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of Summoning that Auntie had taught him as a boy came to mind. He did not care that the theatre became cooler, damper; a sure sign that the white-faced demons were coming.
    The shouting between the Chosen infected those witnessing the debacle and they too joined into the debate. None paid any attention to the slow rising mist swirling around their ankles.
    Anger begat fury, feeding a cycle between the Angel and the Chosen. His Chooser was right, he was in control and it was up to him to do something.
    Over the din he shouted, “ Be quiet! ”
    His desire and anger washed over the others, immediately halting any further vociferous debate. All eyes turned to him and he knew what they saw: the Angel of Death standing in their midst. The throbbing headache was gone, leaving a sense of detached anger and he knew at this moment that if he wanted to he could eradicate all the Chosen in this room. The thought    humbled him but still he did not relinquish the mists.
    “ You wanted proof. I'll give you proof. Proof of your blindness to the reality that Vampires stand here in our midst, spying on the Chosen to find out what we know and what we'll do about it. Proof that their sole purpose is the destruction of the Chosen. ” The Angel turned his burning gaze down onto each of the Masters and Mistresses.
    Bridget ignored his stare, instead she clutched Fernando's arm. It was clear she was communicating with her Chosen and Fernando was rightly concerned.
    Movement at the back of the theatre snapped the Angel's attention around. A null void in the shape of a red headed youth was trying his hand at the locked door. The Angel's lips twisted into a sneer as his fury at the creature unleashed.
    “ What are you doing? ” demanded Notus, confusion filling his words.
    His Chooser did not know about this new ability, but he was about to find out.
    “ Halt! ” ordered the Angel. A thick rope of mist rose up from the floor, twirling itself around the double doorknobs and lingered. The Vampire snapped his hand back as if bitten.
    Relieved that the creature would not be leaving, the Angel finished the spell and watched the fog churn and boil until it was level with his chest.
    Shouts of terror from the Chosen and the sound of flesh boomed against wood as some beat against the thick oak doors in a vain attempt of escape. Somewhere within the din the Angel heard Fernando issue an order for everyone to stay still.
    He met the Master of Britain's dumbfounded expression with cold fury. Today the Chosen will know him for what he was and he did not care. Bringing his attention back to the swirling mists he watched as faces and figures coalesced. Vacant black eyes in skeletal skulls cloaked in mist stared at him expectantly.
    What is thy bidding, Sire? asked the one floating in front of the Angel, its mouth a putrid maw.
    No longer afraid of the creatures that tormented him since childhood, the Angel now controlled them. Take all but one of the Vampires. The one on the stage must not be allowed to leave. You are not to touch the Chosen, he ordered in the dead language that Auntie had taught him.
    As you will it, so shall it be done.   Its ruined mouth opened further into a gruesome smile and swam off as the mists boiled up, filling the theatre from floor to ceiling.
    Silence reigned but a moment, belying the fear and confusion that flowed through the mists towards the Angel. Then the sounds of terror erupted.
    Screams and crying pierced the veil. Whether they came from the Chosen or the Vampires it was hard to say except that some were cut off in mid cry. Others gurgled into oblivion. Panic struck footsteps disappeared, leaving others to run blindly. All this the Angel listened to as he unleashed the white-faced demons to reap his revenge.
    Eyes closed, he felt the savage satisfaction that the white-faced demons revelled in as their jagged teeth ripped into dead immortal flesh. Every so often one of those under his command would swim by to caress