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

by Meg Collett

  “The holy angels didn’t come back for an injured Throne angel?” she asked Ophaniel when they went inside.

  “Clearly, the Aethere don’t care,” Ophaniel whispered.

  They closed the front door and followed the group into the bedroom, lighting their way with lanterns. Zarachiel was asleep in a cot while Uriel watched over him with guarded eyes. She didn’t offer to help, her disdain for the holy angel clear in the snarl of her lip.

  They situated the angel on her side in the cot Michaela had used only hours before. The angel’s eyes fluttered open and closed, her face clammy and feverish.

  “Let’s get her some food and water,” Iris said. “I’m going to start cleaning her wounds.”

  “I’ll get her something to eat,” Ophaniel volunteered. She rushed out of the room, her long blonde hair slashing in the lantern light.

  “We’re running low on filtered water,” Raphael said. He raked his hand over his shaved head. “I’ll go scout for a pure stream after I bring you what we have left.” After the Aethere had turned the oceans and rivers to blood, it was a struggle to find streams that hadn’t been affected.

  “I can help clean her wounds,” Michaela offered. At her voice, the Throne angel opened her eyes. Her look was weak, but Clark saw the mistrust and hatred.

  “You need to lie down and rest,” Gabriel said. He’d already made her a pallet of blankets and his jacket on the floor between Zarachiel’s cot and the angel’s. The little bedroom was filling up fast.

  Michaela opened her mouth to object, but Gabriel said, “If you're going to try again, you need to have your strength.”

  “He’s right,” Simiel said. He put his arm around Michaela’s shoulder and squeezed. “I’ll take first watch.”

  When everyone was gone, and Michaela was comfortable on her pallet, Gabriel said quietly, “Clark.”

  Clark set the angel’s broken wing delicately on the floor before he addressed Gabriel. “Yeah?”

  “I want to talk to you about something. Will you come with me?”

  Clark really wanted to talk to Michaela, but she already looked asleep. Reluctantly, he nodded and followed Gabriel out the door. He wondered if this had anything to do with Michaela’s secret, but he didn’t have to wait long. The Archangel didn’t waste much time. He led Clark to the edge of the clearing, which was far enough away that no one in the cabin could hear him.

  “I wanted to talk with you about Michaela.”

  Clark nodded, running a hand over his face. “Yeah, I was pretty pissed at first, but now I’m starting to think it’s, like, way bigger than we imagined.”

  Gabriel frowned, confusion evident on his face. “Why are you pissed at her for getting sick?”

  “Sick?” Clark dropped his hand. “Wait. What are you talking about?”

  “What are you talking about?” Gabriel narrowed his eyes, his expression turning stormy.

  Apparently, Gabriel had no clue about Michaela’s secret. And clearly that was not what this conversation was about. Clark backpedaled. “Uh, she ate my last chocolate bar?” Clark’s eyes were everywhere but Gabriel’s.

  “Clark,” the Archangel warned, nearly growling.

  Clark waved his hands in the air like it was no big deal. “Whatever. I’m over it now. I kinda had a craving and went a little crazy or something. It’s cool. So, what did you want?”

  Gabriel didn’t look like he believed a word that came out of Clark’s mouth, but he said, “I wanted to talk about Michaela’s sickness and how it could be connected with her wings.”

  “Right. Okay.” Clark bobbed his head, hoping to distract Gabriel. “Go on.”

  “Do you know what Lucifer wanted more than anything?” Gabriel asked, his anger dissipating as he focused on the real subject.

  “Uh,” Clark fumbled. “World domination?”

  Gabriel sighed heavily. “No. He wanted to go home. More than his desire for revenge or winning the war against the holy angels, Lucifer just wanted to return to Heaven.”

  Clark frowned. That wasn’t what he expected. “What does that have to do with anything?”

  “He told me after one of your sessions with him that you were the only way he could ever return. That’s why he wanted you to learn how to use the Apocrypha marks so badly.”

