Everything in Michael's being winced at the sight and the feel and the sense of Gabriel's turbulent Grace, this thing on the edge of utter confusion, the brink of desparate evil, reaching out not for anything in particular but out of pure terror. Crying out again, Michael thought a warning to Merlin just as the other angel stumbled into his net.

The net closed, Merlin coming up white-faced and frantic behind it, and Michael approached the lion with trepidation.