Absolutely everything depended on it.
Angela would never give up. She had promised Raziel to save Israfel. She had promised Troy, and Juno, and Nina everything in her power to give to them. Those oaths were too sacred to her to break. How would she escape Hell, though, to keep them?
So much already stood in her way.
“Now, we will be here always,” Kim said. “Now, we can start over again. Everything can be what it was meant to be and should be. There is nothing that can come between us anymore.”
Angela clutched at her necklace, rubbing her finger against the feather and the star it cradled. As long as Angela remained trapped in Hell, she would at least have to make sure that things changed. Sophia was right. It was not time for ruin. A new order had arrived.
Angela gazed at the mirror where it rested again on the table, unable to tear her gaze away from the familiar reflection staring back at her.
The light has to win this time. There has to be a revolution.
Babylon was almost beautiful from such a high vantage point. Yet not as much as Luz. Angela gazed out of the enormous window, her fingers pressed against the smoky glass. Her mind returned again and again to the snow and ice of Luz, the beauty of the candles in every home, the sweetness of a holiday that had ended so soon. What would happen to all the blood heads in Luz now? She could only imagine, and it tortured her. At some point, Angela would return and make everything right. There wasn’t much time—she knew it—and it left her silent and pensive too often.
She barely noticed when Sophia stepped beside her.
Sophia hummed a familiar tune. It was Israfel’s song. The same one Angela had used to open the door to Hell after she’d smashed Python’s iron snake.
Israfel left to follow Lucifel. But I know—he thought of me. He felt sorry. So do I.
“Do you know where that song comes from?” Sophia said after a while, not taking her eyes off the city.
Sophia continued humming. The earth trembled a little and went still, as it had continued to do for a few days.
Angela watched the regiments on the plain of Babylon filing into orderly ranks. She swallowed nervously at the idea of leading them again. Now she looked the part, with a long coat and slim-fitting boots. Bare feet were for demons and angels, not humans. Angela also refused to wear her hair up, but let it fall loose to her waist. She often wondered how long it would be until she also had to wear Lucifel’s shackles. The idea terrified her. “No. Where does it come from?” Angela said, grasping Sophia’s hand impulsively.
Sophia put her other hand over Angela’s and turned to her.
“It’s an ancient song,” she said in her soft sweet voice. “Older than time itself.”
“That’s not possible,” Angela said, smiling.
Sophia shook her head, as if to say it certainly was. “The first notes of the song,” she continued, “sounded in a Realm so high that the human mind cannot truly conceive of it. The initial verses speak of a Garden of Shadows, and the last speak of a ring that imprisons the soul. The Garden is paradise and the ring is love—or at least, that was what I intended those symbols to mean.”
Angela stared into Sophia’s stormy eyes. Shock burned through her. “That song—it’s yours? You invented it?”
Sophia turned to the city again. “Yes,” she whispered. “Often it crossed my mind that the poetic images were too vague, too easily twisted into another meaning entirely. How many have interpreted my words the wrong way?”
Angela couldn’t answer her.
Sophia held Angela’s face and brushed a slim finger near the Eye. Angela sighed and squeezed Sophia’s fingers. It seemed they’d both been thinking of so many things. “I’ve known my fate,” Sophia said, “since the day Raziel opened my eyes in this new body, giving me a chance at redemption. Sophia, he named me. The word means wisdom in the Tongue of Souls. But the name is ironic, I think.” She lowered her head. “Angela, do you remember how I told you that I died in childbirth long ago?”
“Yes,” Angela whispered. “I was afraid for a while that you had lied to me.”
Sophia glanced at her quickly. “Lied?”
Angela shook her head. “It just—didn’t seem right.” She couldn’t look Sophia in the eyes. “You seemed too fragile for something like that. Nothing about it made sense to me.”
