Fallen Angel 4: Cold-Blooded Fate

by J. L. Myers

  A rattled intake of air sounded as Lucifer looked up. Gabriel’s bloody lips quivered and her eyelids fluttered. “Am I dead?”

  “No.” That was all Lucifer could manage, his relief so choking and so fleeting at the same time. Although her wounds had slowed in their bleeding and she was finally awake, she still was not healing. She was too far gone, stabbed and cut so many times, once so close to her heart, and covered in bruises from the fight she had put up. She needed Heaven’s light to heal. Plucking a drenched feather from one of her wings, he curled her clammy fingers around it. “You need His help. You need to leave here. Return to the light of Heaven. Beg Him to welcome you home.”

  Lucifer had begged for God to bring her back into the light, to save her from her hopeless existence in Hell. And Remiel had denied him on God’s behalf. Now he rested all his hope on the fact that he had been denied his request. Not hers. If she repented of her own free will, God would have to respond. Wouldn’t he?

  A glistening tear bloomed and fell from Gabriel’s glassy eyes, streaming sideways down her face to disappear into her silvery-blonde hair. “It would do no good, my love.” She held a shaking hand up to his face, love in her eyes as she beheld his fear. “He would not accept me. Not anymore. Not—”

  “You do not know that. You have to try—”

  “I am—” Gabriel coughed, the sound rattled and wheezy between gasps.

  Hands frantic but scared to shift her, Lucifer watched as each cough forced congealed blood to ooze out of her wounds. Her heart belted slowly, struggling against the blood loss.

  “Your blood created us.” Zachias appeared through the open door, eliciting a growl from Zallina. His hands came up in a show of surrender as he shook his orange hair out of his eyes. “It feeds Gabriel’s garden too, growing new life in Hell.”

  “Get out!” Lucifer snapped.

  Zachias’s eyes narrowed, but he bowed his head and backed out of the door. Peering in as he pulled the door almost shut, he dared to add, “It could help. It may be the only thing that can help.” And then he was gone, a quiet click announcing the doors closure before Lucifer could hurl fire at the soldier.

  Looking back at Gabriel, he knew Zachias was right. The coughing subsided, giving way to wheezing gasps. Lucifer grasped her shoulders and squeezed until her wet eyes lifted to meet his. “This is not the end. Not for you. Not for us.” Lucifer had never felt so helpless and yet so determined to do anything he could to have the woman he loved. On Earth and in Hell, his blood was changed. Part angel and demonic, it had turned men into monsters. It gave angelic power to mortals with speed, strength, and the ability to heal from deathly wounds. “Hold on. Please.”

  Swooping the deadly dagger up from the bed, it shone blue as Lucifer sliced it along his wrist. His marbled silver-black blood trailed and dripped, pattering onto Gabriel’s bloody chest.

  “Lucifer—” She coughed again, her eyes rolling as if she were about to pass out or worse. “What…are…you…?”

  “You must drink this. It is the only way to save you.” Lucifer offered his wrist, desperation in his eyes pleading for her to take it. “Please don’t give up. Don’t leave me.”

  Gabriel’s eyes refused to track. “The prophecy…what if…blood changes…him?”

  The prophecy? Changes who? Lucifer shook his head. “Shhh, don’t speak.” Her ramblings in the throw of death didn’t matter. Only her survival did. “We will worry about that when we have to. Please, Gabriel, I need you. Don’t make me watch you die. Without you, I am dead too.”

  An eternal moment passed, Gabriel’s bloody lips quivering as thoughts danced in her frantic eyes. “Must protect…” She reached up shakily, her chilled hand accepting Lucifer’s bleeding wrist. Bringing the cut to her lips, she kissed his flesh before drawing strength from his vein, drawing himself into her broken and dying body. Her eyes flared wider, her lips breaking from his flesh as her raised head fell back. Staring lifelessly as Belial watched from the headboard, Lucifer’s world stopped. It had to work. This had to—

  Gabriel gasped in air, her eyes bleeding red as her chest jacked upright. Lucifer caught her in his arms, amazed as the lacerations all over her body began to shrink. The blood coating her began to recede, slinking its way back into the gashes and leaving her pale skin clean. She looked up at Lucifer, her breath fast as her eyes returned to a vibrant shade of silver-blue. “It worked?”

