Nightingale Girl

by M. R. Pritchard

  Vine stares me down with an expression so potent I fear I might shrivel up and turn to sand.

  “Enough.” Lucifer holds up his hand. “The souls are out searching. They’ll find them both by morning.”

  “And if they don’t?” I ask.

  “We will resume searching in the morning.” Lucifer finally looks up from his desk. “Go to bed.” He dismisses me.

  Clea tips her head toward the door, urging us to leave.

  I open my mouth to argue, but one look from Lucifer persuades me otherwise.

  I sulk all the way back to my room, feeling worthless and worried. Lucifer is pure darkness, and I don’t think he cares much about sins and death. Sparrow and Nightingale probably mean nothing to him. I probably mean nothing to him. The only person I’ve seen Lucifer care about is my mother.

  “See you in the morning.” Noah disappears as I’m entering my room.

  I shower and change into my regular clothes. Sleeping fully clothed is nothing new. If something happens in the night, I want to be ready to go.

  The elf owl has come to visit again, hooting from the railing of my balcony. I move to the window to watch it catch moths in the moonlight. A thousand thoughts cross my mind. I think of Sparrow and Nightingale, before my thoughts turn to Teari. Does she miss us? And then there is Gabriel. I would rather take the punishment from stealing Sparrow’s books rather than the one I’m going to get for losing his sister. She’s far too innocent to be lost in Hell.

  I try to figure out how this all went so wrong. What happened these past few weeks down here? In an effort to cure Sparrow, we dropped ourselves straight into the lion’s den. I let myself be holed up and used as dinner. I let Sparrow treat me like crap. I let the birds of the underworld hypnotize me into complacency. I forced Lucifer into hiding an Archangel’s daughter in the bowels of Hell.

  I focus on the elf owl.

  The owl is the bringer of death.

  Oh. Shit.

  Poof.

  I return to the Seven Kingdom’s of Heaven and find Gabriel sitting in the dining room of his castle. Like Sparrow, before he became a bloodsucker, the man eats whatever he can get his hands on. Good thing they’re giants, or I’d worry about their caloric intake.

  Gabriel is sitting at the head of the table, his chin resting on his fist, deep in thought. He is a living Rodin’s Thinker. Others have warned me that he is losing his mind, but I believe the man is simply a genius. The Angels are always telling each other they are crazy. I’m beginning to think they all are.

  “Father,” I say, disrupting him.

  He lifts his chin from his fist, surprised. “Meg.”

  “Something is wrong in Hell.”

  He makes a face. “Usually is.”

  “No. Something is horribly wrong. Sparrow is missing, and now Nightingale.”

  Gabriel stands. “For the love of God and all his children. I thought Remiel was jerking my chain when he said his daughter was missing.”

  “Well, she’s been in Hell . . . with me. But Jim went after her with the Hellions. She flew away, and we can’t find her.”

  “Christ.” Gabriel starts walking out of the room. He cracks the knuckles on one of his giant fists. “About time someone freed that poor girl from her asshole of a father. Like a pet songbird let out of a cage. Bet she has no sense of direction.”

  I follow Gabriel through the castle.

  “You’ve been back here, as well, haven’t you?” he asks, as I skip to keep up with him.

  “Yes. I had to get some books from Sparrow’s house.”

  “Knew it.” Gabriel shakes his head. “I was going to warn you something strange was going on down there. Deacons have been chattering. Word made its way up here.” He stops and turns. “I tried to visit you. Hid in the shadows of your room but couldn’t find the right moment to get your attention. You seemed very distracted down there, and I’m not exactly welcome in that castle.”

  “I have been,” I agree, as I lean forward and sniff him. Gabriel smells sweet, like candy and sugar cane. I never noticed before.

  After giving me a curious look, Gabriel resumes walking.

  “So what are we going to do?” I ask.

  Gabriel stops in front of a metal door. He pushes it open, and we enter a giant room filled with weapons and armor.

  “Kick some ass,” he replies with a smile.

  Gabriel starts to dress in armor that covers every inch of his large body. Lastly he draws a sword, much like Sparrow’s but twice as long. The weapon glows in his hand.

