End of Days: The Complete Trilogy (Books 1-3)

by Meg Collett

  Clark half-smiled, but it was a sad attempt. “I’ve done all I can do. You can’t cart me to Heaven to fight, so I guess I just need to figure out how to get over it.” Clark’s voice drifted somewhere far away as if he was picturing Sophia and his father.

  “Let me help, okay?” Michaela squeezed his hand. “Don’t push me away.”

  Clark shrugged again. “Okay.”

  It wasn’t much and it wasn’t good, but it was all he gave Michaela. She stood from the step and pulled him up. As they were about to go inside the cabin, the sound of twigs breaking and footsteps crunching over the grass caught their attention. The cabin’s door opened, revealing Gabriel and the others, who’d apparently heard the approach, too. They spilled onto the porch dressed in their normal clothes, leaving only Michaela and Clark still in their rave outfits.

  Everyone looked across the clearing, relaxing for a fraction of a second when they recognized Iris with her familiar blonde hair and blue eyes.

  The relaxation lasted only that fraction though, because right then everyone recognized the angel with her. Michaela’s heart twisted. The angel didn’t have the physique of a fighter or the wings of an angel who traveled the skies often. He wasn’t muscular or beautiful. He was a sitter, a listener…a judge.

  He wasn’t Abel of the Aethere. But he was an angel from the Aethere choir. And that was just as bad.

  He was their enemy, hand delivered to their doorstep, but it looked like Iris had already beaten him up and torn him apart. Blood dripped from the tips of his fingers. His face was cut and gashed. His round, soft form heaved and panted. He looked two breaths away from a heart attack. Clark, as usual, was the first to break the silence.

  “Shit, Mom. What’d you do to him?”

  15

  Iris looked offended at Clark’s question. “I didn’t do anything. He can’t fly well, and he fell most of the way.” She sniffed.

  But that didn’t address the Archangels’ anger. Uriel surged forward, her body vibrating. She pulled her long, slender sword from the sheath at her back. “What is he doing here?” she hissed, twisting the metal so it glinted in the air.

  Uriel’s question echoed Michaela’s thoughts exactly. Anger flashed hot then cold through her veins. The heat collected on her pale cheeks as her fists clenched.

  “What the hell is this?” Michaela’s voice was quiet, her rage giving the words a spicy lilt.

  The singular Aethere angel shrunk away from the wall of Archangels who seethed with an uncontrollable desire to rip the round, bald angel apart. The temptation leached from their bodies and turned the air into a storm of sparking air particles. They would have attacked if not for the fact that the angel could barely stand as it was. Iris held tightly to his soft arm, holding him up and supporting his swaying weight.

  “This is Obil,” Iris said, her voice perfectly calm. “As you know, he’s from the Aethere choir.”

  Michaela knew the Aethere choir all had similar names. The physical characteristics were the same, too: bald, round belly and short legs. Obil wasn’t Abel. The angel before her was just a cog in the wheel of her disgrace, while Abel was the one turning the spokes. Michaela knew all this, but she still couldn’t fathom a reason not to kill every single member of the Aethere on the spot.

  The sentiment surprised her. She hadn’t thought herself ready to kill any holy angel, but when she looked at Obil, she knew what she wanted. She wanted to kill the Aethere angel, not for Heaven’s justice, but for hers. It was wrong, but it would feel so good.

  The snake hissed against the base of her skull, urging her to do it.

  “That doesn’t answer my question.” Michaela took a step forward, and Obil withered.

  “Well, if you would zip your lips long enough for me to tell you, I would,” Iris said primly, shocking Michaela out of her bloodlust. She didn’t think she’d ever been scolded before.

  “Oh, I’ve seen that look before,” Clark said, whispering. “She’s about to send you to your room.”

  “He came to the Descendants’ compound seeking asylum and medical help. I intercepted him before he drew their attention.”

  Iris paused after she finished, like she assumed everyone would immediately understand why this meant Obil was here with them now. Michaela arched her brows as she spoke. “I don’t care what he was seeking. He should be thrown in Hell for his crimes.”

  “How do we know he isn’t communicating with the Aethere right now, telling them our location?” Raphael said. The other Archangels nodded their agreement.

