"It's true." Mika said slowly. "A king shouldn't do the work himself. Not to mention, it would be much more effective if the Battle Angels themselves carried out the execution."
"Imagine the message that would send." His chuckle was dark and empty. "No one would ever dare cross them again. The name 'Battle Angel' would be whispered in fear for generations."
"You're right!" The voice screamed. "You're absolutely right! They should be the ones to do it!"
"But they won't." He added, frowning. "They're completely against what I'm doing."
"Don't worry about that, my darling boy." The voice had become almost gentle now. Almost tender. "Your mother will handle it."
And then the shadows began to move.
They swirled up from the corners of the room, pooling like liquid darkness, condensing into a form that Charlotte's mind refused to fully process.
And from that form extended a pale, slender, impossibly graceful hand that reaching slowly toward Charlotte's forehead.
