I know Paige is deadly now. But that doesn’t change the fact that she won’t survive this any better than the rest of us. And if there’s one thing I know that a kid her age shouldn’t be doing, it’s having to fight for her life while her big sister is around.

I hope her last few moments are filled with the knowledge that she was surrounded by those who tried to protect her.

We must be quite the sight. Raffe in his red mask with his demon wings spread out in all their scythe-edged glory. A scrawny teenage Daughter of Man brandishing an archangel sword. And a little girl stitched-up to look and behave like a nightmare who is clutching a pair of angel wings.

My hair blows all over the place, and I realize that the scorpion buzz has been steadily growing into a roar again. They must have looped and are coming back our way. It feels like a storm is building up as they near.

The warriors get over their shock and begin moving toward us, barehanded. Only now, there are as many coming for me as for Raffe. I guess they’ve got a thing against human girls killing one of their own. Either that or they want to try to claim my sword.

I swipe my blade at an angel coming too close to me. He ducks and tries to grab my hair. I kick him in the stomach.

As far as I can tell, there’s an endless supply of warriors. The outcome is obvious. It won’t be long before we wear out.

We know it. They know it.

But we keep on fighting.

I’m swiping my blade at a buffed-out warrior, trying to catch him in the throat when something knocks him down.

It’s a scorpion.

For a moment, it’s a jumble of wings and a stinger rolling on the trampled grass. The scorpion isn’t really fighting the angel. I think it’s just trying to get up and fly. But the angel isn’t going to let that happen.

Another scorpion crashes into Raffe’s opponent. They roll in the dirt, tumbling in a jumble of limbs and wings. Three more scorpions clumsily crash into angels.

It takes me a moment to figure out what’s really going on.

The swarm above us has flown down, dipping and twisting like a cloud of wasps. As it dips lower, the scorpions at the bottom of the swarm crash into the angels. The collisions knock down the warriors like grass being mowed.