The Wings of Heaven and Hell (The Arcadian Steel Sequence Book 1)

by L. M. Peralta

  We raced down the hallway and into a vacant room. Nash swung the door shut. The doorknob rattled.

  “I thought they only liked to eat dead bodies.” I backed away from the door. I was glad my ribs caged my heart, or it might have beat right out of my chest.

  The door started to convulse.

  “Go to the window,” Nash said.

  “I’m not leaving you.”

  “This is a demon,” said Nash. “You can’t make it burst into flames with a touch.”

  The door shuttered off its hinges. The creature burst through the door. Nash pushed me out of the way and shouted something, but I couldn’t hear over the ear-splitting cry of the demon. Its long claws swept across Nash’s chest, turning his shirt to tatters.

  Nash’s wrist communicator buzzed. Tom was trying to get in touch with us, but the demon slammed Nash’s arm to the ground, shattering the communicator to pieces.

  Nash laughed grimly. He withdrew his dagger and sank the blade into the creature’s side. The demon lunged at Nash. Nash managed to sidestep him, but not without tripping on a rotted piece of wood that used to be a ceiling beam.

  I drew my sword, thin and wavering. Nash was on his feet, his blade gleaming at his side. The creature lurched at him, and Nash’s blade came down across its neck. Blood sprayed onto Nash’s face.

  He paled. “I told you to run.” He knelt to the floor and stabbed the demon in the neck. The thing faded, but its blood remained like tar on the wooden floor.

  “I thought it was going to kill you.” The hand that held my sword still shook.

  “And it might have. I was distracted. I’m the leader of this team. You need to listen to me. We have to go. More are coming.”

  He held his hand out, and a portal appeared. “I’m not sure where this will send us. The location was supposed to be at the front of the graveyard not far from where we came in. But I need you to go first. The danger here is a guarantee.”

  I climbed through the portal. I was dizzy as I passed through. Climbing through portals upset my stomach like riding a rollercoaster.

  NINE

  THE walls were black around me and stretched as far as I could see. I was in a tunnel with tree roots growing down the sides. Etched upon the walls between the roots were images of angels. The carvings were quite intricate. The angels looked like they were diving or maybe falling.

  Nash climbed through the portal behind me. Blood dripped over the arm held to his chest. He wandered over to the wall and surveyed the carvings.

  “You’re hurt,” I said.

  “It stings,” he said absentmindedly. His fingers ran along the carvings. “Where was your concern when your failure to follow orders almost got me killed?”

  “I was concerned. That’s why I didn’t follow orders.”

  “You could have gotten me sent to the Pit.” His words stung, more than I wanted them to. “This carving, it’s a depiction of the Fall.”

  “Like when the leaves turn orange, red, and yellow?”

  He eyed me darkly. “Like when the angels rebelled.”

  “Why are you concerned about a few drawings on a cave wall when you’re bleeding all over the floor?”

  “Because,” Nash moved away from the wall, “demons wouldn’t draw angels.”

  “I don’t see why not,” I said. “Maybe there are a few demons who are happy to see angels fall. I could see why that might prompt some fallen angel graffiti.”

  Rattling echoed off the tunnel walls. A man, hunched over a shopping cart, wheeled the cart through the tunnel. His skin was pale. He was bald, and blackened bones protruded from his back.

  Nash gave me a narrow smile as if to say I told you so.

  The shopping cart was full of junk: various articles of dirty clothing and trinkets. He wheeled the cart over to us. Lifting his head, he grinned like he was trying to show all his teeth. “You like my work?”

  “How did you get down here?” Nash asked.

  “The same way you did,” the man said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world. I smiled a little at that. That’s when I recognized what hung from the handlebar of the angel’s cart. A necklace. Dangling from the necklace was a golden cross entwined with silver thorns.

  “That’s Dad’s,” I whispered.

  “What?” Nash asked.

  The necklace swayed like a pocket watch swung by a hypnotist. “That’s my dad’s necklace.” I pulled the necklace off the cart, snapping the clasp.

