The silence stretched between them like a chasm. Maya pressed against the wall, her chest rising and falling in shallow breaths as she stared at Azrael. He had shifted back to his more human appearance, but the change felt cosmetic now—a mask worn over something vast and terrible and beautiful.

The five converted angels had retreated to the corners of the ruined apartment, their newly silver-black armor dimmed to avoid overwhelming mortal senses. But their presence was still tangible, like ...