favorite place. Someday I’d like to go there with you.
Evangeline heard her name and they both turned. Gabriella was beckoning to them.
As they joined the angelologists, Alistair was examining the crowd. His expression solidified into
one of horror. Evangeline followed his gaze to the end of the skating rink, where a cluster of the stark
white creatures, their wings carefully hidden under long black cloaks, had gathered at the statue of
Prometheus. In the middle of it all stood a tall, elegant man leaning heavily upon a cane.
“Who is that?” Evangeline asked, pointing to the man.
“That,” Gabriella said, “is Percival Grigori.”
Evangeline recognized his name at once. This was Verlaine’s client, Percival Grigori of the
infamous Grigori family. This was also the man who had killed her mother. She watched him from a
distance, transfixed by the terrible spectacle. She’d never met him before, but Percival Grigori had
destroyed her family.
Gabriella said, “Your mother looked very like him. Her height, her coloring, and her big blue eyes.
I was always worried that she was too much like him.” Her voice was so quiet that Evangeline could
hardly hear her. “It terrified me how Nephilistic my Angela appeared. My biggest fear was that she
would grow to be like him.”
Before Evangeline could respond to this cryptic message-and the horrifying implications it foretold
—Grigon raised a hand and the creatures embedded in the crowd stepped forward. They were more
numerous than Evangeline had initially thought—row upon row of black-cloaked figures, pale and
skeletal, appeared from nowhere, as if they had materialized out of the cold, dry evening air.
Evangeline watched, awestruck, as they pushed toward her. Soon the periphery of the ice darkened
with a nimbus of creatures. A collective consternation appeared to immobilize the skaters as the
Gibborim encroached. They left off from their hypnotic circling and looked askance at the growing
population looming around them, pausing to examine the strange figures with curiosity rather than
fear. Children pointed to them in wonder, while adults, perhaps inured by the everyday spectacles of
the city, endeavored to ignore the strange events entirely. Then, in one swift motion, the Gibborim
swarmed the railings of the plaza. The collective trance of immobility shattered in an instant. Masses
of frightened people were suddenly surrounded on all sides. The angelologists were caught at the
center of an elaborate net.
Evangeline heard someone call her grandmother’s name and turned to find Saitou-san making her
way through the throng. Evangeline knew instantly that something terrible must have happened at
Riverside Church. Saitou-san had been injured. Cuts covered her face, and her jacket was ripped.
Worst of all, she was alone.
“Where is Vladimir?” Gabriella asked, looking over Saitou-san with concern.
“He isn’t here yet?” Saitou-san asked, out of breath. “We were separated at Riverside Church.
Gibborim were there, with Grigori. I don’t know how they would know to come here, unless
Vladimir told them.”
“You left him?” Gabriella asked.
“I ran. I had no choice.” Saitou-san pulled out a velvet bundle that had been hidden inside her coat
and cradled an object against her body as if it were a baby. “It was the only way to get out with this.”
“The base of the lyre,” Gabriella said, taking it from Saitou-san. “You found it.”
“Yes,” Saitou-san said. “Did you recover the other pieces?”
“All but the tuning pegs,” Evangeline said. “Which are there, in the middle of the Gibborim.”
Saitou-san and Gabriella gazed at the skating rink, which had become filled with Gibborim.
Calling Bruno to them, Gabriella spoke to him in a low, commanding voice. Try as she might,
Evangeline could not make out her grandmother’s words, only the urgency with which they were
uttered. Finally Gabriella took Evangeline by the arm. “Go with Bruno,” she said, placing the leather
case containing the pieces of the instrument in Evangeline’s hands. “Do exactly as he tells you. You
must take these as far from here as you can. If all goes well, I will be with you soon.”
The contours of the skating rink wavered at the edges of Evangeline’s vision as her eyes filled with
tears—somehow, despite her grandmother’s assurance to the contrary, she felt that she would not see
Gabriella again. Perhaps Gabriella understood her thoughts. She opened her arms and took
Evangeline into them, hugging her tightly. Kissing her lightly upon the cheek, Gabriella whispered,
“Angelology is not simply an occupation. It is a calling. Your work is just beginning, my dear