  The words settled heavily in Clark’s guts. He’d had his suspicions about Lucifer’s intentions, but hearing it out loud was something else altogether. Clark didn’t like where this conversation was going. He looked around the clearing, his eyes finally settling on the sky.

  The sun rose on another new day, though they could tell only by the marginal increase in light in the clearing, signaling a day lost and a day found.

  “You think there’s a connection to my ability using the marks and what Lucifer said about him returning home,” Clark said, speaking to the clouds.

  “I think it’s the only thing that makes sense. Lucifer must have known about getting sick if he went to Heaven.”

  “So what are you saying?” Clark said, his eyes returning to Gabriel. He had a sick feeling building in his gut. “I can do something to keep angels without wings from getting sick so they can return home? Like what? Healing their wings?”

  He meant it as a crazy joke, but Gabriel leaned forward, his expression intense. “Yes, and I think Lucifer thought it, too.”

  Clark laughed out loud, the sound humorless. “You’re insane. This is ridiculous. You want Michaela to be okay so badly that you’re making shit up now. Dude, that’s sad.”

  “Clark,” Gabriel said, his voice softer. “It’s the only thing that makes sense. I really think you could fix her wings.”

  “You think.” Clark regretted the bitterness in his words. Gabriel was just trying to help. Luckily, the Archangel didn’t appear angry.

  “I do. That’s all I know. You’ll have to figure the rest out.”

  “Do you really think there’s any chance I would be able to do that?” Clark asked, all emotion draining from his words.

  Gabriel was quiet for a long moment as if he truly considered Clark’s words. “I think you’re powerful beyond any of our comprehension. I think Lucifer was a fool for thinking he could teach you the secrets on your arms. He didn’t know them any more than you or I do, and the only ones who did are dead because of you and your ability. Now, the only one who knows your capability is you.”

  “To fix an angel’s wings….”

  “Yes,” Gabriel said, nodding.

  Clark lowered his head and rubbed the back of his neck, massaging the tight muscles. “I don’t know,” he said honestly, looking back at Gabriel. “I don’t know how I would do that. I don’t know how I would even begin. Accidents and stupid luck taught me how to do the few things I actually know how to do.”

  “You are the luckiest and most accident-prone human I know. In all honesty, you shouldn’t even be alive right now.”

  “Thanks,” Clark grumbled.

  “I know it doesn’t help much, but I’m sorry,” Gabriel offered. “About all of this. I know you’ve had it rough lately.”

  He looked like a giant in the clearing, like he was larger than life. Maybe he was, Clark thought. He couldn’t help but be slightly jealous. Angels loved larger than life, fought larger than life, lived larger than life. And Clark was just trying to catch up.

  “You’re right. That doesn’t help much.”

  21

  Michaela eased her jacket carefully up her arms so she didn’t jostle her still-healing dislocated shoulder. Uriel helped pull it onto her shoulders as Michaela grimaced in pain. Everything in her body still hurt, but the other Archangels were preparing for the morning’s battle, which meant she had to be ready, too.

  She was afraid to hope that yesterday’s onslaught of sickness had been a fluke, but today would tell for certain. She’d heard the other angels talking again early this morning about using Obil to open the gates, but he was too heavy and his wings too useless for an angel like Uriel to hold him aloft for so
long. No matter what happened today—and Michaela already had her suspicions of what would—she had to be the one to arrive in Heaven, no matter what.

  This was her fight and her mistake to fix.

  Uriel helped Michaela finish getting ready before she strapped on her weapons. She’d just put her Samurai sword on her back when Clark came in. He stood in the doorway of the front door and said, “Can I talk with Michaela alone, please?”

  Uriel’s eyes narrowed—Clark never asked nicely for anything. “I’ll be out in a minute, Uriel,” Michaela said.

  Uriel grabbed her coat before she brushed past Clark and slammed the door on her way out. He rolled his eyes at Michaela. “I still don’t like her.”

  “I can tell,” Michaela said, smiling. “But she’s getting better.”

  Clark snorted. Outside, the angels had gathered, situating their armor and checking their weapons. Iris was in the bedroom, changing the injured angel’s bandages. Michaela was itching to go, but something on Clark’s face made her sit down at the kitchen table.