  “Ready?” he asks.

  “Sure.”

  “Take us.” He holds out his hand.

  I have been cautious to touch my father in the past; when I finally did I felt nothing but warmth and belonging.

  This time I don’t hesitate; I take his hand.

  Poof.

  We are outside the caves of Hell.

  It is still night, but none of the dead sleep. I can hear them schlepping it through the forests and the abandoned roads, searching for two lost Angels.

  “Still no wings.”

  It’s not a question.

  I shake my head.

  “Call on your mother.”

  “Clea,” I shout. “Noah!”

  Gabriel turns to me. “Who is Noah?”

  “A friend from the earthen plane.”

  “And why is he here?”

  “He died.”

  “And went straight to Hell?” His brows rise.

  “Yes.”

  “Did you have any friends who didn’t marinate their souls with the sins of the earthen plane?”

  “None that stuck around.”

  Gabriel makes a face of frustration.

  I would argue with him about my upbringing, but Noah and my mother exit the burning caves together. Noah runs. Clea floats, stopping in front of Gabriel. Her image wavers. I am quite sure my father hasn’t seen her since she fled Heaven in an effort to give me a better life.

  Something passes between them. I feel embarrassed to be watching.

  “Will you fly them?” Gabriel asks Clea. “As you know, our daughter lacks wings and faith in God.”

  Dust whips around us as Clea transforms into the Argentavis. She lowers herself to the ground. I climb on her back; Noah follows.

  Clea hops a few times, then launches herself into the air with a powerful thrust that nearly knocks me off her back. Strong wings beat and propel us up and up, above the treetops.

  I search for Gabriel and find him to the left, flying with the use of his own giant white wings.

  “North.” Gabriel points.

  Clea flaps her wings. I grip her feathers and feel Noah do the same behind me.

  “Why north?” I ask.

  “The Deacons say Jim is digging in Canada.”

  My head snaps in his direction. “Where?”

  “Not sure exactly. Deacons are shifty—always out for themselves. We can stop at a Safe House and see if they have more information.” Gabriel grips the weapon secured at his hip. “Wouldn’t mind putting the fear of God into those punks.”

  “We owned a cabin in Kingston on the earthen plane,” I say. “Had dual citizenship. Just in case.”

  Jim was always planning for something: taking me on hikes through the wilderness, stockpiling guns and bullets, buying survival gear. That was all before he tried to kill me, before I killed him instead. That was before I found out what he was, and who I was. Thought we were nothing but two small-town kids with a baby on the way.

  “In case what?” Gabriel asks.

  I shrug. “I don’t know. The apocalypse or something. It was Jim’s idea.”

  Gabriel’s brow furrows. “Screw the Safe House. Can you locate the cabin from the air?”

  “Probably.”

  Clea flies faster. I have to lie down on my stomach to keep from falling off. Turning my head to the side, I see Gabriel keeping up with the rapid, powerful thrusting from his wings. There’s a smile on his face. I look down a
t my mother, unable to gain much from her beady eyes and beak. I think they’re racing.

  Daylight breaks.

  “The border is below,” Gabriel shouts.

  I lean to the side. A stretch of water dotted with islands is below us. I recognize Wellesley Island crossing and see the locked gates topped with barbed wire. A man steps out of a guard shack, looking up at us.

  Last time I was here, the guard called me a filthy American; he didn’t care about my dual citizenship. I guess none of it really mattered. At the time I didn’t know that I was actually in Hell—thought I was on Earth—and something really strange was happening. The guard made us cross the border by way of a crumbling dam, cold water flowed over the collapsing cement, and the walking dead milled about just below the water line. If one of us fell, we’d die. Sparrow almost jumped, nearly risking his life for a snowy owl feather.

  I screamed at him that day—begged him not to kill himself over a handful of feathers. I promised I’d help him find more. That was the first time I allowed him to touch me. We held each other in the empty road after we made the climb. I think Sparrow was crying over his lost feathers. I was crying because I nearly lost my last friend in the world.

