“Absolutely not, Your Grace.” Madeline sounds breathless with terror. She and her men whisk off the black feathers and gauzy material with shaking hands. “We’ll be right back with a more appropriate outfit.” They scramble out, trailing feathers.

“My apologies, Your Grace.” The assistant bows.

“I suppose intelligence is too much to ask of them.”

They launch into a discussion about wine and liquor. By the sound of things, they must have cleared every bar in the Bay Area to provide a constant flow to the angels tonight. It hits me once again how we are at war but they are not. To them, we humans are just incidental.

Despite our attack on their last aerie, they’re more concerned about drinks and costumes than they are about defense against the humans. Of course, the fact that virtually all the angels were just injured and will fully recover, if they haven’t already, probably just bolsters their outrageous confidence.

I discreetly rub my fingers against the fabric on my hip where my bear sword would have been. The fabric feels flimsy and vulnerable.

Before long, Madeline sweeps back into Uriel’s suite with an entire crew, complete with rolling racks of costumes circa the 1920s crammed full of sparkling feathers. They get to work on Uriel.

He ends up in a white suit with wings of sparkling gold and a matching mask that’s more of a crown than a face cover. It extends above his forehead, giving him the illusion of additional height, and curls around his eyes without actually hiding his features.

When he looks at himself in the full-length mirror, he orders Andi and me to stand behind him. Our makeup has been refreshed and we now wear shimmery gauze wings, more fairy than angel. We are the perfect accessories to his costume.

I understand now why he wanted petite brunettes. Our small bodies make him look large. His wings look giant, his height seems endless. We are the dark silk background to his gold and diamond regalia.

WE ARRIVE just as the party is getting started. Winged men and glamorous women mingle on the multi-tiered terrace and on the golf course below. Torches and fire pits blaze against the golden glow of the sky before sunset, lighting up the grounds.

Colorful lanterns are strung up and blowing in the wind like tethered balloons. Tall bistro tables are scattered around the party with gold-and-silver corkscrew ribbons and shiny confetti, accenting the whole scene with a festive atmosphere.

The surf pounds the cliffs at the edge of the golf course while waves splash gently on the beach on the other side. The rhythm of the water blends elegantly with the music of the string quartet.