're not crazy. Lyra saw what she saw.
Which meant Archer had healed a broken bone.
Which meant Archer wasn't Archer, he was a saint or a god.
Fuck, was he even her brother? Had Avery been right all along, and all three AGs were the same guy?!
She was well on her way to her own panic when Lyra began asking about saints, and the stricken edge to her voice yanked Rosario back, made her look up and notice finally how white her friend had gone.
She reached over and placed a hand on top of Lyra's, squeezing tight. "Do you think he could tell us which saints might've been in town twenty-four years ago? If..." she looked at Lyra, "if you wanna know, that is."