‘Lisa!’ he yelled. ‘She runs the Den, always has,’ he told Hella. ‘Lisa! It’s Harrow, open up!’ Hella noticed that, on the front door were the Cambions’ words, like at Remy’s store, surrounded by welcoming silver stars.
A tall woman answered the door, her brown eyes narrowed in confusion. She was slim and pretty, Hella thought, with short, curling brown hair. Her eyes lit up when she saw. ‘Harrow, what’s wrong? Are you okay?’ Then she saw the rest of the group, and shimmered. Her eyes became swirls like clouds in the wind. ‘What’s all this?’
‘Meele Scire sent us. She’s had a vision. You need to evacuate everyone. Angels are coming,’ Harrow told her. Hella could tell that he cared about this woman who had, Hella assumed, looked after him for some time.
Lisa frowned, but peered behind her. ‘Are you sure?’
‘Yes.’ Harrow was almost yelling. ‘Lisa, now!’
As Lisa turned to go back inside, to gather the other Cambions, a dozen streaks of white fire pierced the night sky to their right and landed like meteorites in the road, leaving craters in their wake. A small voice in Hella’s head wondered what the humans would think of those, random holes in the ground, due to the earthquake made by Tommy earlier?
The twelve angels descended upon them as a voice called Hella’s name from behind. She turned to see her guardian, Remy Stealthing, running toward her.
‘Hella, run!’ she yelled.
A surge of anger toward her guardian made sparks and small flames dance on her hands and up her hair, but she turned to face the angels instead. ‘Not without the others!’ She called back, standing her ground. She could see Lisa with the other Cambions amassed in the entry way, unsure whether to exit toward the angels or stay inside.
Hella watched Malachai lead his squadron toward the Den and stepped forward to greet him, her hands ablaze. Malachai saw her, smiled, then gestured to the other angels, who walked in neat lines, a steady formation Hella thought was military-precise. ‘Leave them alone,’ she told Malachai.
The words had barely left her when the other eleven angels threw spheres of light directly at the Cambion Den. Hella swirled and grabbed Harrow, dragging him down and away, but he yelled for Lisa who was trapped inside as they hit the rough pavement of the road.
Then everything exploded and fire and debris rained down on them.
Hella heard the others of her group cry out for their kin, saw Hunter cover Tessa’s head as the Den exploded, Lola wrapping her arms around them both. Amara had taken a blow, and was lying on the ground, her head bleeding silver, like mercury. Hella blinked through the dust and ash, and fear spiked through her chest. In the dark and the gloom, she could not see Tommy.
The only illumination was the white fires burning where only moments ago the Cambion Den had stood, and the angels themselves, bright with angelic power, their wings spread proudly.
She looked down. She and Harrow were a painful tangle of limbs, half on top of each other. She separated herself from him carefully, then gently shook his shoulder. ‘Harrow?’ she tried to say, instead coughing up a plume of dust, painfully scraping her insides. ‘Harrow, are you okay?’
Hella could barely see, so she let her fire dance in her palm. He was knocked out, but appeared to be otherwise okay. She stood and looked out over the building where countless Cambions had just perished. Hella strode fearlessly toward Malachai, who towered over her.
‘How could you?’ she demanded of him. ‘They were innocent!’ She sounded like she was crying, but she didn’t know if she was.
Malachai looked down at her with mild interest. He bent down to her level, as if speaking to a child, and ran a hand through her flaming hair. To her surprise, she did not flinch.
‘Such a bright aura, you have. It does not surprise me that you were promised, little witch. You have great power.’ His gaze fell upon the building. ‘They were not innocent, little one. They are evil. They have demon blood.’ Then, he walked a few steps away. Startled, she followed him. Malachai bent down, and she realised that Tommy was there, on the ground, bleeding from several wounds. He was so close to the angels, she realised, then wondered if he had made a run at them as the building exploded.
Malachai bent down behind Tommy and lifted up his head.
‘Don’t touch him,’ Hella growled.
But the angel pulled a feather from one of his wings and held it to Tommy’s throat. Remembering the pain those soft things caused, Hella reached out a hand.
‘No!’ she said. ‘Don’t. He’s not a demon. You’re wrong. They’re not evil.’ Hella fell to her knees in the darkness, surrounded by flame and cold death. ‘You are,’ she told him. ‘You’re the evil ones.’
