He was lying in bed in his chambers; the covers were soft. Sometimes there was the hum of the central heating as it came on, then the faint click as it went off again. Over and over Raziel saw the assassin: the dark-haired youth who stood pointing a gun at him, his arm around the half-angel abomination. The girl’s face was pale, her green eyes wide.

The knowledge that he was the thing’s father had rocked him. But there was no doubt; he’d felt the unmistakable echo of his own energy as their angel selves had fought. Plus she looked almost exactly like Miranda, the young music student he’d once enjoyed – though nothing like him, thankfully. Raziel groaned aloud, seeing the assassin again. Next time he would move faster. Next time he would tear the energy forces from them both and watch them crumple into lifeless heaps on the ground...

“Hush, hush,” whispered a voice. A young human woman was there. She stroked his arm, and even in his current state, Raziel found this irritating and wished she would stop. More voices:

“Is he coming out of it yet?”

“No, I don’t think so. I don’t know what to do for him; they’re so different from us...”

The assassin’s finger, pulling the trigger. The searing wrench as the bullet hit his halo. His wings going into flapping, helpless spasm; his body shuddering, closing down in protest – and the anger that had seethed through him as he collapsed to the floor and the world turned black. The Second Wave was arriving, and instead of being there to greet them and show off his status in this world, he’d been brought down by the very assassin whose life he’d so stupidly spared for his own purposes. He’d thought he’d been so clever, using Kylar to kill the angelic traitors, letting him think he was following standard orders from the CIA. Who’d have guessed that the young assassin would have such a mind of his own?

It was a mistake Raziel would soon rectify. Oh, yes; he’d relish every second of it. But it was the girl who incensed him the most – the girl who caused his fists to clench beneath the covers. He’d been told she was dead, and instead she’d had the gall to actually try and stop the Second Wave from arriving.