by Meg Collett
Hide. Gabriel said one last time.
He crouched deeply and surged into the air with such force he left an almighty crumbling hole in the ground. Zarachiel followed in Gabriel’s wake. Their speed took them far beyond the Seraphim, who struggled to catch up. The Archangels who remained on Earth shifted away from the growing hole in the ground and melted back into the shadows of the woods.
9
As Gabriel and Zarachiel flew toward Heaven with the Seraphim behind them, Gabriel couldn’t help but feel like a calf led to slaughter. He had no reason to suspect the holy angels just because they knew of Michaela’s location, but he couldn’t deny his gut reaction.
Gabriel flew faster and faster through the pitch black sky to push the thoughts from his mind. He gave little heed for the other angels’ transitions or the sickness his speed would cause. He only sought release from the fear and anger boiling beneath his normal, calm exterior. Any moment, Gabriel thought he might snap.
When Gabriel reached the edge’s wall, landed on top of it and stepped into Purgatory’s dust, he almost did.
Heaven was gray, the welcoming colors drained away. The clouds churned thick in the sky, blocking any view of the city. Gabriel braced against Purgatory’s icy winds as he staggered toward the gates.
When they reached the entrance, the arms swung outward, shuddering in the wind. The Aethere were the only angels left in Heaven who could open the gates, and the thought of them watching the returning angels’ progress made Gabriel even angrier. He had committed no crime, and the Aethere did not deserve to label Michaela and the Archangels traitors. The wind died down when he stalked into the first level of Heaven and looked around.
The level was hard to make out underneath the unusual bank of mist. The petals weren’t falling from the Tree of Knowledge. Instead, the air smelled like the early moments before a storm, slightly metallic and unsettled. A shiver started at the base of his neck from the cold breeze. There was no noise, not even from the city above them. In all his time, even in the hardest moments during the war with the fallen, Gabriel had never seen Heaven react like this.
He was about to take to the air when Jehoel said, “No. We are going downstairs.”
“Downstairs?” Zarachiel asked. “There’s nothing down there but the antechamber.”
“We know.”
Jehoel and the other Seraphim led the way toward the Tree of Knowledge, where a set of spiraling stairs wound into the absolute lowest point in Heaven. The stairs were narrow and steep, twisting tightly downward. The angels had to walk carefully, single-file down them until they finally reached the bottom.
Gabriel was the last to step into the long, white hallway. The walls seemed to emit a nearly blinding light. The flooring was a startling white marble slab, which could make an angel dizzy if stared at too long. Gabriel saw no doors.
“Where are we going? There’s nothing down here,” Zarachiel said. His eyes were downturned, watering from the walls’ light.
“The Aethere moved their judgment chambers here.” Jehoel’s words were short and welcomed no more questions. Zarachiel looked over his shoulder at Gabriel.
Why are we going to the judgment chamber?
Instead of answering him in his head, Gabriel gave a slight shake of his head. He didn’t want to let Zarachiel in, because he didn’t want to share the creeping worry settling in his gut.
A seamless white door at the end of the hallway slowly opened, revealing more blinding white. The Seraphim stepped into the room and disappeared. Zarachiel hesitated on the threshold before stepping through. Gabriel followed with a glance over his shoulder. He longed to run back down the empty hallway. He could make it to the wall and dive over, streaking back to Earth. Zarachiel stepped down into the room and away from Gabriel. Gabriel couldn’t leave him.
The chamber was a circular room of more white, shifting marble, the rock glowing as though lit from within. The Seraphim lined the walls of the sunken pit, shoulder to shoulder, to stand guard over Gabriel and Zarachiel. A bright light like a sun burned down to the center of the room right where Gabriel and Zarachiel were positioned. Above the Seraphim, sitting on a ledge with white granite seats, were twelve figures in black cloaks.
The Aethere.
Being the choir responsible for judgments was not easy. Carrier angels delivered the souls to Purgatory, where they waited while the Aethere judged each and every one individually, opening Heaven’s gates for those deemed worthy. It was a never-ending job. The Aethere sat through case after case, debating the merit of each soul, writing each name down in their great book alongside the name’s fate—Heaven or Hell.
