Rebellion baf-2

by Lou Morgan

  “What happened here?” Alice could barely bring herself to ask.

  “The school. The school.” A single tear ran down the woman’s cheek. “And then, after.... Then the angels came. The Archangel, he came and he made them forget. All of them. All of them but me.” She stood, slowly, unsteady on her feet, and Alice wondered whether she should help her, but then she had found her balance and she drew herself upright and sighed. “They sit inside and they wait to die alone. They have nothing left: not even their memories. And I? I have too many.” She reached out, and brushed her fingers down Alice’s cheek. “Beware the angels, child, and think: what will you do when they come for you?”

  “They already did.” Alice heard the words as though they were someone else’s. The woman looked at her sadly and shook her head.

  “Then it is too late.”

  She pressed something into Alice’s hand, closing her palm around it, and then she began to move away, picking her way through the stones and onto the sand. Alice watched her. There was something about the way she moved... as though...

  Alice looked at the object in her hand. It was a pebble. Smooth and round, it felt cool against her skin.

  Something about the way she moved...

  “Stop!” Alice screamed after the woman who was now almost at the edge of the water. She started forward, but found herself held by a pair of strong hands. “Stop!” she screamed again, pulling with all her strength against Mallory. It wasn’t enough, and if the woman heard her, she didn’t respond.

  The woman kept walking. Her head held high as the hem of her dress floated up to her shins, to her knees, and then the stones in her pockets weighed it down.

  Weighed her down.

  Still she walked.

  Alice was burning, and Mallory’s hands were holding her back.

  The waves closed over the woman’s head.

  The fire died, and Alice felt Mallory relax his grip.

  “Sometimes, you just have to let them go,” said Mallory. He sat on the sand, wincing as the blisters on his skin faded. It was a good job he healed fast. His jacket was not so lucky; he had dropped it in a sticky, bubbling heap on the beach.

  “She said they were waiting for the angels.”

  “I know.”

  “And no-one came.”

  “I know.”

  “He took their memories.”

  “Alice, I know.”

  “How could he be so cruel?”

  “Cruel? You could call it that. And maybe we seem that way to you. But real cruelty would be letting them remember that the angels did nothing to stop it.”

  “Like her?”

  “Like her. There always has to be someone, Alice. Someone always has to be the witness. And the cruellest thing of all would have been stopping her from walking into that water.”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  At the Green Chapel

  “YEAH, YOU’RE NOT going to want to go in the school.” Castor’s face was grim. “I stuck my head in, and to be honest I really wish I hadn’t. Everything bad about this place is coming from there.”

  “You know what happened?” Mallory was eyeing Xaphan.

  “It doesn’t take a huge leap of the imagination.” Castor shook his head sadly and gestured to their prisoners, now tied to one another. “Where do you think we got the rope?”

  ALICE HAD SAT for a while, staring at the sea, and then allowed Mallory and Vin to lead her to a small lane leading out and away from the coast, into the woods by the little town, the same direction the others had gone. It was just as quiet there, although the silence had none of the oppressiveness of the town: instead, it was calm and peaceful. The trees formed a thick green canopy overhead, shutting out the rapidly darkening sky, but just as Alice was beginning to wonder how they would find their way through the forest in the dark, they turned a corner and she stopped.

  The lane they had been following turned into a rough track, which petered out at a low wall ahead. Behind the wall was a chapel, lit by flaming torches fixed to posts in the ground and surrounding it with a ring of fire. It was a strange, squat little building with a lopsided tiled roof, and its stone walls almost completely hidden by green leaves. Ferns, moss and creepers smothered the surface, making the walls look alive with shadows shifting in the flickering light. Tiny white flowers twined through the green, like stars. Even from where she stood, Alice could smell them: a sweet, slightly earthy scent that carried on the air. Tall stems of purple verbena waved gently along the wall, rooted between the stones. “Pretty,” she said, running her fingers down one of the stems. Mallory pinched the top off one nearby and handed it to her.