  “What’s up?” she asked when it was clear Clark didn’t know how to begin.

  He struggled with his feelings as he stood before her, examining his boots. Finally, when he looked up, he said, “I know my mom told you about a vision. I overheard you and her talking last night. Why haven’t you told me?”

  Michaela recoiled in surprise. This wasn’t what she expected. “Clark….”

  “I know it’s something big, because you’re not telling me. And, look, if this is about the whole Watcher thing, I get it. I should’ve told you about that. But don’t be mad at me and not tell me something important.”

  “Clark,” Michaela said again, shaking her head. “I’m not mad about that. This is something else, something different.”

  She hadn’t told Clark about the vision for the same reason she hadn’t told Gabriel: she wanted to carry this burden on her own without hurting them. But Clark was clearly upset, and it made Michaela waver on her decision to not tell him. He already knew something was going on from the conversation he’d heard, and Michaela doubted he would let her get away without revealing it.

  “I deserve to know, Michaela,” Clark said. “Whatever it is, we all deserve to know.”

  Michaela raked her hand through her hair. Iris’s vision had been of Heaven’s victory and Michaela’s death. Even if she died afterwards, the plan to save Heaven wouldn’t need to change, because clearly it would work. That was her justification for not telling the others. It was her death, and it should be her secret to keep. The others didn’t need the burden of the knowledge.

  “No. I don’t want anyone to know, Clark.”

  Clark’s expression grew stubborn, and it was a look Michaela knew all too well. “Well, I know something is going on, and you’re going to tell me. So I guess that sucks for you.”

  “No.” Michaela’s mouth was dry as she tried to swallow, her throat like a fist choking her.

  Clark rolled his eyes skyward. “What’s the big deal? What could be so bad that you can’t tell us?”

  Michaela shook her head as she looked away. Her hands trembled.

  “Do you, like, die or something?” Clark laughed like the thought was the craziest notion he’d ever heard. Michaela met his eyes, hers pleading with him to not overreact.

  “What?” The word was a hissing whisper.

  “I didn’t want to tell you or anyone, because….” Michaela took a deep breath, forcing her hands to stop shaking. She found that she couldn’t look at Clark anymore. “Iris saw me die, but Heaven was saved.”

  Michaela added the last part about Heaven being saved like it might help. It didn’t. It was quiet for so long she glanced up, scanning the room for Clark as if he’d left. He hadn’t. He stood exactly where he’d been a moment before, but his entire demeanor had changed.

  “Seriously?” Clark’s voice was scarily quiet and full of rage. His fists clenched at his sides. Michaela sat up a little straighter in her seat, watching him carefully. “What the hell?” Clark emphasized each word like they were fiery stones in his mouth. “You’re just going to be like, ‘oh, by the way’ after all we’ve been through?” he shouted.

  Michaela stood up from her chair, the legs scraping against the floor. From the window, she saw Gabriel turn toward the cabin from where he stood outside with the others, going over today’s wave order and strategy. The bedroom door opened and Iris came out, looking worried. She saw Clark, and her face turned unreadable.

  “It wasn’t like that,” Michaela began.

  “That’s just the way it was!” Clark screamed. He swore, using words Michaela had never heard before. Gabriel strode through the front door, followed by the other Archangels.

  “What’s going on here?” Gabriel asked, looking between Michaela and Clark.

  “Ha!” Clark laughed. “You’re in for a real treat, Gabriel.” He looked back at Michaela, his eyes burning. “Don’t you think you should rethink your little trip into space after this recent enlightenment?”

  Michaela glared, speaking before anyone else could. “No, I don’t. If it’s going to happen, it’ll happen.”

  “Oh, of course!” Clark shouted, throwing his hands in the air. “You’re so right. Let’s just roll the dice!”

  “What are you two talking about?”

  Michaela ignored Gabriel. She stepped up to Clark, getting in his face, but he didn’t back down. “In the end, it’ll be worth it.”

