halo

A sudden, sunny smile lit Michael’s face. “My friend… ”
Uriel blinked, and rocked slightly, as if the words had struck him with physical force.
“... thank you,” Michael continued. “But I’m not the Carpenter who set the standard.”
Nicodemus tapped Uriel on the shoulder. “Excuse me.”
The angel turned to him, slowly. His face was resolute, his eyes flat.
“You are standing in the way of mortal business, angel,” Nicodemus said. “Stand aside.”
Uriel’s eyes flickered, and frozen lightning exploded through the clouds overhead, thunder making the standstill sleet-drops quiver.
“You make threats?” Nicodemus asked, contempt dripping from his voice like blood from a wound. “Perhaps you should cut your losses. You are without power in this matter, angel, and we both know it. You can do nothing to me.”
And then Nicodemus lifted his left hand and, deliberately, calmly, tensed his forefinger beneath his thumb and flicked it out to tap the end of the angel’s nose.
Uriel’s eyes widened, and terrible light gathered around his head and shoulders. Looking at it hurt, burned the eyes, seared my mind with sudden memories of every shameful act I’d ever chosen to do, scorched me with the obvious truth of how easy it might have been to make a different choice. The light of Uriel’s halo banished shadows and averted everyone’s gaze.
Everyone’s but Nicodemus’s.
“Go on, angel,” Nicodemus taunted, his shadow swelling and curling in slow, restless motion. “Smite me. Visit your wrath upon me. Judge me.”


Skin Game Chapter 30, Page 242-243