“ENOUGH!” Michael flung his arms out. The lights above the bed exploded, and I watched as all of Hannah’s machines flickered. “I said enough! No more!”
He grabbed the sides of his head and shook it, pacing back and forth. “I don’t need you confusing me. I don’t. There’s a plan. A good plan.”
“No, stupid, there’s not. You have no plan.”
He stepped away from the bed and made his way over to the sink, putting his arms on either side of it as he glared at his reflection in the mirror. Seeing my chance, I made sure to position myself between him and Hannah so that to get to her he’d have to go through me first. It wasn’t much of a shield—powerless, mortal me— against the Archangel of Death during a psychotic break but right now it was all I had.
“There is a plan,” he said, his eyes glowing golden. “You’re going to bring me the spear.”
“I don’t have the spear.”
“You have the spear. I know that you have the spear. I’m not an idiot.”
“Well you may not be an idiot but that doesn’t change the fact that I don’t have the spear.” I crossed my arms over my chest, trying not to look worried.
“Then find it.”
“Get bent.”
“You have one hour to find the spear and bring it to me—or else.”
“Or else what?”
“What do you think?” He looked meaningfully at the little girl in the bed behind me. “It’s very simple. This is my world now, and I can’t have anyone else in it that might prove to be a challenge. I had hoped we could work together once the carnage was done. Me and you.
“I’d have even given you the nephilim girl’s powers. She’s not a very strong nephilim, but she’s cunning. The spear was her idea, of course. I simply wanted to be the Angel of Death. If you’d have agreed to work alongside me, acting as the yin to my yang, I would have given you her powers. Now, though? Well, I’m afraid it was a onetime offer.”
“I don’t want Brenda’s hand-me-down powers anyway,” I said, trying to keep my tone derisive so that he couldn’t see how scared I truly was.
“That’s why we’re going with a simpler plan,” Michael said. “You bring me the spear so that I can wipe your entire, worthless, pitiful waste of a family off the face of my world, or I kill the girl. Your choice.”
“Fine, I’ll get you the spear but you have to promise me you’ll leave Hannah alone. Consider it my dying wish. Give me that and I’ll give you the spear.”
“I’m not that stupid. Bring me the spear and I’ll make it quick. For all of you. The girl included. Don’t, and well…” He smiled down at the sick girl sleeping in the room with us. “You and I both know that I can make this hurt.”
“You wouldn’t.” I slumped my shoulders and dropped my head slightly, making it look like he had me between an angel and a missionary.
“My last gift to you.” He tried to smile at me but it looked like more of a snarl instead.
“You know I don’t trust you to keep up your end of the bargain, right?”
“One hour.”
“I might need more time.”
“One hour,” Michael said. “Bring it to the roof in one hour, or else I come back down here, and the child…” He cocked his head to the side and gave me another one of his insane-looking smiles. “Understood?”
“Yes,” I said as he stormed out of the room, leaving me behind.
“You can’t give it to him,” Harold said, floating out of the corner of the room where he’d managed to hide himself.
“I don’t have a choice. She’s not much more than a baby.”
“Faith, its one child versus the state of the entire world. You can’t give him the spear to save one little girl and leave the rest of them to die.”
“If the state of the world has come down to killing a child…” I looked over at Harold and sighed. “If it comes down to killing a child to save the rest of us, then we’re already done for but that doesn’t matter right now, because I have a plan.”
“You have a plan?” Harold looked at me skeptically.
“Yes.”
“Don’t you think that maybe we should find Malachi and let him do the planning? He is the general after all. He’s got years, and trust me I do mean years, of experience running an army.”
“He’s the one who gave me the idea. Now, what I need you to do is find Mal and tell him to prepare whatever sort of army he can rouse and wait for my signal. I’ll need him to be ready to attack. They need to break the barricades on the hospital and clear out the mortals down below—as nonviolently as possible.”
“Those people aren’t going to leave.”
“Tell Mal to do his best.”
“What are you going to do?”
I bit my lower lip. “I’m going to go get the spear, of course.”
“I don’t think—” Harold swallowed and then rubbed a hand over the top of his bald spot.
“Harold, have I ever given you any reason not to trust me?”
“No. Well besides helping Lisa hide my body in a Dumpster after she killed me and—”
“Harold!”
Okay, fine. I trust you. I trust you. For Christ’s sake, who else am I going to trust when the world’s about to end except for the goddamn Angel of Death?”
“Right.” I put my hands on my hips and glared at him. “So where’s the spear?”
“The one place Michael wouldn’t look.” Harold grinned at me and I could tell that he was particularly proud of himself for wherever he’d come up with to hide it. “I put it in the nondenominational chapel on the third floor.”
“What?”
“Right on top of the altar. The one place I knew an archangel like him wouldn’t think to look.”
“That’s…” I was stunned. He was right. Michael would have never thought to look for the spear inside a church. Hell, I’d have never thought to look there, and I passed by the chapel every day on my way downstairs for my dinner break.
“Brilliant. I know.”