  Look at us now, so far from what we started out as. Almost completely different people

  “Follow the 401,” I shout to my parents.

  Clea and Gabriel coast to the left and follow the four-lane highway below us.

  There are tiny specks moving along the crumbling asphalt, the walking dead searching for Sparrow and Nightingale. I keep my eye on the road and the signs, remembering the way to the cabin.

  We pass exits for Gananoque and Kingston, and just as I see the sign for upcoming Odessa, I shout, “Take a right.”

  Gabriel and Clea lean to turn, beating their strong wings. I wonder what it must be like to have power like that, rising above the ground and dancing with the wind. Almost makes me wish I had wings like the rest of them.

  We soar over treetops, tiny roads, and rivers. I recognize Unity Road as we fly over it.

  “It’s coming up,” I warn them. “There’s a cabin next to that lake.”

  Gabriel nods. “We should descend.”

  Gabriel hovers in the sky, his body upright, his wings flapping gently as he lowers himself to the ground.

  Clea tips to the side, then glides lower and lower in a tight circle before flapping her wings and landing on her feet. She hops a few times and tips to the side so we can slide off, before transforming back to her normal figure.

  The walking sacks of flesh are moaning and dragging their feet through the forest, silencing any sound we make. And I thought they were worthless. Gabriel motions for me to lead them. My boots crunch on the gravel road. The dead keep their distance.

  “I hope they didn’t hurt her,” Noah whispers.

  “Shh,” I scold him.

  We turn a corner. I point to the small cabin ahead of us.

  Gabriel leads us through the forest and around the back.

  There is noise coming from inside: loud thuds, something metallic hitting stone.

  A scream rips through the forest.

  “Nightingale!” Noah takes off running.

  I think we should have planned something, but we didn’t. I don’t hesitate or wait for direction. I grab my blade from its holster and run after Noah.

  Noah kicks the door open like a drug dealer looking for his money. I run in behind him.

  Holy crap.

  There is a giant arch in the middle of the cabin. Black markings are etched into the gray stone, surrounded by freshly dug dirt. There’s a man in the surrounding trench, digging it deeper. The hollow rattle of dried bones echoes with each movement.

  I step closer and recognize the wings. It’s Sparrow!

  He digs into the wall of the trench, covering the bones with dirt. Strange hoses extend from his arms. I follow their path and find that they are draining into a large cask. There are empty glasses next to the cask, coated with blood.

  They’re draining his blood.

  They’re draining my blood out of him.

  My eyes flash to the stone arch. I have only known portals to be present on hallowed ground. Something is not right about this.

  Your blood is rubies and jewels to those who are damned.

  The space under the arch wavers and flickers. It looks like heat radiating off the pavement in summer. A shadow begins in the center; it stretches, pulls, and grows. Shimmers with movement. A foot steps through, and then another. Then hands, arms, legs. Forms appear. I recognize Jim and two Hellions.

  Jim is talking—doesn’t even know what we’ve found.

  Two Hellions step through, each carrying an unconscious woman.

  Jim looks up. His face drops. His mouth opens to say something, but I move. Without any thought other than pure rage, I swipe my blade and cut off his head. Fire erupts from Clea’s hands, setting Jim’s body aflame.

  “Bastard won’t come back from that,” Gabriel says. “Blood from the living makes them even stronger.” He shakes his head in disgust.

  The Hellions drop the women and charge.

  Watching an Archangel fight the warriors of Hell is a sight. Gabriel towers over them, and it is like watching sunlight battle the shadows of evening.

  My blade hums in my hand, begging for blood. I don’t watch for long before joining in.

  A Hellion grabs my free arm. I cut his off and shake his twitching hand away. The beast roars. It seems they don’t care that Lucifer forbade them to touch me. Jim has them high on the blood of the living. I duck, spin on the balls of my feet, and slice at the Hellion’s leg. The Hellion sways. I jump up on a nearby chair and slice his head off.

  Gabriel’s laughter fills the cabin. “That’s my girl!”

  Three more Hellions walk through the portal and join in.

