by Lou Morgan
“Yes, he did.”
“You’re not, are you?”
“Oh, I will. Just not yet.”
“Why?”
“Because he made this personal.”
“Who? Michael?” Mallory turned abruptly to face her, and she stumbled to a halt.
“Not Michael. Rimmon.”
“Oh, not again...”
“Alice?”
“What?”
“Listen to me – just for once. This is personal. More personal than you can imagine. It always has been, and I’ve had enough. So yes, I will go and report to Michael like the good little soldier I am... but first, I’m going to find Rimmon and I’m going to hurt him. And I’m going to enjoy it.” There was an edge to his voice that Alice recognised. “So if you don’t want to be there for that, I suggest you go. Now.” He steamed ahead again, not waiting for a reply.
Alice frowned. “After all this? You think you can just walk away? You think you can do this without me?” she shouted after him. Behind them, Castor looked at Vin.
“They’re always like this, aren’t they?” he asked, gesturing to them both.
“Welcome to my life.”
MALLORY THREW THE door open and marched through. “Rimmon!” he shouted. Something nearby rattled. “Rimmon!”
“He’s going to get away...” Alice mumbled, following him through. It was dark on the other side, but here and there she could make out reflections: light glinting on metal. It was a big room, and it smelled of booze. “Mallory...” she said. “I don’t like this.”
He paid no attention. Instead, he banged his gun down on something and carried on shouting. “Rimmon! I know you’re in here, you little shit!”
“Mallory....”
He was still ignoring her – but Alice had found the light switch... or rather, a bank of them. Switch by switch, she flicked them on, and then wished she hadn’t.
The room smelled of booze because it was a bar. They were standing beside the counter: clad in black plastic with gold edging, it wanted to look like marble and failed. There was what seemed to be a dance floor ahead, and coloured lights spun above it, casting weird, shifting shadows. A small, round podium stood in the middle of it all, complete with a golden pole fixed to the ceiling, and Alice felt an overwhelming desire to wash her hands.
Every bottle behind the bar was broken. Some of the remains of the bottles lay on their shelves, spilling a liquid rainbow which pooled on the floor and glittered with broken glass.
But worse than the broken glass, worse than the podium, worse than the knowledge that Rimmon was in here and that Mallory wouldn’t leave until he’d found him... worse than all that were the bodies.
Some of them still held shattered glasses, smashed as they fell. Some of them had been trying to run – or at least, to get away. One or two looked as though they had been trying to shield themselves, or possibly each other. Much good had it done them. A man in what had been a black suit lay face-down not three feet from Alice. The back of his head was charred and sticky. He had one arm outstretched; his fingers clasping a wallet. It was still smoking.
The Fallen had not done this.
Michael had done this.
These were not the Fallen. These were people. Michael hadn’t come for Lucifer; he had come for them. He was sending a message to Lucifer the only way he knew how; the only way he thought Lucifer would understand. With a trail of bodies.
Alice didn’t see Rimmon step out of the shadows, she didn’t see Mallory grab his gun. The first she knew was the bullet that zipped past her ear, making her dive for cover behind the bar
“You aiming for me, or her, Mal?” asked Rimmon, lurking across the room. “I only ask because from here, it was kind of hard to tell.”
“You’re going to have to speak up, Rimmon. I can barely hear you all the way back there.” Mallory waved his gun at the Fallen. “It’s funny, you were so keen to get in my face earlier. Now...” He shrugged.
Rimmon snorted, but he didn’t get any closer. “Why should I bother myself with you? We’ve won... and there’s nothing you can do about it.”
“I’m not sure the pissed-off Archangel knocking around the building’s going to agree with you on that one.”
“Michael? Are you kidding? He’s the one who let all this happen! He could have stopped us at any point, but he didn’t. You know why? Because he’s so damn set on getting his hands on Lucifer. He doesn’t care about the rest of it. He never has, and he never will. The sooner you wake up to that, the better.” Rimmon laughed. “Mind you, you’ve never been the brightest of the bunch, have you? Look at you, standing there. You’re a blunt instrument.”
