Queen? This was the first mention of a queen. Was it she who had sent Joram the basket of fruit that had seen fourteen Breakblades swinging from the Westway gibbet and a concubine flushed out the gutter door in a shroud?
When? Melliel asked. When will she decide?
When she comes home, said the girl. Enjoy your flesh and blood while you can, sweet soldiers. Scarab has gone away hunting. She sang the word. Hunting, hunting. A snarl of a smile, and again Melliel saw that her teeth were points and again saw that they were not. Strobing time, strobing reality. What was true? A crack and strobe and the door was closed, Eidolon was gone, and
and the room was dark.
Melliel blinked, shook off a sudden heaviness
and looked around her. Dark? Eidolons words still echoed through the cell hunting hunting so it could only have been a second, but the chamber was dark. Stivan was blinking, too, and Doria and the rest. Young Yav, barely jumped up from the training camp and still with a boys round face, had tears of horror in his blue, blue eyes.
Hunting hunting hunting.
Melliel spun to the window and, with a push of her wings, thrust herself at it and looked out. It was as she feared. It was no longer dawn.
It was no longer day . The black of night hid the skys bruises, and both moons were high and thin, Nitid a crescent and Ellai but a crust, together giving off just enough light to brush the edges of the stormhunters wings with silver as they tilted in their ceaseless circles.
Hunting , came Eidolons voiceecho or memory or phantomand Melliel steadied herself against the wall as an entire lost day raced through her and was stripped away, every stolen minute, she felt with a shudder, bringing her nearer to her last. Would they die here, the lot of them? She couldntor wouldntbelieve Eidolon about the fruit, but the memory of its dense flesh between her own teeth still made her want to gag.
These people might be seraphim, but there the kinship began and ended, and in Melliels mind the shape of their mysterious queen Scarab? began to warp into something terrible.
Hunting hunting hunting.
Hunting what ?
ARRIVAL + 6 HOURS
9
LANDFALL
At 15:12 GMT, with the whole world watching, the angels made landfall. There was a period of hours, while the formations flight path carved due west from Samarkand, over the Caspian Sea and Azerbaijan, when their destination was a mystery. Across Turkey the westward path held, and it was not until the angels crossed the 36th meridian without turning south that the Holy Land was eliminated from contention. After that, the money was on Vatican City, and the money was not wrong.
Keeping to the formation in which theyd flown, in twenty perfect blocks of fifty angels each, the Visitors alighted in the grand, winged plaza of St. Peters Basilica, Rome.
The scientists, grad students, and interns whod gathered in the basement of the NMNH in Washington, D.C., watched the screen in silence as, in baroque regalia befitting his titleHis Holiness, Bishop of Rome, Vicar of Jesus Christ, Successor of the Prince of the Apostles, Supreme Pontiff of the Universal Church, Primate of Italy, Archbishop and Metropolitan of the Roman Province, Sovereign of the Vatican City State, Servant of the servants of Godthe Pope stepped forth to greet his magnificent guests.
As he did, there came a shift in the first and central phalanx. It was difficult to make out details. The cameras were in the air, hovering in helicopters, and from this high vantage point, the angels looked like a living lace of fire and white silk. Exquisite. Now one of them stepped forwardhe seemed to be wearing a plumed silver helmand in one liquid movement, all the rest went down on one knee.
The Pope approached, trembling, his hand raised in blessing, and the leader of the angels inclined his head in a very slight bow. The two stood facing each other. They appeared to be talking.
Did the Pope just become the spokesman for humanity? inquired a stunned zoologist.
What could go wrong? replied a dazed anthropologist.
Elizas colleagues had put together an ad hoc media center by grouping a number of televisions and computers in an empty outreach classroom. Over the course of several hours, the tenor of their commentary had shifted almost entirely away from hoax theory toward the more unsettling realms of If its true, how is it true, and what does it mean , and how do we make it make sense?
As for the television commentary, it was inane. They were bandying biblical jargon around like there was no tomorrowwhich, hey , maybe there wasnt! Ba-dum-bum.
Apocalypse. Armageddon. The Rapture.
Elizas nemesis, Morgan Tothhe of the pillowy lipswas using an altogether different vocabulary. They should treat it like an alien invasion, he said. There are protocols for that.
Protocols. Eliza knew exactly what he was getting at.
That would go over well with the masses, said Yvonne Chen, a microbiologist, with a laugh.
Its the Second Coming! Scramble the jets!
Morgan gave a sigh of exaggerated patience. Yes, he said with the utmost condescension. Whatever this is, I would appreciate some jets between it and me. Am I the only non-idiot on the planet?