They were doomed creatures, banished from heaven. How could music save them?”
Vladimir said, “At the bottom of the Venerable Clematis’s account, written in his own hand, was
Psalm 150.”
“The music of the angels,” Evangeline whispered, recognizing the psalm instantly. It was one of her
favorites.
“Yes,” Saitou-san said. “Exactly so. The music of praise.”
“It is likely,” Bruno said, “that the Watchers were attempting to make amends with their Creator by
singing His praises. Psalm 150 gives advice to those who wish to gain heavenly favor. If their
attempts were successful, the imprisoned angels would have been reinstituted into the heavenly host.
Perhaps their efforts were directed toward their own salvation.”
“That is one way to look at it,” Saitou-san said. “It is equally possible that they were trying to
destroy the universe from which they had been banned.”
“An objective,” Gabriella added, tamping out her cigarette, “that they obviously failed to achieve.
Come, let us move along to the purpose of this meeting,” she said, clearly irritated. “Over the past
decade, all of the celestial instruments in our possession have been stolen from our safe holds in
Europe. We’ve presumed they were taken by the Nephilim.”
“Some believe that such a symphony would free the Watchers,” Vladimir said.
“But anyone who has read the literature agrees that the Nephilim care nothing about the Watchers,”
Gabriella said. “Indeed, before Clematis went into the cavern, the Watchers played the lyre, hoping to
lure the Nephilim to their aid. It was utterly unsuccessful. No, the Nephilim are interested in the
instruments for purely selfish reasons.”
“They want to heal themselves and their race,” Bruno added. “They want to become strong so that
they can further enslave humanity.”
“And they have come too close to finding it for us not to take action,” Gabriella said. “It is my
belief that they’ve apprehended the other celestial instruments for their own protection from us. But
they desire the lyre for another reason altogether. They are attempting to restore themselves to a state
of perfection their kind has not seen in hundreds of years. Although we have been dismayed at Abigail
Rockefeller’s perpetual silence, so to speak, on the matter of its location, we have not worried that
the lyre would be discovered. But obviously this has failed. The Nephilim are hunting, and we have
to be ready.”
“It seems Mrs. Rockefeller had our best interests in mind after all,” Evangeline said.
“She was an amateur,” Gabriella said, dismissive. “She took an interest in angels in the way her
wealthy friends were interested in charity balls.”
“It is a good thing she did,” Vladimir said. “How do you suppose we received such crucial support
during the war, not the least of which was her funding for our expedition of 1943? She was a devout
woman who believed that great wealth should be used to great ends.” Vladimir leaned back into his
chair and crossed his legs.
“Which, for good or ill, turned out to be a dead end,” Bruno murmured.
“Not necessarily,” Gabriella said, eyeing Bruno. She slid the plectrum into its leather pouch and
removed a gray envelope from inside the leather case. On the face of the envelope was the pattern of
Roman letters written into a square. If Celestine’s words held true, it was the envelope containing the
Rockefeller letters. Gabriella placed it on the table before the angelologists. “Celestine Clochette
instructed Evangeline to bring this to us.”
The angelologists’ interest became tangible as they spied the symbol stamped upon the envelope.
Their reactions fired Evangeline’s curiosity. “What does it mean?” she asked.
“It is an angelological seal, a Sator-Rotas Square,” Vladimir said. “We have placed this seal upon
documents for many hundreds of years. It announces the importance of the document and verifies that
it has been sent by one of us.”
Gabriella folded her arms across her chest, as if cold, and said, “This afternoon I had the
opportunity to read Innocenta’s half of her correspondence with Abigail Rockefeller. It became clear
to me that Innocenta and Abigail Rockefeller were communicating about the lyre’s location obliquely,
although neither Verlaine nor I was able to discern how.”
Evangeline watched from the edge of the upholstered chair, her spine exceedingly straight. She
experienced a strange sense of déjà vu as Vladimir took the gray envelope with determined calm from