Prologue

Swish!

The last of Rory's knives swung upwards through the air and embedded itself in the ceiling with a satisfying chink, perfectly aimed between two others.

She knew she would need help to get all of them back down. She could fly, of course, but there wasn't really space – it would be difficult to angle herself so that the blades of her own wings didn't carve any more damage into the soft white substance. The knives she had thrown would leave no mark. This was Heaven, after all, and no earthly material could truly do harm here. Her wings were a different story.

Rory sighed as she surveyed the expanse of the room, the ceiling of her bedchamber now looking less like a ceiling, and more like an unfortunate, overgrown porcupine. She wished for a moment that she had telekinesis – her cousin Sachairi did – and she would need his help to retrieve her weapons. Not for the first time.

Sachairi was Uncle Jophiel's son, a Nephilim, just like Rory herself. He had inherited his father's cool blue eyes, but the similarities stopped there. He was calm, entirely too patient, but disapproved of the hundreds of sharp objects Rory had sneaked past the pearly gates over the centuries. 'Another one? Really, cousin?' he would chastise, and pretend not to see her retaliatory eyeroll.

Their Aunt Remiel was the same. No, had been the same.

Rory had been furious, and devastated, when the news of her aunt's demise had broken. Remiel had probably liked her the least of all the Nephilim, only spending time with her when Rory's twin sister, Ellie, was with her. Aunt Remi respected Rory as a fighter, but disliked her disobedient nature. Her view of Ellie was the opposite – Rory's sister was no warrior, but she did as she was told. 'Between the two of you lies a perfect angel, and a selfish human', Remiel had said once. Neither one of them had known whether to be offended or placated.

The Morningstar twins had done their best to stay on their huntress aunt's good side. Aunt Remi had been the one who had saved their lives when they were born, bringing them to the Silver City to grow up in paradise alongside their cousins. If Rory had heard the story once, she had heard it a thousand times, of how Remiel had travelled to earth, sensing not one, but two new celestials, and found a pair of new-born babies in a clearing in a forest, their mother nowhere to be found. She had scooped both infants up, flown them to Heaven, and presented them to their grandfather. 'Aurora and Eleonora' God had declared, with a touch of pride. 'My little stars of the morning.'

The story always upset Ellie. 'Why did she leave us?' she'd choked on a sob, more than once in their centuries of childhood.

'We're the devil's spawn,' Rory had replied, not unkindly, each time. 'Of course our mother left us. Just like he did.' Oh yes, they had heard all sorts of stories about their father over the years.

Rory shook with anger when she recalled her meeting with Lucifer. That had been the reason she had locked herself away in Heaven and turned her bedroom ceiling into a temporary pincushion. How could he not believe she was his daughter? She would have understood it if Ellie had gone to Los Angeles instead, for her twin was blonde to her dark, blue-eyed to her brown, shy and sensible to her bold and reckless.

Rory looked like her father, everyone who knew her, and had known him, said so. Even Uncle Michael. 'I look like you too, you mean,' she'd sassed him back once, during one of their many heart-to-hearts. Then, 'Does that mean Ellie looks like our mother?' But even Uncle Michael, right-hand to God himself, had not answered that question. Because nobody seemed to know who she was.

The whole concept of mothers was not a topic frequently discussed by the Nephilim. It was easier that way. Sachairi, along with his twin sister Sophea, had lost their own mother when they were twelve years old. They had been hidden away from the celestial world until then, tucked away in a corner of Earth known as the Cursed Islands, where even the angels who frequented the mortal plane were reluctant to set foot. It was only when they believed themselves orphaned that Aunt Remiel had braved the journey for them. Before the twins had been Cora. Rory knew even less about the early life of her oldest cousin; she was the daughter of Uncle Lezmegadiel, and a real human sorceress. She had abandoned Cora when she was small too, and, desperate to try and understand their own situation, Ellie had asked why almost as soon as she had found that out.

'She had been in danger, and knew it was a way to get our attention,' Uncle Uriel had told her and Rory, after being pestered for information for as long as he could stand. 'Nephilim aren't supposed to grow up on Earth, you know.'

