Finally, as the executioner withdrew his saber from the folds of his robe, the ghost held out his hands, palms up. An odd gesture, as if checking for rain. His lips moved. Something shimmered in his hands, then took form. A sword. A huge, glowing sword. As he slid his hand down to the hilt, Nicolette realized what he was, and dropped to her knees, crossing herself.

As dense as the crowd was, the angel noticed her gesture, his eyes meeting hers. In that moment, every misdeed she’d ever committed flashed through her head, and her gut went cold, certain she was being judged…and found wanting. But the angel’s lips curved in the barest smile, and he tipped his head, as casual as a passing neighbor. Then his gaze returned to the Marquise, and his expression hardened.

The executioner’s saber sliced down. A sigh rose from the crowd as the Marquise’s head thumped onto the platform. Nicolette didn’t see it fall. Instead, she stared, transfixed, as a yellow fog rose from the Marquise’s body. The fog twisted and grew dense, taking on the form of a young woman.

The angel lifted his sword, and his voice rang out, as clear and melodious as the bells of Notre Dame. “Marie-Madeline d’Aubrey de Brinvilliers, for your crimes, you have been judged.”

As he swung that huge sword, the spirit flowing from the Marquise’s body threw back its head and laughed.

“I am not the Marquise, fool,” it spat.

The angel’s brows knitted in a look of confusion as human as the nod he’d given Nicolette. But the sword was already in flight, cleaving toward the ghost.

The spirit’s lips twisted. “You have no jurisdiction over—”

As the sword struck the spirit, it let out a scream that made Nicolette double over, hands to her ears. All around her, people jostled and pushed, trying to get a closer look at the Marquise’s body as they set it afire, oblivious to the screams.

Nicolette raised her head. There, on the platform, stood the angel, with the spirit skewered on his sword. The thing twisted and shrieked and cursed, but the angel only smiled. Then they were gone.

Chapter 1

1

“COME ON,” SAVANNAH WHISPERED, TUGGING THE young man’s hand.

She climbed a wooden fence into the backyard of a narrow two-story house.

“Watch out for the roses,” she said as his feet threatened to land in the border. “We gotta come this way or the old bugger next door will bitch about me having friends over when no one’s home.”

“Yeah,” the boy said. “I get shit from my folks about that, too.”