“Good evening,” one of the Aethere said from underneath the hood of his cloak, which he drew back to expose his bald head and purple eyes. Gabriel recognized him as the Aethere’s leader—Abel. Gabriel nodded.
“Please don’t feel threatened by coming here. Heaven is a bit chaotic as you can understand, and this was the safest place,” Abel said, smiling, his hands gesturing.
“Why is it chaotic? I thought you had it all under control?” Gabriel asked, but the words were a mistake, because Abel’s smile fell.
“This place, our home, has been violated beyond measure. The holy angels are scared,” Abel said, his eyes never leaving Gabriel’s face. He gestured to the other Aethere. “We will do everything in our power to find who is responsible and bring them to justice.”
“Bringing the fallen to justice is a waste of time. Help me find Michaela, and the remaining Archangels will get everything back under control,” Gabriel said.
“We do not think the fallen were solely responsible.”
“I see,” Gabriel said. “Well, we didn’t come here to be judged or questioned. I came to get backup. I need help searching for Michaela.”
“We know exactly what happened to your dear Michaela,” Abel said, his voice a slow, taunting drawl.
“You don’t know anything about her.” Gabriel’s control was slipping. He couldn’t keep his words in check, and the anger seeped into them. It had been a mistake to come here. Gabriel should have stayed on Earth and ignored the summons.
“Jehoel, can the Archangel Gabriel feel Michaela anymore?” Abel asked.
“No, sir.”
Gabriel thought Abel was fighting a grin that pulled at the corners of his mouth. “There is only one explanation.”
“Don’t say it,” Gabriel warned. The Seraphim tensed, preparing for Gabriel to lash out.
“If you think there is another explanation, please share it with us.” Abel spread his arms wide, his round face innocent except for the excitement Gabriel saw briefly in his eyes. “Do you know where she is?” When Gabriel didn’t answer aside from glaring, Abel continued. “You see how it is an easy conclusion for us to make, given your uncooperative behavior, that you do indeed know where she is and you are hiding her.”
“Of course not,” Zarachiel said, speaking for the first time. He put a soothing hand on Gabriel’s tensed arm where the muscles stood out like steel cables. “She has nothing to hide from. We should be looking for her; she must be in trouble.”
Abel leaned forward in his seat. “Your devotion is misplaced, Archangel. Tell me now and lets avoid further unpleasantness: did she plan the attack on Heaven? Did you help her?”
“No.” Gabriel rolled his shoulders, trying to ease the fire burning in his muscles. The nails of his fingers broke the skin of his palm as he clenched his fists.
“Did you know she was working with Lucifer?”
“Who brought Lucifer into Heaven?”
“Were you involved in the planning?”
“Isn’t it true Gabriel knew Michaela was planning an attack?”
“How long has she conspired with Lucifer and the fallen?”
“What else do the Archangels have planned?”
The questions were relentless. Gabriel didn’t bother to answer. Zarachiel stammered in reply, stunned at the overwhelming suspicion thrown at the Archangels. Finally t
he questions stopped or at least paused long enough for Gabriel to gather his breath. His words were deadly quiet.
“We have served since creation as your leaders. You loved us, believed in us, respected us. But more importantly, you loved Michaela.” Gabriel addressed every angel in the room, staring down each one until they averted their eyes. “You’ve followed us every day since the birth of this war. Now, one bad thing, one slight mistake, happens and you turn your back. You blame the only person who has saved you from the fallen countless times. You will throw us to the wolves because…because it looks bad?”
It was the most many of the angels had ever heard Gabriel speak. They stared at him, some ashamed, some staring at the floor. For a second, Gabriel thought his words might have worked.
But just then the door the judgment chamber flung open, and a horde of Cherubim entered. The Cherubim, like the Seraphim, were a low choir meant to serve. They were shorter, thicker angels with long downy hair and sharp wings. When they came into the chamber, all the angels sensed they were terrified.
“Sir,” one cherub stammered. “Sir, something awful has happened.”
