“You still haven’t thanked me.”
Now Michael was pissed. Grabbing her throat, he choked her and squeezed tight enough for her eyes to bulge.
“You’ve done nothing to help me,” he snarled. “But you fucking will.” Letting her claw at his arms while she tried to fight magic in her, and the crushing hand wrapped around her wind pipe, he enjoyed watching her sorry ass attempt to suck in air. “I have the Book of Angels, Lilith. I know everything you miserable, lying, traitors did.” Michael snapped his teeth at her before letting her go.
Lilith stumbled back, coughing and gasping. “You would not have gotten this far without help, Michael. Let that blow to your pride sink in like the blood that soaked the fields of the Brotherhood of Angels. You are only one Angel.”
He went to strike her, but she blocked his hit. The aggressive defense was enough to make his dick twitch. “You and I both know I’m more than a mere Angel now.” He leaned in and gripped her chin to ensure he had her full attention. “Do not insult me by suggesting I’m anything as pathetic as you.”
Lilith had the balls to laugh. Her mirth echoed in the empty room; she held her belly and doubled over. “Pride was always your worst trait, Michael. Master or not, I’ll tell you the truth.”
Holy fuck, she hadn’t changed at all. Lilith called a spade a spade, even if it cost her a mouthful of teeth. Fascinating. One would think she’d have a sliver of fear in her, but he couldn’t find it. “Watch. Your. Tongue.”
“Or what? You’ll cut it out?” She waved him off. “You wouldn’t dare, because deep down you love this. Always did.”
She wasn’t wrong, damn her. “Where is Eve?”
“Eve?” Lilith looked disgusted at the mere mention of the name. “She died the day you were locked up. Was fed to the wolves if my memory still serves me well.”
“Bullshit.” He’d heard stories, rumors of Eve’s survival. “One of my men,” a malanum “specifically said he saw an Angel with wings – dark grey.”
“Many Angels have grey wings now, Michael.” Lilith picked up the hem of her ruined dress and brushed past him. “My throat is killing me. Get me some honey to soothe it while I wash this filth off of me.”
Fuck that. “You speak boldly for a bitch who pissed herself a half hour ago.”
“You’d soil yourself too had it been you in that chair. Those magics are impure.”
“As are you.”
She flipped him the bird and walked away.
Ten minutes later, Lilith emerged from his bathing chamber dressed in his silk ivory robe. Her wings were gone, Michael realized, and that plucked at his curiosity. He’d mastered the art of bright lights, but not the ability to pick and choose what pieces of him to disappear.
Sari had the same gift, Michael realized. Back in the restaurant, Michael assumed the Angel’s wings were tightly bound under his suit… but now he realized that archaic method had been replaced by something far more convenient.
“Better?”
“Much,” Lilith gracefully lowered into a puffy piece of furniture and crossed her legs.
The magic he’d forced into her was in full effect now. He could see her eye colors swirling, her pupils all but pinpricks. “What will you have me do… Master?”
Michael’s dick twitched again. “Tell me Lilith,” the magic in her would force the truth out one way or another, “who is really in charge here?”
Lazarus had to be the ring leader. Michael was sure of it. And he needed to get his hands around that Golden-fucker’s throat and pry the answers out of him so Michael could finally end this war victoriously.
“I’m in charge.”
“Bullshit. You didn’t do all this by yourself.”
“No more than you ruled the Protection Sect by yourself,” she arched her brow. “We’ve both climbed to our lofty positions by using the boney backs of other Angels as ladder rungs.”
Fair enough. “How many Hell Hound packs are there?”
“They disbanded a few months ago. Some Hounds have gone missing,” she licked her lips, “I assume that’s your doing.”
He didn’t answer.
“As to how many Hounds there are, I don’t have a clue. Lucifer and I do not speak and I certainly wouldn’t give two shits about where his dogs are living.”
