by C. S. Wilde
“I’ll make him pay,” she promised the dark sky.
Ava tossed and turned in bed. She must’ve gotten fifteen minutes of sleep by the time her phone rang.
Outside, dawn painted the horizon in soft blue and orange hues. She watched it for a moment before picking up the device.
“Ava.” It was Kevin. “Can you meet me at the morgue in my precinct? It’s about Vera.”
It shouldn’t take her long to fly there. “Yes, of course. I’ll be there in five.”
She hung up and got into her bodysuit. Maybe she should tell Ezra, but when Ava remembered the pain that had pierced through him, she decided against it.
He needed rest, and if she could spare him from seeing his mentor’s body again, she would.
Even if he might hate her for it.
The morgue was a small room walled with lime-colored tiles. A metal autopsy table stood in the middle of the perfectly sterilized space, and atop it lay Vera’s body. A white sheet covered her up until the lines of her hair. Brown curls hung from her scalp like an unmoving curtain.
Ava looked away and cleared her throat.
“What did you find?” she asked Kevin, who was accompanied by the coroner—another Selfless.
Kevin eyed Ava, then shot her a sympathetic smile. “Gotten any sleep, dove?”
“Plenty,” she jeered, rubbing a hand on her forehead. “What do you have for me?”
The coroner and Kevin exchanged a worried glance. “The case will be passed on to Virtue Suphiel tomorrow at six p.m. Once it’s out, Talahel could easily gain access to Vera’s body, understand?”
Ava nodded, even though she didn’t know why Kevin was telling her this.
He motioned to the coroner, who gently grabbed Vera’s wrist and raised it. He beckoned Ava to come closer as he showed her the back of the old owl’s lower arm.
Vera had cut a number on her skin. The wounds were half-healed, but the sequence was clear: 3181805.
“She cut herself with a cursed blade to slow down her healing,” Kevin explained. “We think she did this less than twenty-four hours ago.”
The coroner laid down Vera’s arm with the tenderness of a glass worker. Ava silently thanked him for it. Whoever he was, he seemed to be a kind soul and worthy of Kevin’s trust.
“We have no clue what it means.” Kevin blew a sigh and ran a hand through his orange hair. “Does this number ring any bells with you?”
“No.” She frowned. No matter how hard she tried, there was no sparing the Messenger from this. “But it might mean something to Ezra.”
24
Ava
Atop a skyscraper’s roof, Ava watched the city beyond the line of water. Wind slammed against her body, whipping her hair and feathers. It felt strangely freeing.
“Make sure your shield is up,” Ezra said as he climbed on the ledge and stepped beside her. “A fall from this height—”
Her body tensed with annoyance. “I’m aware.”
Ezra was an overly cautious man by nature, but ever since they lost Vera he’d gone overboard. Ava could almost taste the smoky tang of his worry, always there, never waning.
She understood him, though. Vera’s death had been a harsh blow, and he would need time to recover. So she swallowed her irritation. It was the least she owed him.
“I can fly safely now. I’ll be fine.”
Ezra nodded, but his worry kept pressing on him.
In a flash of light, his magnificent wings spread wide, sharp feathers of silver and gold. He pointed to the city beyond the line of water. “Vera had a storage room where she kept things that were important to her. The number she carved on her arm …” His jaw tensed, and his voice failed. “The number might be the password to open it.”
“How do you know?”
“3181805. March 18th 1805. The day I was reborn as an angel,” he said quietly, his tone a dry and mournful sound. “The day I met Vera.”
Vera loved Ezra like a son, and she had chosen the day they met to keep all that was important to her. A dull ache spread in Ava’s chest.
“She brought her killer to sector four on purpose, you know,” he said quietly, his eyes watering. “She knew it was an area assigned to a Selfless precinct. She made sure we would get the message before Talahel.”
Ava let that sink in, and the sting in her chest increased. Vera knew she would die.
“Revenge might not be the way of the Gods …” Ezra’s throat bobbed, and he took a shaky breath. “But you’re not alone in wanting retribution.”