  “Look familiar?”

  “We used to have it in the garden. I remember my mother planting great big drifts of it against the fence.”

  “Devil’s bane,” he said, plucking another of the flowerheads and crushing it between his fingers before rapping on the door of the little chapel. The wood was old and cracked, worn almost grey over the years, studded with rusted iron nails. There were footsteps on the other side, and it creaked open to reveal Castor, backlit by a hundred candles or more. Inside, it smelled of the sea, of moss and the forest; of green and of blue and of safety. The air was cool, but the stone walls felt warm when she touched them. Beside the door was a tiny figure carved into the wall: it had outspread wings and wild, curling hair, and even though the carving was rough and old and half worn away, Alice knew who it was at once. She glanced over her shoulder at Mallory, who nodded. “Raphael. There used to be an abbey here, known for its healing. This was his chapel.” He ran his fingers down the face of the carving. “It fell into disrepair when the priory over on Mont Saint-Michel grew. That’s Michael for you...” He made a disapproving sound. “This is all that’s left now.”

  “That makes you sad.”

  “Not... sad. It’s better like this, I think, but like I say, that’s Michael. Always wanting more.” He shrugged, then turned towards Pollux, who was sitting in one of the pews, close to the door.

  Vin followed them in, and Castor closed the door behind him, shutting them in. As soon as it closed, Alice felt a weight lift from her. Everything about this place was Raphael, and she was glad the others had found it. What she was less glad about was the two figures sitting side by side in a pew at the far end of the chapel. After her earlier conversation on the beach, the last thing she wanted was to be stuck in another box with any of the Fallen. The van had been bad enough, but that was before...

  Before anyone could stop her, she leapt at Xaphan; slapping him hard across the face with a burning hand. Her fingers left a livid red mark where the skin had scorched. He looked up at her from beneath lowered eyelids, daring her to try again, to push a little harder. She stopped, her hand still raised, then took the little flower Mallory had handed her and tucked it into the pocket of Xaphan’s jacket. He scowled at it and gagged.

  Interesting, thought Alice.

  And all the time, Florence just stared at the floor. She refused to meet Alice’s eyes or to even acknowledge that Xaphan was in pain.

  “She’s given up. Just as well.” Vin was sitting in the pew in front of them, turned sideways to keep an eye on Florence, his arm draped along the back of the bench. “She knows it’s over. Isn’t that right, Florence?” She simply turned her head away. “Having second thoughts about your boyfriend, are you? Bit late for that.”

  “Vin, stop it,” Alice said.

  “You’re right. She’s not worth it. Not now.” He turned his back on Florence.

  Across the chapel, Mallory looked up from his conversation with Pollux. Edging past Vin, he stepped into the pew beside Florence.

  “Have you got something you want to say?” Mallory loomed over her, opening his wings and looking every inch a Descended angel. Florence shook her head, her eyes still fixed on the floor.

  “Florence. You may not get another chance. Michael isn’t known for his listening skills. Or his mercy.”

  She shook her head again
, but shifted in her seat.

  “I’m going to ask you one more –”

  “Blade!” Vin knocked Mallory sideways. There was a flash of silver, and Alice’s view was suddenly full of feathers. Florence screamed from somewhere beneath them, and the next thing Alice knew, she was watching her being dragged from the pew by a furious Mallory. Half dropping her, half throwing her to the floor, he launched himself back into the pew, landing on Xaphan with a roar. The knife skidded across the floor, stopping at Alice’s feet, and seeing Florence’s eyes searching for it, she snatched it up. Tiny sparks danced along the blade.

  Vin was now hauling Mallory off Xaphan, trying to avoid getting hit in the face by the angel’s frantic wings. “A little help?” he shouted through a mouthful of feathers. Castor waded in and punched Xaphan once in the face. The Fallen crumpled sideways, smacking his head into the back of the pew, while Castor shook his fist, wincing. As one, Vin, Mallory and Castor turned to Florence; lying on the floor. They didn’t get a chance to move before Pollux had stepped between them, hand held out in warning.

