Raziel had managed to keep the surface of his thoughts concerned, wanting to help. Far below, his mind was ticking away. I have no idea, he replied. The girl’s existence is obviously a fluke – believe me, I’m as concerned as you are.

We’re relieved to hear you share our concerns, said Isda’s voice. Isda herself was leaning silently back in her seat, giving away nothing. Other mental voices chimed in as she continued: Because, as you know, we have never approved of angel–human relationships. It’s unacceptable for angels to demean themselves in this manner.

Yes, I’m aware you believe that, said Raziel smoothly. But as newcomers to this world, you have to understand it’s quite an ingrained thing by now – traditional, if you like.

There was a further cooling of the room’s atmosphere. You’ve spent far too long here, if you think that makes it in any way acceptable, chided the many voices in his head. We are angels; we do not cavort with pigs in the dirt. He could feel a few of them beginning to tendril about, searching for anything interesting, and he put up a few extra defences, retreating deep into the recesses of his mind.

Moderation is the key, Raziel, continued the mental chorus. Every face in the room was stony; he was uneasily reminded of the dozens of angels exploding in mid-air. You’d better remember that if you want to keep your position here.

Now anger touched him again as he pulled into the cathedral parking lot; how dare they have sat there and threatened him in his own cathedral? Striding back into his office, Raziel felt a smug satisfaction at the sight of Jenny, remembering that their liaison had begun the same evening the Council had left. After several weeks, she was almost as lovely as ever – though she looked more tired these days, and had developed a nagging cough. Raziel shrugged as he sat down at his desk. Perhaps it might be time for a new assistant soon. If so, there’d be no limit of enthusiastic volunteers.

Still no word from Charmeine. With another restless glance at his phone, Raziel tossed it to one side and brought up his emails.

His forehead furrowed at one of the title lines: Some Information You Ought to Know. As he scanned the message, his eyebrows shot up. Now, this was interesting: it was from the security guard who’d been stationed at the cathedral’s back door when the Second Wave arrived. Raziel regarded the words on the screen thoughtfully.