The Messenger was good and kind, but hatred had nearly destroyed him once. Ava wouldn’t let it happen again. Let it taint her, not him.
I’ll protect him, old owl.
The rising sun graced Ezra with a soft orange glow, and from this angle it seemed his silver hair was catching fire.
Ava gripped his shoulder. “I’ll make sure she didn’t die in vain.”
With that, she leapt off the roof and boosted into the blue. Once the buildings became small towers below, Ava zinged toward the horizon.
Ezra soon caught up. An aura of pride emanated from him as they flew side by side. His hair was trapped in a high bun, but wind freed thin strands that whirled around his temples.
Heavens, he was too handsome. The loving smile he shot her brought Ava peace and calm.
A realization came to mind all of its own. She could be happy with him.
She shook her head and dismissed the thought as fast as it had come. Now was not the time to think about this.
They landed in front of a building with black mildew blotches tainting its blue façade. A bulky iron gate blocked the premises behind them. Ava couldn’t explain why seeing the locked gates felt like a dark omen—thank Heavens she didn’t believe in such nonsense.
They entered the building, soon crossing empty corridors lined by cold LED lights. Roll-up garage doors bordered their path left and right.
“Which one?” she asked.
Ezra didn’t reply; he simply kept checking each door as they passed.
Eventually, he stopped. Before them was a dark-gray door that thrummed against Ava’s essence. The metal must’ve been blessed. Any angel could’ve done this, but the energy coursing through the door felt different.
It had her taste, her smell. A small piece of Vera left behind.
“This is it,” Ezra muttered.
He typed the password on the keypad beside the door and it automatically rolled up, revealing a small cemented room. It was empty save for a square wooden box resting in the back left corner.
They knelt beside it and opened the top. Case files. At least eighty of them.
After half an hour scanning through the papers, they found nothing that incriminated Talahel.
Ezra fumbled desperately with the documents. “What was she trying to show us?”
“I have no clue.” Ava frowned at the report in her hand. “A form for demonic activity engagement. Talahel signed it so that Sithrael could contact demons.”
She showed it to him.
“That’s not forbidden.” Ezra shrugged as he read the paper. “Selfless and Archangels have to use demons as confidential informants sometimes. Talahel could easily spin this to his favor.” He narrowed his eyes and grabbed the folder from her hand. “Hells’ Gorge.”
“You know them?”
“They’re extremists who preach demonic superiority. The Gorge is also the biggest demonic faction that the Order’s aware of.” He scratched his chin. “I doubt Sithrael could force information out of them, but this form says that’s exactly what he did.”
He rummaged through the box and pulled a new folder, then flipped the pages until he found what he wanted. “Last year, Archangels killed thirty demons belonging to the Gorge. This year, none.”
“We have to give this to Kevin,” Ava said. “He’ll find something incriminating. Other than Liam, he’s the best detective I know.”
“We will. Vera was definitely on to something.” Ezra put th
e folders back into the box and closed the lid. He watched it with care. “Thank you, esteemed mentor.”
A silhouette broke through the fake lights from outside, and Ava barely had time to turn before a figure slammed into Ezra.
She spotted moss-colored wings that became white at the bottom walling the Messenger. Ava heard a hollow thud—a punch—and then Ezra fell limp on the floor. She barely registered that her mate had been knocked out when Sithrael swiveled around with a holy gun in his hand.
He fired, but her golden shield covered her body just in time.
The blast flung her outside the storage room and slammed her against the wall. The impact thrummed through her shield and into her bones.
Ava’s vision blurred and spun, forming shapes that didn’t make sense apart from one: Sithrael grabbing the wooden box.
Her head hurt as her shield faded, slipping underneath her skin. She leaned on the wall and forced herself to stand. “Stop!”
“I feel merciful today,” he said mindlessly. “You should run, Guardian.”
Ava’s pride objected, but her common sense agreed.