“Harold.” I brought my hands up to where his cheeks should have been and gave him a quick air kiss, trying not to shudder at how creepy bringing my lips up to a poltergeist felt. “If you weren’t dead, I would do so many naughty things to you right now.”
“Oh.” He pretended to push my shoulder in an aw shucks gesture. “Maybe later. We’ve got to save the world first.”
“Right.” I started toward the door as fast as I could. “Find Malachi! Tell him to wait for my signal!”
“What is the signal?” Harold called out as I started out the door.
“Oh, trust me, he’ll know it when he sees it.”
Chapter Twenty-five
I stood in front of the small altar inside the third-floor chapel and stared at the Roman spear, lying there like someone had dropped it there and meant to come back for it later. Which was, well, basically the truth.
“I can’t believe he put it here.” I picked up what was essentially one of the holiest relics ever in existence. The holiest relic on the Earthly plane since J and Tolliver had managed to win the nails back from some mobster during a weekend long poker game in Vegas back in the Seventies.
The last of the Holy Relics, and it was lying there for anyone to walk by and touch. If we weren’t in the middle of all Hell breaking loose, I might have said something to Harold about playing fast and loose with the whole of mankind but right now I probably didn’t have much to whine about, especially if my harebrained plan actually managed to work.
I sat down so that I could study the thing. It was nothing special. Millions of them had been made during the Roman Age. Possibly billions. The Roman Empire was a big place and they’d lasted for a long time. Why was this one so special? It was only a simple wooden handle, iron tip, plain rope tying it all together.
“I always wondered what happened to him,” J said from the doorway, his ankles crossed over each other and his hands shoved in his jeans pockets.
“Who?”
“So you didn’t know him?” I put the spear down on the other side of me, feeling a bit awkward holding it while J sat beside me. It did seem a bit insensitive, like holding a gun up and showing it to an attempted murder victim and asking if they recognized it.
“Know him?”
“People have always suggested that he was someone that you and Tolliver knew. That he was a follower who wanted to put you out of your misery. I never wanted to ask or anything but…”
“No.” His voice was soft and I looked over to see him staring into space above the altar.
“You know we don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”
“It’s okay,” J said. “I don’t mind. I didn’t know him. Tolliver might have. He was a bit insane in those last days, desperate almost, running between senators and the army and the Maccabees, pleading with people, trying to find Roman citizens to speak to my defense in front of Pilate. Anything he could think of. I wouldn’t put him past him to have…hired someone for the end.”
“You never asked?”
“I guess I’m like you a bit. I didn’t want to know. I guess I never wanted to know about what happened to him. Longinus. I know the legend is that Dad made him immortal and then killed him with the spear, wiping him from the face of existence, but I don’t know if it’s the truth or some rumor. I never asked.”
“Now you’re curious?”
“Wouldn’t you be?” J grabbed the spear, running his finger over its tip. “Wouldn’t you want to know the truth?”
“No.” I took the spear from him. “I don’t need to know.”
“You don’t?”
“It’s not what defines you to me.” I shrugged and focused my attention on the spear. “It’s a thing. A horrible, horrid, tragic thing. Like a car accident or a mugging or losing your powers to a homicidal archangel who’s gone off on a power trip. The act doesn’t define you. It’s what you do afterward that tells me who you are.”
“So who am I? Without all of this”—J waved his hands around to encompass the chapel—“what’s so special about me?”
“You’re my cousin who works in soup kitchens and with people who have special needs and you moonlight as a doctor in overworked emergency rooms and you arrange teddy-bear donations for kids in disaster zones. That’s what makes you special. Not all of this.”
“What about you?”
“What about me?”
“You said it’s not what happens to someone that defines who they are, it’s what they do afterward. What are you going to do now that a homicidal archangel has stolen your powers so he can bring about Hell on Earth?”
“I’m going to take this.” I stood up and held the spear under his nose. “Up to the roof where I’m supposed to meet him so that he doesn’t start killing more children.”
“Then what?”
“Then, I’m going to save the world and get my powers back. Duh.”
“I’ll go with you.” J stood and put his hand on my shoulder.
“You don’t have to,” I said as we made our way out of the chapel. “I can do this alone.”
“No one saves the world on their own, Faith. It’s one of those team effort things—like winning Miss America or whatever.”
“Yeah, well if I ever decide to go the beauty-queen route I’ll keep that in mind,” I said as we approached the stairwell. “Although if you think about it I’ve already got one heck of an answer for the standard ‘and what did you do on your summer vacation?’ interview question.”
“Saved the world, saved your brother from an army of crazy nephilim, managed to marry off your brother, your best friend and your parents—again—and stopped an invasion by reapers? You’ve had a hectic couple of months,” J said as we started up the stairs toward the roof and my meeting with Michael.
“Yeah, well if we make it out of this. I hope you don’t mind but I may spend your birthday in the Bahamas, trying to forget it all,” I said.
“South of France,” J said. “I’ve already got a condo rented with a guest room on it. We’ll go to Biarritz and leave the rest of these lunatics here to deal with the cold. Me and you and a whole lot of red wine.”
