The perfection of the library floor reflected Luc’s face with disconcerting mirrorlike quality. He closed his eyes, loath to see himself in the humiliating bow Irindi’s sudden presence had thrown him into. Marco and Gaston had also crashed forward when her burning light had daggered through the room. Lady Brickton had screamed in alarm, and a confused murmur had gone up among the rest of the humans as the three gargoyles had grunted and fallen. The humans couldn’t see or feel the angel’s presence, though the fire in the hearth had guttered and no doubt they each felt an unexplainable density in the room, like a storm about to break near the top shelves of Constantine’s library.
“What’s happening? Luc?” he heard Ingrid say.
“Stay back,” Vander cut in. “They only bow before an angel of the Order.”
Smart bastard.
Irindi’s hollow voice bellowed. “Why have you summoned me, Luc Rousseau?”
He took a moment to understand. He’d tried to summon her the day before, when he and Ingrid had still been hiding out at H?tel Dugray. She was showing up now? Here? In front of all these humans? Not for the first time, Luc questioned whether the Order understood or adhered to any sort of plane of time at all.
“We need your help.” Luc spoke into the floor. “The fallen angel, Axia, is leading demons of the Underneath against the humans and possessing the minds of demon-blooded humans—”
“We are aware of our fallen sister’s actions,” Irindi intoned. Luc waited for her to continue, to assure him that they were going to stop her.
No such assurances came.
Luc turned his cheek as far as it would go, attempting to see the silvery contours of her glow. “You are the only ones powerful enough to stop her.”
He felt a nudge against his head and found himself staring into his reflection once more.
“We cannot interfere with human dealings. It is not God’s way,” she said, compassionless and cold. No wonder her presence sucked the heat straight out of the fire in the grate. “The paths humans take are their own to traverse.”
Marco spoke from Luc’s immediate left. “If that is the case, what the hell are we doing here?”
She ignored him. “This Eden has been slowly crumbling since mankind discovered the ability to sin. Every new plague feels as if it is the end of the world. It is not. Humans adapt. Let this plague pass and allow God’s children to evolve.”
Luc gritted his teeth. “Allow countless humans to die? Be enslaved? Made into demons?” He pushed against the solid block of light and heat pushing him toward the floor. “How are we to protect them?”
A hushed murmur swept through those behind Luc. The humans only heard one side of the conversation, but Luc was certain they were easily inferring the rest.
Until Irindi’s reply came. No one, least of all Luc, could have expected it.
“It is not your duty any longer to protect, Luc Rousseau. You have atoned for your sin.”
He stared at his reflection, unable to speak. Unable to think. Luc peered out the corner of his eye toward Marco, who had turned his face toward him. Gaston, on his right, was also looking his way, limited as their movements were.
“I … I don’t understand,” Luc said.
“You, by your own free will, chose to save the life of one of God’s devoted servants, a human who was not under your divine protection. A human for whom you feel nothing but the shameful sin of envy.”
Luc blinked at his reflection and swallowed his confusion, trying to comprehend what she was saying.
“And yet, you chose to protect this man from harm,” Irindi continued. “It was a decision born of the one thing God holds most dear: forgiveness.”
Luc still couldn’t make sense of it. Whom had he saved? Whom had he forgiven?
“Luc Rousseau, you have earned our Lord God’s forgiveness. Stand,” Irindi commanded.
Stand. He couldn’t stand. What was she talking about?
He heard Lady Brickton’s voice from somewhere behind all the noise in his head. “What is going on? Why have they gone quiet?” Then Gabby’s voice saying, “Shhh, Mama.”
Luc sucked in a breath as the invisible block pressing between his shoulders and locking him into a reverent bow slowly lifted. Stone by stone, the weight lightened, and Luc’s knees began to straighten. He kept his eyes on the floor, his chin tucked into his neck, even when his back became a long, straight line again. He was standing. Luc was standing in an angel’s presence and yet he couldn’t look at her. Wouldn’t look at her. He wasn’t ready.
There were many sounds coming from behind him—gasps, mutters, questions—but it was Marco’s and Gaston’s stooped figures Luc could not ignore. They were still bowing. They had not been forgiven. He had. Luc raised his eyes and nearly crashed back down onto his knees.