  “No,” was all he said. The others just stared at him, Mallory’s chest heaving.

  “No?” he asked, his voice controlled, but angry.

  “No.” Pollux repeated. “Michael knows Alice is here. And he’s not pleased. We need them.”

  “How can he possibly know she’s here? I thought that was the whole point of bringing...”

  “Not us. Someone else.” He looked thoughtful.

  Castor groaned. “He’s right. Someone saw her. I can feel it.”

  Alice was aware of four pairs of eyes settling on her. “What?”

  “Alice,” Mallory’s voice was almost weary now. “Do you have something you want to tell me?”

  “I didn’t... I wasn’t...” She gave up. There was no point in arguing. “There was someone. An angel. In the town.”

  “Oh, fantastic. And you didn’t bother to mention this?” He held his hand out for the knife and she passed it to him, watching as he snapped the blade in two and tossed the pieces aside.

  “I got a little distracted. You know, watching a complete stranger drown herself? And not being allowed to help her?”

  “We were helping her, Alice.”

  “Could we,” Vin said, “maybe talk about this later? Talk being the operative word?”

  “I’m not the problem here,” Mallory snapped.

  Castor had had enough. He grabbed Xaphan by the scruff of his neck and dragged him, unconscious, as far away from the rest of them as he could within the limits of the chapel. He dumped him unceremoniously in the corner behind the altar. Brushing his hands off, he looked first at Mallory, then at Alice, and finally at Vin. “Tell me something. I don’t mean to pry, and it’s none of my business, but do you lot usually fight this much?”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Mallory snapped back. Castor held up his hands as though Mallory had just proved his point.

  “It’s just that... I do know you, Mallory. And this doesn’t strike me as being particularly in character. Has it occurred to you that having him hanging around might be...”

  “A bit of a downer?” Alice chipped in. Castor pulled a face.

  “Not the most elegant way of putting it, but that’ll do, yes.”

  “I was thinking the same thing. Earlier. Ever since they showed up, things haven’t been right. And the only time I felt better...”

  “...Was in the town. Not that that lasted long.” Mallory finished her sentence. “Alright, Castor. You might have a point. Maybe.” He rubbed his face. “We’ve just got to hang on until we can hand them over to Michael. Speaking of whom...” He raised an eyebrow at Pollux, who shrugged.

  “It was Zadkiel watching you. I’m sure of it.”

  “Which would make sense. From what we can gather, he’s been the one at work in the town.”

  “Yes. And he saw you and followed.”

  “Well that’s just marvellous, isn’t it? Marvellous. So Michael’s expecting us, then?”

  “Most certainly.”

  “Great. As if I wasn’t already looking forward to tomorrow enough.” He stared at the ceiling for a moment, then shook his head. “Fine. Alice: I’m sorry. Are we good?”

  “We’re good.”

  “Good. And next time, tell me if we’re being stalked by an Archangel, would you?” He scowled at Florence. “I don’t want to see her or hear her... not a sound. As far as I’m concerned, she’s a bargaining chip and nothing more. I have absolutely no further interest in her. Not making that mistake again. Get her out of my sight.” He waved at her dismissively, then turned his attention to Xaphan, who was still unconscious. “Make yourself useful, Vin,” he said, tossing him a piece of rope.

  “I thought you’d never ask,” Vin said, cracking his knuckles. He crouched in front of Xaphan, picked up the rope, and wrapped it around Xaphan’s wrists. He rested his fingertips on the coils, and as Alice watched, the rope began to stiffen and grey, hardening as it turned to stone. Vin stood up and stepped back, rolling his shoulders. “Let’s see the smarmy little bastard weasel his way out of that one, shall we?”