She glanced at the room and Ezra’s unconscious body near Sithrael’s feet. She had to draw the Archangel’s attention before he decided to finish the job.
“Gabriel begged for his life.” Ava drew her sword and leveled it at him. “This weak little Guardian beheaded your friend, and she’ll do the same to you.”
A muscle in his jaw ticked, and he carefully put the box down.
“You came here to destroy evidence,” she continued, planting her feet and ignoring the instinct to run. “How did you know where to find us?”
“I’m the Order’s best tracker.” He cracked his neck left then right. “I might’ve followed you here to destroy evidence, but now the Gods have shown me the true purpose of this encounter.” Insanity flashed across his face. “I must end you, sister, so I can pin your murder and Vera’s on the Messenger.”
He unsheathed his sword, a dark gray beast with two iron bears decorating the cross guard. He charged at once, and the clash of their swords clanged loudly.
Instead of stepping back, he pushed all his weight onto her blade. Ava’s arms trembled as she struggled to hold him back, but Sithrael was stronger, and soon he would pierce her defense and cut across her like butter.
The sound of thunder boomed inside her rift. Ava felt as if she were both burning and freezing when golden lightning began to crackle around her. It whipped into Sithrael’s skin, but the Archangel’s strike didn’t waver.
“I’m more resilient than Gabriel ever was,” he said, reading the question on her face.
He stepped back all too quickly, finding an opening under her arm. With his free hand, Sithrael jabbed the right side of her ribs, sending her flying through the corridor.
She slammed into the wall near the entrance, which caved with the impact. Ava crashed to her back on the ground outside.
Bones cracked and blood spewed in her organs. She healed all the major injuries—shattered ribs, a broken wing, and the internal hemorrhaging of her lungs. She could heal her dislocated shoulder, but she had to save her energy for Sithrael. Using the powers of the Goddess of Life and Love was less draining than telekinesis, but it was draining nonetheless.
She took a deep breath and sat up. Her fingers dug onto her shoulder and with one big pop, she forced it back in place.
Ava didn’t scream. She wouldn’t give him the pleasure.
From the giant hole she’d pierced through the wall, Sithrael watched her with amusement.
“Your brother Gabriel underestimated me,” she said through gritted teeth as she stood. Ava picked up her sword from the ground and gripped the handle so hard her knuckles went white.
Sithrael shrugged, unfazed. “You’re a fool, sister. The numbers of In-Betweens were starting to outgrow the holy and the damned. Our mutual agreement with demons ensured our survival. You think we’re cruel, but it’s simple population control.”
“Why aren’t you controlling the demonic population then?”
Sithrael chortled. “Those idiots will never coordinate. They are no threat to the Order, and neither are the In-Betweens now.” He swung his sword in circles as he approached.
“Surrender yourself,” she spat, a certain bitterness crawling up her throat.
The words sounded silly because Sithrael would never do it. But she would give him a chance, if only to honor the merciful Guardian she used to be, the naïve soul who believed in good even underneath evil. The angel Ava barely remembered anymore.
Sithrael laughed. “Your Goddess is weak, and so are you.”
He charged, and Ava ducked just in time. Her golden shield covered her body as she spun. Before Sithrael could react, she grabbed him by one arm and slammed her sword into his right shoulder. Her wings propelled her as she pushed him inside the hole she’d made and then zinged up through the floors of the building, using Sithrael’s body as a second shield.
Debris rained upon them, but Ava kept thrusting upward, boom, boom, boom. The building’s structure shook with each hit.
Sithrael bit his teeth when his back cracked. She pushed her sword deeper into his shoulder, and he winced in pain, but she didn’t stop.
They broke through the roof and tore into the sky.
Her shield wavered, and her body felt heavy. She kicked his stomach and he bent over, but she didn’t let him go. Breathing became harder, and when her shield waned atop her left rib, Sithrael took the cue and punched.
He pushed himself away, and even though Ava yanked her sword from his shoulder with the move, he didn’t utter a scream. Instead, he furiously kicked her face, sending her crashing into the roof of a nearby building.