  Lucifer smiled down at her as he helped her sit, his belting heart slowing with pure relief. “It did—”

  A spark of light cut off Lucifer’s words, enlisting a caw from Belial and a bark from Zallina. The source became clear as a silky black feather flittered down, swaying on the pungent air until it settled across her lap.

  Lucifer’s suspicion on the sender was instant. And being a black feather proved Michael had acted without God’s order and then reaped the punishment for his crime. Which meant God did care for his messenger—and Lucifer would not have to be the one to reveal what he already knew. Gabriel had her eyes set on him, and he nodded. “It is from Michael.”

  Lucifer felt sick at the thought of what she was about to learn, and yet glad that God had finally punished the angel that broke the rules and always got away with it.

  Gabriel’s softly expelled breath shut off Lucifer’s thoughts and turned his body rigid as Michael’s voice came to life.

  “Gabriel, please understand. I did this for us all. I never intended to harm you. To betray you. Though I know I did. I am sorry. So deeply sorry. I hate what I did—what I felt I had to do. Cherish the time you have with that precious new life. Though not by my hand, I promise you it will never be long enough. The prophecy looms over us all.”

  The feather vanished and Gabriel gasped, hand going to her heart. But she didn’t say a word. At the same time, all of Lucifer’s hateful words for Michael after his actions and poor apology fled with utter confusion. “The prophecy? New life? What is he talking about?”

  “Michael sent the assassin? How…how could he?”

  “Yes.” Lucifer touched her face, bringing her out of the confused haze her eyes had darkened with. “Gabriel, please.” His heart pounded with the unknown and sweat dotted his brow. “What is Michael talking about?”

  Gabriel cleared her throat, her eyes lowering so that her long lashes kissed her blushing cheeks. “I am carrying,”—She dropped her hand from her heart, gliding over her bloody robe to her stomach—“your child, Lucifer.”

  Time froze as Lucifer stared at Gabriel, all the subtle hints forming in his mind. Her retraction from him. The way she remained clothed when they occasionally laid together. The way her hand had started going to her belly as if in search of comfort—or to offer it. “H-how? When?”

  Gabriel smiled, pale lips cracking open. “From that very first time.” Lucifer’s face heated at the memory of her in his arms, of being with her for that first monumental time. “I do not know how. This never happened with…” She trailed off, eyes darting sidelong.

  Lucifer gathered up her hands and squeezed them. “Shhh. The past is done. Our future…” He sucked in air, a sudden fear for the life he hadn’t even known existed threatening to tear his heart to shreds. “The assassin. Your wounds…is he, is she…?”

  Gabriel planted his hand over the small bulge that he now knew had nothing to do with swelling.

  Lucifer gasped as the tiniest of nudges struck his palm. The life of his child. His spawn.

  “He, she, whichever it is, is fine.”

  That kick came again, so persistent, so strong, a new soul that was full of life. Moisture collected in Lucifer’s eyes and he sniffed. When Gabriel had been at death’s door, he had thought he was losing everything. And he had been even more right than he could ever have imagined.

  Gabriel’s voice fought to produce more than a whisper. “This life inside of me,” she continued on, rubbing the soaked material over her stomach before settling over Lucifer’s hands, “is the reason I was attacked. Our child. The prop
hecy. The fall of Heaven. It is all connected.” Her eyes fell with sadness. “I gift this innocent child a life of danger. Stuck in Hell and a threat to Heaven. What kind of life is that?”

  Lucifer collected up her hands, clasping them to his drumming heart. “The one our child was dealt. The one I will fight for every day of my immortal life. The one I will protect and guard against all the dangers of the realms. The one I will die for to keep alive. You are my sun, and this child is our world.” With his heart bursting with love, tears fell unchecked from Lucifer’s eyes. “And we will never fail. No matter what happens. I vow to you our child will survive.”

