Colton’s feet ached in his boots as he climbed the steps to the island’s only cathedral. He had been given a uniform to match the others, heavy black work boots that were already blistering his feet twenty minutes after he forced them on, dark cargo pants he suspected would be used to smuggle items he wasn’t supposed to have on him, a tight-fitting black tank with a hood haphazardly sewn onto it that showed off his swollen skin still an angry red around where the cuffs were placed.

“Identifiability,” Auriel had explained with a shrug when Colton asked why.

Now, he followed behind Raphael and Gabriel, who were both doing their best to slow their pace for him with a near-silent conversation floating between them that he couldn’t follow. It was something about Jophiel and Azrael, he assumed; it seemed like they were just as anxious about the next two as he was.

Once inside the building, the cathedral opened into two long rows of pews framed by stone pillars and a long carpet leading up to the pulpit that stood in front of large stained glass windows, casting the filling room with reds and purples. The people were all dressed in what he assumed was their Sunday best, though it looked more like he was attending another funeral with no color in sight that didn’t come from the sun’s rays through the glass.

They took a sharp turn at the back of the room, leading to a doorway and up a long set of narrow stairs hidden from the view of anyone who wasn’t looking for it specifically.

He was long overdue for a break by the time that they finally stopped in front of holes in the upper-level walls that would have been designed to be artistic instead of operational. Directly across from them stood Auriel and a smaller girl, whom he assumed was Michael. There were four windows on each side, one for each of the Angels that Father Bation hoped for and a spare for someone he couldn’t place.

Maybe their Handler, “Ryan”.

He sat in the well of the window, leaning back as comfortably as he could, to watch the room fill with more people than could sit. At times, while they waited, he glanced up at the two he could see.

Michael sat similarly to him, though she could fit her feet up better than he could. Her eyes scanned the crowd, searching for something, watching every movement as though she didn’t trust anyone below her as far as she could through them, and he doubted her small frame could even pick any of them without breaking. She looked nearly identical to the Princess. He doubted her grace could compare to Lillian’s easy royal air, but he was sure she made up for it in other areas he had yet to see.

Auriel leaned against the edge, his arms folded over his chest with his hands resting on the rings around his biceps like they still hurt the way that Colton’s did. He watched Colton as he surveyed the room and his fellow Angels, his eyes only breaking from him to glance at the crowd below or toward the pulpit.

He could hear Gabriel humming beside him, her bouncy voice easily shining through in the hymns she recited while they waited. He could see the edge of her crossed legs from where he sat, but he couldn’t see her swaying to the tune, her eyes drifting closed as she remembered her life before.

Father Bation walked out to the pulpit from a back room, followed closely behind by the Princess, who took her place beside him, kneeling on a pillow facing the congregation, with her face radiating the serene grace he would expect from the angels that he remembered hearing about from his grandmother.

“Everlastingly kind,” She had described them, “They are beautiful creatures that we could never compete with, they give us grace and lead us away from the sinful actions that our natures are drawn to.”

He remembered how the religious people in his life had talked about what the divine beings were like: forgiving, kind, beautiful, perfect. Princess Lillian emulated that better than Colton could, better than Father Bation or Ryan. Better than Evan had, or Auriel does. Better than Michael with her hunter’s stare as she watched the crowd. Better than Raphael had as she argued that he and Auriel didn’t need her help. Better than Gabriel could have, as she tried to distract him from his captivity in the freezer.

But even as she sat with picture-perfect posture and hopeful smile, in her serenity, as she seemed to sway to Gabriel’s music, there was still something off. Something he didn’t trust. She was too perfect, too serene, too beautiful. He couldn’t name what it was; there was nothing to tell him there was anything amiss. Nothing but his gut screaming at him to tell him that there was something more to her below the surface.

If even she couldn’t be an angel. How could they be?

“Welcome, Magnolia, to this long-overdue meeting!” Bation opened his arms spread wide as though he were announcing a boxing match. The wide set grin spread across his face, filled with anticipation, didn’t help. His eyes scanned the crowd as they mirrored his excitement, sitting on the edge of their seats and leaning in to soak up his every word.

He continued after a brief pause, “It is true, our dear Princess Lillian and I went out again to the world in search of our long lost Angels. With some aid from Auriel,” Colton saw as he stiffened once his name was spoken as though it were a call he couldn’t ignore, “We have brought home Chamuel, with little fight from his human vessel. In his true nature, Chamuel came peacefully the moment he saw his brother again.”