  The angel reached for the necklace, but I held it to my chest and backed away.

  “Where did you get this?” I asked desperately.

  “I found it,” said the angel. “It’s mine.”

  He tried to reach for the necklace again, but Nash spoke up. “Are there other fallen angels down here?”

  “Fallen?” The angel wore a baffled look on his face. “No fallen angels down here. Fallen angels are damned like demons. I am not forsaken.” He looked at Nash. “You are the one who is damned.” He turned to me. “And you,” he squinted, “you are dead. Someone killed you.” His look of shock deepened.

  He took one last look at us and turned his cart around. He retreated the way he came.

  I looked down at the necklace. “Does this mean my dad’s in Hell?” I didn’t understand. What could he have done?

  “It doesn’t mean that,” said Nash. “Whether they go to Sheol or Heaven, personal belongings are dumped here. The landfill must be at the other end of this tunnel. That’s where he found that necklace.”

  “What’s wrong with him?”

  “The demons broke his mind.” Nash’s voice was full of pity. “They showed him greed and forced him to take part in it. Now, it’s all he knows.”

  Nash walked down the tunnel where the angel fled. “Come on. I think he might have been coming from the landfill. That’s why his cart was full.”

  “But how do you know that way will lead us out?”

  “I don’t. But the landfill will be a dead end. It’s surrounded by dead space. Besides, that fallen angel had to have gotten here somehow.”

  I followed Nash down the tunnel.

  “Those demons we ran into,” I said, “something was wrong with them too, wasn’t it?”

  Nash nodded. “It’s what happens to souls that spend too much time in the Circles. They go mad. They become primitive, worse than that angel. All they know to do is attack. Lucifer doesn’t offer them contracts.”

  “Then who let them out?” I asked.

  “I don’t know, and that’s what bothers me.”

  Screams echoed ahead of us down the dark, narrow passage. My skin prickled. My legs felt like they would tremble to ash.

  “Take out your sword.” Nash withdrew his weapon. “If you see anyone, don’t ask questions.”

  My sword shook in my hands. I didn’t know what was ahead of us, and my thoughts still quivered with the memory of those flesh-eating monsters in the graveyard.

  A small alcove was hollowed out to our left. Ahead of us the tunnel continued to narrow.

  Chained to the wall in the alcove was a woman. Her skin was dirty, and she wore a rumpled and filthy white dress. Bruises colored her face and body. She lifted her head.

  I gasped.

  Her eyes were gone, leaving only bloody, dark sockets.

  Despite my fear and the trembling of my hands, I marched forward into the alcove. Nash grabbed my arm. “What do you think you’re doing?”

  “We can’t leave her like that,” I said.

  “You can’t help—” Nash broke off.

  Two fallen angels entered the small space, both with blackened bones ornamenting their backs. One was tall and thin with ashy, white hair. The other was broader with inky, black eyes and short, dark hair.

  A narrow fissure ripped through the wall, large enough for two people. Nash pulled me with him into the fissure and clamped his hand over my mouth. I clawed at his hand with my fingernails, and he removed it.

  I stood so close to Nash, I coul
d feel his heart beat.

  The two fallen angels spoke. Nervously, my eyes darted to Nash’s. His body was rigid, but his face appeared calm.

  “Consider your options, demon,” said a high-pitched voice with a sing-song quality to it.

  “Don’t touch me.” The voice was gravelly. “You wouldn’t hurt a lady.”

  “You’re not a lady. We know what you are.”

  A thud and a grunt echoed through the chamber.

  “I feel nothing,” the woman said.

  “You must feel something. You must know something.”

  “I know what you’re looking for. You want a way out of this place.” The demon laughed. “But that’s not what the Redeemer offers. You’re stupid if you believe that.”

  “Where is he, demon?” one of the fallen angels asked.

  “You’re about to have a lot more friends down here,” hissed the woman.

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “Lucifer has obtained a weapon to make angels fall,” she said.