At that, Malachai actually blanched. ‘We are most certainly not. We are Heaven’s soldiers, witch.’
Hella thought for a moment, then slowly came toward Malachai, who still held the blade at Tommy’s throat. She remembered every story she had ever read, and found one commonality. ‘The bad guys always think they’re doing the right thing,’ she said, and Malachai frowned. ‘Let me show you.’ Hella crawled over to Tommy, who stirred, and Malachai did not move. ‘Demons bleed black, right?’ Hella said to Malachai, who nodded. ‘Look,’ Hella touched her hand to one of Tommy’s wounds—he winced—then held her hand up for the angel to see, the green blood smeared along her palm. ‘It’s green, not black.’
Malachai frowned, then shook his head. ‘They still have demon blood,’ he said, resolute.
‘But they’re not evil. Leave him alone.’ She peered into his eyes. ‘Please,’ she added, stressing the word. Malachai looked up to the rest of his squadron, who remained still and at the ready. The smoke and fire from the building, the burning dead inside—Hella tried not to think of it right now. ‘You just told me, I am the promised witch. But do you know what I was born to do?’
The angel frowned. ‘No, I do not.’
‘I was born to help them.’ She nodded at Tommy, at her friends, then at the building. ‘I wouldn’t have been meant to help those who were evil.’
Tommy stirred again, and as he moved, he brushed against the feather and cried out, then looked up to see Malachai towering over him. Tommy squirmed, but Hella held her hand out for him to be still. ‘Freeze, Tommy,’ she whispered.
‘Malachai,’ she continued softly, ‘I know you think you’re doing the right thing, but you’re not. You’re killing innocents. Faeries and warlocks don’t hurt people, they don’t feed on people.’
Malachai looked down at Tommy. ‘Is this true?’ he asked, as though he’d never bothered to find out.
Very slowly, without grazing the feather, he nodded. ‘Of course we don’t.’
At that, Malachai frowned, considering.
‘You really didn’t know that?’ Tommy asked, apparently unable to help himself. In a moment of genuine clarity, Malachai shook his head.
‘I did not. We are trained from an early age, we do not receive details. You are evil.’
Then Tommy reached up, slowly, and put a hand on Malachai’s wrist, by the feather, slowly moving it away from his throat. ‘We’re not,’ he said softly. ‘We never hunt you,’ he pointed out. Hella was surprised to see that Malachai let his wrist be moved away. ‘We don’t go out of our way to hurt your kind,’ Tommy pressed on, speaking softly. ‘You hunt us. You torture us and take our Marks. You abduct us.’
As though reciting a rhetoric, Malachai responded, ‘You are evil.’
Again, Tommy shook his head. ‘No, Malachai, we’re not.’
Malachai blinked, then, to their great shock, lowered the feather. Almost at the moment of what Hella would later think of as her first real conversation with an angel, Harrow snuck up behind Malachai and, with a great length of wood, whacked him over the head—the angel’s halo flared. Malachai’s eyes rolled for a moment. Then he stood and grabbed Harrow by the throat. ‘I remember you,’ he snarled, all fearsome warrior again, his wings spread angrily.
&n
bsp; ‘No,’ Hella breathed, scrambling to her feet. ‘Put him down!’ she screamed up at him.
‘He hit me,’ Malachai said petulantly. Then he turned to Harrow. ‘Little demon beast, how did you like my halo last time?’ At that, Harrow’s legs began to kick out wildly, hitting air. The angel reached up, plucked his halo down and lowered it to Harrow’s head. Harrow yelled out, terrified.
Hella’s whole body burned, an inferno of purple-red fire. She walked past Tommy and reached up to Malachai. She grabbed a hold of one of his wings, searing her fire onto it. Malachai turned with a surprised yelp, still holding his halo above Harrow, who thrashed wildly. Malachai frowned at Hella, her fire crawling up his fluffy feathers.
‘Ouch, stop that, witch.’
‘Put him down,’ she growled, flaring her fire, purple and hot. ‘Or I’ll burn your wings off.’