  “They will be stronger than normal,” Gabriel warns.

  I don’t care. Leaping through the air, I throw myself at the closest one.

  Gabriel shouts orders at Clea and Noah. I can’t focus on them, only the wrath building inside me, seeking revenge for what Jim did to Sparrow.

  I take on another Hellion. Noah was right: my weapon is way better than the Beretta I used last time I fought them. The Hellion throws a punch and hits me in the shoulder so hard I twist and fall to the ground. He barrels toward me. I kick him in the ankle; the beast doesn’t flinch, but he does fall. I raise my blade just before he lands and sink it into the Hellion’s gut. The breath is knocked out of me as the beast falls on top of me. Warmth spreads across my stomach as his blood drains out. I lie there, struggling to push the limp body off me. Finally, it’s off, and the smiling face of Gabriel greets me.

  “Next time, roll.” He pulls me to my feet.

  I take a deep breath and look down at the blood covering my clothing. The bodies of the Hellions burn, smokeless and silent, igniting nothing other than the figures slumped on the floor. The last of Jim’s blond hair singes. He is nothing but scorching bone and cooking flesh.

  Nightingale’s scream rips through the cabin. It sounds muffled, almost like it’s coming from outside.

  A Hellion bursts through the back door. He’s covered in blood, and black feathers are stuck to his vest.

  “That’s her blood!” Noah charges, going after the Hellion with only his bare hands. “Where is she?” he shouts.

  Noah punches the giant creature in the stomach, but Noah is no match for a beast so dark. The Hellion moves with lightning speed, grabs Noah by his throat, and squeezes.

  Noah turns to dust at the Hellions feet.

  No! No. No. No. No. No! I run to the Hellion, wield the blade forged for me in the fires of hell, and slice through the Hellion’s thick neck.

  He crumples to the ground.

  Clea sets him on fire.

  Noah is gone.

  Gabriel moves to the flaming body and plucks the black feather off the ground. “What happened to her feathers?” he asks.

  “
Lucifer,” I answer. “He turned them black. To hide her.”

  Gabriel’s face twists in thought.

  The scraping sound catches my attention. I run across the room, jump into the dirt hole, and drag myself through waist-high bones.

  “Sparrow,” I call.

  He stops digging. His shoulders are slumped, his body thin and weak. I reach for him, but he starts digging again.

  “Stop.” I touch his hands.

  Sparrow’s vacant gaze falls on me.

  “They need a final resting place.” His voice echoes of exhaustion. “Can’t leave them like this.”

  My heart breaks. Even in his most dark, Sparrow’s light shines through. I take the shovel out of his hand. “We’ll bury them,” I say.

  His tired eyes look into mine. “Promise?”

  “Promise.”

  “A promise is a promise.” His shoulders slump, and he leans against the dirt wall of the hole.

  “I know.”

  I pull the tubes out of Sparrow’s arms and press my thumbs over the trickling blood to make it stop.

  “Council’s going to be pissed about this.” Gabriel knocks on the stone arch. “Illegal portal.” He moves to the bodies of the women on the ground. “Have to take them back to the earthen plane. It’s not their time. This is not their place.”

  Gabriel bends and hefts one of the women into his arms. He turns to Clea. “Will you help me? Have to take them to a portal on consecrated ground. Can’t use this abomination.” Gabriel waves at the stone arch. “God knows where it leads.”

  Clea lifts the other woman.

  “We will return shortly,” Gabriel promises, as he steps out of the cabin.

  I help Sparrow out of the trench and to a threadbare couch against the far wall. He drops with a groan. I move his feet up so he’s lying down. If I didn’t know better, I’d think him one of the walking meat sacks.

  Standing up straight, I try to figure out how to best help him. The cask still has a small amount of blood in it. I move to the table and pour the remaining blood into one of the glasses, then bring it to Sparrow. Crouching down, I wrap his hand around the glass, bring it to his dry lips, and help him drink. After he’s drained the glass, my gaze falls to the burning Hellion on the floor. We need to get out of here. Just as I stand to move, a loud clap and a bright flash erupt in the room.