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archangel.”
    “Indeed.”
    I followed George through the double doors into the sanctuary. Beautiful choral music echoed loud and strong. A black-clad priest led a children’s choir in “Carol of the Bells” near the altar. In accompaniment with angelic singing, the surroundings were truly heavenly from the intricate scenes of saints painted on the ceiling to the vibrantly colored panels of stained glass windows depicting parables from the Bible. Latin words had been painted in huge bold letters above the altar: Ego sum via, veritas et via. I am the way, the truth and the life. At least here I needn’t worry about a demon sneaking up on me. But after Thomas’s betrayal, I was wary even around angels.
    We walked by the statue of Joan of Arc in her gilded armor. Her stalwart stance, chin held high, ready to face evil with weapon in hand, shot a pulse of positive energy through me. She had burned at the stake for what she believed in. I hoped it wouldn’t come to that for me, but if she could confront the wicked with such strength, so could I.
    A few old ladies huddled in pews, saying their afternoon prayers. One wore a lace veil atop her head and prayed intently with closed eyes, her rosary beads clicking. I wondered if I spent a little time calling for help from above whether or not my quest would be successful. But then again, I guess I had called for help. George steered toward the one who’d answered my call, sitting in the back corner pew, away from prying eyes.
    As happened every time I was in the presence of Uriel, my VS zinged to life. I mumbled the cast of illusion to coat myself in a shield where humans couldn’t see my skin glowing like Tinker Bell. There was also the sword strapped to my back. While New Orleans housed the most eccentric of people, openly carrying a weapon was still frowned upon. My cast of illusion could hide what I didn’t want others to see.
    George ushered me into the pew first. Uriel’s aura of power pulsed outward in a jolting wave. But I sensed something beyond the constant buzz of archangel potency. It was subtle but there all the same—a signature of summer fields and sunny days. A surprising aura, but also apt somehow.
    I slid into the pew next to him, trying to see through his cast of illusion to his magnificent gold-tipped wings. My VS was definitely growing stronger. The first time I’d met him, I didn’t even know he had wings. Now, I could push through his cast and see the outline. Even illusory, they still took my breath away.
    “Hello, Genevieve.” His deep voice rolled languidly like water over rocks. The dim lighting shone on his golden locks.
    “Hi. You’ve been busy, I was told.”
    “I apologize. I know the urgency of your mission. But there were other things too pressing that I couldn’t leave undone.”
    “Like?”
    His electric-blue gaze flickered to George, then back to me.
    I scoffed. “Is it some super-secret angel stuff that doesn’t involve me?”
    “No. It definitely involves you. Those in hell aren’t the only ones who sense the stirrings of war.”
    “Is that so? I imagine that has started quite the shit storm.”
    The corner of his mouth quirked up into a slanted smile. “Yes. You could say that. There are many Flamma of Light who believe you are the Vessel spoken of in the Prophecy of Glastonbury.”
    “Ha! Finally.” I nudged George with my elbow. He remained silent. “Flamma on our side are listening. It’s a freaking miracle.”
    Uriel raised a hand to still my excitement. “Even so, the war will not end on the night of the Blood Moon. It will begin that night.”
    After much deciphering between Kat, George and me, as well as through consultations with other hunters, we had deduced the “red sky” mentioned in the prophecy referred to a total lunar eclipse. It just so happened that astronomers had begun announcing that we were due to have a total lunar eclipse, the kind often called the Blood Moon or the Hunter’s Moon, on