Laylah follows his lead and breathes deeply a couple of times. So far, neither of the angels has glanced over at us any more than they looked at the dining table. We’re just furniture to them.

I keep my eyes staring at a point on the bookshelves, as befitting a statue. The last thing I want is to have them notice that I’m watching them. According to my sensei, you’re better off watching your enemies through your peripheral vision anyway.

“If I didn’t think you could lead this project, I wouldn’t have asked you to head it.” Uriel picks up the bottle of wine and removes the foil at the top. “There is no greater chimerologist than you, Laylah. We all know that. Well, everyone but Gabriel knew that.” His voice holds a hint of sarcasm when he mentions the Messenger. “He should never have appointed that doddering idiot, Paean, as the realm’s Lead Physician. It should have been you. And it will be as soon as I’m elected Messenger. Maybe we’ll even change the title to Lead Creator.”

Laylah’s perfect lips part in surprised pleasure. Oh, she’d like that.

“If Paean had been in charge of this project,” says Uriel as he works the corkscrew deeper into the cork, “he would have started with cellular cultures and we’d be waiting years before anything happened.”

“Centuries,” says Laylah. “He thinks everything should start with cellular cultures just because that’s his specialty.”

“His methods are eons outdated. You, on the other hand—I knew you’d slam through this. You’re a genius. Why bother with building a species from the ground up when we can mix and match what’s already out there? Not that that’s not enormously complicated.” He pops the cork. “Your work is absolutely brilliant. And I know that this project is progressing at unbelievable, record-breaking speeds.”

He nods. Pins her with a look.

“But I need it to go faster.” His friendly features harden into something unrelenting. He pours a glass of red wine. It looks like a stream of blood pooling into the glass.

“And I know you can do it, Laylah.” His voice is soft, encouraging, but with an undertone of command. “I wouldn’t have given you the job if I didn’t think you could make it happen. Triple your staff, cut corners, birth the locusts prematurely if you have to.” He hands her the glass and pours one for himself.

“Triple my staff with whom? More humans? I might as well try to train dogs to work with us for all they know about species creation.”