smoke, an expression of fear frozen upon her face. Evangeline had tripped on the body of the old
woman, whose upended wheelchair lay tipped at her side, one wheel spinning. Bending over
Ludovica, Evangeline placed her hands upon the warm cheeks and whispered a prayer, a final
farewell to the eldest of the Elder Sisters. Gently, she pressed the lids of Ludovica’s eyes closed.
Rising to her hands and knees, she inspected the scene as best she could through the smoke. The
floor of the Adoration Chapel was littered with bodies. She counted four women lying at intervals
along the aisles of pews, asphyxiated. Evangeline felt a surge of despair. The Gibborim had smashed
great holes in the angelic-spheres windows, bombarding the bodies with debris. Pieces of colored
glass were scattered from one end of the chapel to the other, lying like pieces of hard candy on the
marble floors. The pews had been broken, the delicate golden pendulum clock crushed, and the
marble angels tipped. The gaping hole in the window opened the convent’s lawn to view. The
creatures swarmed over the snowy grounds. Smoke rose into the sky, reminding her that the fire still
burned. Gales of freezing wind blew through the desolate interior, sweeping across the ruin. Worst of
all, the kneelers before the host were empty. Their chain of perpetual prayer had been obliterated.
The sight was so terrible that Evangeline caught her breath at the sight of it.
The air along the floor was slightly cooler, the smoke less dense, and so Evangeline fell to her
stomach once again and crawled over the floor in search of the leather case. Smoke burned her eyes;
her arms ached with the effort. The smoke had transformed the once-familiar chapel into a place of
danger—an amorphous, hazy minefield filled with unseen traps. If the smoke pressed low upon her,
she risked losing consciousness like the others. If she crawled directly to Maria Angelorum to make it
outside, she might lose the precious case.
Finally Evangeline caught a glint of metal—the copper clasps of the leather case sparked in the
firelight. She reached out and grasped the handle, noticing, as she pulled the case closer, that the
leather had been singed. Lifting herself off the ground, she covered her nose and mouth with her
sleeve, trying to block out the smoke. She recalled the questions Verlaine had asked her in the library,
the intense curiosity he’d shown about the location of the seal on Mother Francesca’s drawings. Her
grandmother’s last card had confirmed his theory: The architectural drawings had been made for the
purpose of marking a hidden object, something secreted by Mother Francesca and guarded for nearly
two hundred years. The precision with which the maps of the chapel had been drawn could leave
little doubt. Mother Francesca had placed something in the tabernacle.
Evangeline climbed the altar steps, making her way through the smoke to the elaborately decorated
tabernacle. It sat atop a marble pillar, its doors crusted with golden symbols of alpha and omega, the
beginning and the end. It was the size of a small cupboard, large enough to conceal something of
value. Evangeline tucked the leather case under her arm and pulled at the doors. They were locked.
Suddenly a clamoring of movement alerted her to a new presence in the chapel. She turned just as
two creatures broke through one of the stained-glass windows, shattering the luminous plate of the
First Angelic Sphere so that shards of gold and red and blue glass scattered over the nuns. Ducking
behind the altar, she felt the hair on the back of her neck rise as she examined the Gibborim. They
were even bigger than they’d seemed from the turret, tall and lanky, with huge red eyes and sweeping
crimson wings that draped over their shoulders like cloaks.
One of the Gibborim tore at the kneelers, throwing them to the floor and stamping upon them, while
another decapitated the marble figure of an angel, separating head from body with one vicious swipe.
At the far end of the chapel, another creature clutched a golden candle holder by the base and threw it
with extraordinary strength at a stained-glass window, a lovely rendition of the Archangel Michael.
The glass splintered in an instant, a symphonic crackling filling the air as if a thousand cicadas sang at
once.
Behind the altar Evangeline held the leather case close to her chest. She knew she must measure
each movement with care. The slightest noise would alert the creatures to her presence. She was
scanning the chapel to find the best route for escape when she discovered Philomena, crouched in a
corner. Philomena lifted her hand slowly, gesturing to her to remain still, to watch and wait. From her
hiding place near the tabernacle, Evangeline watched Philomena creep along the floor of the altar.