by C. Gockel
At the mention of Gabriel’s injury, Michaela’s hands shook; the tip of her sword rattled against the tiles. Weeks ago, after a skirmish with a few fallen, Gabriel’s injury had been so bad they had to stay on Earth several days, waiting for him to heal enough to fly home. Seeing Gabriel hurt and too weak to even move had been Michaela’s personal Hell. She would do anything to keep that from happening again, but Gabriel wouldn’t want her to fight without all twelve of the Archangels.
“What are we waiting for?” Molloch growled. He practically foamed at the mouth. His hand wrapped around the bars of the gate, illuminating the metal beneath the fire of his touch.
Likewise, the fallen angels reacted to Molloch’s touch of the gate and took a collective, threatening step forward. Michaela jerked, not in fear but with a burgeoning rage.
Michaela bared her teeth—these fallen did not belong in Heaven, and their presence was a threat, an insult. Even though she shouldn’t fight without all the Archangels present, Michaela couldn’t allow fallen to stand between Gabriel and home. Her hand tightened over the hilt of her sword. Her duty was to protect Heaven no matter the cost; it was a desire that had her unconsciously moving toward the gate.
The Archangels sensed her agreement and shifted behind her.
Molloch lips curved into a slow, cocky smirk.
“Let’s do it,” she said.
Chapter Two
Michaela didn’t wait until the gates were completely open before she stepped through and sprang effortlessly into the air. The others followed with a single, synchronized beat of their massive, unfurled wings. They surged through the opening, their strength barely contained.
As they flew, Purgatory stretched below them, benign and forgettable. It was a miserable place, a sharp contrast to Heaven. The small, gray moon cast an eerie, forgotten light across the desert. Their wings rustled the dirt beneath them.
“What is that smell?” Molloch asked.
“Sulfur,” Asz said quietly.
The smell wafted from the fallen angels, contaminating the air. Even the herd of souls who typically milled around Purgatory was gone, hiding in the farthest corners from the fallen. The anomaly distracted Michaela, scattered her thoughts as the sulfur stung her eyes. She shook her head to clear her mind, and when she did, something horrible occurred to her.
The gates.
She had left them open.
Panicking, her wings stuttered midair; she dipped and nearly crashed to the ground. Her breath came in hiccups and hitches as she turned around and faced the gates, which were so small, so far away. She focused on the intricate structure and pictured the gates closing.
Her body shook from the effort, her eyes bulging, but she had gone too far. From this distance the gates refused to close with her thoughts alone. She needed to fly back.
“It’s okay.” Asz’s hand settled on her shoulder, his quiet assurance settling her nerves.
“I don’t know…”
“We have a bigger issue, Michaela.”
Asz’s eyes were calm and reassuring, but Michaela was still worried. “Okay,” she said, her mind still begging the gates to close. Asz pulled her forward, and together they flew back to the other Archangels, who waited almost halfway across Purgatory.
Make this quick. Get back to the gates as soon as possible, Michaela told herself. The words did nothing to appease the alarms blaring in her mind.
Michaela flew even faster, her massive wings pumping in the air. She closed the distance to the fallen quickly. They didn’t move as she approached or even lift their heads. Michaela landed within a few paces of the group. The ground shook, and a fan of dust settled thick in her throat. Her newly formed shinbones quaked as the Archangels landed behind her.
“Leave. Now.” Michaela swung her sword in a clean arc, slicing the putrid air.
Instead of answering, a fallen angel, standing slightly in front of the others, lifted his head. The cloak fell back, revealing the fallen’s face. “Hello, Michaela. It’s good to be home,” Lucifer said in a voice like warm honey.
Michaela almost stumbled backward, before she recovered from the shock. She wished her heart would stop racing, because she was certain Lucifer could hear it. She gripped her sword tighter to keep it from shaking.
“How…?” All she wanted was to fly as fast as she could back to the gates and slam them shut in Lucifer’s face, but she forced her muscles to remain still. If Lucifer realized she was afraid, he would use it against her. “How did you get here?”