Her skull cracked, as did her spine. Her sword dropped not far from her with a clank.
Drawing on the powers in her essence, she fixed her skull and mended her vertebrae as much as she could. They weren’t entirely healed, but it would have to do. Her wings flapped discordantly behind her as she forced herself up.
Meanwhile, Sithrael plummeted from the sky.
Ava fought to steady herself atop both feet as he dove toward her. He had sheathed his sword and now aimed his holy gun at her, swooping in a downward spiral.
He won’t make the shot, she thought. He’s too far away.
He fired. Two blasts pierced her left wing, and Ava shrieked in pain.
Tears and sweat coated her cheeks as she touched the singed area, feeling burnt skin and exposed bone underneath her fingertips. She tried to move her wing but nearly blacked out from the pain.
Sithrael landed before her and threw his empty gun aside. “Let’s see how you’ll heal from this, sister.”
Raw, mad anger took over Ava, forcing the pain out of her mind, locking it somewhere deep inside. A certain calm rushed through her, even though underneath she was lava and bloodlust.
She stretched her palm toward the Archangel and squeezed her fist shut.
Sithrael’s arms slammed on the sides of his body. He squirmed and wriggled, trying to break free, but Ava kept her telekinetic hold tightly on him.
Every muscle hurt, and a painful bellow ripped up her throat. Her body weighed like it was made of lead instead of flesh, iron instead of bones.
“You must be dying inside to keep this hold,” the Archangel muttered, eyes wide as she dragged herself closer.
He was right. Ava felt as if she was shattering and burning at the same time. Her teeth snapped so tightly she might pulverize them soon.
Black and golden lightning crackled in the air around her.
“I ripped Gabriel’s head off,” she grunted in between rushed breaths. “I’ll do the same to you.”
Sithrael chuckled. “No, you won’t.” He forced his physical strength against her mental hold, and it cracked too quickly.
He sprinted toward her and smacked a mighty punch on her face that sent her a few steps back. Concrete hit the back of her calf—the roof’s ledge!
Ava toppled over, free-falling toward the ground. A shriek ripped through her throat so loudly that people down on the ground gasped in awe—she was too weak to mask her essence, especially when pain possessed her like a vise.
Stop, her light and dark ordered.
A telekinetic bubble wrapped around her body, holding Ava midair. She could barely register the pain that clawed at her from everywhere. Her brain might’ve turned into a thumping puddle inside her skull, but she managed to push herself up.
Her body ached, her essence too, but she kept the bubble around her body until she landed shakily on the roof.
She crouched over, wheezing as she tried to ignore the mountain of pain that crashed upon her.
Sithrael frowned. “How can you use a power that’s not yours to such extent, sister?”
We have work to finish, her own voice said, coming from the darkness inside her rift.
Let us take it away, the light added, and the pain dwindled almost immediately, locked somewhere deep inside. Absorbed by the beasts.
Ava felt a sensation akin to leaving her own body as she lifted herself up, balancing on both feet. “I’m not your sister,” she spat.
Lightning exploded from her core, engulfing her body, her mind, everything. But this wasn’t her normal lightning. Black and golden bolts smashed into Sithrael, and this time his body contorted.
He howled in pain, and the sound was beautiful.
The symphony of lightning pierced his flesh and cracked his bones. Liquid spread underneath his bodysuit, making it a shade darker than black. The pungent stench of urine crossed the air between them, but Ava didn’t flinch, didn’t give him time to breathe.
Stronger the lightning went, and Sithrael began convulsing. The whiff of burnt flesh overtook the reek of ammonia.
“Ava!” Ezra flew past the seizing Archangel and landed beside her. “We need to interrogate him. We can use Sithrael in our case against the Sword.”
“Interrogate him if you must,” she said, the words cold on her tongue. “But I won’t stop.”
Ezra gaped at her in surprise, then turned to the seizing Archangel who bordered on the edge of consciousness.
