The sigils on his body suddenly burned as if painted with acid, and Aaron sprang up from the street, a cry of rage from somewhere deep inside escaping his lips. The gunslinger fired, but this time the bullet did not find its target. Aaron lashed out with one of his wings, swatting the weapon from the constable’s grasp. “No more guns,” he commanded, grabbing the fallen angel’s wrist and violently twisting his arm so that he dropped the second of the golden guns.

Aaron looked into the constable’s eyes and saw that something new had taken the place of steely cruelty. He saw the beginnings of fear, but he did not want that. Effortlessly he hurled Lehash away. All he wanted was to save the people he loved.

Lehash landed in the street about six feet away, scattering citizens that had gathered there. A hush had fallen over the crowd, and they watched him in pregnant silence. Belphegor came forward to help Lehash as sparks danced in the constable’s hands. Aaron tensed, a weapon of his own ready to surge to life.

“No,” Belphegor commanded in a powerful voice.

Lehash stared at his superior, confusion on his grizzled face.

“Let him go.”

Lehash’s eyes went wide in shock. “You can’t do this,” he sputtered. “He’ll bring Verchiel and his bloodthirsty rabble down on our heads for sure!”

Belphegor raised a hand and closed his eyes. “You heard me, let the boy go.”

From across the street Aaron met Belphegor’s eyes and a jolt like electricity passed through his body.

“If you’re going to go,” Belphegor said, “then go now.”

Aaron found it difficult to look away from the angel’s intense gaze. Am I doing the right thing? he fretted. Doubt crept into his thoughts, but then images of Vilma and the still-missing Stevie filled his mind, and it didn’t matter anymore if it was right or wrong. He had to go. “I’ll come back,” he said as he spread his wings.

“I hope you do,” Belphegor replied, a scowling Lehash at his side.

Aaron took one final look about Aerie and saw Camael, Gabriel, and Lorelei heading toward him. He wanted to tell them what he was doing—what he had to do—but he didn’t want to stop, unsure if he would have the courage to recommence if he did. They would have to understand.

The image of his destination fresh inside his head, Aaron folded his wings about himself and was gone.

“Maybe he didn’t see us,” Gabriel said forlornly.

But Camael knew differently. He had looked into the boy’s eyes before he departed.

The fallen angel had known that it was only a matter of time before the violence in his life again reared its ugly head and his brief respite would end. It had been pleasurable while it lasted.

“What’s going on?” Lorelei was asking an older woman whom Camael recognized as Marjorie. He had saved her from one of Verchiel’s hunting parties sometime in the 1950s, and she still bore a red, ragged scar upon her cheek to commemorate the Powers’ ruthless attack.

The woman wrung her hands nervously, staring off in the direction from which Aaron had departed. “He’s gone,” she said, her voice filled with concern. “There was a fight, and then he left us.” Marjorie looked past Lorelei to Camael. “Is he coming back?” she asked pleadingly. “Can you tell me if the Chosen One is coming back?”

Lorelei turned to him as well, as though he might have some special insight into the situation unfolding.

“Let us find Belphegor,” Camael said, ignoring the women’s plaintive questions, and continuing down the street, Gabriel close at his heels.

The citizens of Aerie were abuzz, and as he passed, their eyes caught his, frantic for answers to assuage their fears. A hand shot out to grip his arm and Camael stared into the face of Scholar. He believed his true name to be Tumael, once a member of the host called Principalities. He was wild eyed, as anxious as the others around him.

“Do you know where he’s gone—the boy?” Tumael asked nervously, his grip tight with desperation. “We have to get him back … we … we can’t let him walk away from us, Camael. Do you understand the importance of what I’m saying?”

Camael knew exactly, but until he found out what had happened, he could offer no words of solace. “Belphegor. I need to speak with him.”

The fallen angel pointed toward a house not far from where they stood.

“Come, Gabriel,” Camael said to the dog that waited obediently by his side.

They approached the home, catching sight of Lorelei disappearing into the backyard. As they rounded the corner of the house, they were met by voices raised in panicked fury. Lehash and his daughter were in the midst of a heated argument, arms flailing as they railed against each other. Belphegor was across the yard, removed from the commotion, examining the branches of a young sapling.

“Why don’t you go and talk with Belphegor,” Camael told the Labrador at his side. “Maybe he can tell you where Aaron has gone.”

Tail wagging, Gabriel trotted toward Aerie’s Founder, while Camael turned his attention to the angry constable.

“You,” Lehash growled, raising an accusatory hand as Camael approached. “This is your fault!”

“Lehash, stop,” Lorelei pleaded.

“Would anyone care to tell me what has happened?” Camael asked, carefully watching Lehash’s hands for signs of his golden weaponry.

“Your Nephilim will be the death of us all,” the constable spat, fists clenched in barely suppressed rage. “Filling all their heads with foolishness … we’ll see how much of a messiah they think he is when we have Verchiel’s soldiers breathing down our necks.”

“Dad, please,” Lorelei said, again trying to calm him. She touched the sleeve of his coat, but he pulled away roughly.

“Is that what this is really about, Lehash?” Camael asked. “Your lack of belief?”

Lehash scowled. “Don’t matter what I believe,” he said with a sorrowful shake of his head. He glanced over at Belphegor and Gabriel. “Don’t matter what any of us believes. Verchiel will have what he’s been waiting for—a good whiff of Aerie, and that’s all the son of a bitch will need to destroy us.”

“Where has Aaron gone?”

“To rescue a friend—a female—from Verchiel,” Lehash explained. He smiled, but the expression was void of any humor. “With the scent of where he’s been these last weeks clinging to him like cheap perfume. Should have just handed a map to the Powers, get the slaughter over with all the quicker.”

The fallen angel pushed past, his piece said, Lorelei close behind. Her eyes briefly touched Camael’s. “I’m sorry,” she said, and he wondered if she was apologizing for her father’s behavior, or perhaps giving her condolences for what they believed to be Aerie’s inevitable demise.

Camael joined Belphegor, who was leaning down to pet Gabriel.

“Aaron’s gone to find Vilma,” the dog said, tipping his head back so the old angel would scratch beneath his throat. “She’s the one he talks to on the computer sometimes.”

“I believe that she, too, is a Nephilim.” Belphegor spoke as he obliged the animal’s wants. “Her angelic nature cried out to him as he was exploring his own.” He stopped patting Gabriel, much to the dog’s disappointment, and turned his attention to Camael. “Verchiel has her.” He looked out to the neighborhood beyond the yard. “It’s truly amazing how quickly things change, Camael,” Belphegor said with a wistful smile. “You never really see it coming; it’s just suddenly there, the eye of the speeding locomotive bearing down upon you.”

“You could have stopped him,” Camael said. “Or you could have found me and I would have—”

Again Belphegor smiled sadly. “It doesn’t really matter that he’s gone.” He began to stroll from the yard, Gabriel and Camael following at his side. “Change is coming to Aerie, and whether it be the machinations of prophecy, or just plain fate, there’s nothing we can do to stop it.”