by Lou Morgan
Michael motioned to him, and he stepped forward. “Go and find Gabriel. Now. I want to know what he’s doing.”
“Gabriel? You want me to bring him to you?”
Michael considered Brieus’s suggestion, then shook his head. “No, no. I think perhaps not. Find him, and report back to me.” He paused, waiting for Brieus to leave. He did not, and Michael sighed. “Now!”
With a flap of his wings, Brieus was gone.
FAR ACROSS THE field, Gabriel was pacing up and down, incandescent with rage. His wings lit up the shadows as he barked orders and insults at the massed ranks of his choir. This should have been his moment of triumph: the moment he had broken the heart of hell. Instead, the Twelve had fled, there was no sign of Lucifer and Michael was nowhere to be seen. It was a mess. He kept on pacing, lightning crackling across his breastplate and through his hair. So furious was he that he didn’t notice Brieus sailing overhead. Nor did he see the Earthbound as he wheeled in the air, his wings carrying him back towards Michael.
Instead, Gabriel shook his head and gestured to the front rank of his choir, who drew aside. In the midst of them, his chin raised defiantly, stood Vin. Like many of the others, his face and hands were stained with blood, his clothes torn. His usually dark hair was a mottled grey, thick with dust from the battle. Gabriel glared at him.
“All this. All this,” he said, waving his hand towards the plateau, “is because of you.”
Vin said nothing, but glared straight back at him, unmoving.
Gabriel shook his head. “You disgust me. Foolish Earthbounds, believing you can make a difference, when you can barely control your own charges.”
“That’s rich, coming from you.”
“You watch your tone when you speak to me.” Gabriel leaned forward, his nose almost touching Vin’s, but still Vin did not move.
Instead, he blinked, then smiled. “You should hear what they’re saying, Gabriel. Earthbounds, Descendeds... even the other Archangels.”
“Oh? Tell me, then, what it is that they say.”
“That you’re a fool. That you’ve become proud. That you sheltered a killer in search of glory. That Gabriel, the great Gabriel, is finished. You’re done.”
“Is that all?” Gabriel laughed. “Small words, from a small mind. No-one will miss you.”
“Miss me?”
“No.” Gabriel smiled coldly, and looked across the ranks of his angels. “Adriel!”
A shiver ran through the choir. Few of them had ever seen Adriel, but all of them knew who he was.
Adriel was the angel of death.
Adriel was the angel all the other angels feared.
Gabriel wasn’t just going to punish Vin. He was going to make an example of him.
BEHIND THE CROWD, a quiet man was leaning alone against the rock walls. Hearing his name, he straightened up, smoothing his jacket and stepping forward.
Unlike the angels ahead of him, he wore an undertaker’s morning suit, and his wings, as he opened them, were black. The feathers whispered against each other as he moved, sounding almost like voices, long-lost to time. But as he made his way out of the shadow and towards the massed angels, he found his path blocked by a firm hand on his chest. Michael shook his head and raised a finger to his lips, then backed away, wrapping the darkness about him. The only sign he was there were the tiny drops of fire that fell from nowhere and turned to ash as they landed, as Michael made hell itself weep.
Adriel nodded once, and faded back into the shadows.
WHEN HE REALISED Adriel was not answering his call, Gabriel snarled in irritation. He drummed his fingers on the hilt of his sword, then drew it with a flourish, turning away from Vin. “I see I must take care of this myself.”
There was, from behind him, the faintest of clicking sounds.
He turned back, and looked straight into not one, but two guns. Fire circled the ends of the barrels.
Vin was still staring him down, but he did so from between Mallory and Alice, who stood on either side of him.
“Now, if you want to do that, you’re going to have to kill me first,” said Mallory. “And I’m not going quietly.”
“You...” Gabriel hissed, his hand tightening on his sword, but he was forced to step back as a fine line of fire drew itself between him and the three of them, licking at his toes as it went. He scowled at Alice. “And you... You wait until Michael hears of this. You think you know what pain is?”
