by Nazri Noor
His pages flew open as an enormous fireball rocketed out from between his covers. The air burned hot as it spiraled towards the farmhouse, exploding the kitchen door right off its hinges. I quite liked this version of Dantaleon. I liked hammers a lot.
A stream of men emerged from the back door, even as a sudden gust of icy cold wind blew at the flames, putting them out within seconds. Yeah, that didn’t just happen in nature. Baradiel and Nuriel were near. I looked around cautiously, preemptively rolling a wad of magical energy in my hand, saving what little power I had for when it would really count.
“Slice and dice,” Pierce said, twirling his daggers as he prepared to strike.
“Wait,” I said, holding my arm out against his chest. “We don’t have to kill them. It’s not their fault they were tricked by the angels.”
Pierce frowned at me. “Who said anything about killing them?”
“Whatever,” Crystal said, stepping forward and thrusting her hands out towards the crowd of men. “You just let me handle this, then.”
Nothing happened.
“Shit.” Crystal blinked, looking down at her hands, then back up into the mob of farmers descending on her. She shook her hands at the wrist, like someone shaking a remote control to get it to work again. “What the hell is happening?”
“Mrrow.”
Twin beams of ruby-red light shot out from near my feet at ground level, sweeping across the farmers. The assault came so abruptly that I had no time to even think to stop Mr. Wrinkles. He turned his head at an angle as the beams receded, a curved, scorched path of blackened wood and flames burned into the just-renovated back wall of the farmhouse, the twitching remains of the farmers laying in the grass.
Wood smoke tickled at my nostrils as I gawked. I wasn’t the only one stunned speechless. Crystal and Pierce stared open-mouthed at the devastation. Pierce had seen this before, back when we first rescued Mr. Wrinkles, but the destruction hadn’t been nearly on this scale.
Dantaleon’s laughter broke the silence. “Very impressive. Perhaps I underestimated you, little cat. You and I should sit down together some time and discuss the fine art of annihilation.”
Mr. Wrinkles said nothing, licking the back of his paw. I clutched at my hair, part of me relieved that Crystal had escape being torn apart by the farmers, the other part horrified that my own pet cat had just murdered a dozen or so innocent men.
But I looked closer at the wetness seeping into the grass, and it wasn’t blood at all. The insides of the farmers were clear to see because Mr. Wrinkles had bisected each and every one of them through the torso.
Their insides were also clear to see because they were all made of ice.
28
I scowled in confusion, looking around for the angels. “What the hell is going on? Show yourselves.”
Two shafts of light sparked by the ruined kitchen door as the angels manifested themselves, accompanied by the beat of huge, invisible wings. They seemed extremely pleased with themselves, the blond one grinning happily, the black-haired one’s smile more sardonic, and cruel.
All of the icy corpses were rapidly melting, and as their bodies evaporated, tiny globes of light rose up above their remains. Nuriel clasped his hands together, the blond of his hair glowing gold as the orbs of light lifted into the air, then shot up into the sky.
“Celestial wisps,” Nuriel said, smiling sweetly, like a professor eager to teach his class something exciting and new. “Quite similar to the husks of hell, really. They’re just mindless motes of divine energy, given just enough flesh and life to work as minions. Very handy.”
“And very sensible,” Baradiel said, the dour, dangerous twin. “Why should we risk the lives of our followers when we worked so very hard to get them?”
“That’s why I couldn’t affect them with my fear hex,” Crystal murmured. “No minds.”
“You didn’t earn your followers.” My fist clenched. “You mean that you lied so very hard to get them. It shocks me, how the two of you can stand there and believe your own drivel. You’re no better than demons, tempting the very humans you’re meant to help and protect.”
“Preposterous,” Baradiel growled. “We are categorically better than infernal filth, in every way conceivable. And I fail to understand why you’re so concerned with the well being of humans, princeling scum. Is it because of your parentage, how one half of you came from a perverted hell, and the other half from terrestrial dirt?”
“Oh shit, dude,” Crystal murmured. “My real parents are dead and even I’m offended for you.”
“Not the time nor the place,” I hissed back.
