thinking at best, not to mention inordinately dangerous to pursue. Angela of all people should have
known this.”
“They may be inordinately dangerous,” her father said, “but think of what would happen if they
found a cure for the degeneration. If we are able to prevent it, they will lose their angelic properties
and become closer to human beings. They will suffer sickness, and they will die.”
“I just don’t believe it is happening on that level,” Vladimir said, shaking his head. “It’s wishful
thinking.”
“Perhaps,” her father said.
“And even if it were happening,” Vladimir said. “What would it mean for us? Or for your
daughter? Why would you jeopardize the happiness you have for the sake of uncertainties?”
“Equality,” her father said. “We would be free of their treacherous hold on our civilization. We
would have control of our destiny for the first time in modern history.”
“A wonderful dream,” Vladimir said, wistful. “But a fantasy. We cannot control our destiny.”
“Perhaps it’s God’s plan to weaken them slowly,” her father said, ignoring his friend. “Perhaps he
chose to exterminate them over time rather than wipe them out suddenly, in one clean sweep.”
“I tired of God’s plans years ago,” Vladimir said, weary. “And so, Luca, did you.”
“You will not come back to us, then?”
Vladimir looked at her father for a moment, as if measuring his words. “Tell me the truth—are my
musicological theories what Angela was working with when they took her?”
Evangeline started, unsure if she’d heard Vladimir correctly. Angela had been gone for years, and
still Evangeline did not know the precise details of her mother’s death. She shifted in her chair to get
a better look at her father’s face. To her surprise, his eyes had filled with tears.
“She was working on a genetic theory of Nephilistic diminishment. Angela’s mother, whom I
blame for all of this as much as I blame anyone, sponsored the bulk of the work, found funding, and
encouraged Angela to take over the project. I suppose Gabriella thought it the safest niche in the
organization—why else would she hide her away in classrooms and libraries if she didn’t think it
prudent? Angela assisted in developing models in laboratories—under her mother’s observation, of
course.”
“You blame Gabriella for the abduction?” Vladimir said.
“Who can say who is to blame? She was at risk everywhere. Her mother certainly did not protect
her from them. But each day I live with the uncertainty. Is Gabriella to blame? Am I? Could I have
protected her? Was it a mistake to allow her to pursue her work? That, my old friend, is why I must
see the creatures now. If anyone can understand this sickness, this horrid addiction to learning the
truth, it is you.”
Suddenly a waiter came to Evangeline’s table, blocking her view of her father. She had been so
involved in listening to him that she’d completely forgotten her cake. It lay half eaten, the cream
seeping from the center. The waiter cleared the table, wiping up the remainder of the spilled water
and, with a cruel efficiency, taking away the cake. By the time Evangeline turned her gaze back to her
father’s table, Vladimir had lit a cigarette. Her father’s seat was empty.
Noticing her distress, Vladimir waved her to come to his side. Evangeline jumped from her chair,
searching for her father.
“Luca has asked me to watch you while he is gone,” Vladimir said, smiling kindly. “You may not
remember, but I met you once when you were a very little girl, when your mother brought you to our
quarters in Montparnasse. I used to know your mother quite well in Paris. We worked together,
briefly, and were dear friends. Before I spent my days making cakes, I was a scholar, if you can
believe it. Wait a moment, and I will show you a picture I have of Angela.”
As Vladimir disappeared into the back room of the café, Evangeline hurried to the door and ran
outside. Two blocks away, through crowds of people, she caught sight of her father’s jacket. Without
a thought of Vladimir, or of what her father would say if she caught him, she rushed into the crowd,
running past shops, convenience stores, parked cars, vegetable stands. At the corner she stepped into
the street, nearly tripping over a curb. Her father was ahead; she could see him plainly in the crowd.
He turned a corner and walked south. For many blocks Evangeline followed, passing through
Chinatown and into ever more industrial buildings, pushing onward, her toes pinching in her tight