Covenant

by Sabrina Benulis

  Angela pictured the Glaive in all its sharp beauty, cutting down so many souls throughout the centuries as it rested in Lucifel’s hands. She’d always wondered why it existed in the first place. Now she knew. It had always been meant for one person only. Now all of the effort Lucifel had put into dragging Angela into Hell made sense.

  This was why Sophia spoke of her own death. Why her anguished heart knew separation from Angela was inevitable. The earth groaned again. Angela fell forward, nauseated. The world seemed to twist and warp, turning back in on itself. She could barely think anymore, hardly breathe.

  Lucifel never flinched. Her tall body swayed along with the earth. “Not much longer, and everything falls apart. If you choose not to open Sophia, Angela, and use what is within her to save this universe, you will be the Ruin after all, I suppose. Able to help, but unwilling to do so, you would be condemning every creature that lives to an irreversible fate. Including those you so faithfully call friends. How interesting that you’d find Sophia’s soul to be the only one worth saving from utter destruction.”

  Angela’s heart twisted beneath Lucifel’s words like it had been stabbed. She was sure something inside of her broke and bled.

  “I am not the Ruin,” Angela said in a weak voice. “The prophecy said there can be two who can be the Ruin.”

  “That’s right,” Lucifel said. She smiled condescendingly at Angela. “Because even if you do use the Glaive to open Sophia—and your noble heart wouldn’t dare do otherwise—we both know I’ll take the power hidden within the Book a moment later and eradicate you. Then I will be free to use that power to end the existence you’ll have so predictably wished to save. This universe may be dying—but it can also be resurrected. I alone can give it the silent revolution it truly needs. No more lies and pain. My new regime will be the longest and most peaceful of them all.”

  “You are insane,” Angela croaked. She struggled to stay conscious and think. “Why would anyone want to destroy the universe? What can you get out of not existing!”

  Lucifel regarded her with cool pity. “We’ve had that discussion before. We won’t have it again.”

  But it just didn’t make any sense!

  Then Angela’s eyes widened. Time seemed to slow. She thought of her confrontation with Lucifel’s shadow one year ago. Lucifel had clasped Angela by the face and said Angela’s features strongly resembled someone dearly beloved. But Lucifel had been equally clear that mysterious “someone” wasn’t Raziel.

  Now Angela’s mind jumped again to the immense creature who had murdered Raziel. The being who looked like her. The Father.

  Is that what this is all really about? Lucifel’s love was rejected by her Creator, so now she wants to end her life and everyone else’s? This is all just a giant game of spite?

  Angela didn’t have any real proof yet. But she had her intuition, and now Lucifel’s coldness and cruelty appeared as a mask over her pain. It finally made sense. The dead, apathetic look behind Lucifel’s eyes was the same as Angela’s in the darkest moments of her life; it was the same as Janna Hearst’s when she tried to commit suicide off one of Westwood Academy’s rooftops.

  “You’re like me?” Angela said, utterly flabbergasted.

  Lucifel didn’t laugh at the suggestion. “Not quite,” she said icily. “It’s not me that has an existence-altering decision to make. Now what will it be, Archon? Kill your best friend or watch the world freeze over and disintegrate slowly, one Realm at a time? Isn’t Earth already dying? The Underworld comes next. The home of your ragged Jinn friend . . . perhaps most of those mangy feathered rats are already dead.”

  Angela stared more, unable to tear her gaze from Lucifel’s.

  “Angela,” Sophia said. “Look at me.”

  Time sped up again. That’s right—she had a decision to make. Whatever Lucifel’s reasons might be for wanting the universe’s eternal death, it didn’t matter right now. All that mattered was . . .

  Angela slowly looked up at Sophia, her own eyes brimming with tears. She trembled, showing her hands. The Grail throbbed. It bled. “Sophia, I can’t—I can’t—”

  Sophia leaned forward. Their foreheads touched. Their necklaces clinked together. “It’s all right. I knew this day would come.” She breathed softly. “It’s my fault for sharing a dream. I thought we had time. I thought we had chances. The more we spent time together, the more I forgot my punishment, and why my destiny was so cruel. You were my first friend, and you will be my last. You thought of me and risked your life for me, and that’s enough. Now I know that we can’t escape this. It’s what I deserve for bringing so much suffering upon everyone.”