Interesting. “Then why have the Guardians?” If not to protect the living in conjunction with Lucifer, why had she restructured the entire brotherhood to become her bitches?
Lilith relaxed back into her seat. “Shortly after your imprisonment, Lazarus gave me a list of names and said they each needed to be protected.”
“For?”
“Your second coming,” Lilith practically purred. “Each of those humans had a specific purpose in their life that lead to your ultimate freedom, Michael.”
That… was not possible. He kept his expression blank. “Go on.”
“That’s all there is to say. Angels, as few of the originals that are left, always believed you’d come back. The ones created after the fall of the Brotherhood were easy to convince as well. Heaven and Hell are on opposite sides for a reason. It’s not all because the souls in Paradise have been good little boys and girls.”
You could have blown Michael over with a feather. “Are you saying you’ve collected an army of innocents and Angels for me, Lilith?”
She leaned in, her eyes gleaming wickedly, “Ready to meet the fleet?”
Okay, now Michael had a full-blown hard-on. The soothing energy of Paradise mixed with the impressive Angels under Lilith’s command, was a perfection. Young, lean, and vibrant, these Angel’s energies had a brightness Michael wanted to bottle up and chug later.
She escorted him into Heaven like he was coming home, and that’s exactly what it felt like.
Lilith’s Paradise was almost identical to the Brotherhood of Angel’s old territory. Only it was brighter, purer. Less aggressive.
When Anthony saw them coming, he called the troops to assemble. He would have seen Lilith’s change – her eyes were a dead giveaway that she’d been overrun with magic, but something about Anthony’s expression said he thought she deserved the damnation. Perhaps he was still mad over Sari’s death.
Boo fucking hoo.
With a signal from Lilith, Anthony shouted a few commands and the Guardian Angels moved like one unit. Their responses echoed in Michael’s chest and he had to forcibly tone down his excitement.
Lilith’s mouth quirked, “Still waiting to hear you say thank you.”
“You’ll wait a little longer,” Michael couldn’t pull his gaze away from the formation standing before him.
“You’ll find some of the old brothers are still doing well,” Lilith moved up and down the line. Her soft curves and flowing dress were a stark contrast to the Guardian Angel Fleet’s hard exterior and razor-sharp edges.
“Weapons?” Michael purred. He didn’t see any swords.
“We’ve diversified,” Lilith clasped her hands together. “Swords are no longer the preferred method of slaying our enemies.” Her eyes had finally turned to kaleidoscopes and a sheen of sweat graced her forehead. How she was even still standing with all he’d shoved into her was a miracle. Either Lilith’s pain tolerance was incredibly high, or his magics hadn’t kicked into full effect yet like he thought. Either way, she was going to suffer and he couldn’t fucking wait to watch. Until then –
“Are you going to introduce me?” Michael’s wings were stiff and pressed perfectly against his back. He didn’t need to fan his wings out to assert dominance. His presence was enough for that.
“Warriors!” Lilith’s voice rang out like a church bell. “The day we’ve all prepared for has finally come!”
The Angels – both male and female – kept their eyes straight ahead, wings tight, and posture perfect.
Michael looked each one over, trying to read their expressions, but they gave nothing away. “Do you know who I am, warrior?”
“Master,” the first Angel in ranks call
ed out. “We’ve been awaiting your return.”
Smiling, Michael walked over and pressed his forehead against the Angel scoring pathetic brownie points with his quick and perfect response. Where their skin met, their energies cracked and sizzled. The Angel kept his expression blank, but purposefully wouldn’t look Michael in the eye.
“Are you pleased to see that day come?”
“Yes…. Master,” the Angel replied.
“Then you know I am in a battle of the ages.”
“Yes, Master.”
“And you will fight this war?”
“Yes, Master.”
Michael acted like he was going to move away, but in the last second, he thrust the heel of his palm into the Angel’s nose and broke it. The Angel didn’t budge, even as blood gushed from his nose and all over his uniform. Good. This particular pretty fuck might actually have a chance at surviving until the bitter end. “What is your name, soldier?”
