by Lou Morgan
“Vin. Back. Now.”
Vin nodded, sprinting back towards the van: apparently even the Earthbounds weren’t crazy enough to take on Phenex.
Mallory, however...
This time, Phenex didn’t even try to dodge the bullets: he swatted them away with the flail. Every shot pinged harmlessly off it except for the last one, which ricocheted straight back at Mallory, catching his shoulder and knocking him backwards. Behind the twirling chain, Phenex laughed.
“Is that all you’ve got, angel?”
Mallory didn’t reply. He threw down his gun and he charged, head down, wings tucked close to his back. He ducked beneath the flail and threw his arms around the Fallen’s waist in a tackle, lifting him off his feet and sending them both sprawling on the ground.
Out of the corner of her eye, Alice saw Vin tense; flexing his fingers. He wanted to be over there, she could feel it. But Phenex was still thrashing against Mallory, and still somehow managing to swing that flail even as fists rained down upon him, forcing Mallory to sway back... but never to release him, and never to stop. High above, Pollux folded his wings back and hurtled down towards the brawling pair, pulling out of the dive a hair’s breadth from them and snatching the flail from Phenex’s hand as he blew past in a barrel-roll.
Phenex twisted suddenly beneath Mallory, almost pulling himself free and sliding both his arms around Mallory’s back to wrestle him sideways. Locked together, they rolled over and over on the ground, and Alice felt a stab of pain at the top of her spine. “He’s trying to break his neck!” she said to Vin. He ignored her, keeping his attention on the brawl in front of them. The pain was replaced by a dull, heavy pressure: Phenex had his hands firmly wrapped around the sides of Mallory’s head and was twisting. The Fallen had now managed to completely reverse their positions and was pinning Mallory down... and Alice was afraid to watch as Pollux turned in mid-air and sped back towards them again...
It happened so fast that she almost couldn’t follow it: Pollux was there, moving towards Mallory and Phenex, and then he had one hand on the Fallen’s shoulder, half-lifting, half-dragging him up and away from Mallory... and tossing the flail down to Mallory, who snatched it from the air even as he scrambled to his feet. Phenex dangled with his feet just above the ground: an easy target for the spiked ball of the flail as, with a yell, Mallory brought it smashing into the middle of his chest.
The airborne angel let go of Phenex, who dropped to his knees; he stared up at Mallory standing over him, and then slumped sideways. Pollux landed gently beside them.
“We should go,” he said, resting a hand on Mallory’s shoulder.
“One more thing.” Mallory tossed the flail aside. It landed in the grass with a loud clatter, and he bent to scoop up his gun before turning to stand over Phenex.
Alice blew out the breath she’d been holding and sagged back against the van’s open door. Two shots from Mallory’s gun rang out.
“Hope you’ve got your good shoes on,” he said, appearing from behind the van. “It looks like we’re on foot from here. It’s only about twenty miles, give or take.”
“Twenty miles? You’re kidding.”
“If you’d rather, I’ll go the easy way and you can hoof it with this lot...” He fluttered his wings at her, then laughed as she pulled a face. His Colt vanished into his jacket – and Alice could just make out the bullet hole in the leather at his shoulder. He followed her gaze and shrugged. “Don’t worry about it.”
“Are you...?”
“Yes. I am.” He grinned at her. “Enjoy the show?”
“Not exactly.”
Behind her, Pollux and Castor were dragging Xaphan and Florence out of the back of the van, still in their chains. Xaphan looked a little less smug than he had before; his face fell as he spotted Phenex’s body lying in the road.
“Are you just going to leave him there?” Alice was suddenly struck by the thought of someone finding him. Mallory shook his head.
“I don’t imagine he’ll stay there very long. I know Phenex: there won’t have been only two of them with him.”
“Lucky for you they didn’t turn up here.”
“Lucky for them, you mean.” He turned away from her, to Castor. “Shall we?”
“There’s not much point hanging around waiting for them to show up, is there?” Castor wrapped the end of the prisoners’ chains around his hand. “Shame about the van, though. Adriel’s going to be pissed off.”
