“You can’t put a price on this!” Olivia brushed her long hair back from her face, her auburn highlights flaming as they caught the light from the many lanterns around them in the emerald cave. “I’ve given up trying.”

They were both seated on large floor cushions atop a Persian rug that was spread in the centre of a group of huge, square pillars. It felt exotic, as if they were in some kind of Arabian tent, or palace. The light ignited the emerald columns, revealing flaws in the columns, and casting shadows on the archaic script. In the dancing flames, the elegant swirls of text shimmered as if they were alive. The whole place was intoxicating and mesmerising. She wished she had the Nephilim’s skills with languages.

They were deep into the cave, the pillars running in all directions. Although Estelle couldn’t understand the words, it was easy to see there was some kind of pattern to their placement. The pillars were grouped in shapes. Clusters of square columns, then plain round ones, fluted, spirals, thin, broad, gilded, unadorned… They all denoted segments of knowledge. The four of them had first spent time in an area that listed the thousands of angels, but then moved to another. This area talked about magic. Spells, to be exact.

Barak and Nahum were high above, inspecting the endless text that was written, well, everywhere. Both she and Olivia had started to make basic notes about the information on the pillars, but the sheer enormity of it was overwhelming. Eventually, Barak and Nahum had stopped shouting down information and had fallen silent too, except for short conversations between each other.

“Just think,” Olivia continued, “what’s written in here could rewrite history.”

“And could destroy us all, too.”

Olivia frowned as she sat cross-legged. “Do you think so?”

“People far cleverer than us could unlock the very material of our world. I’m not sure we should.”

“Aren’t physicists doing that right now?”

“You know what I mean. This is so much!”

“Someone could uncover the cure for cancer in here, or Alzheimer’s, or all sorts of terrible diseases.” Olivia’s gaze drifted around the room. “It could change everything.”

Estelle bit back her initial, scathing response. “You’re so positive, Olivia. You see the good in things. I do not. Men would subvert this to their basest desires. Women, too. Wars, in fact, would be fought over this. We can never tell anyone.”

Olivia looked as if she might argue, but then she just sighed. “I know. I can feel the tingle of it all on my skin, can you? It’s like static electricity.”

“That’s the magic.” Estelle stared around the vast cave again. “I can’t decide where the source is. It feels everywhere. That seems impossible.”

Olivia giggled. “We’re in an emerald cave. That seemed impossible a couple of days ago. Men who didn’t care for its secrets and knowledge would carve it up and sell it. We’re in a billion-pound cave.”

“I doubt it could be destroyed. I think the magic must protect it. Perhaps it would close itself up again and we’d be trapped inside.”

“Would we know?” Olivia mused thoughtfully “Or would we be crushed to dust?”

“I guess if we weren’t crushed, we would only know if we tried to leave to find food. We’d discover the entrance sealed, and we’d slowly die of starvation and thirst. Unless there’s a kitchen here and an endless food supply we don’t know about. Or if it granted us immortality and we’d never be hungry again.” She laughed at her crazy suggestions. “I hope we don’t have to find out.”

“Well, I can absolutely say that hasn’t happened yet.” Olivia patted her stomach. “I’m hungry and thirsty. I might bring some food in for everyone. No one will leave here for hours. I don’t even know what time it is.”

They had realised some time ago that their phones and watches didn’t work in there.

“Maybe we should check our messages, too,” Estelle suggested. The cave suddenly felt oppressive, as if Estelle was in her tomb, and she wanted to leave, too. She looked up to see Barak soaring high above. “I’m surprised he hasn’t complained about being hungry.”

“He’s obsessed now, like Nahum.” Olivia hesitated, as if unsure of her next words, and then lowered her voice. “Is it really so bad when they use Belial’s jewels?”

“Yes. I hate it.” She saw Olivia flinch back in surprise and tried to temper her response. “They don’t lose control completely, but it changes them. It gives them a hard edge. I see Barak’s eyes change. He’s not my Barak anymore. He’s another man from another time. It’s like I’ve lost him.”

Estelle felt herself becoming tearful and tried to shake it off. She was never tearful, and she prided herself on it. But neither had she felt as comfortable talking to another woman before. She didn’t get on with other women well, she knew that. The White Haven witches irritated her, and so did Shadow, although that was probably because they were horribly alike in many ways. Maggie was hilarious, and she respected her, but she wasn’t sure they would ever be close friends. Olivia, though, was different, and she couldn’t quite say why. Perhaps it was because they were of a similar age, and she felt no judgement from Olivia. Then again, Olivia had never seen Estelle at her spikiest.