“Shane.”
“And what is your purpose?”
“To serve the Ruler of the Righteous,” blood poured freely down his mouth and chin.
Ruler of the Righteous. Fuck. Yes. Michael turned to glare at Anthony and then Lilith. She was starting to sway but refused to succumb to the weakness just yet. That female was the most stubborn bitch who ever lived.
In another life, Michael would have loved her. Appreciated her. Cherished her.
But in this life, he was going to use her up and spit her out. “Lilith?”
She obediently turned to look at him.
“Thank you,” he winked. Whispering a spell, he flicked his wrist in her direction and Lilith instantly dropped like a sack of bricks.
Michael waited to see who’d run to help her. When none of them did, he smiled and uncurled his wings. “Come, warriors, there is much work still to do.”
Chapter 37
After careful consideration, and a little of Anthony’s guidance, Michael chose a handful of the strongest Guardians to work on first. According to Anthony, these five Angels were strong enough to keep their channels open for the other Angels in lower ranks to still syphon energy from. This trickle-down effect was still new for Michael, but the idea was simple, so he didn’t anticipate any issues.
After allowing them to file into his workspace, Michael watched their eyes bulge as they looked around the large room he used as one of his many workshops. He couldn’t blame them their awe-struck expressions. His workspaces were always impressive.
There was a lot of energy locked up in this space - Hell Hounds locked in cages, piles of bones, sigils, melted wax, and even a decaying witch made the concrete building feel cramped but potent with power.
It wasn’t even his most remarkable space. This building was a temporary solution, and one Michael had to suck up and deal with considering the Paris Catacombs had been compromised. Not to mention the Hell Hounds in New Orleans had been sniffing too close to Michael’s other workshop near Jackson Square lately.
As a matter of fact, Lucifer’s dogs had been encroaching in all of Michael’s sacred spaces for months now.
Maybe they could sense other Hell Hound’s energies, or maybe they’d picked up on one of their scents, or maybe Lucifer built them to always be able to find each other…
Michael didn’t give a fuck. What he was curious about though, was their extreme loyalty to one another and to Lucifer. Michael tried time and time again to bottle that power and put it to good use, but he failed miserably every time.
Humans did not make good guinea pigs with some magics. Their weak, fragile bodies couldn’t take it. Neither could their brittle little minds.
Hence the pile of carcasses in the corner under the tarp. Normally, he’d dispose of them, but he feared Manhattan was not an easy place to discard dozens of bodies that had been chopped, carved, and magicked to death.
Oh well, that wasn’t going to be an issue for much longer. Michael was close to the end of days and couldn’t wait to get there.
“On your knees,” he commanded.
The Angels obeyed, their gazes still sailing around the room. Were they memorizing the space or mesmerized by it? Didn’t matter, soon, they wouldn’t remember even being here.
“I’m sure you all have questions,” he clasped his hands behind his back. “And I’m sure this room makes me look like the monster, but I assure you, I’m not the villain here.”
“It is not our place to question your methods of protection,” Shane said.
“No, it’s not,” he smiled. “But I’ll still allow it. Afterall, you’ll be mine after this night, it’s only fair that you know who you are fighting against.” Lucifer, in some warped circles, had come off the hero. Tragic really. “You may each ask one question and I’ll answer it honestly.”
“How do we know you will not lie to us?” asked Angel number one.
“You don’t. Next.” What a fucking disappointment. This idiot would receive the harshest experiment because of his foolish waste of a question.
“What are you doing with the Hell Hounds in those cages?” Angel number three asked.
“I’m studying their loyalty properties so I may extract and use them.” He even went so far to say, “I’ve been let down in the past. A wise warrior would not allow that same mistake twice. I’ve harvested their energy in all manner of ways and have every intention of injecting it into each of you.”