A scrabbling came from inside the kitchen, and out stepped the third angel, the broken one who had lost his wings. His hair was wild, his eyes manic with fear as he searched our faces, then the ground.
“What happened?” he stammered. “Where are the others?”
Baradiel tutted and turned to Nuriel, ignoring their brother. “Did you not tell him about the celestial wisps?”
Nuriel’s eyes widened with genuine surprise. “I knew I forgot something.” He gave the third angel a saccharine, patronizing smile, speaking slowly, as if to a simpleton. “Those were only simulacra, Adriel. Not our real worshippers. The Thirteenth Choir is quite safe. There is nothing to fear.”
“You could have told me,” Adriel said, clutching his arms, as if hugging himself, shuddering in the doorframe.
Baradiel rolled his eyes. “It wouldn’t have mattered either way. Get back inside. Let us handle this.”
“I can help,” Adriel said, very softly, as if he’d attempted to offer before. The look in his eyes told me that he’d also been rebuked for trying, perhaps painfully.
“Baradiel says to get back inside, brother,” Nuriel said, his voice and his smile flatter this time.
Adriel said nothing, shuffling backwards, his face only just visible in the shadows. Maybe this broken angel was the key. If we could somehow reach out to him, get him to betray his brothers –
“You have come to our terrestrial sanctuary with the express intention to harm us and our followers,” Baradiel said, his voice loud and ringing, like he was announcing some kind of decree. “For this trespass, you must die.”
I cracked my knuckles. “Funny you should mention that. We’re here to execute you, too. In the name of Asmodeus, Prince of Lust, I sentence you to death.”
“A fine day for a battle, then.” Nuriel laughed, raising his face to the sky. “Did any of you check the forecast for today? I’ve heard that there might be some inclement weather.”
I followed his line of sight, my heart pounding when I saw the swirl of gray clouds above us. A storm was brewing, but knowing these angels, it wasn’t just any storm.
Mr. Wrinkles picked a fine time to dig his claws into my shins. “I would eradicate them if I had the power left to do it,” he said from somewhere between my legs. “But I do not. I suggest you do something before we’re all killed.”
Pierce launched himself wordlessly at Baradiel, moving so quickly that I only saw him blur and appear a foot away from the angel, his daggers upraised. Baradiel raised his hand, a disk of ice materializing on his forearm. Pierce’s daggers clinked ineffectively against the angel’s shields, about as useful as a pair of rusty ice picks.
A ball of flame roared from between Dantaleon’s pages, and quick as a flash, Baradiel appeared in its path, blocking the arcane fire with his shield. The flames cleared. The ice on his arm had hardly melted.
Pierce bared his teeth, his torso leaning towards Baradiel as he attempted another attack. Nuriel extended his arm, his smile serene as a sheath of frost sprouted from his wrist, erupting into a perfect sword made entirely of ice. He thrust his blade forward, aiming it dead center of Pierce’s chest.
“No,” I cried, hurling a ball of fire. Baradiel shifted, again absorbing it with his shield.
“Oh. Hell, no.” Crystal gestured at Pierce, and he disappeared, Nuriel’s sword zinging and cutting into th
in air. A split second later, Pierce was sprawled on the ground at our feet, teleported by Crystal’s magic.
“You’re going to get yourself killed,” Crystal and I hissed at once.
Pierce rubbed the back of his neck, confused. “It’s kill or be killed,” he said, looking at the sky. “I’ve got two daggers, and look. They’re sending hundreds.”
I looked up, the dread almost choking me when I saw them: a hail of blades carved out of the purest ice, each as slender and sharp as an icicle. All of them were sailing straight for earth, yet aiming for our cluster, as if a target was painted at our feet.
The angels were trying to drain us of our power. Who knew how much they kept in their reservoir? Mr. Wrinkles was already spent. Dantaleon had to be approaching his limit, too. I hated that I would have to expend what little magic I had left on protecting us.
“Gather close,” I shouted, extending my hand towards the sky, my heart pounding like drums as the rain of daggers came closer and closer. “Arma grandia.”