“Has it occurred to you,” said a voice in the darkness, “that I might already have heard, Gabriel?”
Michael threw off the shadows and stepped into view. Not far behind him, A’albiel was hauling Gwyn, stumbling and bloodied, through the ranks of Gabriel’s choir. With a muffled murmur, they shuffled apart to let them through, and watched as Al threw Gwyn down in a heap at Gabriel’s feet.
Michael snapped his fingers and the fire died. “Enough, Alice. And you, Mallory. Stand down.” He waved them away and turned back to Gabriel.
“You think you can blame all of this on one little Earthbound? Why, because he couldn’t see that his charge had slipped, was with the Fallen?”
Michael heard Vin’s gasp, and tapped the side of his head with a meaningful look at Alice. She looked away, but not quickly enough to hide the anger in her eyes, and Michael smiled, turning his attention back to Gabriel. “I know it all, Gabriel. I know. Ambition denied can drive us all to madness, but ambition such as I have seen here – overreaching, measureless ambition – leads only to disobedience, to false endeavour and to this.” He pointed back to the battlefield. “There is no glory there. No victory. There is only death and destruction.”
“Michael, you cannot...”
“Enough.” Michael waved wearily. “Gabriel, I’ll deal with you later. When my temper’s cooled and I’m less likely to do something I regret. Until then, consider yourself Earthbound.” He drew a complicated shape in the air with his fingers, and before he had finished, chains of fire were winding their way up Gabriel’s legs and across his body. His wings stretched open of their own accord and his mouth opened in a scream as the fire rushed through the feathers, burning the tips away. “Count yourself lucky, Gabe,” said Michael.
HIS SWORD WAS in his hand, and he laid it casually across his shoulders, ducking his neck away from the blade as he paced back and forth along the line of angels. “You, on the other hand,” he said, stopping in front of Gwyn, “I’m going to deal with now.”
Gwyn was on his knees, head bowed. Michael leaned forward and, grabbing a handful of the Descended’s hair, pulled his head up to look at him. “Do you realise what you could have done, boy? Do you?”
“I’m sorry. I...”
“You’re sorry. And you think that’s enough?”
“All I wanted...”
“I know what you wanted. You saw an opportunity, and you thought you were good enough to take it. I should lock you in a cage until the stars burn black, but I’m not that kind.” He swung his sword down from behind his neck. “Open them.”
“No... no! Please... not Earth!”
“Earth? Who said anything about your being Earthbound? I’m not that kind, either.” He whispered into Gwyn’s ear, “You thought you could better us. You were proud. And you know what they say about pride, angel...”
“No. No...” But Gwyn was on his knees, and his wings were open, and the fire was raging in Michael’s eyes. “Goodbye, Gwyn.”
Michael swung his sword and it scythed down through Gwyn’s wings, through feather and flesh and bone. It burned as it cut; the feathers glowed and sparked as it touched them, bursting into flame. Gwyn’s screams echoed around them all, bouncing endlessly off the rocks and filling Alice’s head, but Michael was still damping her gift, and all she could do was listen to Gwyn’s cries and feel the pain of wings she didn’t have as they burned, smelling the feathers as they scorched and crumbled into nothing. She glanced at Mallory: he was staring ahead of him, his mouth set into a hard line. Vin’s eyes were fixed on th
e floor. Only Michael was watching Gwyn as he writhed and collapsed, and inside the spinning wheels of fire in his eyes, Alice saw something cold and dark, and she was afraid.
“What are you all looking at?” Michael’s voice was firm, and suddenly every one of the angels who had been transfixed by Gwyn’s pain remembered they had somewhere else to be, urgently. In moments, they had all scrambled away. There were only a handful of them left: Mallory, Vin, Michael, Gabriel and Gwyn, huddled on the ground.
Another angel was approaching them: one she did not know, but she could feel the warmth he brought with him, smell the scent of spice in the air. And without looking, she knew Mallory was smiling, and she knew who it was, walking across the battlefield. Raphael.