If they were now having second thoughts, tough shit. The only way they were leaving this building alive would be fully magicked and under Michael’s control. Speaking of—
I wonder how Lilith is faring now. Anthony had locked her in her room for Michael to deal with later.
“What is your end game?” asked Angel number four.
“To cleanse the world.”
There was a moment of silence and then Angel number two caved, “Will we survive?”
“How hard you cling to your last breath is entirely up to you, warrior. I cannot save the world from itself and babysit the very Angels selected to help me with this hefty task. I can only hope you have what it takes to withstand the destruction I have planned.”
Not a lie, but not the truth. The real question should have been Will we survive you? And that answer was Fuck. No. Even if they lasted in the battle against Lucifer, they’d not live past Michael’s wrath. He meant what he said about cleansing the world. He was going to cleanse it of Angels too. Starting with a clean slate demanded he be thorough. Then, he’d pray to the Elders… the ones who battled long ago, the ones who captured and used Michael up only to dump him into service among a new generation of the Divine. They had to still be out there. Watching. Waiting for him to fulfill his destiny. If they were dead, he’d resurrect them. He knew how now. And nothing short of true death was going to stop Michael from getting everything he fucking wanted.
He’d made it this far. He’d make it all the way. Without a doubt, Michael was made to win this war and damn any prophecy that said otherwise.
Shane, also thought of as Angel number five, remained silent.
“Have you nothing to ask?”
“I heard all I needed to.”
Pride swelled in Michael’s chest. There was hope for this one yet. “Come now. There must be something you wish to learn about me.”
Shane’s jaw clenched. His gaze remained locked on Michael’s.
“Nothing?” he practically purred. “I’m the oldest Angel created and you have nothing to ask?”
Annnnnd three, two, one—
“How did you escape imprisonment?”
There it was. The last Angel here succumbed to temptation and curiosity. What. A. Fucking. Tragedy.
Raphael and Michael stood across from each other, both shackled in eternal torment. Darkness cloaked their vision. Wrath bled into their hearts.
Standing on opposite sides of the canyon, they were also opposite mirror images of each other - one swayed with white wings, the other black ones. One had hope, the other had despair. They had withered over time.
Each breath became harder to take than the last. This deterioration lasted lifetimes.
They no longer acknowledged each other.
They no longer wasted their breath or energy.
It hadn’t started that way. Once confined, they both screamed and spat at one another. Wrath was strong for both of them – Michael was furious he’d been beaten and couldn’t fight back. Raphael was furious he’d turned into a monster.
Next was exhaustion. A numbing, hollow, helplessness sucked the fight right out of them.
Then came pride. All it was going to take was for one to outlast the other. Michael only needed to hold out longer than his enemy. And nothing… absolutely nothing would bring him a greater satisfaction than watching Raphael die before his eyes – shackled and weak and perfectly wretched.
Those stages lasted centuries. And now here they were… still going nowhere.
They’d plateaued, it seemed. Their energies neither waning or growing.
This was the worst torment. This suspension of nothingness.
Michael sucked in air, his rib cage expanding, bones protruding, and he screamed at Raphael. His words failed him long ago, and he’d been reduced to nothing more than an emaciated animal on a tight leash.
Oh the irony.
Years passed and as faith changed and evolved, so had the two of them. Michael’s ability to talk had returned, even if his strength hadn’t. His survival instincts forced his essence to scrape and scour for every flicker of faith that made it down to his level.
Like a dying rat chewing out the marrow of a corpse, Michael had been reduced to a ghost of his former self. His body had started to fade. Barely a feather adorned his once glorious wings.
Fortunately, his will was strong enough to outlast Raphael.
“Look at you. You’re a monster. No wonder Lucifer locked you down here with me. You’re not here to guard me, Raphael. You’re too fucking vile to allow out of this prison. He tricked you. Lied to you. Forced you to sacrifice yourself when all you did was willingly allow him to throw away your life.”
Raise the Dead Page 30