“If I’m right,” said Mallory grimly, leaning back through the window to retrieve his other gun from the wreckage, “Adriel’s going to be pissed off about a lot of things. The van will be the least of his worries.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Medea
“THERE IT IS,” said Mallory, pointing at something ahead of them. All Alice could see was a bunch of trees.
“That’s No Man’s Land?” she asked. The sun was setting already; they had spent most of the day walking. No wonder her feet were sore. The light seemed to... shimmer. They had reached the sea at the last moment before the sun sank into the water ahead of her, staining the sky a deep pink, fading to orange, then to a shade of blue she didn’t think she had ever seen. She turned away to see Mallory standing with his wings outstretched, the light turning his feathers all the colours of the sunset.
“Not bad, is it?” he asked.
“Not bad,” she said.
“You do know you’re looking the wrong way, right?” He arched an eyebrow at her, and seeing her frown, he placed a hand on each of her shoulders, turning her almost ninety degrees.
Straight at Mont Saint-Michel.
The island rose steeply out of the sea and up from its causeway; its lower slopes were surrounded by tall stone walls. The windows were tiny pinpricks of light, reflected in the water. And soaring over the walls, dwarfing them, was the cathedral-like structure of Michael’s fortress, its spotlit walls rising in a riot of ornate buttresses and turrets. In the evening light, the roofs looked like they were on fire. At the very highest point, gleaming in the last of the sunlight, was a golden statue, its wings outspread.
“Subtle.”
“Michael.”
“Michael.” Alice stared out over the water at the towers. No wonder the tourists loved it: it wasn’t exactly a discreet place to hide, but it really was Michael all over. Who else would top his castle with a bloody great statue of himself, she wondered... and then it dawned on her that there was only one other name that came to mind. Lucifer. It was the kind of thing she would expect from him. The idea made her uncomfortable, and without her really meaning to, her fingers found their way to the sigil on her arm. Michael’s sigil.
He had warned her, hadn’t he? He was an Archangel, the head of her choir. The head of all the angelic choirs. He could see inside her head if he wanted. Was he watching her now? Did he know they were there? And if they did, would he come for them? For her?
“That’s what Pollux is here for.” It was as though Mallory had read her mind.
“I thought Castor...”
“Castor’s going to be busy enough keeping Zadkiel off our trail. Pollux is a Descended, remember, and while he’s not a match for Michael if he really wants to find you, he’s enough for now.”
“But Castor’s an Earthbound. And Zadkiel’s an Archangel. So how does that work?”
“They have... how do I put this? History? I’d say Castor knows how Zadkiel’s mind works. And that’s good enough for me.”
“This. All this. It’s ridiculous.”
“I know.”
“I don’t even understand why we’re here. Not really.”
“Oh, you do. It’s wearing sunglasses and standing about five feet behind you.” Mallory jerked his thumb back over his shoulder towards Vin. “This business with Florence has hit him harder than he’s letting on. Jester, too. Jester particularly.”
“And here we are.”
“Here we are.” He clapped his hands together. “Come on.”
“Wher
e?”
“Pub. Obviously.”
“Obviously.”
THE PUB WAS tiny, and it didn’t look promising from the outside – but its sign was encouraging. There was no picture; only curling, swirling script, reading ‘The Angel & Pistol.’ Alice raised an eyebrow at Mallory. “I thought you said you’d never even met one of Michael’s choir. How come I get the feeling you’ve been here before?”
“I hadn’t. And I haven’t.”
“You want to explain that, then?” She pointed up at the sign.
“Just because I don’t know this place doesn’t mean they don’t know me,” he said, pushing his way through the door.
It was like walking into a tomb. Everything was completely still on the other side, and a thick silence filled the air. Mallory’s hand immediately moved inside his jacket, pulling out one of his guns. The sound of the safety clicking off was altogether too loud.
“Vin? By the door,” he hissed, and Vin nodded, dropping back to the entrance.