  Leaning in as silver tears flowed down Gabriel’s face, Lucifer sealed his vow with a tender kiss. “I love you both to the stars and beyond.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Michael wiped the sweat from his brow, then frowned as red smeared across the back of his hand. To be painted in hybrid blood was a disgusting but necessary precaution. His actions since coating himself in Gabriel’s ruined garden had been concealed. Carting pots and pots of the liquid back down to Earth. Slathering the internal wooden walls of a large barn skirting the first village he’d hunted down hybrids in. Sending Remiel, who remained as in the dark as this barn now was, to gather his trusted soldiers. All of it was kept from their maker.

  Now Michael was ready to take action.

  Ready to put the plan into action that had been brewing in the back of his mind since Remiel’s delivered prophecy update.

  Now warrior angels filed into the dark square barn, their ambient light illuminating the hand-painted walls and straw-covered floor. Each of his trained subjects who had already proven their loyalty in stockpiling hybrid blood, nodded as they entered, men—and only men—gathering to make room for at least twenty angels. As a whole, they took in the change of Michael’s wings, and though some shared looks of concern, none questioned the alteration.

  The last to arrive was Remiel, who skirted around the crammed angels to reach Michael’s side. “All that you requested are here.” His huff of breath and the crossing of his arms over his chest made his apprehension clear. Michael had not yet revealed his plan, but Remiel had agreed to help. The gray-winged angel owed his life to Michael after he saved him from a horde of murderous hybrids, and that debt was soon to be paid with his support.

  Steeling himself with a deep breath, Michael cleared his throat. When he began to talk, everyone listened, the undivided attention settling on him as the angels’ curious chatter stalled. “We all know a great war is coming. Earth is already under attack. God’s humans are endangered every single day. The enemy, the one you have all seen and that most of you have fought grows stronger by the day. Their numbers swell with destruction and bloodshed. Men, women, even children. Humanity is falling, but there is more to fear than its total annihilation. Heaven will succumb to this threat too. It is only a matter of time.”

  Weary expressions and shared looks of concern filled the eyes of all his angel warriors. One angel spoke up in the back. “How do you know this?”

  Overriding the murmurs of supported questioning, Remiel stepped forward, his hands wringing together. “I have seen the destruction to come. Nothing above is safe. Darkness will rise to devour our light.”

  “How will this happen?”

  “Heaven cannot be infiltrated.”

  “Darkness cannot enter our light.”

  Rather than the question dispelling his and Remiel’s claims of danger, it encouraged Michael to go on. “The first vampires, the saved of Lucifer’s creations, God gifted them by my hand. An oracle exists among them. And he revealed what you failed to, Remiel.”

  The diverting of the archangel’s eyes confirmed what he already knew. When Remiel had revealed the life Lucifer had planted inside Gabriel—Michael shuddered at the mere thought—he had purposely kept some truths hidden. Big ones. Universe shattering ones.

  “A child of Heaven and Hell is set to come into this world. A child whose existence will shower blood and darkness upon us. Light—our light—will fall like stars from the sky. God will not stop this. My wings are a testament to my failure to do so myself,” Michael snapped, spreading their frames that housed countless black feathers out for effect. “So we must act. We must take our destiny into our own hands and fight for our survival.”

  “What can we do?” One of his warriors called out, while another added, “How can we fight this?”

  Remiel was before Michael without warning, his hand firm as he squeezed Michael’s forearm. “Your white wings were taken. You regretted your attempt to end that unborn child.” He spared a glance at all the coating blood, its presence making one thing crystal clear. “This is not a direction of God. What dare you have planned, Michael?”

  Michael crossed his arms over his chest, meeting Remiel’s eyes. His voice as he spoke, however, was loud for all to hear. “The number of hybrids grows by the day. Faster than the creation of new warrior angels. More than hybrids alone endanger us though. Something worse is coming. To Earth and to Heaven. We need numbers, we need our strength to outweigh all that will soon come our way from Below.”

  Remiel mirrored Michael’s crossed arms, stepping back to join the warriors. “You want to ground angels permanently to battle this expected force?”