At that, his smouldering green eyes widened, and he opened his hand. Harrow landed in what looked like a painful heap on the gravelled road, but sighed in relief. Hella released her hold on his wing, which had left a searing black mark. ‘You come at us again, and this promised witch is going to do more than burn a few feathers.’ Hella promised darkly. ‘You’ve just murdered dozens of us. Go, now. Or I swear I’ll even out those numbers right now.’
By now, her friends had gotten to their feet, battered and undoubtedly bruised, but otherwise just dusty. And very, very angry. Together, they stood behind Hella who was still a raging inferno. Malachai took a measured step backward, then gestured to his soldiers. ‘We’ve completed our mission here.’ Hella watched his troops stare pointedly at Malachai’s burned wing. There was something in the uncomfortable way they shifted that Hella knew meant that, if just for a moment, they were questioning the authority and strength of their leader.
As the sky inhaled them, and they became wisps of white light in the darkness, Hella let her powers be doused, her energy running low. She tried to let go of her anger. She didn’t want to burn out like last time. Then something odd happened, Remy embraced her in a crushing hug.
‘Oh, Hellora, are you okay?’ There was sincere concern in her voice. Hella didn’t think the old witch had ever hugged her before. Gently, she detached her guardian.
‘I’m fine, Remy. But they’re not.’ Hella’s eyes were glued to the building, still smouldering in angel fire.
Hella bent down to help Tommy up, who gratefully took her hand, his leg injured. ‘That was really weird, right? Talking to him like that.’
Hella nodded. ‘It was, yeah. If he wasn’t already so keen on murdering all of us, I might have thought we could talk him out of it.’
Hella hurried over to Harrow who was still in a heap on the ground, small shudders passing through him. Hella put a hand on his back. He flinched, blinking hard—expecting to see Malachai—then relaxed when he saw Hella and staggered to his feet. He clasped his hands around her in a deep hug.
‘Are you okay?’ she whispered into his dark and dusty hair. She could feel his pain—he had just lost a friend—and countless more Cambions. He did not respond for a moment, focused on breathing.
Then he murmured, ‘I’m going to kill that angel if it’s the last thing I do.’
Hella held onto him tighter, then looked over his shoulder, counting her friends. ‘Is everyone okay?’ she called out, her voice choked with ash and sadness. She tried not to look at the smouldering building.
Hunter was holding onto Tessa, whose eyes were big and full of tears. Hunter had a deep gash along her forehead, but the little faerie looked unharmed. Lola looked to be in shock. Then Hella’s eyes found Amara, who was still unconscious. Gently, she let go of Harrow.
‘Amara,’ she said, and everyone who was still getting their bearings realised she was hurt. Hella crouched down and touched her head where Amara was bleeding, then breathed a sigh of relief when she found a pulse at her throat. ‘She’s alive,’ Hella said. ‘But—’ She broke off. ‘She’s the healer.’
Harrow put a hand on her shoulder. ‘Maybe now’s a good time for you to practice,’ he said softly.
The others gathered around, and it was only then that Hella realised all these people were watching her. Hella touched the amulet around her neck, more for comfort than for power, then carefully set her hand on Amara’s head, hoping she wasn’t hurting the faerie girl.
It took Hella three tries. She kept checking Amara’s pulse, and it was slowing. Panicked, she tried again, urgently and with fear this time, then her hand began to glow and Hella touched her magic to Amara’s wound. After a few moments, the faerie stirred, frowning, then blinked a few times and looked up at Hella with the ghost of a smile.
‘It’s really not very helpful of me to be knocked out, is it?’ Amara said with a smile, which the others returned with a sigh of relief. Then, her eyes passing over them, the smile quickly slid off Amara’s face as she saw the building and her silver eyes filled with tears. ‘No,’ she breathed, getting to her feet. ‘No, they didn’t—there was—’ She choked up. ‘So many lives.’
Without ever agreeing to it, or anyone suggesting it, they all walked over to Remy’s store in a pained daze. Harrow shook with anger, and would not hold Hella’s hand this time. A small starburst of pain, on top of all the rest, bloomed in Hella’s chest at his refusal.
Tommy walked with her instead, mostly in silence and shock. The others trailed behind. Amara was not well enough yet to heal their small cuts and bruises, but they seemed mostly okay. Hunter’s gash, and Tommy’s leg wound, were the worst of it.