  “I’m not!” Obil exclaimed, horrified. “I swear.”

  “Why should we believe you?” Raphael leaned forward, popping the joints in his tight fist.

  Iris scoffed as if the Archangels were being ridiculous. “Look at him! He’s banged up and hurt from the descent. He’s also too weak from the transition to reach them,” Iris said. “He could barely stand when I got to him.”

  “But he’s recovering. We can’t trust him. All this blood could just be a ploy.”

  “He has no clue where we are,” Iris returned, her voice just as sharp as Raphael’s. “And does it really look like he faked his injuries?”

  Obil trembled. He was hurt, but Michaela couldn’t trust that he wouldn’t try to communicate with Abel. “We don’t have much time.”

  “Wait,” Gabriel said calmly, placing his hand on Michaela’s arm and stepping beside her. “Why did you leave, Obil?”

  Obil looked terrified to be addressed directly by the Archangel. His purple eyes bulged in his pale, clammy face. A drop of gold blood dripped from a cut on his chin. He cleared his throat a few times in a wet, nasally manner that made Michaela sick to her stomach. “Abel, our leader, has…has….”

  His voice was weak and soft, and Michaela hated the sound of it immediately. Impatiently, she snapped, “We know a lot of what Abel has done, angel. So you better be quick about your purpose here on Earth before I take out Abel’s punishment on you.”

  Obil nodded furiously. The sweet tang of his sweat and blood permeated the air. “Abel loved Heaven. He only wanted what was best for everyone. But you have to understand, sitting in those chambers and judging soul after soul is…well, it’s hard to offer that much forgiveness. Abel started to resent it. He felt like too many impure souls were let in. He thought Heaven was being tarnished, and he blamed you, Michaela.” Obil held up his hands at Gabriel’s snarl. “The rest of us didn’t! But he started to say these things about you more often, and we just agreed because he can be scary in his fervor. He wanted Purification and we agreed to it, but only because he made it sound like a good cause...until he lost his way. I think he’s gone mad. Everyone is terrified of him. It’s not about Heaven anymore. He just wants your death.”

  Michaela’s brow furrowed. Before, she didn’t understand what she could have done to warrant being framed and disgraced, and all this time she’d wondered why Abel hated her so much. He’d grown to hate her because he thought she was the reason for Heaven’s fall, and here she stood, believing the same of him. It was hard to imagine Abel had once started his quest for Purification because he loved Heaven and wanted to do what was right. His reasons sounded eerily similar to hers. Chill bumps prickled along her arms.

  “What has he done?” Gabriel asked. The air between the Archangels and the Aethere angel quieted, the tension slackening, although the set of Michaela’s shoulders remained rigid. Gabriel left his hand on her arm.

  Obil relaxed slightly, too, now that his life wasn’t immediately threatened. “He stays locked in the Antechambers. At even a whisper of dissent, he casts out the angel in question without even including the rest of the Aethere choir in the decision. He…he puts their torn wings on the gates of Heaven as a warning.” His words made the Archangels bristle with contempt. “He terrifies everyone with his wild speculations until all the angels feel is fear. When the Watchers didn’t return to Heaven on time today, he flew out of the Antechambers and raced up and down the spires of Heaven,
screaming that Michaela and Lucifer had the entire fallen legion outside the gates. He yelled that the Watchers were dead and everyone was next. It sent the holy angels into a panic. He clawed his face into bloody ribbons and demanded all the angels fly to Earth and kill every creature—animal, human, reptile, everything in sight. He said everything was dirty and should be burned. I left as soon as he went back into the Antechambers.”

  “You just…left,” Michaela said, disbelieving.

  Obil shuddered, like Abel’s actions scared him more than standing before an Archangel firing squad. “I opened the gates and slipped out because the Watchers still weren’t back yet, and I was afraid of him.” Obil’s lavender eyes met Michaela’s, and she didn’t correct him about the Watchers never returning to Heaven again. “Abel has become awful. He’s turned Heaven into a cage of fear and distrust. I told myself that you couldn’t be any worse than him.”

