Then, in a movement startling in its speed and precision, Philomena grasped the monstrance poised
high above the altar. The monstrance was solid gold, the size of a candelabra, and must have been
extraordinarily heavy. Nonetheless, Philomena raised it over her head and smashed it upon the marble
floor. The monstrance itself took no damage at the blow. The small eye of crystal at its center, the orb
encasing the host, however, shattered. Evangeline heard the distinct crack of breaking glass from her
hiding place.
Philomena’s actions were such a gesture of sacrilege, so awful in their violation of the sisters’
prayers and their beliefs, that Evangeline stood frozen in astonishment. In the midst of the destruction
and the horror of the death of their sisters, there seemed no reason for any further vandalism. Yet
Philomena continued to work at the monstrance, tearing at the glass. Evangeline stepped away from
her hiding place, wondering what madness had overtaken Philomena.
Philomena’s actions drew the creatures’ attention. They moved toward her, their vermilion wings
pulsing in time with their breath. Suddenly one of them lunged at Philomena. Possessed with the
zealotry of her beliefs and a power that Evangeline would never have imagined her capable of
displaying, Philomena stepped free of the monstrous grasp and in an elegant sweep took the creature
by its wings and twisted away from it. The great red wings ripped from the creature’s body. The
Gibborim fell to the floor, writhing in a growing pool of thick blue fluid that poured from the wound
as it screeched in horrid, gurgling agony. Evangeline felt that she had descended into a version of
hell. Their most sacred chapel, the temple of their daily prayers, had been defiled.
Philomena turned back to the monstrance, pried away the cracked crystal encasement and then, in a
moment of triumph, held something above her head. Evangeline tried to make out the object in
Philomena’s hands—it was a small key. Philomena had cut herself on the glass, and ribbons of blood
dripped over her wrists and arms. While the sight of such mayhem repulsed Evangeline—she could
hardly bring herself to look at the mangled body of the dismembered creature—Philomena did not
seem disturbed in the least. Yet even in her fright, Evangeline marveled at Philomena’s discovery.
Philomena called to her to come closer, but there was nothing she could do: The surviving
creatures suddenly fell upon Philomena, tearing at her clothing like hawks feasting on a rodent. The
black fabric of her habit was swallowed up in a crush of oily red wings. But then Evangeline spied
Philomena pushing free from the imbroglio. As if gathering her last bit of strength, Philomena threw
the key to Evangeline. Evangeline picked it off the floor and stepped back behind the marble pillar.
When Evangeline looked again, a cold light fell over the desiccated, charred body of Sister
Philomena. The murderous Gibborim had moved to the center of the chapel, their great wings drawn,
as if they might take to the air at any moment.
At the doorway, a crowd of sisters gathered. Evangeline wanted to call out in warning, but before
she could speak, the great uniformity of habited women parted and Sister Celestine emerged from the
periphery, her wheelchair pushed by attendants. She wore no veil, and her pure white hair intensified
the lines of sadness etched into her face. The attendants pushed Celestine’s wheelchair to the base of
the altar, her pathway swallowed in a sea of black habits and white scapulars.
The Gibborim, too, watched Celestine as her attendants brought the wheelchair to the altar. They lit
candles and, using pieces of charred wood from the fire, drew symbols on the floor around Celestine
—arcane sigils that Evangeline recognized from the angelological journal her grandmother had given
her. She had looked upon those symbols many times but had never learned their meaning.
Suddenly Evangeline felt a hand on her arm and, turning, found herself in Gabriella’s embrace. For
a brief moment, the terror she felt subsided, and she was simply a young woman in the arms of her
beloved grandmother. Gabriella kissed Evangeline and then quickly turned to watch Celestine,
examining her actions with a knowing eye. Evangeline stared at her grandmother, her heart in her
throat. Although she looked older, and seemed thinner than Evangeline remembered, Evangeline felt a
safe familiarity in Gabriella’s presence. She wished that she could speak to her grandmother in
private. She had questions she needed to ask.
“What is happening?” Evangeline asked. She examined the creatures, which had become strangely
still.
“Celestine has ordered the construction of a magical square within a holy circle. It is preparation