after Evangeline’s birth.”
“Are there records anywhere about this angel?” Vera forced herself to ask. The existence of such a creature mirrored her work so closely—and would prove her theories with such finality—that she was almost afraid to press ahead. “Photographs? Video? Anything that proves his existence?”
“There is no need for photos or videos,” Valko said, crossing his arms and meeting Vera’s eye. “Lucien is with us.”
Trans-Siberian Railway
Bruno’s thoughts were so filled with Angela Valko’s report, the details of her discovery in Godwin’s lab, and the repercussions of what she had found that he didn’t hear the metal door slide open. By the time he realized what was happening it was too late: The Grigori twins were already inside the carriage, surrounded by an army of Gibborim angels. As Yana pulled her gun, and the explosion of bullets rattled the car, he snapped into action, falling to the floor, groping for his gun, and backing Yana up. She was hitting her targets, but, as they both knew, ordinary ammunition did little to affect or harm the Gibborim. They felt the bullets the way Bruno felt the sting of an insect.
From a purely theoretical point of view, the twins were incredible to watch. Immensely tall, thin, pale as milk, their large eyes staring vacantly into the beyond—these Nephilim were the ideal specimens for study. That they were in duplicate, and that they were of such a rarified pedigree, only made them more desirable. He tried to see them through the masses of Gibborim, but they were so well protected that he wasn’t even sure they were in the carriage any longer. A wave of anger washed through him: They should have captured these bastards in St. Petersburg.
Bruno stood and pushed through a line of Gibborim, calling for Yana to watch his back. The Gibborim surrounded him, their claws ripping into his clothes. He felt his arms and back burn, as if he were running naked through a twist of barbed wire. Fighting them put him in a space of pure movement, a place where he lost all thought and simply felt the rush of his fists, the power of his legs, the breath moving in and out of his lungs. A gush of cold air filled the space: The door to Eno’s storage cell must have been opened. By the time he’d pushed through the Gibborim, the twins had Eno out of her cell and were making their way through the train, Eno between them.
Yana screamed something in the distance—he couldn’t make out her words—and he felt a blow to his head. He hit the ground, closed his eyes, and willed himself to stay conscious. When he opened his eyes, the Gibborim were scattered throughout the room, their bodies black as electrocuted flies. Yana stood over him, her beautiful face filled with concern. “Bruno,” she whispered. “Are you okay?”
Bruno took her hand and sat up. Looking more closely, he saw that Yana had decimated the entire population of Gibborim in one fell swoop. Bruno raised an eyebrow, sure that he looked like a smitten schoolboy. “How’d you do that?”
“Gibborish charm,” Yana said, smiling as she helped Bruno to stand up. “One of the many tricks up my sleeve.”
“Can’t wait to see your next one,” Bruno said, looking through the door at the empty carriages. The Grigori were long gone. “They’ve released all of your prisoners.”
“Come on,” Yana said. “We have to recapture them.”
Bruno followed close behind Yana as they ran through the train. The carriages were uniformly quiet, the passengers unaware that anything out of the ordinary was happening. It was remarkable—with the noise and the movement, he would have thought someone would be asking questions, or at least complaining. But the human desire for normalcy outweighed all else.
After searching the length of the train they came to a door marked PRIVATE LOUNGE. Yana typed an access code into an electronic keypad. The door didn’t open.
“It’s strange,” she said, trying a second time. “I don’t recognize this car. It must have been attached in Moscow.”
Bruno understood Yana’s thinking—if the creatures were anywhere on the train, it was there. “If we can’t get in this way,” he said, gesturing to the door. “We’ll have to go out.”
Yana considered this a moment, and then, turning on her heel, led Bruno back to the sleeping berths. She slid open one of the doors, startling the passengers, a man and a woman sleeping in opposite beds. The man jumped out of bed and began screaming in