  Gabriel bristled. “She did none of the things he accuses her of.” The words were a growl, but Obil only stared blankly at him.

  “I don’t care whether she did or not. That’s not the issue anymore. The problem is Abel. He needs to be stopped.”

  It was so easy for an Aethere angel to dole out judgment and excuse any objections. Obil had already judged Michaela, and any appeals to her innocence would be lost. Michaela rolled her eyes.

  “So do you believe Abel framed me and made a deal with Lucifer?” Michaela asked.

  Obil held up his hands, revealing more jagged slashes across his palms. He must have fallen a great distance to be so banged up. “I don’t know about that. All I know is that he’s gone mad, and I wanted to get away.”

  Michaela looked at Gabriel in disgust. She couldn’t believe it. Obil wanted her protection, but he wasn’t willing to say she was innocent.

  “Whatever,” she said, reminding herself of Clark. “How are you going to help us? Did you bring us information? Do you know how we can stop Abel?”

  “No!” Obil nearly choked on his shock. “Of course not. I just wanted to get away from him before he killed us all. I only want protection.”

  The Archangels behind Michaela were so quiet she almost forgot they were there. No one even disturbed the air to breathe. Michaela broke the silent standoff when she took another step forward, snaking her hand out and wrapping it around Obil’s throat. She pictured Abel beneath her hand instead, and a smile pulled at her lips.

  She must have looked crazy, too, because Obil’s face paled like he suddenly regretted his change of masters. His eyes flickered down to the expanse of bare skin her outfit revealed. “Let me get this straight,” Michaela growled. “Your leader made a deal with the devil to frame me so your choir could take control of Heaven like it belonged to you. You turn the world upside down in your quest for perfection. You send countless deserving souls into the arms of Lucifer to become damned, devouring experiments. You wreck Earth with waves of plagues to blackmail me for the seals. You want the End of Days, because you believe only those without a blemish to their soul belong in Heaven.”

  “But I didn’t! That was Abel!”

  Michaela squeezed Obil’s throat, cutting off his words. “I’m not finished.” She waited until Obil’s eyes bulged before she went on, the words like a lash of fire inside her. Everything but Obil had faded to black around her; her rage was all she saw. “You disgrace the only General who has kept you and all of Heaven safe in an eternity of war. You sentence Gabriel to Hell to be Lucifer’s pet. You say the entire Archangel choir has fallen.”

  Obil gasped for air. Michaela shoved him away from her, sending him sprawling onto the ground. He made a piggish grunt.

  “And now you come to Earth, ruin my day, piss me off, and demand protection? You want my help? You want me to save you from Abel? Is that it?”

  Obil couldn’t find his voice. Snot and tears mingled on his cut face, and he was truly terrified. He only managed to nod. Iris stood beside him with her same disapproving stare, but she didn’t offer to help Obil stand up.

  Michaela glared down at Obil. “You should’ve stayed in Heaven, because, yes, I will help you. I’ll protect you and keep you safe. But every day from now until the End of Days, you’ll wish you’d kept your ass in Heaven.” Michaela turned to Gabriel, who watched her tirade with a brow cocked. He knew her plan. “Take him to Hell,” she said.

  “What?” Obil screeched the word, miraculously finding his voice.

  Michaela jerked the angel back to his feet in a motion so fast no one saw her move. “That’s right.” She set him on the ground and wiped her fingers on her bare thighs, as though he was dirty. “You will remain in Hell for now, judging all those souls you deemed unworthy.” Michaela looked up at the sky then back down at Obil. “And you better find a comfortable seat to sit in, because thanks to you, it’s going to take a while to catch up.”

  Michaela took Gabriel’s hand as she stalked away. She pulled him to the base of the stairs. Back in the huddle of angels, Obil pleaded with Iris to make Michaela see reason.

  “Get him to Hell and summon Loki,” Michaela said quietly. As General, Gabriel had the ability to summon Loki to Hell when Gabriel was actually in Hell. “Make him judge every single soul Loki is carrying.”

  Gabriel listened carefully. “It’ll take him forever to judge just the souls Loki is carrying. One Aethere angel could never keep up.”

