The first one he took down was Leliel, the fallen angel feigning a strike, Leliel moving to block it and Azazyel bursting past her, the woman cut in half.
He was shot back to the beach by Danira, Lucian tracking him the entire time, ready to engage the fallen angel with Grimzilla’s weaponry.
Azazyel flung his sword at Danira and it passed right through her armor, driving her backward and pinning her against the cliff.
“Not on my watch, asshole,” Lucian said as he fired on Azazyel, focusing on his legs and knocking the angel off his feet, which gave Hashul the chance to attack.
The male angel came forward with the golden spear, driving it into Azazyel’s body. He was shot backward, a small bolt of lightning lifting from the ground and tearing him in half.
Another pair of angels came around, Azazyel also striking them with white-purple energy that ripped through their bodies.
Back on his feet, the fallen angel started to engage Mastima.
Lucian managed to blast Azazyel in the back with a burst of searing plasma, Mastima cutting into him with her scythe. Azazyel responded to Lucian’s surprise attack with another purple blast from the sky that caused Grimzilla to short-circuit for a moment.
His arms returned to their normal form and an even larger sword appeared in the fallen angel’s hands; he engaged Mastima for a moment longer before he finally got his hit in, a slice that separated her body from her right shoulder to her left waist.
And Lucian was just about to blast him again, when another purple burst of energy rained down from the sky, Grimzilla powering down this time.
“Shit!”
Lucian heard a percussive sound directly in front of him, followed by the sound of metal on metal as Azazyel pried open the cockpit, alarms going off all around Lucian’s head.
His Soul Points flash in front of him:
Lucian barely managed to get his hands up in time as the hatch of his craft flew open.
He summoned bursts of fire rimmed in electricity from his right hand, conjuring wind from his left.
Injurecrows exploded all around them, smoke billowing into his face as Azazyel reached into the cockpit for Lucian.
It didn’t matter what he threw at the fallen angel, Azazyel seemed to absorb it all.
The fallen angel was, however, showing signs of being worn down, his hair disheveled, scratches all over his armor, an exasperated look about him even though he wore a mask.
Seeing just a small sign of weakness gave Lucian a boost of courage, and even as a voice at the back of his head told him to run, to leave the fight now, he exploded out of the cockpit, tackling Azazyel and driving him down into the water.
They hit the seafloor and bounced up, Azazyel dropping fist after fist despite the fact that they were underwater, the two of them eventually making their way to the shoreline.
They finally made it to the beach, and as they did Azazyel threw Lucian off. Lucian was struck by a bolt of purple energy before he could hit the ground, Azazyel’s blade arms reforming.
“I’m not done with you yet, you chicken-hearted milksop!”
Old Death stood behind the fallen angel now, haggard, covered in blood, dragging his sword on the ground as he cursed under his breath.
“You are no match for me,” Azazyel said.
One of the female angels tried to attack him from behind; Azazyel blasted her so far backward that it seemed as if she had completely disappeared.
“Try me, you festering mollycoddle…” Old Death spit. “You’ll be surprised what I’m capable of!”
“No, no I won’t.”
The pillar of energy that struck Old Death was unlike any that Azazyel had conjured before. As soon as it hit him Lucian cried out, the pillar growing larger, Lucian reaching out only to be whisked away.
He glanced up to see a familiar angel above him now, an uncomfortable look on her face as Danira saved Lucian yet again.
Azazyel’s blast radius grew quickly; the explosion that followed sent Lucian and Danira spiraling away from the beach.
The two of them smacked into a rooftop, their weight carrying them straight through and separating them once they hit the floor below.
Lucian tried to press himself out of the rubble, pain spreading through him now, everything flashing for a moment.
He knew the best thing to do would be to go, to get as far away from the battle as possible, but he also had to know if Old Death was okay, if Danira had made it through.
He turned in the direction that she had fallen; Lucian started to press the rubble away. His hands came under a bathroom sink and he hoisted it into the air, throwing it behind him.
“Danira? Danira?” he called out as he searched through the scree.
He felt something grab his leg. He looked down to see her hand slipping toward his ankle.
Lucian dug Danira out of the debris, the angel coughing as he pulled her into his arms. “You have to go…”
“I have to go back to the beach…” he said, his vision blurring and refocusing on her face. His Soul Points flashed, an intense pain moved through his body, but he ignored it all, his sole focus on the angel.
Danira was pretty scraped up, her hair a mess now, blue paint smeared across one of her cheeks.
“You are such an idiot, demon,” she said, reaching her hand to his cheek, Lucian’s skull mask immediately filtering away.
“Why did you attack me?”
“We can’t…”
“Don’t say it,” Lucian said, his voice quivering.
Now wasn’t the time. Even so, he didn’t want to hear it, he didn’t want to be told that they couldn’t be together.
Not now.
Not after everything they’d already been through.
“I’m going back to the beach,” he said, still holding the angel in his arms, not wanting to let go.
But he knew he had to.
