Oh God.

There were eyes on the tips of his wings. Hundreds of them!

My skin crawled as my gaze went back to his face, but I had to look away quickly. It was painful—the purity to his beauty cut through my skin, shining a spotlight on every dark thought I’d ever had.

I knew what he was—what type of angel.

A Throne.

To look upon them was to expose every secret one ever held and be judged for each one. And I was being judged now. His whole demeanor, from the way he tilted his head to the side to the way his bright blue eyes seared through skin and muscle, told me that he was seeing everything.

And he wasn’t impressed.

There was death in those crystal eyes. Not “moving on to the next stage in life” or “standing before the Pearly Gates” kind of death, but the vast emptiness of the final death—the death of a soul.

I took a deep breath and started to speak.

The angel opened his mouth.

An ear-piercing blare shook the stained-glass windows and the pews, hitting an octave that no human could make or stand. I doubled over, clutching my ears. It was like a thousand trumpets blaring at once, shaking me to the very core. The sound echoed through the sanctuary, bouncing around my skull until I was sure my head would explode. Wet warmth trickled out of my ears, down my hands.

When I didn’t think I could take it anymore, the sound ceased.

Trembling, I lowered my bloodstained hands and lifted my head. The angel looked at me pitilessly as his wings continued their quiet movement.

“That was special,” I croaked.

He didn’t speak, and the silence that stretched out was unbearable.

“You summoned me here,” I said, bracing myself for another unearthly wail. That didn’t come. Neither did a response. “You said it was the only way to help Zayne.”

Still, there was nothing.

And I just lost it. All the pain, the fear, the grief and even the joy of seeing Zayne again crashed through me. “You spoke in my head, didn’t you? You told me to come to you.”

Silence.

“Can you not hear me? Did your own scream burst your eardrums? Or is this amusing to you? Is that it? Is Gabriel trying to end this world and Heaven not enough entertainment for you? Damn you!” I yelled, scratching my throat raw. “Fine. You just want to stand here and stare at me? I can do the same thing. Better yet, how about I go outside and start telling every person I come across that angels are real. I can prove it. I’ll just whip out my grace. Then I can introduce them to a few demons and when I’m done with—”

“That won’t be necessary.” He spoke in a voice that was richly musical, infinitely kind without a trace of humanity. It was so at odds with itself that I winced. “You’re here for him, the one who died protecting you.”

I flinched then. “Yes. But he’s alive.”

“I know.”

“He’s not right.”

“Of course not.”

I shook—every part of me shook. “What happened to him? How is he here?”

The Throne tipped his head to the side. “He committed an act of selflessness and sacrifice by coming to your aid. He did so out of the purest love. He was restored to his Former Glory.”

“Former Glory?” I had no idea what he was talking about.

The Throne nodded. “But he chose you. He chose to Fall.”

2

The room seemed to spin as what the Throne was saying began to sink in. It didn’t make sense, but I knew what the angel had meant by saying Zayne Fell. I knew what Zayne had meant when he said he was Fallen.

What I didn’t understand was how it was possible.

I had to take several deep, calming breaths before I spoke again. “Zayne was a Warden and my Protector. How did he Fall when he was never an angel?”

His wings rose and then settled. “What do you think the Wardens were before they were cast unto stone? Did you believe the Creator snapped them into existence out of boredom?”

I started to frown. Yeah, that was exactly what I believed.

“No. God was not simply bored. What you call Wardens were once the guardians of man, great ones, but they failed. They caved to the lure of sin and vice. They Fell.”

“I don’t understand. I was told—”

“That the Fallen were wiped clean from this Earth by the Wardens?” He smiled faintly. “They rewrote their histories. Can you blame them for wanting to hide their shame?” He stepped down from the altar, causing me to tense. “They buried their deeds so deep that many generations have been born and gone to the Heavens, never knowing their true past. Some who Fell were stripped of their wings and their grace by the archangels and Alphas. Others escaped into Hell. But those who did not run, and recognized their sin, took their punishment. They were entombed in stone.”

“Alive?” I whispered.

“They became the warning that evil was all around and no one, not even God’s angels, were immune to it.”

“They became the first stone gargoyles.” I sucked in a small breath, horrified to think that anyone had been trapped in stone. “How long?”

“Centuries,” the Throne answered with a shrug.

My mouth dropped open. Centuries trapped in stone? How did any of them come out of that with their minds intact?

“But with the demon populace increasing, God intervened, and the Alphas gave some of those entombed a choice—to be free to fight the demons and protect man or to remain entombed.”

That didn’t sound a whole lot like freedom or a choice to me, but what did I know?

“Those who accepted the choice became the first Wardens, their true stone form designed to serve as a reminder, and the human form given back so that they could blend in with humans. Their grace was still removed so that there was no risk of a rebellion and they were able to create a lineage who would continue to protect man and serve God’s will,” he explained. “That is who the Wardens truly are.”