  “He won’t be able to judge the souls meant for Heaven since they can’t go up there, but he should have enough to keep him busy and help Loki some. Have you seen him around?”

  “No,” Gabriel said quietly. “Not since the night we went back to Hell for Clark.”

  “I haven’t seen him, either. I’m worried about how he’s holding up. He’s not meant to carry around those souls like that. He could be hurt. That’s why I want Obil working nonstop to get those souls off Loki.”

  “I agree,” he murmured. “How long is he staying in Hell?”

  Michaela shook her head, running her hand over her face. “Maybe just for now or maybe forever.” She shrugged. “I’m not judging him, but I want him out of our way and helping those souls right now.”

  “I understand.”

  “I want to initiate a battle with the holy angels tonight while we can still hopefully surprise them with our numbers. But don’t mention it to Obil until he’s deep in Hell and can’t communicate with the Aethere.”

  “I won’t,” Gabriel said, frowning in his concentration. “And I’ll bring fallen with me to fight.”

  “Bring a lot.” Michaela breathed, leaning in to Gabriel and kissing his neck. “But hurry back.” She stared into his dark eyes. The anger she’d felt moments before was transforming into a strong, passionate desire. She wanted to spend the night with Gabriel. “I’ll be waiting.”

  Gabriel’s black eyes caught fire, sparking with golden filaments. He looked like a shadow leaning over her, but Michaela welcomed his darkness now. She pressed her body into him until his jaw clenched and his arms tightened around her. Their kiss was brief, but stoked with an impossible heat. Michaela’s lips felt bruised when Gabriel stepped away and went to Obil.

  Gabriel didn’t falter as he swept the angel up and into the sky, his wing beats creating great gusts of wind. Michaela watched him until he disappeared. She couldn’t keep thoughts of his return from her mind, making the pressure build in the delicious spot between her legs before Raphael’s sigh brought her back to reality.

  “Well, that was interesting.” The Archangel rubbed his eyes as he walked past Michaela and up the stairs.

  “I don’t know if ‘interesting’ is quite the word I’d use,” Simiel said, stopping to stretch. “But at least we can fight with the holy angels and not be worried about some Watcher whispering ‘abracadabra’ and killing us.”

  “Simiel, that’s crude,” Ophaniel admonished as she walked up the stairs. “This is important. We can help Loki now and get some souls judged.”

  Clark threaded through the angels and disappeared inside the
house to look for breakfast, but the Archangels paused on the porch. Everyone, including Uriel, turned to look down at Michaela. “We fight?” Raphael asked.

  Michaela nodded. “We fight.”

  Their excitement wove through the air and filled Michaela’s nostrils. They went into the house to begin their preparations for the night’s battle. Michaela was about to follow them inside and change her clothes when Iris’s hand settled on her arm. Michaela looked back at the aging Nephil.

  “I’m sorry about that,” Michaela started, thinking of Iris’s disapproval. She respected Iris and valued her opinion. She didn’t want to anger her. “I lost my temper, but I’m glad you brought him.”

  Iris smiled her kind, serene smile that lit up her blue eyes. “I don’t blame you.” She patted Michaela’s arm. “He can help us, though.”

  “You’re right,” Michaela said. She frowned, taking in the dark circles under Iris’s eyes. Michaela hadn't noticed the wrinkles that now spanned across her face. “How are you doing?”

  Iris offered a small smile. “I thought it might be easier to lose him after we spent so many years apart, but it wasn’t. It was still pretty awful.”

  Michaela squeezed Iris’s hand. “I can’t imagine what you’re going through.”

  “I think you probably can,” Iris said, squeezing back.

  Her words hurt somewhere deep inside Michaela’s chest. Not knowing how to respond, Michaela turned back to the cabin, but Iris stopped her again. “There’s something else,” Iris said.

  “What?”

  “I had a vision.”

  Michaela tensed at the words. Iris had an extremely powerful ability to see the future through her visions, and they always scared Michaela. “About what?”

  “About the end.” Iris lowered her voice so she couldn’t be heard in the cabin.

  “What happened?” Anxiety twisted in Michaela’s stomach. Part of her didn’t want to know, but she couldn’t stop herself from asking.