“Really? Want to see how blunt I can be?” Mallory squeezed the trigger of his gun, unloading the entire magazine at Rimmon’s chest.
With each impact, Rimmon staggered back... and finally, finally, he fell.
Mallory didn’t move. Arm still raised, he stood.
Rimmon lay flat on his back on the dancefloor... and then he started to laugh. Louder and louder he laughed, until the whole place echoed with the sound. He hauled himself to his feet – still laughing – and tugged at the front of his jacket. It fell open.
Underneath was a solid black vest, its front studded with flattened bullets.
“Same old Mallory,” he said, tapping the bulletproof vest with a smirk, and pulling a gun of his own from his pocket.
Alice ducked again – wondering where the hell Vin and Castor had gone – and listened to the burst of gunfire. She found herself counting the shots... and hoping Mallory at least had enough sense to duck. Or move. Or do something sensible. The room was swimming in alcohol: one misplaced spark from her and the whole place could go up, taking them all with it. Without knowing where he was, she didn’t dare risk trying to help, so instead she hid helplessly behind the bar and counted the shots.
They stopped, and she scrambled to her feet. Rimmon was still holding his arm out, the gun now swinging from his fingers and his mouth open as though he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing.
Mallory was in exactly the same spot. He hadn’t moved, and at first, Alice thought that the bullets must have missed. But they hadn’t. His clothing was punctuated by neat bullet holes, almost lost amid the buckshot holes, and a trickle of blood ran down the left side of his chest.
“You’re going to have to try a lot harder than that, Rimmon,” he said, and from where Alice was standing, it almost looked like he smiled. Rimmon turned to run... but Mallory was there first, making it across the room in the blink of an eye.
He had left his gun on the bar.
In his hand, he had a metal rod.
“VHNORI? ARE YOU alright?” Castor caught Vin’s arm as he stumbled. Something was wrong. Castor’s mind itched as the other Earthbound gasped for breath, and Vin slumped against the wall, his face twisting in pain.
“You need to fetch them. Fetch Alice. Fetch Mallory. There’s no more time. Get them out.” He stared straight into Castor’s eyes... and Castor flinched.
Vin’s eyes were completely black.
ONE BY ONE, the chains fell away from the ice. Each made a sound like a funeral bell as it hit the floor.
A single crack split the surface of the block, running from top to bottom... and deep inside the ice, Lucifer’s eyes opened.
“MALLORY!” ALICE WAS screaming at him, but he didn’t hear her; he couldn’t hear her. All he could hear was the sound of blood rushing as he brought the rod he’d picked up from the bar down on Rimmon’s prone form. The metal was glowing bright red, and it hurt to hold it – Alice’s doing – but he held on all the same, the skin of his palm blistering. There was fire nearby – he could feel that too – but nothing else mattered. Only this.
“Mallory!”
TOBY WAS STILL weeping when he heard another set of footsteps.
It was Alice. It had to be. She’d come back for him.
“Afraid not,” said a voice he did not know, but it was not kind, and at
that moment, he despaired. Whatever hope he had left abandoned him.
“They left you, didn’t they? Left you behind. Abandoned you when you needed them the most. Even her. Especially her.” There was a sigh. “See, that’s the thing about angels. Can’t trust them. The second you do, that’s when they’ll always, always let you down. Never rely on them. That was your mistake. That’s what got you into this mess in the first place.” He paused, and Toby could hear him smiling. “Now... you and I. We should have a little chat, don’t you think?”
CASTOR BURST THROUGH the door and saw them through the fire. Alice was burning, shouting Mallory’s name as he leaned over the figure on the floor, and Castor knew instantly what was happening. Without thinking, he aimed the gun that Mallory had given him and he pulled the trigger.