A dome of red light gleamed over us all. Pierce and Crystal clutched at me, pressing their hands against my back, lending me what they could. All the while I kept thinking of how I shouldn’t have had to need their power, how I should always have been more than enough to protect them on my own. My brother, this strange girl, my cat, even my mentor.
And then came the daggers.
The shield thudded and shuddered with every icy spike that came crashing against it. The film of magic afforded us a close, terrifying view of the storm, the icicles shattering as they struck my shield. Dozens came, and I knew the attack wouldn’t slow any time soon. Cracks were beginning to spider the outside of the dome.
“Shit,” Pierce said. “We’re dead.”
“I can’t teleport us away from here,” Crystal said. “There’s too many of you. I barely have enough to move myself.”
“I fear that I must admit the same,” Dantaleon said. “I’ve already consumed so much of my energy transporting us here. Hold the shield, Quilliam. Hold it, or we’re all doomed.”
Sweat had broken out all across my body, my shirt and my hair soaked in my own terror. I couldn’t hold it any longer. The icicles were coming too hard and too fast. I could feel every collision deep within my bones. Outside the dome, the angels laughed.
And then they screamed.
My eyes went huge as I watched through what was left of my force field, the world tinted red through its lens. If I had ever killed an angel before, I would have remembered the color of their blood. No matter the truth, Baradiel and Nuriel bled red, streaks of crimson pouring down their chests from long spikes that punctured their bodies clear through the back.
The shield around us finally shattered, pieces of magic drifting to the grass and tinkling like shards of broken glass. But the storm had passed, and I was too transfixed by the bizarre sight. The twin angels lifted their heads to the sky, their eyes glowing as huge wings sprouted from their backs. They were attempting to return to heaven.
And then the spikes were pulled out of their bodies, leaving bleeding holes in their chests. The brothers screamed again when even more of the bladed spikes emerged, severing their wings.
The light left their eyes. Baradiel and Nuriel fell to their knees, then to the ground, permanently lifeless. And behind them stood their killer. Those hadn’t been spikes or blades that had killed them, that had ripped off their wings. Those were the broken angel’s fingers, transformed into cruel, gnarled claws.
Adriel stood in the doorway, a huge grin on his face as he gripped four bloodied wings in his hands. He clenched his fingers, crushing the feathers into powder, a glittering metallic dust that he inhaled with perverted relish. He chuckled, then laughed fully as his clothing ripped from the back, as the four enormous wings he stole from his brothers sprouted from his body.
He extended one long, twisted claw, pointing it at my face as he spread his new wings. “You should have killed them while you had the chance, princeling.”
My breath was still caught in my throat. Human, angel, or demon, I could never have fathomed the idea of killing someone I thought of as a brother.
“I should have killed you,” I murmured, my mind distant, whirring as I tried to piece it all together.
“You should have, but you didn’t.” Adriel, angel of death, wagged his clawed finger, grinning with sharp teeth. “Your mother did say that you had no spine.”
29
My breath was ragged as I took in the bloody tableau. Three angels, two murdered, and one ascended to something I couldn’t comprehend. I was the demon here. Why did this feel so blasphemous to me?
And why did he mention Mother?
“You’re bluffing,” I said. “Nuriel and Baradiel told you who I was, and you’re trying to use that knowledge against me.”
Adriel laughed. “On the contrary, I learned everything I need to know about you from your mother. She came to me, gave me the strength I needed to slay my brethren.” He splayed his hands across his shoulders, turning this way and that, admiring his new wings. “To steal their very essence from them.”
I turned to Dantaleon, my teeth bared. “Did you know about this? We all know you were planted here to keep watch over me, that Mother never truly cast you out. Did you help?”
For possibly the first time in all the decades I’d known him, Dantaleon sounded confused. He was almost stammering. “This is the first I’ve heard of this. You know better, Quilliam. You would never find me consorting with angels. I would say the same for your mother. This thing is lying to us.”
Adriel grinned and tilted his head. “I’m only speaking the truth.”
“You killed your brothers,” Pierce said, a strange tremor in his voice. “That’s insane.”