Lucifer smiled like he sensed her fear. His eyes were bright and black as he looked to the open gates in the distance. His face was delicate, fine-boned, and beautiful even with the sinister twist of his lips. He was tall and slim, his body foreign without the shadows of wings at his back.
Michaela stepped in front of Lucifer, blocking his view of the open gates. She had never been scared of Lucifer before, but she was terrified standing between him and the open gates. She prayed her voice sounded strong when she said, “How dare you defy an order from the General and return to this place?”
“I’ve never cared much for your orders, Michaela,” Lucifer said. “Because one day, this all will be mine.” His eyes swept along the tall wall that separated Heaven from Purgatory.
Cassie, go close the gates, Michaela said through her thoughts. Cassie didn’t move, and Michaela began to panic. “You have one last chance to leave, Lucifer, before I cut you down.”
Lucifer laughed. “Always so proud, Michaela. Always so certain. You need to watch your back better.” His eyes flickered over her shoulder.
Silence.
Comprehension engulfed her like a panic attack—she recognized the quiet moment before betrayal strikes. Her Archangels hadn’t pulled their swords from their sheaths when they had landed, and now they stood quiet and unmoving at her back.
In her stunned grief, she paused. Her mistake was a purely human reaction. An angel never paused. An angel turned and fought with no hesitation. Instead, Michaela couldn’t find the strength to pull her sword on her brothers and sisters. The realization of her weakness was almost more shocking than her very best friends turning against her. She was the General first and a warrior second, leaving no room to be emotional. Yet she was. Her heart formed just in time to break.
“No,” Michaela said, her voice cracking. She looked at Lucifer. “Please don’t do this to me.”
He stepped forward, leaving the wall of fallen. He took her face in his hands, his lips inches from hers. “Michaela, my sweet Michaela, you deserve it.” He nodded to the Archangels behind her. “Take her down.”
“I would say I’m sorry, but that would be a lie,” Molloch said, his words hot against the back of her neck. A knife pierced the juncture of her wings—the only vulnerable place on a heavenly angel’s body. Her legs gave way, and she sagged in instant paralysis. An arm, like a band of steel around her chest, caught her before she hit the dirt. The knife stayed perfectly steady in her back. Molloch yanked her hair so she was forced to see what she already guessed was coming.
Purgatory was quiet for only a moment. She didn’t hear the fallen angels’ approach, but suddenly all she saw was a wall of black eyes and glinting, raven wings flying straight at her. The fallen spilled forth from the darkness of space where they had hidden. Their numbers were far beyond counting as they hit the ground, brewing a dust storm that stifled the silent cries in her throat. Some flew, some ran, but all surged past—headed straight for the gates of Heaven.
The gates she had carelessly left open.
The holy angels inside Heaven’s walls would have no protectors, no warning. She had left them defenseless. There would be no forgiveness for this. Tears welled in Michaela’s unblinking eyes, spilling down her cheeks.
From inside the gates, all was silent at first. Michaela imagined the holy angels’ initial confusion…almost heard their uncertain breaths. Then the first screams reached her. The sounds of the fight became loud and clashing. The once-pink s
ky above Heaven turned a horrible blood red of churning clouds and flashing scarlet light, and sounds of slashing metal cut the air as angels collided sword to sword. The sounds of the screams would haunt her the rest of her days. She had failed as Heaven’s protector. It was a failure worth death if only angels could die.
“Say goodbye, Michaela,” Molloch whispered against her ear. He dragged her closer to the edge’s wall. Frigid air rushed across her back as Molloch lifted her onto the low marble barrier. Pulling her tight against him, he nuzzled his face to hers. She wanted to cringe away; instead, she only stared across the lonely stretch of desert to the gates standing open so far away.
He stepped back from the edge’s wall and pulled her with him. Michaela’s final view of Heaven was limited due to the tall, massive walls that separated Heaven from Purgatory. The scene was almost too still for all the noises of war and her fellow angels’ terror spilling through the open gates. The hollow, horrifying scene was one burned into the deepest corners of her mind, never to be forgotten.
