Angelology(180)

Gabriella introduced Evangeline and Verlaine to the council. There was Vladimir Ivanov, a

handsome, aging Russian émigré who had been with the organization since the 1930s, after fleeing

persecution in the USSR; Michiko Saitou, a brilliant young woman who acted as angelological

strategist and international angelological coordinator while managing their global financial affairs in

Tokyo; and Bruno Bechstein, the man they’d met downstairs, a middle-aged angelological scholar

who had transferred to New York from their offices in Tel Aviv.

Of the three, Vladimir was most familiar to Evangeline, though he had aged drastically since she’d

met him last. His face was etched with deep lines, and he appeared more serious than Evangeline

remembered. The afternoon her father had placed her in Vladimir’s care, he had been exceedingly

kind and she had disobeyed him. Evangeline wondered what had tempted him back to the line of work

he had so adamantly disavowed.

Gabriella walked to the angelologists and placed the leather case upon the table. “Welcome,

friends. When did you arrive?”

“This morning,” Saitou-san said. “Although we wished to be here sooner.”

“We came as soon as we learned of what happened,” Bruno added.

Gabriella gestured to three empty upholstered armchairs, their elaborately carved arms scuffed and

dull. “Sit. You must be exhausted.”

Evangeline sank into the soft cushion of a couch, Verlaine at her side. Gabriella perched upon the

edge of an armchair, the leather case in her lap. The angelologists watched her with avid attention.

“Welcome, Evangeline,” Vladimir said gravely. “It has been many years, my dear.” He gestured to

the case. “I could not have imagined that these circumstances would bring us together.”

Gabriella turned to the leather case and pressed the clasps, opening them with a snap. Inside,

Evangeline saw that everything remained exactly as she had left it: the angelology journal; the sealed

envelopes containing Abigail Rockefeller’s correspondence; and the leather pouch they had retrieved

from the tabernacle.

“This is the angelological journal of Dr. Seraphina Valko,” Gabriella said, taking it from the case.

“Celestine and I used to refer to this notebook as Seraphina’s grimoire, a term we used only partially

in jest. It is filled with works, spells, secrets, and imaginings of past angelologists.”

“I thought it was lost,” Saitou-san said.

“Not lost, only very well hidden,” Gabriella said. “I brought it to the United States. Evangeline has

had it with her at St. Rose Convent, safe and sound.”

“Well done,” Bruno said, taking it from Gabriella. As he weighed it in his hands, he winked at

Evangeline, making her smile in return.

“Tell us,” Vladimir said, glancing at the leather case, “what other discoveries have you made?”

Gabriella lifted the leather pouch from the case and slowly untied the string that bound it. A

peculiar metallic object rested inside, an object unlike anything Evangeline had seen before. It was as

small as a butterfly’s wing and made of a thin, pounded metal that shone in Gabriella’s fingers. It

appeared delicate, yet when Gabriella allowed Evangeline to hold it, she felt it to be inflexible.

“It is the plectrum of the lyre,” Bruno said. “How brilliant to separate it from the lyre itself.”

“If you recall,” Gabriella said, “the Venerable Clematis separated the plectrum from the body of

the lyre on the First Angelological Expedition. It was sent to Paris, where it remained in the

possession of European angelologists until the early nineteenth century, when Mother Francesca

brought it to the United States for safekeeping.”

“And built the Adoration Chapel around it,” Verlaine said. “Which would explain her elaborate

architectural drawings.”

Vladimir seemed unable to take his eyes from the object. “May I?” he asked at last, delicately

lifting the plectrum from Evangeline and cupping it in his hand. “It is lovely,” he said. Evangeline

was moved by how gently he ran his finger over the metal, as if reading braille. “Unbelievably

lovely.”

“Indeed,” Gabriella said. “It is fashioned from pure Valkine.”

“But how was it kept at the convent all this time?” Verlaine asked.

“In the Adoration Chapel,” Gabriella said. “Evangeline can be more precise than I—she was the

one who discovered it.”

“It was hidden in the tabernacle,” Evangeline said. “The tabernacle was locked, and the key was

hidden in the monstrance above. I am not exactly sure how the key came to be there, but it seems that