Sophia sighed. “No. I don’t blame you.” Her face took on that distant and almost frightening expression. “Angela, when I died, I fell into darkness. I also took the universe with me. My soul, my secrets, my power have been reborn thanks to Raziel. Thus, I am the Book of Raziel. But I am also only a meager fraction of my former self. The idea that I am a Revenant of Lucifel was the lie. I am Raziel’s creation, but only using parts of myself that already existed. I died once, and I can die again. Now, I am terrified it will be because of the same sin.”
There was more to terrify Angela. The idea that Sophia was someone or something she would never completely understand was perhaps the worst.
“What could you possibly have done?” Angela said, touching her hair. “Sophia, I don’t care why you think you are being punished. You won’t die again.”
“I promised one year ago today to be by your side always,” Sophia whispered to Angela. Tears slid down her smooth cheeks. “And I want to be. But I also wanted more for you from the very beginning. For me, it was never about your destiny as you made it. It was always about your happiness . . .”
Angela rubbed away one of Sophia’s tears. “You’re talking like you’ve always known me,” she said.
But that can’t be.
Sophia laughed softly at that. “I sound like a mother, don’t I?” she said.
“You’re not a mother,” Angela said gently. “You’re more than that. There’s always more.”
Kim had accused Angela of loving Sophia. Angela couldn’t explain then, but she felt he’d only scratched the surface of something deeper. Love felt like too small a word for certain feelings. Maybe they’d have to make a new one. Lucifel had used the word covenant. Perhaps that was truly more appropriate.
“You’re right . . .” Sophia said. She gazed back out into the city of Babylon, her face settled and cool. The clouds near the cavern’s far-reaching ceiling rained down fine crystals. Angela had sensed the growing cold in the mere few days since she’d arrived. “Merry Christmas,” Sophia said abruptly, breaking the spell. “I wanted it to be better for you.”
“It can be right now,” Angela said, tapping her necklace. They smiled at each other briefly and held hands before the world, defiant of the darkness in front and ahead of them. It didn’t feel right to be completely happy, but Angela felt it was okay to at least be grateful for each other. “Sophia, I know it might hurt you, but—tell me about your children one day.”
Sophia’s face hardened a little. “I won’t be telling you much you don’t already know,” she said slowly.
Her tone suggested an end to the conversation. The mystery within it would have to remain so for a little longer.
Angela looked out into Hell. She thought of Juno’s little rock resting safe and sound in her skirt pocket where she’d left it. She thought of Camdon Willis, and where his soul had gone after touching the Grail. Because that was all she could do for the people who meant anything to her right now—think, hope, and pray. Troy never responded to Angela’s mental calls—hopefully meaning she was too far away to hear, not dead. “I’ve been wondering about Troy and Nina and Juno . . . Maybe Python was right when he said that Nina was dead and Troy betrayed me . . .”
“He wasn’t,” Sophia said firmly.
“How do you know?”
Sophia looked at Angela with a chiding expression. The Grail throbbed, sending ripples of warning fire through Angela’s entire being. Somehow, Angela thought she could see a pair of burning orange eyes, staring right back at her, like a flash from the farthest corners of her mind. Fear touched her, her heart ached. Python wasn’t dead, nor was his ambitious game perhaps ove
r. The protection of Hell was no real protection at all.
Sophia’s voice held only a hint of the approaching storm. “Like I told you from the very beginning,” she murmured, “never trust a snake.”
Forty-one
Even the Devil played my game to satisfaction. —PYTHON
A foot jabbed Troy sharply in the ribs. Pain shot through her body.
Her dreamless sleep shattered instantly. She was alive, yet the thought held no relief. Troy awakened gasping for breath, spitting out the bitter dust that had found its way into her mouth. Her muscles felt torn in nine different directions. The spot on her back that marked her missing wing throbbed horrendously. Troy shuddered as a hand grabbed her by her rags and lifted her up. Icy cold metal latched around her neck.
Her energy returned in a hot rush. Troy thrashed.
She hissed and spit in her captor’s face. Slowly, the demon’s features emerged in the wan light of Babylon.
His pale face was almost half hidden by his mop of violet-streaked, sable hair. The scales above his eyelids glittered under reams of purple eye paint.
