A few AKs fumbled; others grabbed their weapons smoothly and started firing. The room erupted into flapping wings and exploding light as the first bullets found their targets. Raziel could feel the Council’s stunned fury that their move hadn’t caught the AKs more off guard; that they were actually being destroyed by humans, of all creatures. Standing so close meant the pain juddered at Raziel like machine-gun fire as some of the silenced bullets hit their targets. Yet it was his mind, more than his body, that was under assault. He’d always assumed it was the physical connection with the First Formed that was the vital one – but as one after another of the Council members erupted into nothingness, Raziel knew it was the mental connection that would destroy him. He could feel his mind starting to buckle. The Twelve were leaving the world. It couldn’t be. The angels would be adrift without them, for ever adrift.

Only seconds had passed. Seven of them were gone now. The guns’ muffled thuds kept on. Awash with numb despair, Raziel slid down the wall to the floor, watching the shards of radiance floating all around him. What had he done? He could sense the other angels in the building, still in their divine forms – dazed and in pain, some of them dying already from the shock.

Fight this! he screamed at himself. It’s a delusion, a momentary weakness. Once the Twelve are gone, I’ll have exactly what I’ve always wanted!

He gritted his teeth, focusing on that – only on that. Somehow he managed to wrest his mind back, though his body was still held captive. Overhead, the remaining five First Formed angels rallied as one and flew at their assailants. And as they reached out psychically towards the AKs, Raziel knew with a dark twist of joy that their power was already greatly depleted – because the bonds on him had just weakened.

Alex pounded down the corridor, with Willow and Seb right behind him. Up ahead was the soaring room where the reception was taking place. Music from a string quartet floated through the air, competing with the noisy buzz of the guests’ conversation. Alex glimpsed a few angels in there too, feeding but weirdly motionless; their victims stood gazing with adoring awe.

The AKs were nowhere in sight – their audience with the Council must have already started. He drew his gun as they reached the meeting room; and flung the door open.

Five angels, brighter than any he’d ever seen, were in combat with his team – blurs of burning white light that dove, snarling, at the human attackers. Only four AKs were shooting. Alex stopped in his tracks, blood chilling as he saw that Trish’s face was damp with tears; she was pulling frantically at Wesley’s arm as he struggled with her. “Don’t shoot!” she sobbed. “We can’t do this; we can’t hurt the angels!”