Raphael closed the door behind him and walked into the huge basement library hidden beneath the graceful beauty of a large cottage in Martha’s Vineyard. A fire burned in the hearth, the only source of illumination other than the wall sconces, which created more shadows than light. There was a sense of age about this place, a quiet knowledge that it had been here far longer than the modern home above.

“It is done,” he said, taking his seat in the semicircle of armchairs in front of the fire. It was too hot for him, but some of his brethren came from warmer climes and felt the promise of autumn in their bones.

“Tell us,” Charisemnon said. “Tell us about the hunter.”

Leaning back in his chair, Raphael glanced around at the others who sat with him. The Cadre of Ten was in session. But incomplete. “We’ll need to replace Uram.”

“Not yet. Not until after . . .” Michaela whispered, eyes tortured. “Is it really necessary to hunt him?”

Neha closed her hand on the other angel’s shoulder. “You know we have no choice. He can’t be left to indulge his new appetites. If the humans ever discover—” She shook her head, almond-shaped eyes full of dark knowledge. “They would fear us as monsters.”

“They already do,” Elijah said. “To hold power, we’ve all had to become a little bit the monster.”

Raphael agreed. Elijah was one of the oldest among them. He’d ruled in one way or another for millennia, no sign of ennui in his eyes even now. Perhaps it was because Elijah had something the others didn’t—a lover whose loyalty was unimpeachable. Elijah and Hannah had been together for over nine hundred years.