He paused when he reached Gabriel, stooping down to lay his hand on the newly-Earthbound angel’s forehead, pointedly ignoring Michael’s irritated cough. His face was kind, friendly, and his curly hair made him look gently childlike. Cherubic. Alice fought back a laugh, and Raphael smiled up at her.
“You do look like her,” he said, and although the words were kindly meant, they cut. He stood, and laid his hand on her shoulder. “I can take it away, you know. Let me do that, at least.”
“No. Thank you, but no.”
“Alright. I understand, better than you think.” He patted her shoulder, and turned to Mallory. “You’ve done well.”
“I did my best.”
“You did. Isn’t that all I ever asked? Isn’t that the most any of us can ask? And you did not fail me. Now it’s time to come home. Be whole, brother, and come home.”
There was a flash of light so bright that Alice had to turn her head, sure that it would blind her. It flickered across the inside of her eyelids in shades of purple and red, in gold and blue. And it was only when she heard Mallory’s voice that she opened her eyes again.
She wasn’t sure what she had been expecting: perhaps for him to be miraculously transformed, but he was still Mallory. Still in his battered jacket and torn jeans, still stained by the battle. But the careworn expression had gone from his face, and as he shook out his wings, her mouth dropped open. They were no longer a dirty shade of grey; no longer the same odd proportions. Now they spread out from his shoulders, restored to their full length, the feathers glowing from within. And as they shifted, settling beside one another, she smelled incense and ginger, and safety. He winked at her. “Not bad, huh?”
“It’s going to take some getting used to.” Alice shrugged. “What does it mean?”
“It means I get to go home,” said Mallory. He whispered something to Raphael, who shook his head.
Whatever it was, Michael had obviously heard it, because his eyebrow shot up and he looked at Vin. “Vhnori?”
“Mmph?” Vin fidgeted under Michael’s gaze.
“You have done well. Very well. You almost redeemed yourself, I think, but the fact remains that you failed to notice that one of your half-borns was... how to put this? Screwing a Fallen?”
“I’m sorry. I am.”
“I know you are, and for that alone, I could perhaps have forgiven you. However, you lost a half-born, and one with a valuable gift. Without her mind-tricks, the Fallen would not have been able to gain such a hold, would not have been so easily able to tip the balance in their favour. And this leaves me with no choice but to punish you.”
“I understand.” All the fight had gone from Vin, who now stared at the ground in front of Michael.
“You will remain Earthbound, and you will serve out the remainder of your original term. But I will not extend that term, and I will not sanction you.” Michael was smiling now, and Vin looked up from the ground.
“That’s it?”
“That’s it. I like you. You’ve got spirit. Once your time’s done, come and find me. I can always find a place for someone like you. And in the meantime, I’ll be watching. As for you,” he said, turning to Alice, “I will give you some time. A rest, a chance to think about your priorities, your place in the world. But sooner or later, I will come for you. And you had better be prepared.”
Alice’s eyes met Michael’s, and she saw everything inside them, and felt him see everything inside hers. He searched her face, her mind, her heart... she could feel him creeping inside her like smoke. Then the corner of his mouth twitched into a half-smile, and in a swirl of flame, he was gone.
RAPHAEL TOUCHED MALLORY’S arm. “We should leave. We don’t belong here. Will you come?”
“Not yet. I made a promise.”
“I see.” He frowned. “You remember the way?”
“Are you kidding me?”
“Then I will see you in your own time. But don’t wait too long, there is much to do, and much at stake.”
“I promised, Rafa.”
“Then do as you must.” Raphael smiled at Mallory, and turned to Alice. “She was proud of you. She still is.” He paused, then nodded. “I will see you again, soon.” He spread his wings, and lightly stepped into the air, soaring away and vanishing in a flash of light.
They watched him go, exhausted and bruised and punch-drunk.
Alice spoke first. “Is that it? Is it over?”