Python dropped Troy back to the rocky earth, his snakelike eyes watching her keenly. He shook his head, pushing back the hair in front of his face. Three long cuts layered one of his eyes. Python rubbed at them with a sour twist to his mouth. His other hand firmly grasped the chain that connected to the collar around Troy’s neck.
Juno! Where was she?
Troy glanced around frantically, searching for her niece amid the cold light of Babylon. They had landed somewhere near the outskirts of the city. The softness that had somewhat broken their fall revealed itself to be a mound of Kirin carcasses and trash. The stench would have been unbearable to anyone, but with Troy’s highly developed sense of smell, it was almost a torture. To her right, the city rose above her jagged and menacing. The lights played with her eyes and made the act of thinking painful.
Juno was gone. Even her scent seemed to have faded, which meant she’d been absent for quite a while.
She could have been eaten or captured. Anything.
“Looking for that ragged little chick?” Python said, yanking hard on Troy’s chain.
The collar dug into Troy’s neck. She had no choice but to look right at him. Troy snarled coldly and threatened to lunge at his face. “Where is she, snake?”
“Irritatingly alive,” Python said. “At least, that’s my best guess. By the time I medicated my injured eye and arrived to find her corpse, she was long gone. I wanted her to die, but I wasn’t about to throw my looks away for a dream.” He smiled coldly and tugged even harder on Troy’s chain. “So the little mouse left my house. And she left her aunt behind as well. Interesting. I thought you both shared a better relationship than that.”
Troy didn’t bother answering. Juno wouldn’t abandon her outright. There would have to have been a good reason.
Despite the overwhelming smell of trash and decay, there was no scent of fresh blood. Juno had to be alive. Fury hadn’t returned from rescuing Nina Willis’s soul. Troy couldn’t help but feel both Fury’s and Juno’s absences were connected to that fact. But Python didn’t need to know how they’d kept him from winning that particular part of his game.
“What do you want with me?” Troy snarled at him. She grabbed at the collar around her neck, trying to break it somehow. There was no use. It wouldn’t budge an inch.
“Don’t even try,” Python said. “That collar is made of adamant. Not even Lucifel herself could break it. No—that would take someone like your half-breed cousin, I’m afraid. But I doubt he’ll feel up to the task any time soon. Lucifel’s shackles left him a bit . . . drained.”
Troy froze. Fire rushed through her veins, and her heart pounded.
“Oh, that’s right. I’m so sorry. You couldn’t possibly know the news that has the elite of Babylon seething—or at least the part that doesn’t know how to stay quiet and obedient.” Python seemed to gloat, but his face held no happiness. “Your lovesick cousin succeeded, Troy. His unique hands freed Hell’s blackbird from her cage. Lucifel has escaped her regime, and she partly has you to thank for it. If you’d succeeded in your mission as the High Assassin, perhaps we’d be having a much different conversation. But at least take comfort in your cousin Kim’s courage. You’re more alike than you think. I detested him every other minute, but I’ll admit that his blind resolve was enthralling.”
Troy felt suffocated, like the world rather than the collar choked her.
All she could cling to now was the idea that if Kim had gotten so far, maybe Angela had also been alive and present.
If Troy could reach Angela, there was still hope for them all.
“I love it when your clever mind works.” Python’s face burned with excitement. “It makes your eyes so fierce and bright. To survive such pain and come so far—no wonder your race honors and fears you like they do. Perhaps that’s why they named you after the city I helped destroy. Hope always seems to linger where it’s least wise to believe in it.” He rubbed the links of the chain that made up Troy’s leash. “Wondering about the Archon, Troy? She’s just fine. Though we’ll see how long she lasts with my mother for a protector,” he ended ominously.
Troy lunged for him again.
The chain twanged harshly. She crashed back to the earth, scraping her knees.
Python stepped backward, staring at her long nails. “Easy,” he hissed under his breath. “I wouldn’t want to have to muzzle you.”