Uriel had been the one Rory had run to the most as a child. He wasn't as much fun as Uncle Lezmegadiel, not as good with a spear or sword as Aunt Remi, but he was always kind to the Nephilim. As the Welcomer of Souls, he was the one she always saw on a return trip to Heaven, always with a kind word. But he was always fairly insistent that she not stray on Earth for long, even travelling to the mortal plane to collect her sometimes, when Uncle Jophiel or Uncle Michael had let Rory and her cousins roam free. 'Heaven is the best place for you, little niece,' he always explained.

Rory wasn't sure she agreed. She and Ellie had been brought to the Silver City as infants, and it had taken centuries to grow as much as their cousins had in just years on Earth. Grandfather had eventually realised this and had sent both Rory and Ellie to Earth to grow up. In Rory's mind, he had made two mistakes. For one, he had sent them to the Cursed Islands. For another, he had separated them. Rory had spent ten long years in the western isle, powerless, wingless, and away from her twin, who had seemed to have a fantastic time in the east. By the time they had grown to adulthood and returned to Heaven, wings and celestial skills in clutch, everything seemed to have changed, especially between the two of them.

Besides, Jophiel's twins weren't the only Nephilim to spend their infancy on Earth. Not long ago, Sophea had come running to where they had been sitting, a huge smile plastered on her face.

'We have a new cousin!' she had exclaimed, almost frenetic in her glee. And she had told them about baby Charlie, and that Amenadiel of all angels had not only had a son, but had fallen as well. Rory had not known what to think. Amenadiel had not been made aware of the existence of the other Nephilim – few angels did know about them to be fair – and Rory barely knew anything about him.

'Do you think Grandpa will let us go meet him?' Ellie had pondered aloud.

'We can ask,' Sachairi had countered.

'Thirteen and thirteen, when six,' Cora had said in her quiet sing-song voice. The oldest Nephilim rarely made much sense. Rory knew she had visions of the future, like her sorceress mother had, but the information seemed to get lost between her brain and her mouth. Cora mostly spoke cryptically, but at least had the decency to look apologetic when she did. It was unfortunate, for their cousin had never been wrong in her prophesying, but by the time her words had been riddled out, it was usually too late to be much help.

Rory loved Cora immensely. For it had been thanks to one of her visions, many decades ago, that they had discovered dragon eggs, buried deep in one neglected corner of the Silver City. Each cousin had taken one each and, not yet having grown her own wings, Rory had spent many happy years surfing the skies of Heaven on the back of the creature hatched from hers. Rory's was the biggest of the celestial dragons, and among her own closest friends.

I wonder if Cora saw this coming, Rory wondered now, as she stared up at the mutilated ceiling above her head. And I wonder if she saw Sach telling me off. And I wonder if, like last time, he'll nearly end up with a knife in his foot and –

Whoosh!

The flapping of wings broke Rory out of her musings, confronted as she was by one of her least-favourite uncles.

'Uncle Jophiel,' she greeted, sitting up, but not bothering to get to her feet. 'What do you want?'

'You made quite a mess on Earth, little niece,' he replied with that stupid smirk of his. His eyes widened a fraction when he noticed the state of the room, and he raised a hand placatingly at Rory's glower.

'I could say the same of you,' she replied coolly. 'That red drink powdery stuff in that river, the colony of penguins swarming in that European school-yard – was that really you?'

'I was answering prayers,' Jophiel huffed. 'Not my fault humans ask for weird things. I thought I'd take a leaf out of our new God's book and have a go at granting the mortals their desires. But releasing one from Hell, well, that is new.'

'I don't recommend it,' Rory said with an arched brow, her voice hardening as it always did at the mention of her father. 'The idiot wasn't worth my time, and now he's a whiny ghost.' Then, as she realised what her uncle really wanted to know, 'I saw Michael, but only from a distance.'

'Did he say anything?'

'I didn't get close enough. Demons are so irritating… But hey, at least you know he's still kicking.'

'I keep meaning to go visit,' Jophiel admitted. 'But I don't want to piss off Lucifer any more than I already have, and, well… it's Hell, y'know?'

Rory barked out a laugh. The thought of Jophiel traversing Hell's hallways was a fun mental image, the thought of a furious Lucifer even more so. 'Maybe I'll try again in a few Earth-months. It'll be millennia down there, but at least it'll be different demons.' She glanced at the ceiling. 'And next time I won't go empty-handed.'

'You sure about that?' Jophiel laughed arrogantly at the knives. 'Looks like you need a hand, or did your trip to the underworld melt those wing-tips of yours?'