The crowd erupted in excited murmurs, some trying to spot him in the windows where they were hidden.

“Azrael and Jophiel are still well hidden inside their human vessels, but I sense that they will be ready to return to us soon. May their learning years be full, and their safety be the Lord’s priority.” The crowd echoed his words with a murmur that sounded like a frequent prayer of theirs, “Chamuel is here, though he is still pained by the new sins that he must carry. He will also be out on the island as soon as he is able, and will be looking forward to remeeting everyone, so please do not be a stranger if you see him around.”

He will? Colton thought, the words feeling like a curse.

A fresh round of excitement made its way through the hall, not evaporating until Bation finally made his way into the sermon he had prepared for the arrival of Chamuel.

It revolved around personal stories, times when he had chosen peace instead of vengeance, times when he felt inexplicable love for the people around him, all things he attributed to the Archangel and God. If there were any references to the Bible, he missed them; instead, the only references that were made were to people like the Pope or other priests he had heard from over his many years of life.

He called for action, for the people of the congregation to choose love in the coming week. To choose to be kind in honor of Chamuel, and to go out with their friends, families, and lovers as he apparently would want.

Colton didn’t try to hide the confusion on his face, knowing that the only person who likely had eyes on him was Auriel, but he felt like he should. He was already feeling the pressure of the expectations that he was pulled into. The hope that filled the room below them was hard to ignore; it was electric and contagious, and swept him into its current.

He had never felt anything that made him so desperate to become something he wasn’t. For a moment, he forgot that he wasn’t the Angel that they were excited to meet. The next moment came crashing into him as he remembered that he wasn’t some saint with magic.

Last he checked, he was still human.

There was nothing special about him that he hadn’t trained himself, that he hadn’t worked on through the years of dedication that he fought to have. He wanted to prove to them that he, Colton, was enough. No imaginary Chamuel to pull them out of whatever they were desperate to be free of.

But the shake of Auriel’s head, as though he were guessing what he was thinking, and the glare that Michael had fixed on him, that he was scared to meet, kept him fused to the window and away from the protests he was bound to make.

He bit his tongue as Father Bation droned on in his sermon. Colton wasn’t listening to him anymore as he repeated the same sentiment with new words that sounded fancy.

“Angel of God,” Father Bation prayed as he began to finally wrap up, “My guardian dear, to whom God’s love commits me here. Ever this day be by my side, to light and guard. Rule and guide.”

The floor below erupted with a reverent “Amen,” followed by hushed murmurs as they slowly began to get ready to leave to go back to their everyday lives. Many lingered behind, as if they were hoping to spot him leaving, some approaching the Princess, who didn’t move from her position once during the sermon, as though she were one of the Angels up in the windows, hidden from view.

“Why do they do that?” He mumbled, watching.

“We are like celebrities to them, I guess.” Gabriel replied, “They genuinely believe that we are Angels, and think the Princess should have been one of us instead of Michael.”

“That’d explain the glare I’m getting from her.”

“She did the same thing to me; she just hates that there’s still more of us to go.”

He could feel the disappointment in her voice. It was clear she also thought she could break the cycle when she came, that she would be the difference that Bation was looking for.

It solidified his determination to be the last, to be sure that there would not be eight victims. Father Bation would not have his seven Angels, not if Colton had anything to do with it.

The Cathedral cleared out over the course of twenty minutes, some still lingering outside the doors by the time Michael stood out from her window and stretched out her limbs while Auriel pushed off the wall to say something to her that he couldn’t see.

He heard Raphael and Gabriel getting up and moving to leave before he was ready to move his own pained limbs.

“Chamuel.” The rough military presence appeared immediately behind him. He looked up at him, still reluctant to move from the window, with an annoyed glare, “I have to give you a tour of the convent.”

“It is way too soon for that, Ryan.” Raphael folded her arms in front of her chest, much like Auriel had so many times, like she was trying to intimidate the man as he would.

“It’s not our choice to make, Willow.” Ryan didn’t break his gaze away from Colton as he spoke.

“You don’t have our rules. You get paid. You get to go home. You can lie to Bation and wait until he’s actually healed to be a dick to him.” She listed everything on her fingers like she was ticking off a long list of freedoms that they didn’t have.

“It’s not our choice.” He repeated, stepping back enough to let Colton stand.