but whisper it, knowing that the crashing waterfall would wash away my voice the moment I spoke
the words: “‘And God said unto Noah, The end of all flesh is come before me; for the earth is filled
with violence through them; and, behold, I will destroy them with the earth.’ ”
As I reached the bottom of the descent, the soles of my boots leaving the last swinging rung of the
rope ladder and brushing the solid earth, I knew that Dr. Seraphina had discovered something
momentous. The angelologists quickly unpacked the burlap sacks and lit our battery-operated
lanterns, placing them at intervals across the flat rock floor of the cavern so that a fitful, oily light
opened the darkness. The river, described in Clematis’s account as the boundary of the angels’
prison, coursed by in the distance, a glimmering black ribbon of movement. I could see Dr. Seraphina
ahead, shouting orders, but the sound of the waterfall consumed her words.
When I reached her, she stood over the body of the angel. Upon taking my place at her side, I, too,
fell under the trance of the creature. It was even more beautiful than I had imagined it to be, and I
could do nothing for some time but stare, so overwhelmed was I by its perfection. The creature’s
physical properties were identical to the description I had read in the literature at the Athenaeum:
elongated torso, gaunt features, massive hands and feet. Its cheeks retained the vivacity of a living
being’s. Its robes were pristine white, woven of a metallic material that wrapped about the body in
luxurious folds.
“The First Angelological Expedition occurred in the tenth century, and still the body has the
appearance of vitality,” Vladimir said. He bent before the creature and lifted the white metallic gown,
rubbing the fabric between his fingers.
“Be careful,” Dr. Seraphina said. “The level of radioactivity is very high.”
Vladimir considered the angel. “I’ve always believed that they could not die.”
“Immortality is a gift that can be taken as easily as it is bequeathed,” Dr. Seraphina said. “Clematis
believed that the Lord struck the angel down as vengeance.”
“Is that what you believe?” I asked.
“After its role in bringing the Nephilim into the world, killing this devilish creature seems
perfectly justified,” Dr. Seraphina said.
“Its beauty is incomprehensible,” I said, struggling to reconcile the fact that beauty and evil could
be so intertwined in one body.
“What remains a mystery to me,” Vladimir said, looking beyond the body of the angel to the far
side of the cavern, “is that the others were allowed to live.”
The party split into groups. Half stayed to document the body—extracting cameras and lenses and
the aluminum case filled with biological testing apparatus from the heavy burlap bags holding them—
and the other half set off to search for the lyre. Vladimir led the latter group, while Dr. Seraphina and
I stayed with the angel. At our side, the remaining members of our party examined the half-buried
bones of two human skeletons. The bodies of Clematis’s brothers had remained exactly as they fell
one thousand years before.
At Dr. Seraphina’s orders, I put on protective gloves and lifted the angel’s head in my hands.
Running my fingers through the creature’s glossy hair, I brushed the forehead, as if comforting a sick
child. My touch was blunted by the gloves, but it seemed to me that the angel was warm with life.
Smoothing the metallic gown, I unfastened two brass buttons at the clavicle and tugged at the fabric. It
fell away, revealing a flat chest, smooth, without nipples. A clutch of ribs pressed against taut,
translucent skin.
From head to foot, the creature looked to be over two meters tall, a length that, in the ancient
system of measurement the founding fathers had used, translated to 4.8 Roman cubits. Other than the
golden ringlets falling about the shoulders, the body was completely hairless, and, to Dr. Seraphina’s
delight—she had staked her professional reputation upon the very question—the creature had distinct
sexual organs. The angel was male, as all the imprisoned Watchers had been. As Clematis’s account
attested, one of the wings had been torn away and hung at an odd angle to the body. There could be no
doubt that this was the very creature the Venerable Clematis had killed.
Together we lifted the creature and turned it on its side. We removed the robe entirely, exposing
the skin to the harsh light of the lantern. The body was pliable, the joints limber. Under Dr.
Seraphina’s direction, we began photographing it with care. It was important to capture small details.