“The angelic conflict,” said a female voice from behind me, “and the fall of the rebel host. They date from the early nineteenth century, commissioned by Dr. Richard Laurence, professor of Hebrew at Oxford, to illustrate his first English translation of the Book of Enoch, in 1821, then abandoned and left unused following a disagreement with the artist. These are among the only extant copies. The rest were all destroyed.”

I turned to face a small, attractive woman in her late fifties, dressed in black slacks and a white sweater smudged here and there with dark marks. Her hair was almost entirely gray, with only the faintest hint of dark at the temples. Her face was relatively unlined, the skin tight and the neck bearing only the slightest trace of wrinkles. If my estimate of her age was correct, she was wearing her years well.

“Ms. Stern?”

She shook my hand. “Claudia. I’m pleased to make your acquaintance, Mr. Parker.”

I returned my attention to the illustrations.

“Out of curiosity, why were the lithographs destroyed?”

“The artist was a Catholic named Knowles, who worked regularly for publishers in London and Oxford. He was quite accomplished, although somewhat derivative of others in his style. Knowles was unaware of the controversial nature of Enoch when he agreed to undertake the commission, and it was only when the subject of his work came up during discussions with his local parish priest that he was alerted to the history of the scripture in question. Do you know anything of the biblical apocrypha, Mr. Parker?”

“Nothing worth sharing,” I replied. That wasn’t entirely true. I had come across the Book of Enoch before, although I had never seen the actual text. The Traveling Man, the killer who had taken my wife and daughter, had made reference to it. It was just one of a number of obscure sources that had helped to fuel his fantasies.

She smiled, revealing white teeth that were yellowing only slightly at the edges and the gums.

“Then perhaps I can enlighten you, and you can in turn enlighten me about the object with which you introduced yourself to my assistant. The Book of Enoch was part of the accepted biblical canon for about five hundred years, and fragments of it were found among the Dead Sea Scrolls. Laurence’s translation was based upon sources dating from the second century B.C., but the book itself may be older still. Most of what we know, or think we know, of the fall of the angels comes from Enoch, and it may have been that Jesus Christ himself was familiar with the work, for there are clear echoes of Enoch in some of the later gospels. It subsequently fell out of favor with theologians, largely because of its theories on the nature of angels.”

“Like how many can dance on the head of a pin?”

“In a way,” said Ms. Stern. “While there was at least some acceptance that the origins of evil on earth lay in the fall of the angels, their nature provoked disagreement. Were they corporeal? If so, what of their appetites? According to Enoch, the great sin of the dark angels was not pride, but lust: their desire to copulate with women, the most beautiful aspect of God’s greatest creation, humanity. This led to disobedience and a rebellion against God, and they were cast out of heaven as punishment. Such speculations found little favor with the church authorities, and Enoch was denounced and removed from the canon, with some even going so far as to declare it heretical in nature. Its contents were largely forgotten until 1773, when a Scottish explorer named James Bruce traveled to Ethiopia and secured three copies of the book that had been preserved by the church in that country. Fifty years later, Laurence produced his translation, and thus Enoch was revealed to the English-speaking world for the first time in over a millennium.”

“But without Knowles’s illustrations.”

“He was concerned about the controversy that might arise following its publication, and apparently his parish priest told him that he would refuse him the sacraments if he contributed to the work. Knowles notified Dr. Laurence of his decision, Laurence traveled to London to discuss the matter with him, and in the course of their discussions a heated argument arose. Knowles began casting his illustrations into the fire, the originals as well as the first copies. Laurence snatched what he could salvage from the artist’s desk and fled. To be honest, the illustrations are not particularly valuable in themselves, but I am fond of the story of their creation and decided to hold on to them, despite occasional requests that they be offered for sale. In a way, they symbolize what this house has always set out to do: to ensure that ignorance and fear do not contribute to the destruction of arcane art and that all such pieces find their way to those who would most appreciate them. Now, if you’d like to come with me, we can discuss your own piece.”

I followed her through the green door and down a corridor that led to a workshop area. Here, the secretary with the red hair was checking the condition of some leather-bound books in one corner, while in another a middle-aged man with receding brown hair worked on a painting illuminated by a series of lamps.

“You’ve come along at an interesting time,” said Claudia Stern. “We’re preparing for an auction, the centerpiece of which is an item with links to Sedlec, a quality that it shares with your own statue. But then, I imagine that you knew this already, given your presence here. Might I ask who recommended that you bring the bone sculpture to me?”

“A man named Charles Neddo. He’s a dealer in New York.”

“I know of Mr. Neddo. He is a gifted amateur. He occasionally comes up with some unusual objects, but he has never learned to distinguish between what is valuable and what should be discarded and forgotten.”

“He spoke highly of you.”

“I’m not surprised. Frankly, Mr. Parker, this house is expert in such matters, a reputation painstakingly acquired over the last decade. Before we came on the scene, arcane artifacts were the preserve of back-street merchants, grubby men in dank basements. Occasionally, one of the established names would sell ‘dark material,’ as it was sometimes known, but none of them really specialized in the area. Stern is unique, and it is rarely that a seller of arcana fails to consult us first before putting an item up for auction. Similarly, a great many individuals approach us on both a formal and informal basis with queries relating to collections, manuscripts, even human remains.”

She moved to a table, upon which stood the statue found in Garcia’s apartment, now carefully positioned on a rotatable wheel. Her finger flipped the button on a desk lamp, casting white light upon the bones.

“Which brings us to this fellow. I assume Mr. Neddo told you something of the image’s origins?”

“He seemed to think that it was a representation of a demon trapped in silver sometime in the fifteenth century. He called it the Black Angel.”

“Immael,” said Ms. Stern. “One of the more interesting figures in demonic mythology. It’s rare to find a naming so recent.”

“A naming?”

“According to Enoch, two hundred angels rebelled, and they were cast down initially on a mountain called Armon, or Hermon: herem, in Hebrew, means a curse. Some, of course, descended farther, and founded hell, but others remained on earth. Enoch gives the names of nineteen, I think. Immael is not among them, although that of his twin, Ashmael, is included in certain versions. In fact, the first record of Immael derives from manuscripts written in Sedlec after 1421, the year in which the Black Angel is reputed to have been created, all of which has contributed to its mythology.”

She slowly turned the wheel, examining the sculpture from every possible angle.

“Where did you say you found this?”

“I didn’t.”