“Over?” said Vin. “Nah. It’s never over. This is just another fight. There’ll be more.”
“And this is how you live?”
“Sucks, doesn’t it?” But he was grinning as he said it, and he landed a friendly punch on her arm. “Admit it, you love it.”
“‘Love’ isn’t exactly the word I’d use...”
“It so is.”
“It so isn’t.”
“Is.”
“Isn’t.”
“Can you two just leave it? I feel like someone’s dad. I don’t like it; it makes me feel old and responsible, and like I need a drink. Which I can’t have because someone threw mine in the river.” Mallory sounded like he was only half-joking. “Besides, we need to get out of here.”
“Yeah, this place is totally dead,” said Vin, shoving his hands in his pockets. Mallory shook his head, muttering something under his breath.
Alice looked around them. “Gwyn. Where did he go?” she asked. There was no sign of him, nothing at all. He had simply vanished. “Should we try to help him?”
Mallory shrugged. “It’s not our concern.”
“But he’s...”
“He’s one of the Fallen now, Alice. And he doesn’t deserve your sympathy, nor your pity.”
“And to think, when we first met, you were giving me the whole ‘brothers’ spiel. What happened to that, by the way?”
“Fuck it.” Mallory kicked a stone that lay in his path, and watched it bounce along the rock. “That was clearly my charming naivety speaking. It won’t happen again. In the meantime, I suggest we find a way out.”
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
If You Want to Get to Heaven,
You Have to Go Through Hell
THE SUN WAS setting as Jester dialed a number on his phone. The snow had stopped, and already the air was feeling warmer. Whatever had happened down there, whatever they had done, it had obviously worked. The world went on unknowing, but the angels had broken hell’s hold – for now, at least.
“I’ve got him,” he said into the mouthpiece, slapping the large wooden packing crate he was sitting on. A muffled shout came from inside. “He ran straight into it, just like we planned.”
He paused, listening to the voice on the other end of the line.
“No, no-one. He popped up all on his lonesome at the other end of town. No trouble at all.”
A pause.
“Would you just let me handle this? It’s the least I can... No. Alright, alright. Whenever you’re ready, he’s all yours.”
He snapped his phone shut and slid down from the top of the crate. It was large enough to hold a man – just – and built of thick wood, reinforced with steel plates. A small grille was set into each side to allow air to flow through, and it was next to this that he crouched.
“You hear that, Purson? Enjoy your
time in your little box, won’t you? Because the next time that lid opens, you’re going to wish you were back in hell.”
ALICE HAULED HERSELF up through the cave after Mallory. Her arms ached from the climb and her fingers were sore, adding to the bruises, the cuts and the utter, utter exhaustion she already felt. But above her was daylight. Well, she told herself, twilight. She didn’t care if it was pitch black up there. It was the world. The real world.
It wasn’t hell, and however imperfect it was, she would take that.
“Come on,” she called over her shoulder to Vin, who was whispering urgently to himself. Risking a glance back over her shoulder, she realised he was talking into a phone. “How has he managed to get reception down here?”
“You’re forgetting: the Fallen are all about technology. Xaphan,” said Mallory from somewhere above. There was a shower of soil, and his hand reached back down for hers. “We’re there.”
She let him haul her up, and she found herself in a field, lying flat on her back in deep snow, staring up at stars. “You know, compared to hell, this feels positively balmy,” she said, sitting up and brushing snow from her hair. She shuffled out of the way as Vin’s hand clamped around the edge of the hole and Mallory helped him out.
“You’re not even out of hell, and you’re on the phone already? Unbelievable.”
“Some of us have social lives to maintain.” Vin brushed the snow from his hands. “Of course, not that you’d know anything about that.”
“Wow... Seriously. Who was it?”
“No-one. Really.” He turned his phone over in his hands, and was about to drop it into his jacket pocket when it chirped. “See? Mister popular. Right here,” he said, scanning the screen. His face brightened. “That’s what I’m saying. Guess who’s got a date?”
