Samael flew out of the room. I followed him, hair raised on the back of my neck. Another ascendant? But who?
Outside, the werewolves had cleared, allowing a host of angels to occupy the street. I was overwhelmed by their glory, armor-clad with blazing halos.
Michael stood at the front, his flaming sword drawn. In the shadow of his wing was a man with tousled brown hair and amber eyes.
He leaned on a golden petersword, dressed in chinos and a blue button-down. He looked like a catalogue model. Huh?
I guessed he was the ascendant. He looked familiar. Almost like a Ken doll. But I'd never seen him before, except maybe in a men's fashion magazine.
The ascendant looked kind of like an asshole, but had a bit of cute cowlick that reminded me of Baxter's. I really wanted to touch it.
Samael stopped short. I bumped into his pointy hipbone. "You found him," he said, his voice cracking.
Michael smiled slightly. "It was only a matter of time."
