The Council stayed aloft for almost a minute, silently making their point. Finally they touched down again and rippled back to their human forms. Though they didn’t look at Raziel, he abruptly felt singled out, as pinned to his seat as the rogue angels had been in the air. Still speaking psychically, the many-toned voice that was both one and twelve rumbled through him:

Raziel, may we see you alone, please?

The meeting was short and to the point.

Half an hour later, Raziel sat alone in one of the cathedral’s downstairs conference rooms, staring at the gleaming wooden table; the tasteful decorations; the silver water pitcher that had an arched, graceful angel as the handle. He had done all of this; he had made it all happen – and apparently, if he was very, very good and did exactly as he was told, he might be allowed to keep it for a little while.

Or not.

Impotent anger clenched his fists. No. They weren’t going to get away with this – not after all his hard work; not after all he’d done in this world and still planned to do. He wouldn’t allow it. He would not.

“Raziel?” Charmeine had appeared; she stood in the doorway.

“Shouldn’t you be off doing lackey work?” he said bitingly. He shoved his chair back and rose, striding for the door.

She shut it with a soft click and leaned against it. “If anyone goes checking psychically, that’s exactly what they’ll see,” she said. “For your information, I’m currently going through your email account upstairs, while the Twelve talk to some of your First Wave chums.”

He snorted. “Aren’t you noble? As if that’s not exactly what you were just doing.”

Charmeine gave a mild shrug. “It helps to have visual details in mind when you’re creating psychic decoys. And let me guess,” she went on. “They’ve told you about their plan to only recognize those angels in power who they’ve appointed themselves.”

“Good guess,” snapped Raziel. “And those they don’t recognize will be dealt with as traitors.” He swore and raked a hand through his hair. “Why couldn’t this have happened a few years from now? I’d have had enough of a power base by then to take them on, to constrain them in some way—” He stopped, aware that he was saying far too much.

He could feel Charmeine’s sincerity again; her anger at the Council. “I really am on your side, Raz,” she said softly. “You can trust me.”