“We're not all like that, you know,” I say. I don't know why I feel I have to justify what we're like to an angel.

He just gives me a knowing look and keeps walking.

“If you ever saw us before the attack, you'd know,” I say stubbornly.

“I know,” he says, not even looking at me.

“How do you know?”

“I watched TV.”

I snort a laugh. Then I realize he's not joking. “For real?”

“Doesn't everybody?”

I guess everybody did. It was on the air for free. All they had to do was catch the signal and they’d know all about us. TV wasn’t exactly a manifesto of reality either, but it did reflect our greatest hopes and worst fears. I wonder how angels think of us, if they think of us at all.

I wonder what Raffe does in his spare time, other than watch TV. It’s hard to imagine him sitting down on his couch after a rough day at war, watching TV shows about humans to wind down. What’s his domestic life like?

“Are you married?” I instantly regret asking this question as it conjures up an image of him with a painfully beautiful angel wife with little cherubs running around some estate with Grecian pillars.

He pauses in his trek and glares at me as if I just said something totally inappropriate.

“Don't let my appearance fool you, Penryn. I am not human. The Daughters of Men are forbidden to Angels.”

“What about Daughters of Women?” I attempt a cheeky smile but it falls flat.

“This is serious business. Don’t you know your religious history?”

Most of what I know about religion is through my mother. I think about all the times she raved in tongues in the middle of the night in my room. She came in so often while I slept that I’d gotten into the habit of sleeping with my back to the wall so I could see her coming in without her knowing I was awake.

She’d sit on the floor beside my bed, rock back and forth in a trancelike state, gripping her Bible and speaking in tongues for hours. The nonsensical, guttural noises had the cadence of an angry chant. Or a curse.

Really creepy stuff while you’re lying in the dark, mostly asleep. That’s about the extent of my religious education.

“Uh, no,” I say. “Can’t say I know much about religious history.”

He begins walking again. “A group of angels called the Watchers were stationed on Earth to observe the humans. Over time, they got lonely and took human wives, knowing they shouldn’t. Their children were called Nephilim. And they were abominations. They fed on humans, drank their blood and terrorized the Earth. For that, the Watchers were condemned to the Pit until Judgment Day.”

He takes several steps in silence as if wondering whether to tell me more. I wait, hoping to hear as much as I can about the world of angels, even if it’s ancient history.