He had to check on…
“Lucian, you don’t understand, your…” Danira swallowed hard. “He’s dead. There’s no way he survived it. You need to leave here. Now. Save yourself. The next time we meet…”
“Please don’t,” Lucian said, looking deeply into her eyes.
“Next time, I have to…”
“I’m not going to let you kill me.”
“Demon.”
“Angel,” Lucian said through gritted teeth. “No. Absolutely not.”
“We have to…” Danira sighed miserably. “Set me down; I have to go.”
Lucian did as he was instructed to do, Danira now on her feet, the angel looking up at the enormous hole in the roof of the home. “Lucian, I’m sorry.”
“But…”
Danira turned to him, and as she did her golden sword appeared in her hands. She swung at Lucian so quickly that there was no chance for him to block her.
His head separated from his shoulders.
Everything flashed black.
The last thing he remembered seeing was Danira’s foot in front of him, her sword down by her side.
It was over.
Chapter Thirty-Two: On a Pale Horse
Lucian gasped.
His Soul Points appeared before him, a blur of blackened color with white streaks through it, everything murky, cloudy, terrible.
He knew what it felt like to be almost out of power, his heart fluttering in his chest.
Lucian heard the beep of hospital medical equipment, this sound falling away quickly, a new sound taking shape, one of movement, of wings.
“Where…?”
The words that met Lucian’s ears were muffled, distorted.
As he tried to understand them, his perspective changed.
He briefly saw a swath of beige, and he mentally reached out for it, realizing that he no longer had arms or legs.
And if he no longer had arms or legs, it occurred to him that he likely didn’t have a body; an image of Danira decapitating him as if he’d seen it from a security camera in the corner of the room flashed across his mind’s
eye.
“No…”
Lucian had the overwhelming sense that this was his final stop in whatever he could call his life, that he was in Heaven, about to be banished to Hell.
And even with all of the fear that was running through him, Lucian couldn’t help but mentally smirk at this last thought.
Heaven or Hell? Only You Can Decide.
The words rang out in his skull mockingly, Lucian already having been forced to choose neither.
“Where…?”
Again, no reply.
More details started to come to Lucian regarding what had just happened, how they’d been flung into someone’s house by Azazyel’s final attack, how he’d tried to go back for his predecessor.
And why?
Aside from giving him this curse, what had his predecessor truly done for Lucian?
Lucian’s thoughts skipped from questioning his loyalty to what would happen to him next.
He had already made the journey from living to dead, so what then? How would the Progeny of Light torture him? Would they imprison him at the South Wind for all eternity? Would they absorb his power?
Had he somehow been picked up by a different entity, perhaps an injuresoul?
Lucian willed himself to blink, the wind slapping against his face.
Wind?
He got the sense that he was flying now, that he was being carried. He heard noises again, and he could have sworn that a female voice called him demon, but he couldn’t be sure.
He saw the glint of something sparkling in the distance, but was unable to interpret what it was.
The movement stopped.
Lucian was stationary for a moment, resting on something soft.
It was night and he was suddenly back in Turners Falls, Massachusetts, hovering over the bridge that stretched into the city. There was a sheen of ice on everything, the river below frozen, the moon a bleached bone sliver in the sky.
Lucian tried to speak, but no sound came out of his mouth as he looked down at his hands, and from there to his feet, seeing that he was indeed alive.
A white sports car began to take shape beneath him. It was a beautiful vehicle with deep curves and a wide stance, twin exhausts and an epic spoiler.
It hummed, beckoning Lucian toward it.
He lowered down, his eyes falling upon a license plate that read MORTIS.
Lucian recalled trying to fight his way across the bridge previously, but maybe…
He could already see the swell of injuresouls at the other end of the bridge, the terrifying creations spreading in his direction.
A new idea came to Lucian, a way to take out as many of the incoming horde as possible.
It was an insane idea.
It was an idea that shouldn’t work, but this was generally the department in which Lucian thrived.
He came to the driver’s side door and it popped open suicide-style.
Lucian lowered into the vehicle, noticing that there was a large flat screen in place of the center console, a single button on the screen.
But he didn’t press the flashing button, not yet anyway.
He brought the door down and placed his hands on the steering wheel. He revved the engine, nodding excitedly, realizing how fast the car was going to be able to travel.
He revved it again, and this time he shifted into drive.
Lucian took off, leaving the sound of burning rubber behind him as he blitzed toward the crowd of injuresouls.
He turned the wheel just in time, the back end spinning out, Lucian smashing into the mob, crunching some of them under his squealing tires.
The injuresouls beat at his windows, but none were able to break inside as Lucian backed up into several more of the demons, running the bumper of the white sports car into the bridge’s railing.
He sped forward again, braking just in time to stop himself from flying off the bridge and into the frozen river below.
More injuresouls swirled around him, Lucian barely able to see, the button on the dashboard flashing.
But Lucian wasn’t ready to eject himself or abort his attack.
So he backed up again, slamming his foot onto the gas pedal and speeding forward, the white vehicle taking out more injuresouls and crunching over the bodies of others.