  “No. Sophia, please,” Angela said, touching Sophia’s face, her tears. “You can’t just give up. There has to be more to this. There’s always more—a reason—”

  “Sometimes,” Sophia whispered, “friends are just friends. And sometimes, those friendships end, even when we don’t want them to. We knew this would come to pass at some point, Angela. Now that the moment is here, prolonging the inevitable won’t change anything. If it’s me or the universe, choose the universe. Choose Troy, and Nina, and Juno. Choose the people who believe in you—and who need you most. I’m only sorry I thought of myself. I forgot everything because of that dream we were sharing, and that wasn’t right.”

  “Lucifel will kill me,” Angela whispered, holding Sophia’s porcelain cheek. “Then what will it all be for?”

  “She won’t kill you,” Sophia said. A tear rolled down her face toward Angela’s fingers. “You have too many people on your side. They won’t allow it—and you can’t allow it for their sake. No matter how much darkness, the light always wins. Nothing can stop it. It’s like an ocean taking away the sand. Sometimes we just need to find that light first and hold on to it better. It’s the finding that eludes us most. I’m sure of that . . .”

  Maybe somewhere deep inside of himself, Python knew that too. Why else would he dream that Angela could destroy someone like Lucifel?

  He was proud and ambitious and cruel, but even he didn’t want his world to die.

  “Though I tried to avoid it, though I swore it wouldn’t happen, now I will be the Ruin no matter what?” Angela said, a deep sob overtaking her. “And you will be gone? Sophia. I can’t live like that—I can’t—not after all this—”

  “Yes, you can,” Sophia said, pressing against her again. “You can because you can change things. Not Ruin,” she whispered. “Revolution. There is such a huge difference between the two.”

  Angela straightened and stared down at the ground. Lucifel watched them emotionlessly.

  “All right,” Angela said, shaking. “All right.”

  Sophia smiled. She pulled away from Angela, a serene light behind her usually fathomless eyes. “Now don’t think,” she said softly. “Just do what you need to do. Do what needs to be done. Be the ruler this universe needs, Angela.”

  The ruler this universe needs?

  Angela ripped the glove off her left hand. The Eye that was the Grail glimmered back at her, weeping its blue blood.

  Sophia slumped, her curly hair falling forward and hiding her anguish. Her tears continued silently.

  Lucifel’s voice was soft and yet hideously painful to listen to. “You speak like your friendship is some kind of sacred covenant. This moment between the two of you would be touching if it weren’t for the lie behind the dream. Decide, Archon. I’m not above cutting the Book to ribbons even if she can’t die from the pain. If that’s what it takes to make you choose—”

  “ALL RIGHT,” Angela shouted. Her voice echoed. More rocks dropped perilously from the ceiling.

  She stood up on wobbly legs.

  “The Glaive,” Lucifel said softly. “Summon it.”

  There’s more to me than being the Archon. There’s always more . . . I’m also somebody’s friend.

  Angela couldn’t understand what Raziel had done. What connection did she and the Grail share that made it impossible for anyone else
to use it like this? Angela steadied herself and dug her nails into the Eye, feeling the warm blue liquid run down through her fingers. The Glaive began to form, lengthening, looking sharp and dreadful, like a blue scythe of terror. Angela gripped it tightly and lifted it over Sophia. Sophia stared up at the blade and shut her eyes, whispering to herself.

  “A noble choice,” Lucifel said, cold triumph on her face. Her eyes gleamed hungrily.

  Angela brought down the weapon.

  Thirty-seven

  Even a snake can dream. —PYTHON

  Angela whirled around, smacking Lucifel hard with the curved edge of the blade.

  Lucifel fell with a brief look of surprise, landing on her knees. Her hand grasped at her cut arm.

  Angela held the blade at Lucifel’s neck, pressing it against her. “I said you were insane,” Angela said, breathing hard. “And I meant it. No one comes between me and Sophia. NO ONE.”

  Lucifel raised her eyebrows in respect. “Until today,” she whispered.

