Her tone was lightly casual, but he knew Charmeine had never said anything truly casual in her life – like most angels, she thrived on innuendo and subtext. Raziel shoved back the covers and got out of bed. He was wearing a silken pair of pyjamas that he rarely bothered with; obviously one of his human attendants had put them on him.

“Delightfully mysterious as always, I see,” he said. “Fine. I’ve got to take a shower and change.”

“Don’t be too long,” cautioned Charmeine, glancing at the door. “They expect you down there shortly.”

“I’ll be as long as I like,” he snapped. “This is my cathedral – they don’t give the orders around here.”

Despite his bravado, he still found himself hurrying as he bathed, which enraged him. Lurking below the anger was that same almost-fear he’d felt while unconscious. He hadn’t expected the Council to find out the true extent of his power in this world yet. Ever since the First Wave, their knowledge of what was happening here had been somewhat sketchy; only a few First Wavers had the ability to communicate with them across the dimensions. And as time had passed, loyalties had shifted. It hadn’t taken long for the angels living here to feel more in tune with Raziel and others who were connoisseurs of this world than with the old guard back home – or to see the enticing possibilities for the power they could all share here.

Because what no one could have foreseen was the Church of Angels: the fastest-growing religion in history. Though founded by humans, the angels had been quick to take advantage of the Church – particularly Raziel, who’d always chafed at the Twelve’s automatic reign thanks to their status as the First Formed. You could either spend eternity jockeying for position as one of their lackeys, or try to carve out a niche for yourself elsewhere. The angels’ mass presence in this new world had given Raziel the opportunity he’d been craving for millennia; it hadn’t taken him long to wrest control of the Church and rise to its head.

With him at its helm, the Church of Angels had soon become the most influential church in the world. Angels were now so firmly fixed in society’s consciousness that people who’d never even encountered one were embracing their predators wholeheartedly. In Mexico City, the historic Catedral Metropolitana had recently been converted to become a Church of Angels cathedral – an astounding coup, made all the more so by the relative lack of press attention; it was just seen as a natural course of events. Raziel planned to take over the running of this new cathedral himself in due course, dividing his time between the United States and Mexico. In London, there was talk of St Paul’s being similarly converted; in Paris, Notre Dame.