‘I can try to heal that if you’d like.’ Hella told Tommy as he limped slightly, green blood staining his jeans.
He blinked down at it. ‘Honestly, I can hardly feel it. Is that weird?’
‘No,’ she said, ‘I think it’s shock.’
They all trailed into the store and Remy conjured a few more armchairs to accommodate the excess company. Remy’s phone rang almost immediately and she looked down at the screen. ‘It’s Meele. She’ll want to know what happened.’ Remy took the call into another room, her eyes sliding closed, pained.
Hella and Tommy sat on the long couch. Even if he said he didn’t feel it, Tommy’s injury was clearly bothering him. ‘Let me,’ she said, holding out her hand. Reluctantly, he nodded. Hella tried again, and again. ‘There’s something wrong,’ she said. Then she thought back—to Harrow bleeding, and dying by Remy’s fire, the fear that Amara would die. ‘I have to fear for your life,’ she said, pulling the pieces together.
Amara leaned forward. ‘I don’t,’ she smiled, reaching out to offer her skill.
She must heal quickly, Hella thought a little enviously.
They all suffered in near-silence together for a while, resting and drifting in and out of tumultuous sleep. Hella let her mind wander, and her eyes were most often on Harrow, whose tail flicked angrily as he sat in the alcove of the window, staring out into the night as if he wondered when and where he would be seeing Malachai again. Then he sat up a little straighter. ‘Hella, your family is here,’ he said, surprised.
‘What?’ She looked out the window, then to the ashen faces in the room. They were all still shocked, pained and tired. Remy returned, saw the Corvime’s approaching, and summarily organised the rest of their visitors to be tended to and sent home. Amara, Hunter, Tessa and Lola went to the Faerie House, and Tommy and Harrow were about to set off for Warlock House.
Before he left, Harrow met Hella in the doorway, gave her a quick hug and whispered in her ear. ‘I’m glad you’re okay. Thank you for protecting me, against him.’ He kissed her gently on the cheek, squeezed her hand and left with Tommy, whose once-orange hair was now hard to discern under the soot and ash. He smiled at her too, and they left, allowing the Corvime’s to enter unobstructed.
Remy greeted them, conjured tea, and left to give her student some privacy. ‘I’m going to go and see Meele.’ She patted Hella fondly on her arm, then took her leave.
Hella suspected she l
ooked terrible. She had been held captive at The Force, almost killed her captor, Henry—his red blood still stained her hands—then they had fought their way through a dozen armed guards and survived an angelic explosion and personal tussle with Malachai himself. She couldn’t remember the last time she showered.
Elliot looked her up and down with the most scrutiny. ‘You look awful,’ he said honestly, wrinkling his small nose.
‘Thanks,’ she said, quirking her mouth. She was exhausted. Hella stepped back to let them inside properly. Her mum, without any regard for ash or blood, pulled her into a hug. ‘Honey, are you okay?’ She put a hand on her daughter’s head, scanning her face. ‘Remy called us and said that a lot has been going on. I haven’t seen you for days, I know you needed some space, but what’s happened?’
Her father, Finn, glowered down at her. ‘You look like you’ve been through a war,’ he commented.
Hella, unable to stand any longer, collapsed into an armchair. ‘It was more like two separate battles,’ she corrected. The others sat facing her, on the couch. Elliot’s brows rose and her mother’s eyes softened in concern, but her father remained impassive.
‘Grace, Elliot, I would like to speak with Hellora alone,’ he said.
Grace turned to her husband. ‘Finn, what for? She’s exhausted, and oh, look at her hands, she’s bleeding.’
Seeing the red of Henry’s blood, Hella covered her hands with her sleeves. ‘I’m fine, Mum.’
‘Grace, please. Take Elliot, go get a coffee.’
Her mum frowned, but came over to kiss her daughter gently on the temple. ‘We’ll be back soon, honey. Oh, you’re so dusty.’ She brushed away some ash from Hella’s hair.
Elliot trailed behind her, then paused by his sister, looking at the amulet around her neck. ‘Did someone try to kill you?’ he asked suddenly.
Her mum blanched, but Hella just smiled. ‘I’m okay, little brother. Go with mum.’
Feathers, Tails & Broomsticks Page 29