“Where is everyone?” whispered Alice. Neither Mallory nor Vin answered. Instead, Vin half-opened the door and peered back into the street to where they’d left Castor, Pollux and the others. “They’re still by the road back there. No problems,” he said. Mallory leaned over the bar in the far corner of the room and looked at the rickety door that led further into the building. “Stay here,” he whispered at Alice, and without another word he slid over the little counter, dropping out of sight.
“Alice? Alice!” It was Vin hissing at her. “Get out the way, yeah?”
“Oh. Good point.” Alice scurried across to the wall, where she stood and waited for... anything. Vin had his foot wedged in the door, keeping it open, and was looking back at the van. “Something’s not right,” he said quietly, his nose wrinkling. “Can you feel it?”
“Feel what, exactly?”
“Not sure. Just something. Something... off.” He shivered. “You’re really telling me you can’t feel it?”
“I don’t know.” There was something in the air. A heaviness. She had just thought it was the silence, but it was more than that. There was an oppressiveness that hung over the whole place... something Alice realised she had begun to feel as soon as they got into town, but which she’d dismissed as a side-effect of all the walking. But it was more than that, and she had felt it before.
“Vin? I think we need to go.”
“Go where?”
“Anywhere.”
“You can feel it...”
“Yeah. And I remember where I’ve felt it before. Right before the riot.”
“Like a storm coming in. It’s them.”
“The Fallen? Is this a trap?”
“I don’t know.” He slid his foot out from the door and let it close, peering towards the back of the room. “We need to get Mallory.”
“I don’t know where he went...”
“Bloody typical. Stay here, alright? I’ll be right...”
“No you don’t. Either you stay with me or we’re both going.”
“What?”
“I’m not being left here like some useless... girl.” She fumbled for the right word, flapping her hands as she said it. Vin pulled a face.
“You’re weird.”
“Fine. Are we going?”
He jerked his head sideways, then darted across the room and slid across the bar like Mallory had. Alice followed, but chose to go around the bar.
The faint niggling headache she’d had since getting out of the van was getting worse. It was a chilly pressure on the inside of her skull; it crept into the top of her neck and rolled around in her head and showed no sign of abating. And then there was the faint, but insistent, prickling of her palms. There was pain here. A lot of pain.
As she followed Vin through the door to the back of the bar, Alice found herself hoping they had a fire extinguisher somewhere.
THEY FOUND MALLORY in the back, surrounded by barrels and standing in a puddle on the uneven flagstones. Judging by the smell, the puddle was largely beer. It foamed slightly at the edges. Alice ducked through the low doorway after Vin, stopped and rolled her eyes. “Is now really the time?”
Mallory cut her off with a hiss, waving his gun. They stood like statues, listening. Waiting.
Nothing.
And then Mallory pointed to his ear. “Hear it?” he whispered.
And Alice did. At first, there was nothing other than the thick, silky silence. Not counting the overwhelming urge to set fire to... everything. But she listened, and she saw something like recognition flicker across Vin’s face, and finally, she heard it too.
A low, steady buzz, like flies trapped in a bottle.
“What is that?”
“Something happened here,” Mallory was stock-still in the middle of the room. “Something bad.”
“No shit,” muttered Vin. He was watching Mallory, waiting for a word or a sign, but still Mallory did nothing.
The buzzing sound grew louder and louder until there was no mistaking it and no ignoring it. It was everywhere.
She had no idea how long they had been standing there when they first heard the footsteps. Mallory held a finger to his lips and closed his eyes, trying to work out where they were coming from.
They were slow and light. Too light to be either Castor or Pollux, and unlikely to be Xaphan or Florence. “Not angel,” Vin whispered across to her, shaking his head. “Not Fallen, either.”
“Human?” she whispered back.
“I sure hope so...”
She was about to ask what the alternative might be, when Mallory suddenly spun around and darted out of the room. With barely a second thought, both Alice and Vin took off after him, back through the main bar and out into the street. Mallory had gone through the front door so fast that he had nearly torn it from its hinges; it swung furiously back and forth. All the while, Alice wondered how exactly her life had got so ridiculous. And then she was in the street, and Mallory and Vin had stopped dead in their tracks.