  “YOU SHOULD GET some sleep.” Mallory slid his back down the wall to the floor alongside her. They had done what they could with Xaphan, and with Florence, who had, at least, seemed to take Mallory’s warning seriously and was now as docile as she was ever likely to get. Calm had returned to the chapel.

  “After all that? I’m not exactly nodding off here,” she said.

  He shrugged. “It’s likely to be a hard day tomorrow. Everything’s a mess; I don’t like it.”

  “So you keep saying.”

  “Doesn’t make it any less true, does it?” He flicked some grit out from under his fingernail, took the cap off his hipflask and took a long, long swig. He held it out to Alice, but she waved it away.

  “You know I don’t. Besides, I’m sure you were supposed to be giving up.”

  “People keep saying that to me. Vin threw my last flask into the river in the middle of hell. It wasn’t exactly a choice on my part.”

  “What about the whole being-Descended-again thing? I thought you only drank because you were Earthbound, and... stuff.” Alice tailed off, seeing the look on his face.

  “You really do think the best of me, don’t you?”

  “Not always.”

  “Sure you do. One of us has to.” And he raised his flask and took another swig.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Strange Pilgrims

  IT RAINED IN the night, and the sound of the raindrops on the roof was surprisingly soothing as Alice sat in the dark. Most of the candles had burned out hours before: only the little stand of votives near the door remained lit. They flickered from time to time, the flames rising and falling in their coloured glass holders. Mallory was asleep on the floor; one gun in his hand, one tucked into the back of his belt. She felt a pang of guilt about what had happened to his jacket. Mallory without his jacket was like... well, like Mallory without his jacket. Vin had propped himself in the end of a pew, leaning his head back against the wall, and was snoring loudly. Even while he was asleep, he still had his sunglasses on. He had taken the whole business with Jester, and with Florence, harder than any of them.

  Alice thought about it for a moment, and decided she’d feel a lot calmer once they handed Xaphan and Florence over to Michael. Not all that long ago, she wouldn’t have considered handing even her worst enemy over to Michael. She still wasn’t sure she would. But Xaphan, and Florence with him?

  No problem.

  She closed her eyes and drifted off, just as the first pale green light started to creep through the vine-covered windows.

  “OI! ALICE.”

  There was something nudging her shoulder.

  “Fnnghff.” She swatted at it. It nudged again. It really was quite insistent.

  “Alice. Alice. Alice.” A pause. Maybe if she ignored it, it would go away?

  “Alice!”

  “Alice
isn’t here right now, but if you’d like to leave a message...” she mumbled from behind her hair.

  “Fine. Well, when Alice shows up, would you tell her that she needs to get her arse in gear?” Mallory laughed. “You’ve got two minutes, and then I’m dragging you out by your heels and dropping you in the sea. That’ll wake you up.” Alice peeled her eyes open. Knowing him, he meant it.

  Her skin felt sticky from sleeping in her clothes, and her shoulders ached from the damp stone floor, but other than that she felt surprisingly rested. The chapel was peaceful and calm, and Alice had absolutely no desire to leave it. Not that staying was an option.

  Mallory was standing in the doorway, watching Castor and Pollux haul Florence and Xaphan out, stumbling over the step and tripping over their own feet. They had used the spare ropes to tie them together again, like ponies being led along a cliff. Mallory eyed them as they edged past him, turning to Pollux. “Keep them away from me, you understand?”

  Pollux nodded and yanked on the rope, dragging them forward. Xaphan sneered at Mallory. Mallory sneered back, but Alice still saw his hand creep down to his guns.

  “Good morning. I see you’ve decided to join the rest of us,” he said as she came to the door. “Sleep well?”

  “Not really. But I’m getting used to that,” she muttered. Mallory shrugged.

  “You can sleep when you’re dead.”

  “Thanks. That’s immensely reassuring.”

  “All part of the service.” He ducked out through the door.