The shot caught Mallory’s shoulder, punching a hole through muscle and bone... and he dropped the rod. He hesitated, and it was all Alice needed. She slipped in front of Mallory, the fire dying as she moved, and placed herself between him and Rimmon.
“Stop,” she said. “Stop now.”
“No.”
She could see him shaking with anger, and there was something dark in his eyes.
“This is what they want. It’s all part of the game to them.”
“I don’t care.”
“But I do.” She put a hand on his shoulder. “This isn’t you.”
“You have no idea who I am, Alice.” Mallory’s shaking subsided. He was coming back to himself.
“Sure I do,” she said gently.
Castor tucked the gun away. “Mallory!” he called. “It’s Vin...” He hurried back out through the door, and Mallory charged after him.
Alice stood over Rimmon, who had curled himself into a ball under the ferocity of Mallory’s attack.
“You should have let him kill me...” His voice was thick with blood, and it sounded altogether too like Toby’s.
“Maybe. I mean, that was a hell of a beating. And you don’t heal like he does. I’m not sure you ever really recover from something like that.” Alice looked down at him. “Mercy’s not something the angels are very good at, is it? I wonder whether they even understand the concept. Humans: they get it. Or at least they did before you came along and started changing everything. They understand mercy. They may not always like it, but they get it. So there’s humans, and there’s angels. And then there’s me. It’s taken me long enough to figure it out, but I can be both. I’m not one or the other.” She leaned close to Rimmon’s ear. “Guess which one I’m being right now?”
He made a whimpering sound, and Alice stood up. “I’ll leave you to work on that, shall I?” She walked towards the door. “See you round, Rimmon.”
The door swung shut behind her, and Rimmon lay on the floor, surrounded by bodies, as the bright disco lights swirled above him.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
Death, Be Not Proud
THE ICE SHATTERED. Diamond shards flew across the room, clattering into the walls and showering Gabriel with chips of ice... and Lucifer stepped out of his prison and extended his wings, laughing as the shackles fell away.
“Call them,” he said. Gabriel nodded.
Lucifer stretched his arms out wide, curling his fingers in on his palms and smiling.
“I knew I was always your favourite.”
“They’ll fight...”
“Of course they will. And I wouldn’t enjoy it nearly so much if they didn’t.”
THERE WAS THE sound of feathers, and something like whispering voices... and Adriel appeared from the shadows. He looked the same as always: neat in his morning suit, with his beard and hair clipped. He didn’t flinch when he saw Lucifer, nor when he saw Gabriel behind him. He simply waited.
Lucifer smiled at him, holding out his arms.
“Welcome, brother.”
“You called me.”
“I did. You aren’t pleased to see me?”
“I hardly think you need to ask.”
“Clearly it’s been too long since you had to answer to anyone... Kneel.”
Adriel blinked his black eyes and knelt before Lucifer, smoothing the fabric of his suit as he did.
Lucifer circled him. “Do you serve?”
There was no answer.
“I say again... do you serve?”
Adriel still didn’t answer, but simply cocked his head on one side and blinked again.
“Adriel... I won’t ask again.”
Adriel lowered his head and opened his wings. “I serve.”
Lucifer beamed... but then his smile became a frown. Adriel was smiling... and his eyes were bleeding; staining his face not red, but black. His wings, too, were changing. Fading; the colour leaching out of them until they were first grey, then white. And Adriel knelt before Lucifer and laughed at him, shaking out his wings and looking up at him with brown eyes.
“You can force me to serve. You cannot force me to surrender.”
“Who is it?” Lucifer grabbed him by the throat, hauling him to his feet. “Who?”
“You cannot take the office by force, Lucifer. You of all people should know that. It must be earned. It can be passed on, but never taken.
“You abdicated, and so have I. You can’t have it back.”
“Who?” Lucifer’s angelic face twisted, and for a moment it seemed that he had too many teeth; that his cheeks were too long and too hollow... and that his mouth should not open quite as wide as it did.
