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?
We wilt over time as the minutes drag by. But as soon as we hear voices outside, I can see out of the corner of my eye that Andi perks up as much as I do. My heart hammers so fast that I can actually see my chest fluttering.
The door swings open and Uriel walks in. His friendly smile seems genuine, reaching his eyes. In the ocean glow coming through the windows, his wings look off-white again. What had looked like a touch of darkness on the Alcatraz dock now looks like a blush of warmth in this rosy light. I guess the late afternoon sun reflecting off the water can make even a killer like him look mellow. No wonder everyone wants to live in California.
“—should have the reports from the secondary labs tomorrow.” A woman walks in behind him. Gold-spun hair cascading over her shoulders. Perfect features. Large blue eyes. The voice of… well, an angel. Laylah.
Every one of my muscles tenses and I worry I’ll tip over in my high heels from all that tensing. Laylah. The head doctor who operated on Raffe. The one who should have sewn back his feathered wings and instead sewed demon wings onto his back. I wonder if the satisfaction of a major punch to her perfect jaw would be worth dying a horrible death.
“What’s taking so long?” asks Uriel as he closes the door.
Laylah gives him a wide-eyed stare, looking both wounded and angry at the same time. “It’s a miracle we’re as far along as we are. You know that, right? In only ten months, we’ve managed to get an entire apocalyptic machine running.”
Ten months?
“Most projects would barely be getting started in that time. A normal team would still be experimenting with their first batch and it would be years, maybe decades away from having a horde of mature locusts that are ready to pounce on the world. My team is almost dead from exhaustion, Uriel. I can’t believe—”
“Relax,” says Uriel. His voice is soothing, his expression gentle.
The angel invasion happened less than two months ago. Had they set up labs months before the actual invasion?
He guides her to the leather sofa and sits her down. He lounges on the chair beside the sofa and puts his feet on the marble coffee table.
His black soles look dirty beside the bottle of wine and flowers arranged on the table. Otherwise, they make a beautiful picture. Two exquisite angels lounging on expensive furniture.
Uriel takes a deep breath. “Breathe. Enjoy the wonders of God’s Earth.” He proudly sweeps his hand toward the windows overlooking the spectacular surf as if he had something to do with it. He takes another deep breath as if to show her how it’s done.
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.