“I know what you’re thinking, but you’re wrong – I promise you can trust me.” Charmeine took his hand and he felt her opening herself to him, showing her sincerity. Which was nice, but meant little. It was standard procedure to let someone in and show them exactly what you wanted them to see.

“The Twelve are here, Raziel. And—”

“I know,” he broke in bitterly, pulling his hand away. He still felt dizzy. “And only three or four years ahead of schedule, fancy that. Why? Did someone tip them off?” Like many angels, Raziel had unconsciously taken on characteristics from some of his human energy donors; the English accent had been with him for years.

“No, I mean they’re here,” said Charmeine levelly. “Downstairs. In the cathedral. They sent me to summon you.”

Raziel was unable to hide his shock; he felt it leap within him like a flame. “They’re summoning me – in my own cathedral?” he said finally.

“Yes,” said Charmeine. “And yes, they’re here in the first place because they were tipped off. I don’t know who by, but they know everything you’ve been up to – they have for months. They’ve been making plans.”

Apprehension tightened his muscles. “What plans?”

She shook her head. “You’ll find out soon enough, I’m afraid.”

Typical Charmeine: to dangle information, and then not supply it. Raziel frowned, but didn’t bother to go searching. Angels had had thousands of years to perfect the art of psychic manoeuvring – Charmeine’s defences were as skilled as his own. “And what do you have to do with all of this?” he demanded instead. “What do you mean, they sent you?”

“I was, shall we say, strongly encouraged to come across with the Second Wave and serve them,” said Charmeine. “They’ve decided that only family can be trusted. Even a black sheep like me.”

Charmeine was one of the “first family” – an angel who had been formed soon after the Twelve. She wasn’t as close to them in lineage as some – more of a distant cousin than anything else. But her basic ethereal make-up was still more similar to the Twelve’s than other angels’, which in theory meant they’d find it easier to have psychic control over her. Hence their sudden yearning to have their “family” around them, no doubt.

“So they’ve bound you,” summed up Raziel. “You’re one of their psychic lackeys now, and they know everything you do.”

Charmeine shrugged; her exposed shoulder was slim and pale. “They think so. I think they’d be surprised how strong my defences are. The familial energy works both ways, you know – I have layers they haven’t even discovered yet.”

Raziel regarded her; if true, it was interesting news. “And how long do you think you can keep that up?”

“Long enough, hopefully.”