“Sorry. I’m being stupid.” Estelle looked up again at Barak, heart now thumping painfully in her chest. “I’ve never had anyone love me like he does. I don’t think I could bear to lose it.”

Olivia leaned forward and squeezed her hand, her warm tone reassuring. “You won’t. They are…different, aren’t they? They are like other men, and yet they’re not. And I don’t mean their wings and their strength that their half angel blood gives them. It’s like this endless depth. I feel like I’m standing on a precipice, and if I fall in, I may never get out. I won’t even want to get out.”

She meant the precipice of love, of course. “It’s worth it, Olivia. But yes. It’s terrifying, too.”

Olivia looked up at Nahum, and Estelle followed her gaze. He was hanging off another column, fingers gripped on some moulding, legs braced on the surface, his wings spread behind him, the lamplight burnishing his already olive skin as he studied a piece of text. His taut abs and muscled arms were more defined in the light. He was breathtaking. Not as breathtaking in her eyes as Barak, but these Nephilim were extraordinary.

She risked a question she wouldn’t have dared ask earlier. “What will you do, Olivia?”

Her eyes never left him as she said, “I don’t know.”

Niel circled Beneventi’s grounds, well above the reach of the garden lights.

They must suspect that he and the others would come here, or else having so many lights on was just a regular safety feature. It seemed excessive though, as did the number of guards. Men patrolled the dock, the area close to the gate, and the perimeter wall.

At least half a dozen boats were now at the dock, and people made their way to the house in small groups. Lights blazed at several windows, and there was a general air of hustle and bustle, and self-important posturing. Niel could also see more angel statues around the garden, but none so impressive as the one in the cloisters.

He wasn’t sure whether the fact that the meeting was going ahead was a sign of utter naivety or sheer bullishness. Or a trap, of course. The cloisters, as they suspected, was their meeting place, and at least a dozen people were gathered there. He hoped Gabe could hear them from his position.

What Niel couldn’t work out was why they weren’t paying more attention to the sky. They must know that they were Nephilim. Belial would have told them. Or maybe their level of communication was far more basic. Perhaps The Brotherhood assumed that although he and his brothers had used Belial’s jewels, that they also had a team of humans who they commanded, much like Jiri did them. Plus, according to Gabe, Lamberti had no idea that they were Nephilim.

Niel nodded to himself. Yes, that sounded likely. Of course, only time would tell.

Gabe lay flat on the roof of the single storey building that edged one side of the cloisters, watching the new arrivals.

The large, square space was edged with pillars that bordered a broad walkway, two sides of which were covered by a stone roof that backed up against the buildings behind it. The other sides were open to the gardens, partially shielded by trees and bushes. It would be a beautiful, restful place in the summer, with most of it in shade.

Half a dozen men and a couple of women were now in the cloisters. Belial’s statue presided over them all, his wings spread wide, encompassing almost all of the enclosed space, but this time he didn’t point anywhere. He carried a sword in one hand, and a huge horn in the other. Interesting. Did this mark the last statue?

A brazier blazed on the ground in front of it, and the group gathered in ones or twos as if they were waiting for someone else. Gabe wriggled forward so that he was close to the roof’s edge, and voices drifted to him from the nearest pair. They were angry, speaking in Italian again.

A strident male voice that came from a portly, middle-aged man, said, “Amato’s death has had catastrophic consequences! He must have left paperwork about, or else how could they have found Lamberti?”

“They are Nephilim,” his companion, a tall, bearded man said, warming his hands by the fire. “Belial warned us that someone would know of the jewels’ worth. They must have sent a team here.”

“But Nephilim? How?”

“I presumed they were summoned here, just like Jiri was, but with no Fallen Angel to direct them, they are weak.”

“They have smashed the statue in Palazzuolo! Stolen another ring! The temple beneath the church was destroyed! They are ruining everything!” Gabe’s stomach turned. So they knew about Palazzuolo already.

“But they don’t know all, my friend.”

“They killed six men this afternoon, and pushed them into the canal on their own boat! You say they are no threat, but I do not believe it.” His eyes darted about nervously. “They could even be here now.”

“I doubt it, as Lamberti did not know of this meeting.”

“But Lamberti knows about us! He could have told them everything.”

The tall man leaned down, pressing his face close to the other man’s. “Calm down. Armand does not like to see fear! It is why we meet tonight, despite their close proximity. At least old Lamberti is not a threat anymore. He is dead. Armand’s nephew killed him. Not before he talked, though. We probably have his hidden paperwork already.” The man scowled. “Armand should have killed him years ago.”