And then they were falling.
Locked in Molloch’s arms, Michaela understood disgrace for the first time in her existence as she watched the last tinges of Heaven’s burning red sky disappear. Her disgrace hung like a weight around her neck, pulling them down faster through the air.
As they dropped farther from Heaven, Michaela saw the development of space, and the raging storms in vicious colors raced past. Frozen drops of water stung her skin and stuck to the strands of her hair. The air rushing past her ears was deafening, pressing against her eardrums with a pressure that threatened to pop them. They were going too fast. Her body was changing too quickly for her to adjust. Michaela’s lack of control was a sickening, dropping feeling in her freshly formed stomach.
Molloch spun them in a dizzying, spiraling nosedive as they streaked through space. His cruel laughter bubbled hot into her ear. He twisted the slender golden dagger spitefully in the tender juncture of her massive, paralyzed wings. The knife hit freshly created bone. The pain—another sign of her body becoming more human as the distance flew past her—lashed like a hot flash of white in the developing cosmos that raced by.
“What will everyone think?” She barely heard him above the whipping wind that cut through her as they fell. But his smile spread across his features like a disease. Manic excitement filled his black eyes as he watched the grief form on her face when she realized everyone would assume she had let the fallen in through the gates she opened.
The clouds parted, and the earth, draped in a blanket of darkness, came into view. Molloch’s laugh carried easily through the warm atmosphere.
They were a comet streaking through the night sky, crashing straight to the ground that formed solid beneath them.
They had arrived.
Chapter Three
Michaela woke to dread washing over her, pressing in and clenching her throat. What had happened back in Heaven couldn’t be undone.
She groaned in pain and regret. She opened her eyes too soon; the world slanted, and her vision erupted with a dizzying fireworks display of flashing red and white lights from deep within her skull. Hot, burning saliva pooled in her mouth before her chest convulsed, and in a human and ungraceful manner, she vomited.
When the heaving stopped, Michaela weakly dragged herself to a clean spot of cold, rocky ground to rest her head. She dully registered the sound of water rushing in the distance above the consuming, bone-deep pain in her back where Molloch had stabbed her. The air’s dampness congested in her nose, mixed with the smell of wet earth. Her ribs ached, and bile ran down the side of her cheek.
She pushed her fingers through her sticky, clumped hair until she found the sore spot. A thick gold metallic liquid covered her hand. She was in human form, but her blood was still angel’s blood, which meant she had an angel’s strength and healing abilities. She also still had some of her telepathic abilities, but after the transition and Molloch’s wild ride to Earth, she was too weak to reach Gabriel.
Tentatively, she looked around; she was in a massive underground cave. All around her, huge rocks stretched high into the farthest, darkest depths of the ceiling, where thousands of clear, slender straws suspended in clusters, forming dangerous ice chandeliers. Finger-like stalagmites reached from the ground. Somewhere far above, a massive waterfall plummeted to a small pool and fed into a narrow, inky stream running the length of the floor, past Michaela, and into the shadows.
Flickering lights from old lanterns illuminated the cave, with a group of lights specifically shining against the wall behind the waterfall. Her eyes settled on an odd pattern of letters carved into the rock. Thousands of letters looped around and over each other, covering the entire wall.
She slowly got up. Her legs were watery and weak, and the cut in her back bit painfully down to her spine. The wound burned like a brand had been pressed against her skin, which meant Molloch had probably used a golden dagger, gold weakened angels—especially Archangels. Michaela shivered as blood trickled from the hole down her back.
Ignoring the pain, Michaela walked closer to the wall, gritting her teeth and using the rocks for support. As she drew nearer, the hairs on her arms stood on end; her body flushed hot then cold, but she never looked away from the letters. She pressed on, teeth clattering, forcing her feet forward, even though something was very wrong.
When Michaela was close enough to make out some of the ancient words, she only read a few before jerking away. The gist of the message and what it meant turned her spine to ice. For the first time, she realized where she stood. She had been here thousands of years before, and it was a place she hoped never to return.
