I gasped.
He stood before the altar, dressed in some sort of white tunic and pants that no one could buy off Amazon. The outline of his body seemed to shimmer as he took complete corporeal form. From the tips of the whitish blond curls down to his bare feet, he was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.
I opened my mouth to speak, but then his wings unfolded from his body, spanning at least eight feet in each direction. They were so luminous and white they glowed in the dim light. They moved noiselessly, but the power of those wings stirred the air, blowing back my hair even with several feet separating us. I squinted, leaning forward. What was on the tip of each wing? Something was...
Oh God.
There were eyes on the tips of his wings. Hundreds of them!
My skin crawled as my gaze went back to his face, but I had to look away quickly. It was painful—the purity to his beauty cut through my skin, shining a spotlight on every dark thought I’d ever had.
I knew what he was—what type of angel.
A Throne.
To look upon them was to expose every secret one ever held and be judged for each one. And I was being judged now. His whole demeanor, from the way he tilted his head to the side to the way his bright blue eyes seared through skin and muscle, told me that he was seeing everything.
And he wasn’t impressed.
There was death in those crystal eyes. Not “moving on to the next stage in life” or “standing before the Pearly Gates” kind of death, but the vast emptiness of the final death—the death of a soul.
I took a deep breath and started to speak.
The angel opened his mouth.
An ear-piercing blare shook the stained-glass windows and the pews, hitting an octave that no human could make or stand. I doubled over, clutching my ears. It was like a thousand trumpets blaring at once, shaking me to the very core. The sound echoed through the sanctuary, bouncing around my skull until I was sure my head would explode. Wet warmth trickled out of my ears, down my hands.
When I didn’t think I could take it anymore, the sound ceased.
Trembling, I lowered my bloodstained hands and lifted my head. The angel looked at me pitilessly as his wings continued their quiet movement.
“That was special,” I croaked.
He didn’t speak, and the silence that stretched out was unbearable.
“You summoned me here,” I said, bracing myself for another unearthly wail. That didn’t come. Neither did a response. “You said it was the only way to help Zayne.”
Still, there was nothing.
And I just lost it. All the pain, the fear, the grief and even the joy of seeing Zayne again crashed through me. “You spoke in my head, didn’t you? You told me to come to you.”
Silence.
“Can you not hear me? Did your own scream burst your eardrums? Or is this amusing to you? Is that it? Is Gabriel trying to end this world and Heaven not enough entertainment for you? Damn you!” I yelled, scratching my throat raw. “Fine. You just want to stand here and stare at me? I can do the same thing. Better yet, how about I go outside and start telling every person I come across that angels are real. I can prove it. I’ll just whip out my grace. Then I can introduce them to a few demons and when I’m done with—”
“That won’t be necessary.” He spoke in a voice that was richly musical, infinitely kind without a trace of humanity. It was so at odds with itself that I winced. “You’re here for him, the one who died protecting you.”
I flinched then. “Yes. But he’s alive.”
“I know.”
“He’s not right.”
“Of course not.”
I shook—every part of me shook. “What happened to him? How is he here?”
The Throne tipped his head to the side. “He committed an act of selflessness and sacrifice by coming to your aid. He did so out of the purest love. He was restored to his Former Glory.”
“Former Glory?” I had no idea what he was talking about.
The Throne nodded. “But he chose you. He chose to Fall.”
2
The room seemed to spin as what the Throne was saying began to sink in. It didn’t make sense, but I knew what the angel had meant by saying Zayne Fell. I knew what Zayne had meant when he said he was Fallen.
What I didn’t understand was how it was possible.
I had to take several deep, calming breaths before I spoke again. “Zayne was a Warden and my Protector. How did he Fall when he was never an angel?”
His wings rose and then settled. “What do you think the Wardens were before they were cast unto stone? Did you believe the Creator snapped them into existence out of boredom?”