Abel was angry the Cherubim had entered the chamber. His fists were clenching and unclenching beneath the sleeves of his robe. “What happened?” one of the other Aethere asked. Red splotches formed on Abel’s neck.
“We heard a rumor circulating amongst the fallen that…that…” The cherub broke down and started sobbing into her little hands. Another one stepped forward. “We heard that Michaela killed Molloch.”
“Excuse me? She killed him?” Abel asked, eyebrows raised. All the angels except the Cherubim were quiet and calm at hearing the news, because it certainly wasn’t true. Zarachiel glanced at Gabriel out of the corner of his eye. Gabriel gave a slight shake of his head. If Michaela had killed Molloch earlier tonight, Gabriel didn’t know of it.
“Yes, sir.” The cherub took a deep breath as if he was preparing to shock them all. His small round eyes cut to Gabriel before he focused solely on Abel. “The fallen Archangels were in the cave when it happened. They said his body dissolved into feathers. Lucifer saw Michaela afterward and she admitted it.”
All eyes in the chamber fell on the cherub speaking. Gabriel frowned.
“She was with Lucifer?” Abel asked. “Lucifer himself has validated this…this rumor?”
“That’s what we heard, sir.” Everyone was quiet, but the quiet wasn’t calm this time. The pressure in the room was building, ready to spill over the edges. Abel was the only one who spoke to the Cherubim.
“How did she do it?”
“No one is sure, but it was reported her wing stabbed him.”
“She killed him…She knows how to kill.” Abel’s speculating words sparked the panic in the room. The sound in the room grew into a dull roar. The Seraphim converged amongst the Cherubim, asking more questions with terrified eyes. The Aethere whispered urgently with one another, their eyes cutting to Gabriel. Abel was the only one quiet, collected, and he watched Gabriel carefully. Gabriel saw the bright shine in the angel’s eyes, and his dislike of the Aethere solidified.
“Silence! Silence!” Abel’s high-pitched voice screeched over the ruckus. “We need proof.” Abel interjected the chaos. “Take the other Archangel into another room down the hall. I want them questioned separately. Leave Gabriel here.”
“No. We are leaving. Right now.” Gabriel grabbed Zarachiel’s arm, but the Seraphim descended on him like a swarm of flies. They wrapped gold chains around his arms and legs as he struggled. He landed a few solid blows, sending angels staggering into the walls, before they pinned him to the floor. Jehoel clamped a gold cuff on Gabriel’s wrist.
“Jehoel,” Abel called. “Go with the other Archangel. Question him some more, please.”
“Yes, sir.” Jehoel nodded, his eyes on Gabriel.
“Don’t hurt him,” Gabriel said quietly to Jehoel. The seraph hesitated, his hand hovering on the cuff.
“I don’t follow your orders anymore.” Jehoel turned and left without meeting Gabriel’s eyes again.
Gabriel craned his head to see the doorway. Jehoel and a few Cherubim led Zarachiel away. Zarachiel looked over his shoulder to where Gabriel was pinned to the floor.
I’ll be okay, Gabriel. Just find Michaela. Fix this.
Gabriel let out almighty roar as the door closed behind Zarachiel and the holy angels.
10
“The Archangel Gabriel to be presented for the court of judgment,” a seraph said with a sweeping bow in the Aethere’s direction once everyone had regrouped and settled down, but the assumed calm was just a pretense. Everyone was terrified, and Gabriel had no doubt the rumor was spreading through Heaven, ensuring the animosity toward Michaela.
The remaining Seraphim gripped the gold chains that encircled Gabriel’s hands, feet, and neck as he stood. They were braced as if they expected Gabriel to attack any moment. Instead, he stood still. The only thing that moved was the vein in his forehead.
He refused to think about Michaela killing Molloch. He didn’t care if it was true or not. If it was, she had good reason to kill him, Gabriel was certain. And if Molloch had tried to hurt her, Gabriel would kill him again if it were possible. The only feeling Gabriel experienced at the news of Molloch’s death was that he needed to find Michaela as soon as possible. To do that, Gabriel had to keep his anger under control so he could leave this room, find Zarachiel, and get back to Earth.