The front of the car started to lift as a few of them attempted to pick up the vehicle.
Lucian slammed his foot on the gas pedal and again shredded his shadowy opponents, his tires screeching as he skidded to a halt. They tried this strategy again the next time he came around, the injuresouls finally able to flip Lucian’s vehicle over.
The front windshield shattered; one of the injuresouls used its claws to pull itself into the cabin of the vehicle, its jaw dislocating, bloodied bandages flailing from its neck as Lucian went for the blinking button on the dashboard.
As soon as he touched it he was atop a pale white horse, his sword in his hand, cutting down his opponents.
The white horse kicked through an injuresoul, Lucian bringing his sword straight into the mouth of another one of the demons.
He kept fighting them, his horse helping when it could.
But they kept coming.
Endless.
Infinite.
It was at this point that Lucian realized that he was halfway to the other side of the bridge. And when he made it, then what? What could possibly lie on the other side of the divide, past the Empyrean, further than he had ever traveled before?
There was only one way to find out.
Lucian used his shotgun to take down another one of his opponents. He yanked on the reins of his horse, the beast charging forward.
His enemies tried to stop him, but Lucian tore through the demons, blasting his gun behind him to keep those on his tail from catching up.
And he did it.
Lucian reached the other side of the bridge, his heart sinking when he saw that there was another bridge beyond; this one was even longer.
Energy poured into him as he took a deep breath in. The energy continued to strike him, warm at first but increasingly hot as it overpowered him, his heart giving way.
Lucian awoke with a gasp.
He was in his workshop, no pale horse in sight.
A corona of light came to Lucian as he blinked his eyes open, and for a moment he thought Danira was standing there, that she was looking over him, taking care of him.
But she wasn’t.
He was alone.
Lucian sat up, and brought his hands to his temples, massaging them for a moment.
His Soul Points appeared before him, telling him he was back at full charge:
A cup of coffee materialized in Lucian’s hand as he started to sift through everything that had happened back at the beach in Portland.
He started with how his predecessor had appeared, challenging the Committee, the angels arriving, the fights that followed. This led him to remembering Gaspard coming after him, and the Death Hunter known as Wyatt coming as well.
That would be something that would likely play out in the coming weeks.
What had happened to Gaspard after Wyatt disappeared with him? Of course, Wyatt was smart to leave once Azazyel arrived, and Lucian didn’t feel sorry for Gaspard in the least, but he had the itching feeling that he would have to somehow get involved with that at some point.
After all, Wyatt was after him.
Lucian shook his head as he remembered Grimzilla rising from the sea, the sinking feeling in his chest upon seeing his predecessor go down…
“I don’t know,” he said to his crows, both of whom were hovering at the end of the bed.
A thought came to Lucian.
“Who saved me?” he asked Hugin.
“Danira,” Hugin said in its nondescript voice. “But she cut your head off first.”
“I remember that part. But why?”
“Because you were trying to go back to the fight,” his spherical creation told him. “She cut off your head and then came here. You first ap
peared in the desert, and then she flew to your workshop.”
“I did?” Lucian asked, trying to recall what had happened and only coming back with a few blurred flashes of color.
“She placed you in the bed and waited. She left, just now.”
“I really don’t get her,” Lucian said, his energy sinking for a moment. “Why can’t things just be simple between us?”
“Maybe they will be one day, my boy...”
Lucian was startled to hear Old Death’s voice.
He glanced around his workshop, searching for the man.
“Down here,” Old Death called to him.
Lucian looked to the floor to see Ezra the cat staring at him, a twinkle in his eye. “Come,” Old-Death-as-Ezra said, turning to the lake.
Lucian was up in a matter of seconds, floating out of his workshop and toward the lake. He saw Grimzilla standing to the left, his towering creation powered down at the moment, his head dipped ever so slightly. He could see the empty city on the other side of the cliff, the morning sun reflecting off the towering skyscrapers, a few flying vehicles buzzing in the air, everything glimmering.
They reached the shoreline of the lake and sat, Old-Death-as-Ezra looking over his shoulder at Lucian.
“Well, I wasn’t expecting this,” Lucian said, his coffee cup that read ‘Demon’ still in his hand.
“And I wasn’t expecting you to feed me chocolate the other day, but it was decent, and I’m glad you’re learning how to create more complicated items. Your giant robot here was quite the treat,” Old Death said, looking up at Grimzilla. “Ha! You sure gave those blowsabellas and gundiguts a shock, big guy.”
“Where do you get these words?” Lucian asked, still a bit shocked to see his predecessor in feline form.
“You should know by now, my boy,” the cat said. “I’ve been a collector of rare words for over two hundred years. This should come as no surprise to you. It is an art form, truly.”
“I didn’t say I was surprised; I’m just wondering why you don’t go with easier words.”
“Like what? What would you call everyone back at the beach? Festering fuckboys and Raggedy Ann bitches? Because that works too.”
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