  “You’re lying. No such weapon exists.”

  “It’s a girl. She can bring down any angel with a mere touch.”

  My hand flew to my mouth. How did she know about me? How could she?

  “We’re not interested in your fairy tales, demon. Where is the Redeemer?”

  “I don’t know where he is. My involvement ended a long time ago. The Redeemer is a cruel man, but I respect him. His callousness is what will end all this torment. I want to stay out of his way. He destroys everything he touches.”

  “You know more than you’re telling us. We could force it out of you.”

  “You could try.” The demon’s voice was like ice.

  “I think you need time to think.”

  Footsteps faded in the distance.

  I was frozen. That demon knew about me. Who else knew I was here?

  Nash pulled me from the fissure and led me around the corner.

  “We’re not going to help her?” I asked.

  “It’s too risky,” said Nash. “They might see us.”

  “The fallen angels?”

  “They are the Missing. Lucifer has been looking for them.”

  “So, we’re going to fight them?”

  “That’s not our job,’ said Nash.

  “I thought you were supposed to keep fallen angels and demons in line?”

  “On Earth, not in Sheol.”

  I pressed my lips together. “I’m not leaving her here.”

  “You can’t do that.” Nash attempted to grab me, but I sidestepped him and marched back into the alcove.

  I crossed the empty space to the wall and knelt by the eyeless woman. I tried not to look at her gory sockets as I fiddled with the chains attached to the manacles around her wrists. The rhythm of my heart was up-tempo.

  “Who’s there?” The woman’s voice was barely a whisper.

  Nash stood between us and the place where the two fallen angels retreated. He raised his sword and gave me a look that said hurry up.

  “We’re trying to get you out of here,” I said.

  “Dislocate my thumbs,” she said.

  “What?”

  “Just do it.” She struggled, and the chains jangled together. “They took my eyes. They took my goddamn eyes.”

  “Your sword, use it,” said Nash.

  “To what? Cut off her hands?” My own voice scared me.

  Nash chuckled. “You’re dark.”

  “Stop laughing at me, and tell me what to do.”

  “Cut the chains,” he said. “Your sword is almost pure Arcadian Steel.”

  I scrambled to my feet and held my sword out. “What if I hit her?”

  “Aim.” Nash was unforgiving. “And come down hard.”

  I aimed my sword at the chains and pulled back. With all my strength, I swung forward. Sparks made me squeeze my eyes shut. The chains clattered to the ground as the woman’s arms fell to the floor.

  Nash raced towards us and lifted her to her feet. He motioned with his head towards the narrow tunnel that led away from the alcove. We raced down the tunnel. The tunnel became narrower as we walked, and soon I was the only one walking upright. Nash ducked his head, and the woman was slouched over, clinging to Nash’s arm.

  The tunnel darkened. I could only see Nash and the woman’s forms like shadows in front of me. I ducked my head as we journeyed deeper. A panicked thought came to my mind: What if this wasn’t the way out? What if we kept going until the tunnel became impossibly narrow, and we became caught inside? I was never claustrophobic, but I was getting a lot of new phobias lately.

  I was on my hands and knees. Nash and the woman crawled in front of me. Darkness surrounded me, and the walls of the tunnel tightened. “Nash?” My voice was small.

  “It’s alright.” Nash’s voice was a soothing wave washing over me bringing me back to the shore. “Just keep going.”

  My knees hurt as I crawled upon the rough, rocky ground. My hands felt raw as if the skin was being rubbed off as I padded across jagged terrain. The minutes crawled by before I could make out the shapes moving in front of me. At first, I didn’t know whether my eyes adjusted to the darkness or if light invaded the tunnel. But as the world became clear and brighter, I knew light was coming in. I took a deep breath.

  We exited the tunnel, and the dull atmosphere of Sheol felt like the brightest place in the world. I could have kissed the soft, smooth ground I crawled out upon. I turned over and rubbed my knees. My pants protected them from getting skinned. The air stung my hands. My palms were red, and my right hand was bloodied. I wiped the blood on my hip.