Alice stopped too.
WALKING AWAY FROM them, down the middle of the street, was a woman. She was wearing a plain, grey dress which did nothing to hide how thin she was, and she had bare feet. Long dark hair, streaked with grey, fell loosely to her waist. Her walk was uneven, as though each step caused her pain. No wonder, thought Alice, with her bare feet. She must have heard them rush out of the bar, but she gave no sign of it. She just kept walking.
Alice saw the others exchange looks, and in silence they followed.
The woman walked down the centre of the road, straight as an arrow, and it was only then that Alice noticed there were no cars. There weren’t even any pedestrians. Other than themselves and the woman, there didn’t seem to be another living soul here. Which seemed odd, given that right across the bay was one of the most obvious tourist destinations for miles around (something she still couldn’t quite process, if she was entirely honest). It was – just about – early summer. There should be tourists. There should be... people.
Instead, there was only the stillness and that infuriating buzz and a lone woman walking towards the sea.
Something bad, Mallory had said.
The road took them through the middle of the little town, past deserted junctions and restaurants as the streetlamps flickered on, past traffic lights which phased through their colours for an empty street; past alleys and cafes and houses... and not a soul in sight.
Except.
The first time she saw it, Alice thought it was a trick of the light. A shadow. The wind moving a cafe awning. A sheet of newspaper blowing across the road.
And then she saw it again.
At the end of every street they crossed, there was movement. It was small, and whenever she looked, there was nothing to see. Just more of the same empty streets. She thought about calling out to Mallory or Vin, but instead, she simply stopped and folded her arms and stared up the street crossing her own. And she waited.
One moment, he wasn’t there... and the next, h
e was, looking back at her through the dusk. She could see his armour catching the glow from a nearby streetlight; see the shadow of his wings.
The streetlight behind her suddenly flared, the bulb blowing in a shower of sparks and startling her, and when she looked back towards the end of the street, the angel had vanished.
Mallory and Vin, oblivious to the fact they were being watched, had stayed with the woman. They had reached the far end of the street, where the road ended abruptly in an area of sandy scrub, separated from the beach by a rough, low wall. Alice could just make out the woman’s outline on top of the wall. She was heading for the sea.
Fire flared up in Alice’s footsteps as she broke into a run. Sparks fell from the ends of her hair, from the tips of her fingers as flames shimmered up and down her arms. The soles of her trainers made a slapping sound as she ran; every breath caught in her throat, burning as it came. She blazed past Vin, past Mallory, and leapt the wall, not knowing or caring how far the drop down to the beach might be on the other side...
The woman was sitting on a rickety bench. Once, it had been painted green, but the paint had flaked from the half-rotten wood, and little more than rust held it together. Her head was turned towards the island. Alice picked her way over the sand and the rough shingle, through pockets of seaweed and mounds of old shells.
“We knew about the angels, of course.” Her voice was quiet, soft, and she spoke in English. Alice froze on the spot. “We thought of them as our guardians. It was a joke, you would say. Local legend. The island of the angels. We thought they would protect us. Protect us from them.” She looked at Alice. Her eyes were the palest shade of grey. “We trusted them. We were mistaken.
“They came in the night. Twenty of them; maybe more. They ran through the streets and howled like animals until the whole village was awake. And then they began. They came to our doors and they threw them open, and they dragged the children from their beds. Such strength. Such rage.” She blinked, and played with the fabric of her dress. “The school. They took them to the school, and...” She stopped, and held her hands out in front of her, turning them over and staring first at the palms, then at the backs, flexing her fingers as though she didn’t quite believe that they were a part of her. “We had no choice. You must understand. No choice. Even then, we thought the angels would come; that they would save... Even as they closed the doors...” She dropped her hands again and smoothed down the fabric of her dress. “They watched. They stood on their walls and they watched. They saw, and they did nothing. Nothing.”