'Look, will you help me or not?' Rory said. 'Sachairi will tell me off for this, and I'm really not in the mood for a lecture.'

'Fine.' Her uncle used his own power to recall the blades, dumping them in twos and threes on Rory's floor with several loud clatters. 'That reminds me, though,' he said after a minute, 'Sach and Soph are looking for you. I can't believe they didn't think to look here.'

'Or maybe they did?' Rory said sharply. 'Maybe they didn't just barge right in?' Jophiel twirled the last of the knives clumsily through his fingers, one eyebrow raised. 'I mean… thanks…'

'You could help me back,' her uncle suggested hopefully. 'Keep your cousins off your back, blow off some more steam on Earth, help right a wrong… y'know, with those damn penguins. Got to get them back before humans suspect divine intervention.'

'For fuck's sake,' Rory sighed, pocketing a handful of her blades. 'Deal.'

'You're certain Rory went to Earth?'

The other Nephilim sat together in one of the Silver City's many beautiful gardens. The space the group frequented the most was close to the pearly gates, but rarely stumbled upon by dead mortal souls. Ellie, Sachairi and Sophea sat in the shade of red-leafed branches, Cora hanging upside-down and swaying, giggling as she twirled her limbs around the logs. Tiny birds chirped in the overhead trees, water fountains flowed freely, and just the right kind of breeze blew Ellie's hair as she surveyed her cousins. It was tranquil place, even if the other Morningstar twin felt anything but.

'She's not here,' Sachairi insisted. 'I even asked Dad to help locate her, and… nothing!'

'Rory's been restless for weeks,' Sophea reasoned. 'Ever since the vote, you know Michael and Uriel are her favourites, and she's always been angry at your father.'

Ellie paled. 'You think she went after Lucifer?'

'I don't think, Ellie, I'm sure,' Sophea said. 'Where else would she go? It's not like she's wildly keen on humans.'

'To be honest, I'm surprised she hasn't tried to find Lucifer before now. She's had her wings, what, three Earth years now? Four?' Sachairi wrinkled his eyebrows, trying to do the nearly impossible time math.

'Five and a half,' Ellie replied. 'If I'm honest, it's probably to do with the language barrier.' Rory and the other Nephilim had been raised speaking the angelic tongue, and the languages of the Cursed Islands. Ellie alone had inherited a proclivity for linguistics. 'Where does Lucifer even live, anyway? I've heard he's been on Earth a while now.'

'Somewhere on the western coast of America,' Sophea replied. 'I don't remember exactly where. Near Uncle Amenadiel and our little cousin, though.'

'Any insights, Cora?' Sachairi asked their other cousin politely.

'Penguins,' she supplied unhelpfully.

'Penguins,' Ellie echoed despondently. Then she straightened up. 'Well, if my sister's gone to seek out Lucifer, it's likely she's in danger. He's the devil, after all.' He cousins nodded in assent.

'Do you think you could stop her, even if you did find her?' Sophea said doubtfully. 'Rory has to be the most stubborn of us.'

'Well, we have to try!' Ellie insisted, her voice rising. She herself had only been to Earth once, the ten-year stint of her adolescence, and had kept herself fairly isolated. Humans made her confused, nervous and curious in equal measure, and the thought of searching the vast mortal realm to find Rory frightened her. But stubbornness was a trait the twins shared. And she felt guilty. 'I never found her when we both lived on Earth,' she added quietly. 'I'll not make that mistake again.'

'I will accompany you if you wish, little cousin,' Sachairi said. 'If Earth is anything how I remember it, it is not safe for a young-looking female to travel alone.'

'It's been a good couple of centuries, brother,' Sophea laughed lightly. 'I heard Earth is way more progressive these days. But for Rory's sake, I'll come too.'

Ellie nodded, grateful for the support.

Three pairs of eyes landed on Cora.

'Fancy an outing, cousin?' Sachairi asked her. 'We're going to find Rory, and we could really use your help.'

'The City of Angels, a fall,' she answered, smiling innocently. 'A miracle and a dual search, a fail but some fun.' Cora sang the last part as she uncurled herself from her spot in the tree, using her ecru-colour wings to steady herself on the ground.

'I'll take that as a yes,' Ellie grinned, shrugging her shoulders to summon her own wings – bright white and gleaming. It was difficult to be scared alongside Cora's optimism. 'To Earth. Let's go find Rory.'