“And, Gabriel, to what do you confess from your existence?” Abel asked, like he relished the words.
Raising his head, Gabriel’s stare landed, searing and unflinching, on Abel, and the angel’s slight smile disappeared. “I confess to an existence of duty and honor, serving Heaven as messenger and warrior.”
“So you speak not to the attempted invasion of Heaven?” Abel asked.
Gabriel didn’t bother to respond.
“Nor do you speak to the fall of the other angels in your choir?”
Gabriel bit the inside of his cheek to keep from yelling. The pain cleared his thoughts, but blood, warm and metallic, flooded his mouth. “Ophaniel, Zarachiel, Uriel, Simiel, Raphael, and I did not fall,” Gabriel said, but Abel went on as if he hadn’t spoken.
“Nor the plot to take Heaven for yourselves? Or to the fall of your own General?” Abel paused.
“She did not fall.” Gabriel’s voice carried up to the heights of the chamber even though he hadn’t spoken any louder than a fierce whisper. Abel’s eyes narrowed.
“But how can you know if you don’t feel her?” an Aethere across from Abel asked, which made Abel scowl.
Gabriel took deep, steadying breaths. The endlessly white room seemed to spin as if the Aethere rode a merry-go-round, their black cloaks blurring as they sped around. The sensation made him nauseous. It was the transition making him sick and shaky, but he still resented the weakness.
“Of course you can’t, which only means one thing—she has fallen. She denounced her creation the moment she went over the edge’s wall in Molloch’s arms, and will receive her punishment in an eternity of fire and suffering upon the End of Days,” Abel said.
“He must have taken her,” Gabriel said. The muscles beneath his sweating, tanned skin bulged and twitched against his restraints. The Seraphim shifted nervously.
“It was relayed that she willingly went over that wall with Molloch, who has also been condemned as fallen and possibly killed by the very angel he protected, but I’ll play along. Maybe she was pulled over the wall forcibly. Then where is she?” Abel gestured theatrically. “No one can find her, or at least so it appears. So what has become of Michaela?” His voice lowered. “I think you and your Archangels are hiding a fugitive. I think you know exactly where she is.”
Gabriel held back the angry yell that seared him from the inside. More than anything he wished he knew where she was. The need to find Michaela was like cinderblocks tied to his ankles dragging him down to Earth. He heard her scream, over and over in his min
d. By sheer will, he kept his knees from buckling.
“And if Michaela killed Molloch, well, we find ourselves in an even worse situation. Who is to say she won’t come for us next?” Abel’s words were met with gasps of fear from the Aethere around him like they hadn’t thought of that already. Electricity sparked about the air near every angel’s wings.
“You don’t know what happened,” Gabriel said. His throat was so thick, his chest so tight, he barely managed to get the words out. He couldn’t tell if it was the anger or the sickness almost making him pass out.
“Does it matter? An angel might be dead. How can any of us be certain she didn’t kill him in cold blood?”
“She wouldn’t do that,” Gabriel said.
“It’s your word against a slew of misdeeds, leaving us to only judge the evidence. During her reign, Michaela doled out severe punishments. But she was the General, and her rule was absolute. Yet, she has committed an act of treason far beyond any precedent. Because of such, we find ourselves struggling to respond with equally dire punishments. Is this what you believe, my brothers?”
Abel looked at the other Aethere seated around them. Everyone nodded with a conviction borne of fear and a lack of backbone Gabriel recognized in all of them. Abel sighed heavily when he looked back at Gabriel.
“At this time, any angel of association to Michaela will receive a maximum punishment to match their maximum sins. As leader of the Aethere and Heaven, I have the power to send souls to either Heaven or Hell according to my judgment. I am prepared to do whatever it takes to save Heaven.”
“You can’t punish me. I have done nothing wrong!”
“We can,” Abel looked to the other Aethere like he needed their assent, but Abel was the one who ran the show now. “And we will.”
Gabriel shouted in frustration and hauled at the golden chains, his desperation giving him strength through the sickness. The other Aethere shrunk in their seats, terrified, watching as the Seraphim worked to contain him.