I always knew that Pierce and I shared many, many beliefs, as different as we were, and despite the thing in front of us being our sworn, ancestral enemy, this all still felt so very wrong. I’d killed demons in the past, and so had Pierce. Many of them, in fact. It’s part of the job when you serve a given demon prince and find yourself at odds with the servants, or worse, the offspring of another. But we had killed them on our terms, knowing that they would always regenerate in their own prime hell, angrier than ever.
But to take another angel’s wings, to steal them for yourself?
“Careful, boys,” Crystal said. “This guy’s off his rocker. The worst kind of dangerous.”
Adriel locked eyes with her, his gaze growing feral. “You will not speak of me in such terms, human filth. I will address angels, and I will address demons, but you are nothing to me, nothing but a scourge to this earth. I must purge the world. Purge it of its parasites.” He extended his fingers, a grotesque zinging emanating from their tips as his nails grew even longer, into huge, sword-like talons. “I will begin the cleansing with you.”
In a blur of blood and tangled hair, Adriel fell upon Crystal. She yelped, holding her hands up in front of her. I rushed to her side, gathering the last dregs of my magic into a shielding spell, but I wasn’t going to make it. I needed to touch her. My heart jumped into my throat as I helplessly watched Adriel’s bloodied talons aim for her neck.
Then metal clanged against metal as Pierce appeared in front of her, parrying Adriel’s claws with his daggers. It shouldn’t have been possible, just two of his blades against the eight massive claws protruding from Adriel’s fingers, and yet it worked. Crystal scrambled away from the flurry of their battle, metal clanging again and again as Adriel furiously swiped at Pierce.
And then it happened. He parried with one of his daggers at the wrong angle. The hilt slipped from his grasp, and the dagger went flying, falling somewhere in the grass.
“Now I have you,” Adriel snarled.
Crystal screamed. “No!” She thrust her hands out, then grabbed at thin air. Pierce disappeared, then reappeared at her feet, hurled bodily onto the ground by her teleportation spell.
“I almost had him,” Pierce said, angry, almost offended. �
��I could have ended it.”
“Enough with the risk taking,” Crystal said. “Like, thanks for saving my life, but I’m out of juice. That was the last spell I could manage.”
“I am afraid that it is the same for me,” Dantaleon said, spreading his covers as his pages glowed amber once more. “This had better work.” A ball of flame came roaring out of his pages, aimed straight at Adriel’s head.
The angel folded all four of his wings across his body. Dantaleon’s fireball exploded, and when the flames cleared, Adriel’s wings were perfectly intact, hardly even singed. His wings parted again, and he smiled, his eyes falling on Crystal once more.
“Now,” he said. “Where were we?”
None of us had time to answer. Moving so quickly that I hardly heard his footsteps, he appeared before her in a flash, prepared to deal the killing blow. I raced to her side. How the hell had we gone in a full circle all over again? Adriel raised his claws.
Then screamed.
Two of the angel’s talons fell to the ground, broken, destroyed by something that had passed through the air so quickly and heavily that it must have been a cannonball. I looked around, puzzled at the source of the attack, finding nothing. I rushed to Crystal’s side, clapping my open hand against her skin, hardly caring that she sputtered and protested in surprise.
“Arma,” I whispered, the last of my energies pouring out of my hand. There. No matter what happened, at least she’d be safe. I owed her that much.
But Adriel raised his hand again, singleminded in his purpose, then thrust his two remaining talons at Crystal. Again something with the force and thunder of a cannonball rocketed through the air, striking his claws clear off his fingers. Adriel shrieked and fell to his knees, clutching his mangled hand at the wrist.
Crystal’s eyes were watching the sky. “I don’t believe it,” she breathed. And then I saw it, too.
It was an orb of energy, no bigger than a bowling ball, perfectly spherical, glimmering in the sunlight with its rich purple brilliance. It wove a strange pattern in the air as it slowed its flight, descending gently into the palms of Crystal’s outstretched hands. Odd. It wasn’t an energy sphere at all. It was, in fact, a crystal ball.