  Her words took a moment to sink in, but when they did, Clark stepped back. His anger fell away from his face. He shook his head almost sadly. “It’ll be worth it to you or me? Or him?” Clark pointed at Gabriel, who was starting to look angry. “Because you might want to reconsider that.”

  Clark turned and stormed into the bedroom, pausing beside his mother on the way. Iris laid a soothing hand on his shoulder and whispered something in his ear before he went inside. Michaela looked back at the others.

  “Michaela?” Gabriel asked, her name sounding like a growl.

  “No,” Michaela said. “We are not doing this now.”

  “Are you sure that’s what you want to do?” Iris asked from across the room.

  Michaela didn’t address Iris as she charged out of the cabin and down the stairs. Zarachiel waited on the porch, but his expression said he’d heard the entire conversation. The Archangels spilled out behind her.

  “We’re fighting now,” Michaela said. “And that’s an order. Come on, Uriel.”

  The angels exchanged glances before Gabriel gave a tight nod. The scowl he sent Michaela indicated that he knew something was up, and he wasn’t going to let it go. Uriel stepped forward and wrapped her arm around Michaela’s waist.

  “Ready?” she asked so only Michaela could hear.

  But the tears were pressing tight against Michaela’s throat. Uriel shielded Michaela’s body so the others wouldn’t see her eyes water up while Gabriel prepared the fallen. Michaela gave a slight nod. The trees around her rustled and bent as the angels lifted off the ground. Thousands of wings created a mighty wind that buffeted into Michaela and Uriel. Michaela was thankful when Uriel didn’t ask any more questions. She flipped out her wings and beat them, lifting their feet off the ground.

  Michaela was even more grateful when the wind blew against her face hard enough to dry the tears that she let fall.

  * * *

  “I’d hoped she’d tell you sooner.”

  Clark looked up at the sound of his mother’s voice from where she stood in the doorway of the cabin’s bedroom. There were no words to express his anger, to illustrate his disappointment. And fear. There was a lot of fear. If he was honest with himself, he didn’t know if Michaela telling him sooner would have helped the pain he felt now.

  “Do you think it’ll happen?” he whispered.

  “Her death?” Iris asked. “Our futures are never set in stone. She could do something that would change the course of her future, but I don’t think she wants to do that.”<
br />
  “Why not?” Clark wanted to punch something, but the Throne angel was asleep on the cot while her back healed. He didn’t want to wake her. Clark looked away; he was sick of angels.

  “Because it’s a future where peace is restored and Heaven is returned to the Archangels.” Iris paused for a long moment. Clark hoped she’d just leave him alone. “But, Clark, you should know something else. I never saw a future where Michaela didn’t die.”

  That was it. Clark couldn’t handle anymore. His cup was full of death and gloom. Everyone dies, he thought. Everyone ends up in the ground.

  “Just leave me alone,” he said through clenched teeth. His words were angry, but he hoped his mother understood the pleading look in his eyes. She slipped out the room with a slight nod and knowing softness in her eyes. That’s what having a mother is like, Clark thought. It was love and understanding, even in the ugliest moments. He could have used that when he was younger.

  Clark sat on the cot across from the Throne angel. He must have sat there for a long time with his head bowed against his arms, because when the angel spoke, he jerked up as if he’d been asleep.

  “I heard what she said.”

  Clark blinked at the angel watching him with careful, catty eyes. She was still on her stomach with her wing stretched out beside her, but every tense muscle in her body said she was ready to spring into action at any moment. It looked exhausting to Clark—the constant readiness for action. Michaela had it, too, which meant it must be an angel thing.

  “Good for you,” he said, biting off the words.

  “I’m glad she’s going to die. She deserves it,” the angel said, her hate for Michaela apparent. It was the same attitude that had run Zarachiel and Michaela out of the room earlier.

  “You don’t know a damn thing about what she deserves. You’re just some dumb bitch who can’t think for herself,” Clark snarled. The anger felt good. It covered the rawness of the pain. “You’re just an idiot pawn in a tyrant’s game,” Clark snapped.