could detect the small distinguishing physical markings of the Nephilim—the sharp, opalescent fingernails, the wide forehead, the slightly irregular skeletal structure, the large eyes. He understood that the Nephil body was designed for flight, with thin, hollow bones that rendered their skeletons as light and agile as birds’. He noticed the scintillating quality of the skin, the way it shimmered as if dusted with tiny crystals. The structure of the wings themselves—the efficient retraction, the airy composition of the feathers, the struts and trusses that fortified the muscles—had fascinated Verlaine from the start. He had mastered every method of identifying angels, capturing them, binding them, and interrogating them, skills known by only the elite of the society. Bruno believed Verlaine could already be considered a great hunter, but he suspected that his protégé could become more: a mythic angel hunter, the kind of hunter to emerge once in a generation.
And still there was something holding Verlaine back, a weakness that Bruno could feel lingering below the surface but could not readily identify. He’d made it his personal responsibility to help Verlaine overcome this Achilles’ heel and succeed.
Something in the distance caught his eye. It seemed to him that there was a commotion at the far end of the street. Bruno pulled over, cut the engine, and got out of the car, trying to see more clearly. There was an Emim angel, its black wings stretched, the light of the moon casting a gray brilliance over the feathers, giving them a smoky fluidity. Although Bruno couldn’t see beyond the creature, he was sure—from the belligerent stance and the extended wings—that it was preparing to attack. He was certain that an Emim attack had just occurred at the Eiffel Tower. Given the proximity of the passage, there was a good chance that he’d found the killer.
He pulled out his smartphone, snapped a series of photographs of the angel, and, after logging onto the society’s encrypted network, sent the images for identification. A series of Emim profiles popped onto the screen, but there was only one that interested him.
Name: Eno
Species: Emim
Height: 200 cm
Hair color: Black
Eye color: Black
Domain: Unknown. Three unconfirmed sightings in St. Petersburg, Russia (see call reports).
Distinguishing features: Classic Emim angel features; black wings measuring twelve feet wide by four feet high; normally works exclusively with members of Nephilim species.
Surveillance history: First documented angelological encounter occurred in 1889, during the Paris World’s Fair, and resulted in the death of an agent. Subsequent encounters have included extended surveillance during the Second World War (see agent notes in dossier), DNA sample retrieved from strands of hair, and a series of photographs taken by agents at various Paris locations (see photographs below). Eno is characterized by outbursts of extreme violence, especially sexual violence enacted upon human males she has seduced (see autopsy reports).
Although the surveillance report on Eno suggested she was in St. Petersburg, Bruno was certain that she was the angel at the end of the street, and that she was responsible for the murder at the Eiffel Tower. Bruno recognized Eno’s signature in the brutality of the slaughter, the great skill and strength of the killer, the peculiar way the body had been mutilated. He took a deep breath and tucked his phone into his pocket. Nothing had changed. Eno was as sadistic as ever.
In his twenties, he had come under Eno’s spell during a hunt. She was unbelievably deft at evading their best agents, a vicious Emim who had been wanted for over a hundred years, and Bruno was determined to capture her. He’d known she was deadly. One of the murdered agents cited in Eno’s profile had suffered third-degree burns over his chest, indicative of electro-induction shock, and his body had been found with rope burns to the neck, wrists, and ankles, signifying that he’d been tied up and tortured. Lacerations to the face, torso, buttocks, and back confirmed this. He had been castrated and dumped in the Seine.
Bruno understood the kind of creature he was dealing with, but when he was near Eno, it was as if he had stepped into a field of electricity, one that made all rational thought impossible. Of course, the original attraction between the Watchers and humans was purely physical, a dark and persistent sexual allure, a phenomenon of sheer lust, something that didn’t disappear over time. So it shouldn’t have come as a surprise that he’d fallen into a dangerous, obsessive pattern of hunting her. That he could lose his place in the society,