Zarita crossed herself.
“How does Heaven know about the little angel baby?” Acalan asked.
“Because another seer identified the child as an angel. You see, this was an impossibility until now. We can’t reproduce with each other. If we try reproducing with humans or other beings, we get hybrids and Nephilim. Angels are made by God’s own hand, not born. But this miracle happened. And Mark Leighton saw this miracle in time for Michael to silence the child’s voice. He could hear our Heavenly chorus and had joined it.”
“Why silence the child?”
“To keep him hidden. Also, it’s too soon to join the chorus.”
“How did the bad guys find out about the angel child?”
“We aren’t the only ones who listen to the chorus,” Esther said. “This is why you are so important to us. You can see them and hopefully tell us so we can get to the babies in time to protect them. The more angels and people like Mia we have, the greater the chance to defeat the Cynosura and the demons they have at their beck and call.”
“This sounds like the antichrist,” Zarita said.
“Who’s to say he’s not already here,” Esther said. “There are three I can tell you that seem to fit the prophesies. But fear not. It has happened before, the rise of evil, and we have squelched it. But our numbers are dwindling, and we can’t be everywhere. In the beginning, there was an angel to watch over every child. Now the children far outnumber us. We are lucky if we can hear their prayers. We befriended the birdmen, and they watch over the children too. But the world has too many people, and we can’t be everywhere. It is very frustrating.”
“But you are here for Acalan?” Zarita asked.
“Yes. So please settle down. I’m exhausted,” Esther said, housing her sword in her wing. “Finish that painting. Although, from what I see, you have the wrong wings. These,” she tapped the sketch, “are mighty birdman wings. Mia has archangel wings now.”
The Countess listened to the scratches of the dead and reported, “There are twelve assassins, two Others, and a cat-faced gargoyle in the graveyard. There are two hellhounds patrolling the perimeter.”
“Hellhounds?” Audrey squeaked. “How?”
“You can rent them from the crossroad demons,” Maurice said matter-of-factly.
“It’s really kind of you to protect us,” Audrey said.
“Anything for my daughter,” the Countess said. “What are they calling her these days?”
“Mia.”
“Still? Shame. She should have an exotic name like Philomena or Serilda.”
“I like Serilda,” Audrey said. “It means a maiden in battle armor.”
“Don’t you think that’s fitting?” the Countess asked.
“I think that one is right on the nose,” Audrey said. She got up and walked over to peek at the three boys who were sharing a coffin for a nap.
“You’ve got a lot of pluck for an Irish lass,” Maurice said.
“I thought it was just assumed we Orish had pluck,” Audrey said.
“But why did you marry an older man?” the Countess pointed out.
“He doesn’t act his age,” Audrey shared.
“And you have a beautiful son,” the Countess said.
“Yes, he is a dear boy,” Audrey said. “I fear his life will be a hard one.”
“He’s got a mom with pluck. He’ll get through it fine,” the Countess proclaimed.
Mia stood on guard with the men outside. She took out her sword and looked at it under the eternal light burning on the crypt. She stared at it and then asked Murphy, “Can you read this? It’s some kind of inscription.”
He looked and shook his head. “It’s written in gibberish.”
Orion walked over, took the sword in his hand, and turned it this way and that. “It’s written in Enochian. You read it right to left. It says, ‘Merry Christmas, Mia, from Santa.’”
Mia started laughing and explained, “Sariel told me how there are all these pockets in the archangel wings for things like swords, knives, daggers, and so forth. I complained mine was empty. He said he’d put it on Santa’s list.”
“I admit I was surprised to see you with those wings,” Orion said. “Ted didn’t mention them.”
“He doesn’t know. I never intended on turning in my last set. It was my husband’s brilliant idea for me to go through Sariel to talk with Michael about finding another angel seer.”
“I don’t think he thought you were going to be punished,” Murphy said, taking Ted’s side.
“I don’t really want to get into this, but I was subjected to an Old Testament test. I ended up with a crushed spine and dumped on our hillside without explanation. Turns out, I brought a demon back with me. She attacked Sariel and Michael during my operation. Sariel separated the two of us and took her back to the lair where she attacked both of them. Michael killed her, and I was needed to patch them up. Me, barely able to function, thanks to the no-Burt’s-medication rules,” Mia complained. “Long story short, I woke up with these wings. I haven’t even seen them in the mirror yet.”
“Mia, those wings could only have been obtained by an archangel donating a feather. It’s a big deal,” Orion stressed.
“K,” Mia accepted. “But why me? Why strip me of what I’m used to? Why assume it’s okay to change me?”
“It must have been for your own good,” Murphy said. “You should be grateful for their intervention.”
“K,” Mia said, her face clouding. “Maybe you’re right.”
“He’s wrong,” Altair said from his perch on top of the Deschamps crypt.
Mia looked up at him and smiled. “Hello, fancy meeting you here. How did you avoid the Nephilim?”
“Tricky maneuvers. Plus, I still have a burnt feather smell to me,” Altair said. “Where is that gorgeous goddess of the dead?”
“Is someone talking about me?” the Countess asked, walking out. “Lord in Heaven,
