My hands were ice. I slumped weakly against the sink, imagining the look that would be on his face when he found out. Oh god, he’d defended me to the whole team, telling them that they could trust me, and now – I swallowed. The thought that his beautiful eyes might look at me with dread, or suspicion, made me feel sick. I knew how much he loved me, but the angels had killed his whole family. He’d devoted his entire life to fighting them. Could he really still feel the same about me, when he found out my angel self had a mind of its own? I had to tell him; I knew I didn’t have a choice.

But how?

Chapter Eleven

JENNY SAT CROSS-LEGGED ON THE other side of the desk, looking radiant with happiness – if a bit tired and drained. “Would you like to arrange a meeting with him, sir?” she asked.

Tapping a pen, Raziel glanced over the email printout in question. The town of Silver Trail was a few dozen miles up in the Rockies; the weather might be foul this time of year. Still, the proposed idea was intriguing.

“What do you think?” he asked, smiling at Jenny. Her almost-demure business suit hugged her figure. He couldn’t imagine now why he’d wasted so much time with a male assistant whose energy he didn’t even find appealing; he must have been insane.

She flushed, eyes shining. “I think it’s a wonderful idea – really wonderful. It could make such a difference to so many people’s lives.”

Indeed it could; Raziel already had thoughts about how he could put his own spin on the scheme. “I think you’re right,” he said, handing the email back to her. “Go ahead and arrange the meeting.”

Once Jenny had departed, Raziel’s momentary good mood faded. Scheduling meetings as if nothing had happened was all very well, but meanwhile he was going mad with nerves.

There will be no changes in how things are run. That is my promise.

Raziel’s face darkened as he recalled the TV interview. It had been big news for a few days, with his own image smiling out at him from all the major papers. Not very clever, he supposed. But when the question had been asked, he’d been standing in the same place in the cathedral where the Council had demanded to see him in private, as if he were a naughty schoolboy about to be told off. Anger had bristled through him, remembering, and with the reporter’s microphone thrust in his face, the words had come of their own accord. Saying them had given him deep satisfaction at the time, but now he wished he’d been more circumspect. Though the Council probably hadn’t had much doubt that he had no intention of toeing the line, they’d have none at all after this.