“It’s a deal,” I said and we both fell silent as we continued to climb. We made it to the tenth floor quicker than I expected and my heart clenched. If this failed, the world as we knew it would end and it would be my fault. Somehow I had thought that an invasion of homicidal angels would earn a bit more fanfare than it did. Heck, it was a Thursday. Who’d have thought the first Celestial visitation was going to be on a Thursday? Or that it would start in Pittsburgh of all places?
“Hey, J?” I stopped, my hand on the door that led to the roof. “I didn’t ask before, but what are you doing here?”
“Harold came and got me,” J said. “You didn’t expect the rest of us to let you go to your death alone did you?”
“What about Matt?”
“Guarding Tolliver. You know your brother is lousy in a crisis.”
I pulled the door open and stepped onto the roof. “Thanks for protecting him, J. Well, both of them, really. But right now, it’s not them I think we need to be worried about.”
“Well maybe you should be,” a sharp, angry voice announced.
My stomach dropped into my shoes as I saw Brenda standing there, two enormous reapers flanking her—my brother in the reaper on the left’s arms and Matt dangling from the one on the right’s embrace.
“Brenda,” I said. “How is it that every time I walk into a place that sucks, there you are, right in the middle making it suck a little bit more? Is that like your superpower or something? Brenda the Amazing Queen of Substandard Suck?”
J snorted.
“I’m here to protect Matt.” Brenda smiled at me, her lips twisting upward in more of a bitter sneer than a gesture of friendliness.
“Protect him? It looks more like your goon has him in a stranglehold.”
“With all these dangerous mortals filling the streets, not to mention the reapers, he could be hurt on accident. I had him picked up for his own safety. After all, someone could get confused and mistake him for part of your merry band of morons, and I’d hate to think what could happen.”
“That’s head of her merry band of morons for your information,” Matt said, and the reaper holding him tightened his grip on Matt’s throat.
“Give me the spear.” Brenda held her hand out imperiously, beckoning for it with her fingers.
“No.”
“No? What do you mean ‘no’? I said give me the spear. I command you to give me the Roman spear. Or else.”
“No, the spear is meant to go to Michael. I had an arrangement with him. Not with you. So stuff your command up your snooty ass.”
“I’m here to pick it up for him.” Brenda narrowed her eyes, her wings folding out from her back and beating in an ominous thump like the sound of a cat trying to stalk her prey.
“No you’re not. Michael wouldn’t have sent you to pick up the spear for him. He doesn’t like you.”
“He does like me,” she said. “He loves me. I’m to be his consort, his one true heart. A goddess all women struggle to imitate. We’re going to rule together as man and wife.”
“You and Michael?” I raised my eyebrows. “Are you sure about that? You’re not really Michael’s type.”
“I am. I am his type. I don’t care what you say, Faith Bettincourt. Men like me. They do. There is nothing wrong with me. Now give me the spear. Give me the power to rule the world as it deserves to be ruled.”
“What will you give me in return?” I asked. “If I give you the spear, will you give me Matt?”
“No
.” She looked over at the man slumped in the arms of the reaper beside her. “He’s mine. I love him. He’s my soul mate.”
“I thought you were going to be Michael’s consort. You can’t have both of them. You have to choose. Michael or Matt? Queen of Everything or plain old Matt Andrew’s wife?”
“I can have both.” Her eyes started to glow and she stepped toward me, almost levitating from how hard her wings were beating. “If you give me the spear, I’ll be in charge. I can get rid of Michael, and Matt and I can rule together.”
“What’s in it for me? Besides the fact that Matt will be safe?” I asked, pretending to be interested in her deal. If I could get her to distract Michael, it would give me a bit more wiggle room to do what needed to be done and, as an unintended bonus, it would keep Matt safe until I could get him out of here.
“I’ll let you live. That’s more than Michael’s willing to do. He’ll kill you if you give him the spear.”
“It is possible,” Michael said, his voice glacial . He walked around one of the air conditioning units, a body in his arms.
“What’s going on?” I pointed at the little girl in his arms, rage licking along my spine as I glared daggers at him. “I thought you weren’t going to make her end painful. If I gave you the spear, you were going to make it quick. Letting her suffocate here on the roof isn’t quick.”
“She won’t,” Michael said as he continued to walk toward us. “In light of your obedience, I’ve decided to be a magnanimous god and heal her instead. She’s sleeping now, but once she wakes, the doctors will be amazed at her miraculous recovery.”
“Then why is she here?” I glanced over again and saw that Hannah looked pale inside his arms.
“To make sure that you hold up your end of the bargain. Which it seems to me you’re not doing. Unless I’m misinterpreting the situation, and that is highly unlikely. So unless I am misinterpreting what’s going on here, it seems the child’s return to health is going to be short-lived indeed.”
“Brenda is double-crossing you and thinks offering me my life will persuade me to help her. At first she did try to deceive me. It was a lousy attempt but she at least tried. Claimed to be your consort and that she was here to retrieve the spear for you.”
03 Before The Devil Knows You're Dead-Speak Of The Devil Page 21