  The angel’s reach was long and lightning fast. Lucifel’s wings unfurled in a blinding aura of red light. Her pinions thundering, she grabbed one of the chains lying on the floor and with a flick of her wrist wrapped it around the Glaive, tugging Angela in close. The Glaive’s crystal scraped against the metal with a terrible sound.

  “Letting the world go for a dream?” Lucifel breathed on Angela’s face.

  Sophia screamed in the background. Rocks tumbled beneath the fury of Lucifel’s wing beats.

  Angela spat in Lucifel’s face. “For hope,” she shouted at her. “But that has nothing to do with letting go.”

  “So much idealism,” Lucifel thundered. “I can’t stand it.” She struggled with Angela, grabbing her by the hair.

  Lucifel’s fingers found Angela’s face, and then one of her eyes, and dug in painfully.

  Angela tried to wrench free. Her head could have been splitting down the middle. She clawed at Lucifel’s hand, scratching out blood. The Glaive collapsed, its liquid running down Angela’s arms.

  Something gave way.

  At first, Angela couldn’t imagine what. It almost didn’t bear thinking about. She only knew that she’d never been in such pain, and that warmth gushed down her cheeks. Sophia screamed like her heart had been torn out. Angela dropped to the ground, torture and agony coloring the whole world. One half of that world was now dark. Black as the Abyss. Angela clutched at her face, wanting to thrash all over the floor.

  Lucifel shoved her aside cruelly, stepping on Angela’s chest. Her bare foot felt like an iron weight.

  “We can do this as long as you’d like,” Lucifel whispered. “You have another eye. You have bones, and skin, and blood. I have all the time in the world when it comes to pain.”

  “You’re a monster,” Angela choked out.

  Lucifel’s face didn’t change. “Too many words, Archon. Please stop wasting my time. It’s either now or later. Even if you escape, I’ll find you again. Do you really want more friends to die? Why not make it easier on them and cut out the suffering?”

  Angela coughed, struggling for breath. Her head felt numb. “You know my answer. Sacrificing one person for everyone else—it isn’t right. I’ll never allow it.”

  “Oh, but you’re not on my Throne just yet,” Lucifel said.

  Her foot slid toward Angela’s throat.

  A ripple went through the air, sending the world into more shivers. Hair rose along Angela’s neck and arms.

  Lucifel stopped and straightened quickly. She turned aside, listening. Her red eyes narrowed, and her face became even more cold and deadly. “So he’s here,” Lucifel whispered. She looked down at Angela expressionlessly, but her tone held the slightest tinge of anxiety. “Don’t think I won’t resume where I left off. But for now, I’m going to stop this nuisance before he does what he knows best and ruins everything. Nothing ever seems to change.”

  Lucifel stepped off Angela and disappeared to the side.

  In seconds she left the chamber, her long strides taking her away with unbelievable speed.

  Whoever had arrived, they were worrisome enough to leave opening the Book for later.

  Angela groaned, but with her good eye she could see Sophia weeping.

  Pushing to her hands and feet, Angela stumbled to Sophia like a drunk and collapsed next to her. Heedless of the pain, she set to work on the cords around Sophia’s hands, ignoring Sophia’s protests and her attempts to cradle Angela’s head and examine her wounded eye.

  “Now,” Angela said. “Now. Before she comes back.”

  Reality warped again. The lights flickered. Angela fought her nausea. She stumbled over to Kim’s prone body and nearly fell on him. She touched his face.

  Certainly Lucifel had killed him. Yet he only seemed to be sleeping, and Angela almost thought she could make out the slight rise and fall of his chest.

  Rocks fell.

  “Angela!” Sophia said. “He’s dead! We need to leave quickly!” She stormed over, glancing at Kim with real pity. “That sad soul,” Sophia said gently. “This way—” Sophia grabbed Angela by the arm and dragged her out of the empty prison and toward the tunnel.

  Lucifel was gone. The Gate was open. Angela stumbled out with Sophia, a hand clutched over her injured eye. Pentagrams flickered around her. Kim was dead? It didn’t seem real. Why had he done that to himself? He’d freed Lucifel, and Angela was no nearer to any kind of Throne, nor would she ever be if she could help it.

  They nearly tripped over the dead bodies of Lucifel’s guardian Thrones. The Devil had killed her own bodyguards in her haste.