  “No. Not angels.” Michael smiled. He was responsible for a number of the angels created in this room—by lying with Gabriel. His smile stiffened at the memory, at what they had shared—and at how callous he’d been in trying to end the life inside of her. But now was not the time to hesitate. This had to be done. “This mission will not endanger any of you as our current missions do. This mission will give us hope. It will set up our future, hopefully before it is too late. In Heaven our union is blessed, it culminates in the joining of light. But below…”

  “You cannot seriously intend to—”

  “Yes, I can,” Michael cut off Remiel’s accurate assumption, leaving him gap-mouthed in shock. “I have the means to shield our actions, to keep our movements from prying eyes above.” Michael held his arms out at his sides to drive his meaning home, displaying his blood-drenched skin. “Our light passed through our seed, planted in the bellies of human women to create a new race, one that is of Earth and Heaven.” He remembered the seemingly human children that moved as fast as angels in Remiel’s delivered prophecy. There was no other explanation. This was destined to happen-even if God had not ordered it. “A race that will have our power and grace, that will grow to become our next greatest weapon.”

  Murmurs broke out, all the angels speaking amongst themselves. Michael paid them little attention, looking at Remiel who paced back and forth before the gathered angels. A shift in sensations had Michael narrowing his eyes, but it was not Remiel who was causing the spike of angelic tingles that attacked his spine.

  “What if our wings are blackened too? What if we are expelled from Heaven? What if we are banished to Hell?”

  Head snapping up, Michael barely heard the warriors’ concerns—as he spotted a shadow lurking beyond the large open window beneath the pitched rafters of the roof. Hovering by the grace of his dark wings was Azrael.

  His mere presence made Michael nervous. Edgy even. Of all the archangels, the Angel of Death spent the most time with God, collecting and delivering souls from Below to His pearly throne.

  Would he squeal on Michael and his unorthodox—unapproved—plans?

  Watching the archangel take in the blood-smeared chamber, not to mention the sight of Michael lathered in the stuff, made something abundantly clear. Michael was up to something. Something big. Something dangerous. And if the menacing look on Azrael’s face was anything to go by, he had heard and seen it all.

  “You may as well join us. Lest you prefer to hover in the dark of night?”

  The warriors’ concerns cut off as Azrael shot through the wide square opening and drove his feet down to land right beside Michael.

  “You speak of fantasy. Heaven cannot be infiltrated.” A
zrael narrowed his eyes at Michael, his gaze taking in his glossy black means of flight. “Our wards prevent the ascension of any non-angelic beings. Not even you can venture higher than the Realm of Light with you blackened wings.”

  Michael gnashed his teeth, irritated at the reminder of his step down from grace. He was close to being banished, struck from Above. But he could not stand by and do nothing. “All Hell will break lose—literally. I have seen it, and so has Remiel. The end is coming for us all. The hybrids had it wrong before. Combining Lucifer’s and Gabriel’s blood was never the key. Their unborn child is. Somehow this child’s mere existence will open up Heaven to this threat—and then all light will fall like stars from the sky.”

  Azrael’s nostrils twisted as his lips pressed into a thin, straight line. Michael was going off snippets of mismatched information and past events, but something, maybe even all of it, rang true.

  Remiel spoke up, coming forward to clasp his brother’s arms that remained tightly folded over his chest. “Azrael, you know it is true. Without action, we will surely fall in the end.” Remiel had been grounded once, his wings cut and broken from his back. God had left him to die. If not for Gabriel—oh Gabriel—he’d have perished. Remiel clasped his hands together and dipped his head. “I am at your side, Michael. In whatever way you need me.” He faced the others. “I am of light, and without the source of our light, we will all perish too. Now it is your turn to make a choice. Will you stand with light, or wait for darkness to reign?” He fell to one knee. “I choose light.”

  The final murmurs died off at Remiel’s statement. One angel after the other bowed their head as they dropped to one knee. They were joining him too, volunteering to act out Michael’s plan despite knowing this was not an order by God.

  When they had all sworn their silent allegiance, Michael looked to Azrael. The last standing angel shook his head. His lips were tight, his eyes pained. “I cannot join this venture. I will not. I have my orders, my place.”