Why hadn’t there been even a hint of her and her assassin boyfriend since, though? Ten months without a single angel death. Either they really were dead or they were hiding out somewhere, planning something. He was beginning to feel paranoid for suspecting the latter, but knew his own capacity for deceit too well to underestimate his daughter’s.

No, tomorrow was necessary. Very necessary.

Raziel shifted to his angel form and lifted up in a brilliant glimmer of wings, leaving his black BMW below – he felt like flying through the bright coolness of the autumn day. Leaving the cathedral behind, he soared south over Denver Eden. From this height, he could take in at a glance what he’d accomplished: the different zones that now dissected the mountain city like graph paper; the high, imposing walls that rose in the distance.

Gazing down, he could see hundreds of people, their life energies on display as they shopped, wandered through the parks, drove cars. All so beautifully ordinary. He took good care of his cattle; no one could say otherwise. When you stepped into an Eden, you stepped into bliss – just like he’d promised.

Raziel couldn’t hold back a smirk as the wind whispered past his wings. Yes, bliss: he doubted that any resident of his Edens would describe life otherwise. Certainly not once they’d known the angels’ feeding touch…which never took very long.

He glided high; below, other angels hunted in small, lazy circles. There’d been complaints at first about the need to keep to assigned zones, but by now most seemed resigned to it. Raziel suspected that many angels actually liked the order imposed by his new regime, especially now the Council was gone. What was it about the angelic mind that craved something definitive to cling to?

A green-tinted glass building rose up above the others, reflecting mountains and clouds. Raziel swooped in through its highest window and shifted back to his human form. The penthouse apartment was a symphony of high windows and polished wood, with the Rockies rearing up to the north.

He tossed his suit jacket onto the sofa and settled into a broad leather armchair. As if on cue, a pair of beautiful young women appeared: one blonde, the other brunette – both dressed in tight clothes that it took little imagination to picture coming undone.

“Would you like anything?” asked the brunette, her eyes wide and hopeful. They used to call him “sir”, until he decided that familiarity was more enticing.

Unbuttoning his shirt collar, Raziel hardly looked up. As he reached for the remote control and turned on the TV, he said, “Just a drink, perhaps. Do we have any Evian?”

“Of course.” As the brunette hurried off, the blonde settled at his feet, leaning her head against his knee. She was named Summer and had been a world-renowned model; it amused Raziel when he remembered seeing her image on magazine covers.

He idly stroked her hair as an old rerun of I Love Lucy came on. They hadn’t gotten around to creating new TV shows yet, but this was in the works: every time an actor entered an Eden, they were whisked here to Denver, where writers were busy preparing several new programmes. One, Angel Avengers, was sure to be a hit: it featured a small group who spent their lives hunting down Angel Killers, destroying them in new and inventive ways each week.

“I love this one,” murmured Summer, as Lucy cavorted in a vat of grapes. She tilted back her perfect head to gaze adoringly at Raziel. “It’s so funny.”

“I’m delighted you’re enjoying it, my dear,” he said absently. Summer had a degree in art history and had once been far from stupid – but after several months with him, her aura was weak, her mind almost gone. Really, he should retire her to one of the lower zones, except that she was still so decoratively beautiful that he’d been putting it off.

The brunette – Lauren – appeared with his Evian on a small tray; Raziel shook his head at himself and took a sip. Sentimentality – he couldn’t afford it. He’d make the call tomorrow and have a fresh A1 brought over immediately. For if he didn’t deserve the highest classification of humans, then who did? Perhaps he’d get another brunette, Raziel mused. He could have a matching pair.

On the TV, a man wearing angel wings held up a cellphone, talking excitedly. “Here at Celestial Cells we’ve got the best darn phones around, and every Eden resident wants one! We got electricity here, folks – let’s enjoy it! Talk to your friends, send texts, pictures! Deals start at only a hundred and twenty-nine angel credits – so you be nice to those angels and get your new phone today!” He winked broadly at the camera.

Raziel yawned and flicked to the other channel. The news came on, a pair of coiffed humans sitting behind a desk. There was no investigative reporting any more; the “news” was simply them reading stories provided by Raziel.

The male newscaster beamed. “Today we’re delighted to announce the openings of three new Edens: Cincinnati, Detroit and Omaha. Praise the angels!”

A film clip came on showing the opening of Omaha Eden. “I’m so happy,” said a tearful woman to the camera; behind her, people whooped and cheered. “We’ve been living in a refugee camp for months, and the angels took real good care of us – but this! Oh, it’s just too good to be true!”

Pride warmed Raziel at the sight of the crowds streaming into the made-over city. It wasn’t easy to remake a city into an Eden, but he’d done it. And now five more Edens were scheduled to open within the next month. He had several in Canada and South America, as well – soon he’d be ready to begin expanding into the rest of the world.

I’m getting there, Raziel thought, draining his drink. Even those few humans who hadn’t succumbed yet to his Edens were slowly falling into line. He made shortwave radio broadcasts daily, bombarding anyone who was listening with tempting morsels about how easy and fulfilling life was in an Eden: far more enjoyable than squatting in dark towns with no food supply.

Lauren sat perched on the arm of his chair with her shapely legs crossed. Once the news was over, she ran a finger up his arm and said, “You missed some phone calls. Nothing important. Mostly angels wanting better classifications.”

Raziel smirked. It was a familiar complaint: only a few angels now had access to whichever humans took their fancy. If they wanted to stay in his Edens, then they had to stick to the classifications they’d been assigned.

Unless they were friends of his, of course.

“I told them they’d have to talk to you,” added Lauren.

“Clever girl.”

“I try,” she said with an arch smile. Lauren had only been with him a few weeks, and already Raziel found himself torn between wanting to indulge in her as much as possible and wanting to go easy so that she’d last longer. She’d slipped unobtrusively into the role of assistant, showing a valuable sharpness at it – in fact, the best assistant he’d had since Jonah.

The thought of his traitorous former employee brought a spark of irritation. It was just as well for Jonah that he hadn’t shown his face again since the arrival of the Second Wave. Raziel would like nothing better than to watch him die slowly.

Lauren’s presence was soothing, desirable. Despite his resolution, Raziel’s hand strayed to stroke across her clear blue aura. He could feel its slight resistance against his fingers, as if he were moving them through water.

She caught her breath. “Oh, yes, Raziel, please,” she murmured, gripping his hand. She leaned down to kiss his neck. “Please,” she repeated.

He didn’t need further urging. He changed to his angel form and stood before both girls, wings spread; reaching out mentally to them, he rested a hand in each of their auras and began to feed. Even with Summer’s sadly depleted energy, experiencing two of them at once was intoxicating: waves of sensation that rocked through him, nourishing him.