She’s bolder than before. It must have to do with Naamah. She’s growing too certain of that demon’s power backing her up.
“Excommunicated.” Stephanie laughed softly. “Good one. But that won’t be going on here at the new and improved Westwood Academy. My new and improved Westwood Academy.”
“You’re insane,” the priest said, his mouth twisting in outrage.
“More than that,” she muttered back at him, “I’m aching to tear things down. Don’t think I never knew why you allowed me to run around this Academy and do what I wanted. Don’t think I wasn’t aware of why you sent that novice into my bed. But you made yours, didn’t you? Because by turning a blind eye to me, it was so much easier. Because who best to help you with your own sins than a witch?”
The archbishop’s eyes widened, and he glanced at his colleagues, denying everything already. “What the hell are you—”
“One year ago today, you made your bed with a girl from the freshman class, Claire Benevento. Then Augustina Hamelin, Nicolette Grimwallis, Marietta Sills . . .”
The names continued until Angela felt dizzy, the whole world twisted and sick.
She finally forced herself to listen again, overcoming her nausea beneath the weight of the archbishop’s personal transgressions. He was immobile before Stephanie, already before the Judgment Seat because somehow she knew everything there was to know about his taste in schoolgirls. When she came to the end, no one dared to breathe.
“You wanted to sniff the Archon out and stamp Her flat. Before She could make the first move. Well, you waited too long. Today, one more demon is going to drive out the rest. The ones that aren’t useful.”
“How will you do it?” the archbishop whispered, trembling like Lyrica.
“First? We’ll burn our most troublesome witch at the stake.” Stephanie pointed at Angela again, perfectly calm. Her smile made Naamah’s look like child’s play. “Ready to go up in flames?”
A mass of black cloud had settled over St. Mary’s, and its torrents of rain continued to spatter onto Kim and his already soaked clothing. If last night’s storm had been terrible, then Luz was approaching the verge of catastrophe on this High Holy Day. Circumstances, it was obvious, were worsening by the hour, as if everyone now had to function on borrowed time.
Everything was fast becoming clear to him.
Slowly but surely, the Ruin was revealing herself, and the universe, the creatures in it, both dead and alive, were weeping under the pressure.
Kim splashed through the moats of water near the entrance of the church. The rain had increased to a steady slant, nearly burning into his eyes. Soon, visibility would drop to zero, forcing him to fumble his way into the cathedral.
At least no one was around to watch.
The courtyard in front of St. Mary’s was empty, the surrounding towers dark and silent. Everyone had locked themselves indoors, far from the violence of the rain and wind.
Fury croaked to his left, emerging for a second through the sheet of water, her wings flapping frantically. She screeched, the chill sound echoing from stone to stone, and flew back into the downpour like a lost shadow.
An alarm call.
He reached for the knife in his pocket, gripping the handle.
The wind changed, rushing on him from above. Kim slammed to the ground beneath its force, the breath knocking out of his chest, hot pain racing along his torso. A new shadow, like Fury’s but so very much larger, descended on him with a falcon’s speed and fury. He whipped around, fending off two black wings the length of his own body, their feathers beating against his skin. Screaming, he tore the knife out of his pocket and slashed wildly.
The rain parted, revealing a male face with green eyes.
Then the angel swerved out of his reach, disappearing behind the water, its wings missing the knife again by a hairsbreadth.
Another deep peal of thunder shook the ground, ripples of lightning highlighting the world with silver.
There, to the right.
The angel had landed nearby, standing like a tall, black nightmare behind the curtain of rain—examining him for a weak spot.
He hadn’t expected this. A demon, yes. Israfel, maybe. The Supernal must have had bodyguards, servants, or children. But whoever this angel truly was, he didn’t want Kim in that building, already seeming to understand how important it was that he eventually get inside. Kim had nothing to save him but his instincts and his skills, and they wouldn’t count for much when he could barely see his opponent.
“Is that all, you sneaky bastard?” Kim shouted over the storm.
Silence.
The angel was waiting for him to make the next move.
Fair enough. Kim reached for a prayer ward on the inside of his coat and lifted it into the rain. The ink melted off the paper, its once crisp edges folding over with moisture. He tossed the ward as far as it would go, meaning to give himself that second’s worth of protection before it disintegrated. “Libera me a malo!”