  “Hurry,” Sophia said.

  “Wait!” Angela forced her to stop. She staggered and displayed the Eye, thinking of the Kirin that had been her mount, of its flashing body and great mane.

  You are mine. Come to me now.

  “Where will we go?” Sophia said, hysterical.

  Angela thought of Kim, feeling his last kiss. For him, they had to survive. “Wherever we need to,” she said.

  The pain in her head faded to a dull throbbing. With it, something else coursed through Angela. Anger. She set her teeth, thoroughly aware of what needed to be done. She would go after Lucifel. She would rid the universe of the Devil forever. She needed to, even though she didn’t want to. Her mind flashed to the image of Raziel tumbling to his death. Once again, she heard Lucifel’s cold promise of war. In the midst of all that, thunder approached her. Angela looked up from her memories, seeing the Kirin rear above them before its paws stamped powerfully against the ground.

  “Get on,” Angela shouted, helping Sophia into the saddle. Angela hoisted herself up in front of her and kicked the beast’s sides.

  They rode powerfully. The air whipped behind them. Rocks thundered to the ground.

  “Watch out!” Sophia said.

  Boulders crashed in front of them. The Kirin reared and leaped over the stones, landing with a heavy thud on the other side.

  Angela clung to the beast’s reins and mane. Sophia gripped Angela’s waist with arms of steel. Her breaths erupted hot and ragged in Angela’s ear.

  An army of demons waited at the end of the tunnel in utter chaos. Lucifel’s passing had been marked by dead bodies, Kirin without riders, and a burning haze to the air. At the noise of Angela’s approach, some of the demons regarded her with wild terror. The ghost riders sat in the background, staring at her with blank faces.

  “We’ll never make it through them,” Sophia said, shuddering.

  Angela examined them quickly. They were without a leader. Their god had just killed some of them mercilessly. Obviously Lucifel was a god rarely seen, more legend than reality to her worshippers. Many of the demons’ perfect faces had blanked over with fear. They glanced around in confusion. Others shouted orders, but few listened.

  Angela tugged on the Kirin’s reins, praying that it would stop. It merely slowed down, enough for her to display the Eye for the army to see. Some of the demons looked up and shouted in alar
m, while others stared in horrified awe. A few of the braver individuals examined Angela wordlessly, their severe faces looking her over. Angela was sure she recognized the male demon who had presented her during Lilith’s ball. His perfect face regarded her coldly and—though it hardly seemed possible—with a shred of respect.

  Angela had escaped Lilith’s and Python’s clutches. She had encountered Lucifel and lived. Now, she also held answers to countless burning questions.

  “I am your leader now,” she shouted. “Your god has left you.”

  The more she looked at Lucifel’s subjects, the more she felt convincing and powerful. Angela passed through them, the Kirin renewing its speed. Lucifel was ahead somewhere, and Angela knew she couldn’t slow down for long.

  “If you want to live,” Angela screamed, “follow me.”

  The Eye throbbed. Her head ached. Some of the demons stayed behind, but most couldn’t do anything but obey the Grail’s mesmerizing power and they trotted behind Angela. Soon they began to shout and hurl forward in a mad gallop.

  Angela’s left hand burned like fire. She charged through the ghost riders, and they reared up and began to follow her as well, intent and perfectly obedient. “They’re following you,” Sophia shouted in Angela’s ear breathlessly. “Angela, they’re following you! I’ve never seen anything like this—”

  Babylon loomed behind. Before them—the outstretched plain continued deeper and deeper into Hell, endless as the breadth of the world.

  The air shimmered ahead.

  A deep and alien groan filled the misty sky. Another image began to appear amid the murky fog, like a mirage solidifying bit by bit. It was another city, so close and yet so far away. It resembled nothing Angela had ever seen; Babylon was like a faded mockery of its glory. There were crystalline spires and pearlescent bridges, towers and balconies, glass and lights that resembled stars. Galaxies wheeled behind the city, and at its pinnacle, a great stairway more like a bridge escaped into the ether. Now Angela recognized this place. It was the great city where Raziel had plummeted to his death. High above, she could see the glittering bridge where he fell.