“The princess finally decided to wake up. I didn’t even get to the kissing-you-awake part.”
Michaela’s surprised flinch sent waves of fire shooting down her back. Refusing to let her pain show, she turned to face Molloch. But Molloch wasn’t alone. Cassie, Asz, and the twins stood behind him. Asz tucked Cassie under his arm, but his face was tortured when he looked at Michaela.
Molloch stepped in front of Michaela. He wore jeans, but his chest was bare. His wings were molting, his white feathers shedding off as new, black feathers grew in to take their place. Soon his wings would be solid black, the trademark of the fallen.
Michaela looked around him. The others’ wings had tints of black, some more than others. She sagged against the rock, her body suddenly too heavy to hold up. She rubbed the skin above her heart again, certain the organ was broken. “Why did you bring me here?” she whispered.
Molloch grinned, his voice mischievous. “Seriously, Michaela, you didn’t think I brought you to just any old cave, did you?” He had to speak loudly over the noise of the falling water.
“I asked you why!”
Cassie shoved out from under Asz’s arm. “You don’t get to talk to us like that anymore!” she yelled. Asz reached for her hand, pulling her back to him. Cassie trembled with anger, her eyes scorching Michaela’s skin with obvious hatred.
Molloch went on like no one had interrupted him. “I’ve always secretly wanted to come here, you know…I wanted to see where you buried the almighty Watchers alive.” He grinned wickedly. “We are standing above them right now,” he whispered dramatically, eyes wide.
The Watchers. The words alone sent nausea bubbling in Michaela’s stomach. Once upon a time, the Watchers were angels of a high choir, powerful with their magic and secrets. They were responsible for helping the humans, to watch over them and the progress they made. But they watched forbidden things too, for too long, and the watching aroused them and failed to satisfy them.
The human women made the angels lustful. In time, the Watchers came to Earth with twisted intentions. They lay with the women, taught humans their magic, and even showed them how to make gleaming weapons. Worst of all, the women bore the children of the Watchers. The babies emerged, slimy and twisting, with red blood smeared across their angry, pink skin. They were called the Nephilim—half human, half an
gel. They were abominations.
“The Watchers lost their chance for forgiveness the moment they chose a different path than what was planned for them,” Michaela finally answered, her voice devoid of an ounce of sympathy.
“That’s a little harsh, Michaela, even for you. I mean, it’s just lust! Who could begrudge us a little desire in our miserable lives? So what if Watchers slept with some humans?”
“We are holy angels!” Michaela paused, understanding her mistake. Molloch smirked at her, but Asz looked sick, refusing to meet her eyes. “We were held to a higher standard. We were meant to be more, to help the humans, to give them more than this earth can. We were not meant to interfere.”
Molloch laughed, his eyes dancing as they roamed over her body. For the first time, Michaela realized she was naked. Beneath the leer of Molloch’s slinky black eyes, she swept her waist-length hair to fall across her shoulders and cover her exposed body.
“Ah, don’t be shy. That’s the best part about having you around down here even if you are so damn self-righteous,” Molloch taunted with a burgeoning evil that came all too easily for him. Seeing the darkness seep into his eyes, clouding over the bright light that once filled them, broke Michaela’s heart.
“What have you done, Molloch?” she asked shakily.
A sharp sting spread fire across the side of her face. Her knees buckled, and she hit the ground, tasting blood and seeing stars. Her eyes narrowed at Molloch, who already paced away from her, rubbing the palm of his hand.
Molloch whirled back around, and she covered her cheek protectively.
“Don’t hurt her!” Asz’s loud voice echoed in the cave.
“Hit her again!” Cassie’s shrill voice screeched across the rock walls.
“What have I done?” Molloch shouted. A wild fever coursed through him. For an angel coming to Earth, the change from celestial to corporeal was a hard, unstable transition to endure, especially when it was taken too fast. Dizzy and weak, Michaela’s breathing chugged shallowly at the top of her throat. Yet she was used to the change, and her body would quickly recover. Molloch was more heavily affected than she was, and in these moments, he was incapable of controlling himself.