“You’ll find out soon enough,” said Adriel. “And in the meantime, I serve.” He pulled free from Lucifer’s grasp and swept into a low, mocking bow.
THEY STUMBLED OUT into the street. There were angels flooding out of the warehouse, and smoke curling from its windows. “We’re not going to be popular when Michael catches up with us,” Mallory said through gritted teeth. Vin’s arm was draped around his shoulder. Something exploded in the building behind them.
“No change there,” said Alice, sliding out from beneath Vin’s other arm as they set him down on the ground, everything else forgotten. His teeth were chattering. “What’s wrong with him?”
Vin suddenly hunched over, clutching his ribs and crying out, and Alice started back. “Can’t you help him?” There was fire at her wrists and in her hair; sparks dancing behind her and drifting into the night.
Mallory looked grim. “There’s nothing I can do.”
“What’s...”
But Alice was cut off by another yelp from Vin, and the horror on Mallory and Castor’s faces mirrored her own as they watched his wings stretch; saw the darkness seep along them from the tips like ink, creeping further and further up the feathers until his wings were black to the roots... and then there was nothing more. Alice crouched in front of Vin, edging closer. She could see his back heaving with each breath; see the outline of his wings shaking as they folded in on themselves.
“Vin?”
There was no answer.
“Alice...” Mallory was ducking down, holding out his hand. “You should come over here to me.”
“No. I... Vin!” she said, and scooted closer to him, wrapping her arm around his shoulders. She could feel him trembling; feel the damp of the sweat that had soaked his clothes.
“I’m okay...” he said. “I just... need a minute.” His voice shook almost as badly as the rest of him. “I’m fine...”
“Yeah, right,” muttered Mallory, and Alice glared at him before turning back to Vin.
“What...” And she tailed off – because Vin was looking at her. His forehead dripped with sweat, and his short, dark hair was drenched with it... but all Alice could see as he raised his head were eyes of pure black.
“Vhnori...” she whispered, “what did you do?”
“WHY D’YOU THINK I was in Adriel’s office?” Vin had finally stopped shaking, and was sitting at least vaguely upright on the tarmac.
“I thought you were waiting. For us.”
“Well, there was that...” He wagged his head from side to side. “Adri
el knew what was going to happen. All this was planned.”
“Planned. Because this looks so beautifully planned.” Alice waved sadly at the burning warehouse. There was no sign of the fire brigade, despite the plumes of smoke and the flames spilling from the windows. She imagined they had quite enough on their hands elsewhere. One more fire was nothing.
“Alright... maybe not the details. But Michael knew. He knew Gabriel would turn on him; he has done ever since hell.”
“But he told Gabriel that he’d restore him if he found the way to... Oh. Boy, do I feel stupid.” Alice’s eyes closed in resignation as she realised what had happened.
Michael had set it up. All of it.
All along, he’d wanted Lucifer restored... and the Fallen had done it for him.
“Bingo.”
“But... you.”
“Yeah. Me.”
“You knew.”
“Most of it.”
“And you didn’t say anything?”
“Who do you think I’m more afraid of? You, or Michael?”
“Me. It should definitely be me.”
“Funny you should say that... No.” He grinned weakly. “Adriel knew Lucifer would summon him.”
“He wanted his old job back...” Mallory interrupted. “But he couldn’t have it if Adriel had already passed it on.”
“Exactly,” said Vin, wiping his forehead with the back of his sleeve. “Which is where I come in.”
“But why you?” Alice asked.
“Like I’m supposed to know?”
“Well, yes.” Alice shook her head. “All this.” She glanced at Castor, who was keeping his face absolutely blank. “All this... for what?”
“For victory,” said Mallory. “Everything else is just collateral damage.”
“Everything?”
“Everything. He wants to win. And he wants to stay the winner. Absolute war, remember?”
“He’s more of a bastard than I thought.” She thought about the library; about everything he’d said. “He almost had me fooled that time.”
