The smaller group tosses the other angels around like rag dolls. The brawl is over in seconds.

When the last one is pinned to the ground with another warrior sitting on top of him, the winner shouts, ‘Raphael! First vote goes to Archangel Raphael!’

The four winning warriors jump up with their arms raised in victory and scream into the air. And I realize something. Despite Raffe’s supporters being outnumbered, they are the toughest, fiercest, most skilled fighters.

Then, almost immediately, the spectator angels congregate at another cluster of booths. Another fight is beginning there.

Within seconds, the next round is determined as someone shouts, ‘Michael! Second vote goes to Archangel Michael!’ The crowd cheers.

It’s pure chaos, but somehow everyone seems to know the rules. I’m guessing the winning team of each fight wins a vote for their favorite candidate. The archangel with the most number of winning fights must win the election. So their election isn’t just about the number of people behind you, it’s a matter of having the best fighters behind you.

My guards shove me forward, but they’re not even looking at me. They’re watching the crazed winged warriors as they perform their version of an election.

Some of the angels have what looks like blood smeared across their faces like war paint. Others snarl as they fly past each other over broken plates and crushed champagne glasses. Those who are still wearing dinner jackets from the last party rip them off their shoulders, tearing the seams along the fabric.

They’ve stopped pretending to be civilized and are letting their inner barbarians out.

No wonder Uriel has to go to such extreme sliminess. Raffe and Michael are warriors with armies of fighters loyal to them. Uriel is just a politician and probably wouldn’t stand a chance unless he offered something like a legendary apocalypse as a treat for crazed, bloodthirsty warriors.

Being the only human in the center of all this violence makes me feel like my fate is sealed. I probably have until the end of the voting before they kill me. I wonder how long that will be.

By the time my guards shove me through the chaos and up onto the raised stage, my insides are trembling and I’m fighting to keep my legs moving. I’m surrounded by a sea of frenzied angels, and I can’t see a way out.

Chapter 29

29

So far, it’s a surprisingly close election. Surprising in that Uriel has been campaigning for so long, and Raffe and Michael haven’t even been here.

‘I hate to interrupt the festivities,’ shouts Uriel from up in the air, ‘but this is something worth seeing.’ He floats down to the stage at the edge of the lawn.

My guards drag me up the steps to meet him. Angels climb the steps on the other side, dragging two huge cages crammed full of thumping and screeching hellions.