  Nash helped the woman to her feet. She turned her head back and forth, but she didn’t have eyes to see. Maybe her sense of smell had sharpened, and she smelled that the air around her was no longer the musty odor of the tunnels.

  Behind us was a sewage pipe low to the ground, not of metal but of rock.

  Mist rolled through the trees and rocky ledges rose from the land. The ruins of a stone building were strewn in front of us. The building was different from the modern architecture of the Outer Region. Arches and columns spread to the gray sky.

  A raven cawed. He sat on a leafless tree with bark white like bone.

  The woman stumbled to the ground. Nash lifted her into his arms and held her against his wounded chest.

  A set of stone steps led up to a rocky cliff. Nash took the steps with ease despite the extra weight he carried.

  At the top of the stairs were rows of black trees without leaves. Their twiggy branches reached up to the sky as if begging to be taken away from this place.

  We trekked for an hour before we left the forest behind and were back in the world of modern architecture and expansive streets.

  Nash approached a bus stop bench and sat the woman down. “I’m sorry,” he said.

  The woman was reluctant to let go of his arms, but he moved her hands to her sides. He turned away from her and met me at the curb.

  “You’re leaving her there?”

  The woman felt along the bench. Her jaw tensed as her fingers explored.

  “She’ll be fine,” said Nash. “Someone will come and take her where she belongs. Once her wounds have healed, she’ll regain her strength. You saved her from the worst of it.”

  “I guess,” I said.

  “If we hurry, we’ll be back before morning.” Nash marched down the street with long purposeful strides, and I followed.

  The world is a harp, and its music is blind. The woman touched along the sides of the bench and turned her gory sockets to the sky.

  TEN

  MOONLIGHT streamed through the sheer curtained window of the dirty room. I was small, so small, a child. I couldn’t reach the windowsill in the cold, dark room. My life was full of dimness and darkness.

  A long time passed since anyone spoke to me. I forgot the sounds of human voices and other voices, voices I had long ago stopped listening for.

  A memory came to me of a woman who held
me to her breast and whispered quiet assurances to me while I cried. I forgot the details of her face when I woke, but I did remember that her cheeks were sunken, her lips cracked, and her eyes sad. I reached up a small hand to comfort her as she did me.

  She placed me in a small bed. Panic tensed her jaw shut. She left me in the night but not by foot or car. She disappeared, no body to find.

  But I held the memory of her embrace, not like you would remember a quote or math problem but the way you remembered how to ride a bike or use a fork. A muscle memory, one that I used when I was alone and frightened.

  And I was alone and frightened.

  I ran my hands along the dark walls. The house felt different, and I knew someone opened a door. The world was drawn in like a breath, and light flooded my small room.

  I saw their faces. Men who carried flashlights charged into the room. Their eyes were wide when they saw me. Someone grabbed me around the waist and pulled me from the room.

  Their arms weren’t the warm, comforting arms of the woman who left. Instead, these arms frightened me. I cried. I wailed. I saw what was in the room with me.

  A cage, large enough for a lion. White feathers littered the floor.

  “Lia, wake up!”

  THE voice jolted me from my sleep. A familiar voice, but one I couldn’t place. I thought the sound came from inside the room, but when I looked around all I could see was a large, dark figure which loomed above me, a figure with featherless wings.

  I grabbed the sword at my bedside. The light, sharp blade was the one Nash bought for me. I raised the sword against the approaching figure while my free hand messed with the curtain that cascaded down the windows behind the bed.

  With the curtain pushed aside, the room was bathed in the dull light of Sheol.

  The figure who advanced towards me was an angel. Was an angel. What color were his eyes before they turned dull gray? He reminded me of the angel who attacked me in my bedroom. The first angel I made fall.

  Steel glinted in the light. He held a long dagger. He wanted to cut my throat in my sleep.

  He ran his blade along my sword to the hilt and knocked the weapon out of my shaking hand. The sword clattered to the floor and glided across the smooth surface.