As confused and curious as I was, my mind wandered back to the noise I’d heard. I tore my eyes from the growing light to find Kopano and Kaidan standing. A knife gleamed in Kaidan’s hand.
Sit down! I willed to them, panicked. They both wavered, and Kopano sat. Kaidan’s eyes locked on mine. I pleaded with him as he stood there, obstinate. The light was further brightening the room, distracting anyone who might have noticed our interaction.
Dukes shielded their eyes, even my father, and Rahab’s gun arm dropped to his side.
Please sit, I willed to Kaidan once more, begging. And this time he did.
A sudden peace rolled over me, ironing out the creases of anxiety and fear in my soul.
The light was now a gaping, bright hole in the back wall, blinding, and from it walked an angel, then another, and another, until their ranks filled every open space in the room. These were not the sweet-natured type of angels that guarded humans. These were warrior angels, brimming with justice. They wore armor that shimmered like the hilt. Each had flowing hair of differing lengths and enormous white wings. Everything about these angels was fierce and ethereal, stoic and gallant. I could barely breathe.
The Dukes stumbled, pressing back toward the stage. Gone were their cheers and jeers. The demon spirits above us flattened themselves to the ceiling, hissing like cornered alley cats.
“Wh-wha—” Rahab caught himself stuttering and stood up straighter. “How dare you come here!”
“We go where we are sent,” answered the angel in the center.
“Yes, yes, of course you do,” Rahab spit. “No minds of your own. What do you want?”
“You will not kill the daughter of Belial.” The room went ghostly quiet. My heart soared.
“The Nephilim have never been your concern. They are ours!”
“Nothing on earth is yours, dark one.”
Rahab turned beet red, droplets of foam forming at the corners of his mouth. “Your kind is not supposed to interfere in our work! We’ve been granted the right to test humanity and deal with our own ranks.”
“It is not her time.” The angel regarded me. “She will serve as a test to many souls.”
There was a dense pause. And then Rahab smiled.
“Fine. It is not her time now.” He waved the gun at me. “But it is hers.” Before anyone could stop him, he pointed the gun at Gerlinda’s forehead and fired. I screamed at the sickening crack and spray of blood. She fell back, hitting the wall and sliding down, dead. Her spirit wrenched itself from the body and was captured by two Legionnaire spirits who swept her from our sight.
The gun I held clattered to the floor and I crouched down. I was so certain Rahab would go against the angel’s orders and try to kill me, too, that I felt for the hilt at my ankle. My hand found the leather cover and fumbled to open it.
The ranks of angels moved toward the stage in unison, filled with righteous anger. None of the Dukes dared move. Rahab stumbled back as several angels surrounded me in a circle of protection.
A long-haired angel noticed what I was doing and swooped down, shielded from view by his brethren.
“You are not to reveal the Sword of Righteousness this night, child,” the angel whispered to me.
Its voice was a balm to my soul, and I uncurled my fingers from the hilt, no longer burdened with the fearful instinct to protect myself. I stood, shaken but strangely at peace.
Every one of the angels stared at Rahab, stricken and offended by the loss of life they’d just witnessed. The leader in the center seemed to fight a battle within, wanting nothing more than to disobey orders so he could take care of Rahab then and there.
“Someday,” the angel promised him. He and Rahab glared at each other as the angels moved backward toward the light, one by one disappearing into it. When the last angel entered the light, darkness descended on the room once again.
A palpable tension filled the room in their absence.
“Someday we will take back what is ours,” Rahab whispered, seething. He turned on my father. “You will punish her within an inch of her death! Now get your filthy offspring out of our sight. All of you! Go!”
There was pandemonium as I jumped off the stage and ran to grab my coat. Nephilim were scrambling, falling over chairs and one another to grab their things and get out of there. My friends stared at me in disbelief. Their faces showed that they’d been through hell that night just as surely as I had. Even Ginger looked worn. But it was Kaidan’s glassy, blank stare that killed me.
During those split seconds I watched him until his sight focused. Seeing me up there had broken something inside him.
Someone grabbed me by the elbow: my father.
“Get out,” he growled, shoving me toward the exodus of Nephilim. Ginger grabbed Marna’s hand and they ran, with Blake close behind. My father pushed me forward and we crushed into the crowd.