Angelology(169)

sharp-edged red wings opened on their backs, striated feathers glistening in the dull morning sunlight.

In an instant she recognized the creatures, for she was gazing on beasts similar to those angelic beings

she had observed in the warehouse in New York City with her father. Only in the years since she’d

last set eyes on such a creature, she had grown from a girl to a woman, a change that rendered her

sensitive to a seduction she hadn’t experienced before. Their bodies were exceedingly lovely, so

sensuous that a shock of longing passed through her. Yet even through the haze of her desire,

Evangeline found that everything about them—from the way they stood to the immense span of their

wings—struck her as monstrous.

Taking a deep breath to calm her thoughts she noticed a peculiar scent. Loamy and carbon-rich, it

was the distinct scent of smoke. Searching the grounds she observed a group of the creatures huddled

together beside the convent, fanning flames with their wings. The flickering fire rose higher and

higher. The devils were attacking.

Evangeline tucked the angelology journal into the leather case and ran down the turret steps, taking

the direct passage to the Adoration Chapel. The smell of fire grew more distinct as she descended,

and thick drafts of smoke swirled up through the stairwell. There was no sure way to know how far

the fire had blazed and, realizing she might be trapped, she quickened her pace, the leather case

clutched tight beneath her arm. The air thickened as she ran down the successive flights of stairs,

confirming her belief that the fire was—at least for the moment—contained in the lower regions of the

convent. Even so, it seemed impossible that the flames had risen so quickly and with such force. She

recalled the creatures standing before the fire, their powerful wings beating, encouraging the flames

to mount. She shuddered. The Gibborim would not stop until the entire convent lay in ashes.

St. Rose Convent, Milton, New York

Verlaine could hardly make out the words ST. ROSE fashioned into the ornate wrought-iron gate, so

dense was the smoke coming from the convent. Alongside the thick limestone wall sat his bludgeoned

Renault, its windows smashed. It had most likely filled with snow and ice overnight, but it remained

parked where he had left it. The gate to the convent was open, and as they parked the car, Verlaine

saw a line of black utility vans lined up one behind the other before the church.

“Do you see that car?” Gabriella asked, pointing to a white Jaguar hidden in foliage at the end of

the convent driveway. “It belongs to Otterley Grigori.”

“Related to Percival?”

“His sister,” Gabriella said. “I had the great pleasure of knowing her in France.” Gabriella took

the gun in her hand and stepped out of the Porsche. “If she is here, we can presume that Percival is

here as well and that the two of them are behind this blaze.”

Verlaine looked beyond Gabriella to the convent a short distance away. Smoke obscured the upper

regions of the structure and, although he saw movement on the ground, he was too far away to make

out what was happening. He stepped out of the car, following Gabriella toward the convent.

“What are you doing?” she asked, eyeing him skeptically.

“I’m going with you.”

“I need to know you’re here waiting with the car. When I find Evangeline, we will need to leave

very quickly. I’m depending upon you to make sure that will happen. Promise me you’ll stay here.”

Without waiting for a response, Gabriella started off toward the convent, tucking the gun into a pocket

of her long black jacket.

Verlaine leaned against one of the vans, watching Gabriella disappear around the side of the

convent. He was tempted to follow her despite her instructions. Instead he walked through the rows of

utility vans to the white Jaguar. Cupping his hands over his eyes, he peered through the window.

On the beige leather seat sat a folder of his research, the photocopied picture of the Thracian coin on

top. He tried to open the door and, finding it locked, looked around for something to break it with.

Just then he saw Percival Grigori at the side of the road, making his way toward the car.

Quickly, Verlaine ducked behind the stone wall that surrounded the convent grounds. Moving ever

closer to the convent, his sneakers crunching in the ice-crusted snow, he stopped at a gap in the

structure that gave onto the main lawn. He was astonished by the scene before him. Thick, dark smoke

hovered above a raging fire; sheets of flames fell over the convent. Much to his amazement, an army

of creatures—identical to the ones he had killed with Gabriella—swarmed over the convent grounds,