“Let me go now,” Troy said to him, gritting her sharp teeth. Her words erupted dark and certain. She dug her nails into the earth and split a few rocks beneath them for emphasis. “Because I promise if you don’t, you’ll be sorry for it, snake. Wasn’t mutilating your face enough? Next time, I’ll make sure it’s your heart. I won’t eat it, of course. Far too much venom for my taste.”
Python’s expression chilled. He snapped the chain, almost throwing Troy into the dirt again. “Watch your tongue, my dear,” he said. “Temper temper. But keep in mind from now on—you’re the flightless bird on the leash.”
“I won’t fail to keep my promise,” Troy said viciously. Her ears pressed back into her hair. Her entire soul froze over with purpose. “I never do.”
“Neither do I,” Python said. “That’s why we’re going to Babylon together.”
Troy stilled, her entire being quivering. She couldn’t go to Babylon when Juno was alive but missing. Even killing Sariel could wait for that. The broken Jinn Clans needed a Queen, and Troy would never be that Queen as long as Juno lived. There was no doubt in Troy’s mind anymore about her niece’s suitability for the role.
Python laughed grimly. “The Archon thinks she’s gotten out of my labyrinth. But mazes don’t necessarily need walls to continue. All they really need are people’s hearts and desires. I can’t wait to see the look on her noble face when I show her the great High Assassin at my heels like a Hound. Shortly afterward, all of Hell will be there with you. But I’m a much more patient demon than I look, so I’m willing to start one individual at a time.” The demon stooped down and gazed directly into Troy’s eyes. “The universe is my chessboard, and I still have a few pieces left to play. Even better—I have the best piece at my disposal, the Queen.”
He smiled, showing all his perfect teeth.
Python spread his wings in a blinding flash of reddish light. The cold lights of Babylon gleamed across the metal holding them together. The fine fog in the air wafted away from him like smoke. He yanked on Troy’s chain, jerking her painfully toward the city in the most humiliating way possible.
She stood anyway, her feet cut by rocks as he continued to tug. Against her will, she followed him.
The city waited for her like a pair of shiny black jaws.
At that moment, Troy made her decision. If she did become Queen of the Jinn, she would destroy Babylon utterly and raze it. And if she couldn’t do that, she would help the Archon destroy Heaven, Hell, or whatever else came in the way of a newer heav
en and a better earth, one dying Realm at a time.
But Troy didn’t need to say anything aloud.
Python glanced back, and his suddenly quiet demeanor told her enough. He had seen the future in the icy terror of her smile.
Omega
Luz waited for the Archon amid a whirlwind of snow and darkness. Blackbirds and crows converged on the city, screeching and crying over its impending ruin.
Earth shivered, and the ocean threw up enormous waves that licked the lower levels of the poorer human dwellings.
All this passed beneath Nina Willis like a dream.
Nina soared with the crows over Westwood Academy, wheeling and turning through the icy winter air. She was now one of them, and yet infinitely superior. But despite Juno’s warnings for Nina not to lose herself in exhilaration, her new wings had an agility to them she’d never expected, and she couldn’t help testing them time and again. Flying was wonderful enough, but flying through the snow was even better, and Nina tumbled with Fury over and over for the sheer bliss of it, plummeting to the roaring sea only to streak up back into the clouds at the last possible second.
Nina had not died in Python’s labyrinth. Thanks to Troy, Juno, and Fury, she’d instead been given new life that could last as long as she wished.
Her soul was in the body of a crow exactly like Fury’s, but the difference was that unlike most Jinn creations, Nina could leave that body if she wished. The rest of the Jinn had found Nina’s talent inexplicable, but she knew it all had to do with Angela. Nina wanted to help her friend, and that had made something impossible, possible. Her promise had become her reality, perhaps because it had been deserved. Troy would certainly understand.
There had been doubt and confusion in her before each death, yet now Nina unswervingly knew her purpose. The souls waiting to fight on the Archon’s side in Heaven needed someone who could intercede between them and Angela.
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