“Over here, girls,” says Madeline. She walks to the grand desk that sits on one side of the room beyond the tan leather sofas and chairs. She points to either side of the desk by the wall. “While the archangel is in his suite, you stand in these two spots. Do not move unless he tells you to move. Not like a statue—you are a statue. You’re allowed to breathe but that’s it. Understood?”

We walk to our spots. There is a subtle piece of tape on the floor that marks where we’re supposed to stand.

“You are living art. You are the archangel’s trophies, and you’ll remain on either side of him while he sits.”

We take our positions. Madeline stands tall, pushing out her chest, dropping one shoulder and emphasizing her curves to show us how we should look. We mimic her. She comes over and adjusts us, putting a hand on my thigh, tilting my head, arranging my hair. I’ve seen storekeepers do this with their mannequins.

“When the archangel leaves his suite, you follow. Flow around the desk and all obstacles in unison. Walk two steps behind him at all times. If you find yourselves falling behind, do not run. Gently pick up your pace until you are caught up. Grace at all times, ladies. Your lives depend on it.”

“What if we need to go to the bathroom?” asks Andi.

“Hold it. Every few hours, you’ll get a quick break for food and bathroom runs. Someone from our team will come for you with food and makeup kits to freshen your hair and makeup during those times. Sometimes, the archangel will remember to give you a break before a long meeting. He can be good with his pets as long as they do what they’re supposed to do.” Her voice makes it clear this is a warning and not a reassurance.

She walks to the far side of the desk and eyes us critically as we hold our unnatural positions. She nods and tells us to go hit the bathroom. When we come back, we assume our poses without her help. She looks at us again and makes minor adjustments.

“Good luck, ladies.” She sounds grim.

She turns and leaves the suite.

WE STAND there for almost an hour before the door opens. It’s enough time for me to worry about every possible reason why Uriel wants us here. I’m in the middle of another poorly thought-out, harebrained scheme that risks not only my life but all the other lives around me. How am I supposed to sneak out and find Paige while I’m being a decoration for Uriel?