Dark Angel

by Kim Richardson

  I took a shaky step forward, planting my boots in the soft earth so I wouldn’t tip over from the sudden wave of dizziness. “Don’t you dare pin this on me, you freak. I only tried to protect her from you.”

  “And you did such a wonderful job,” he taunted and flicked his cigarette butt on the ground. And then the bastard actually clapped. “You should ask the Legion for a raise. You are workforce quality.” He laughed and pulled another cigarette from his case. He lit his cigarette and moved towards Layla. I had a full view of his back. No wings.

  I gave him a once over. “Why didn’t you tell me it was a costume party? I would have worn my French maid outfit.”

  Lucian turned to face me fully, his eyebrows high. “The only one who’s wearing an outfit is you,” he intoned, his eyes flicking over me and filled with indulgent amusement. “Though I’ll never understand why angels choose to wear these monkey suits. Not very hygienic. Is it?” He sucked on his cigarette. “Just look at you. You’re spilling out your angel innards all over the ground. You’re dying. It’ll all be over soon.”

  I hated this red-eyed bastard. “I don’t see any wings,” I said, my voice shaking with fear and rage. “What happened? Did you screw up? Is that why there’s a giant hole in the ground and you’re wingless?”

  “Wings?” exclaimed the archdemon, smoke billowing from his mouth. “Why would I want my wings back? They’d clash with my suit,” he added, grinning evilly.

  My lips parted and I froze. “Isn’t all this,” I waved my blade around, sticky with my angel essence, “for the ritual to get your damn wings back?” What the hell was going on?

  “Of course not,” laughed the archdemon. He regarded me with a faint smile like I was dim-witted. “What on earth gave you that idea?”

  “Angels. Oracles. Everyone.”

  Lucian let the information sink in. He blew tunnels of smoke through his nostrils and said, “And why, pray tell, did they say I would want my wings back?”

  I felt like an idiot. Either the Legion was way off or Lucian was full of shit and just filling me with lies to throw me off.

  “To enter Horizon?” I answered. “To rise again? To get your throne back? How the hell should I know?” I attempted to blink away the white and black spots that marred my vision. Oh hell. I was going to either pass out or die. It took every bit of effort I had left to stay standing.

  “And you believed them?” asked the archdemon, smoke coiling around his mouth. “Why would I ever want to return to the place where I was shunned? Cast out because I refused to let a monkey-filled world dictate my future? They wanted us to venerate mortals. Michael and the rest of the archangels tried to kill me but couldn’t, so what did they do? They tore off my wings and threw me in a cage I could never escape. But the Netherworld was never a cage. It was my salvation. I am its creator.” Lucian smiled and raised his arms. “The answer is simple. I wouldn’t.”

  “I… don’t… understand.” My body felt like I was standing in a freezer. My head seemed to explode with just the effort to speak. My knees gave out and I fell.

  “Dear little Rowyn,” said the archdemon, looking down at me. “I’ll let you in on a secret since… well… you’re dying and all. The thing with the Legion… they don’t care about you. Angels are disposable. One dies and is easily replaceable. But the mortal world, well, it will always come first. Mortals will always have more importance to the Legion than their own kind. It’s laughable, really. And who came up with this bright idea? God? I don’t know. But it’s weak. And I’ll never be part of something weak and meaningless.”

  “And what… you’re doing isn’t?” I rasped, weakly, a moment later.

  Lucian turned his gaze to the green flames that continued to pour out from the giant hole in the ground. “You want to know what my plan is?”

  I nodded. “Sure.” What the hell, I wasn’t going to last long, and I was curious.

  “It was never about regaining my wings or my place in Horizon,” said the archdemon. He looked over his shoulder at me, like he was making sure he had my full attention, for the full effect of what he was about to say. “There’s nothing there but hopeless emptiness,” he continued and then turned back around to look at the flames. “I needed you for my plan. But as you know, things don’t always go as planned. Layla was an excellent spare.”

  “To get… the Grail,” I said, hauling myself to a sitting position, still holding my middle with my free arm. God, that was embarrassing.

  “Very good, Rowyn,” said Lucian, as though speaking to a five-year-old child. “You’re a bright young woman for such a stupid angel. I needed the Holy Grail. I needed its immeasurable power. Not for my wings, but something else. Something better. Something that has taken me eight hundred and fifty-three years of careful and meticulous planning.” He took a draw from his cigarette and said, “I give you… the apocalypse.”

  Ah, hell. Why did things always take a turn for the worst?

  The archdemon looked at me, his smile widening at what he saw on my face. “The complete and utter destruction of the mortal world. The Holy Grail was the key to unlock the doors to the Netherworld and let my children out. No longer will we be kept in our cages. A great darkness will spread, the oceans will turn red, the forests will burn, the skies will turn black and the sun will never be seen again. Demons will walk the earth. It is the end of the mortal world as you know it. It’s a shame you won’t be around to see it.”

  “Why?”

  A hint of devilry was in his voice as he said, “Did you really think the archangels could do all this to me and there’d be no payback?” He grimaced, as if he’d eaten something sour. Sighing, he flicked his cigarette butt.

  “But why… the mortals? They did… nothing… to you.”

  “Because, dearest,” said the archdemon. “Without the mortals where does that leave the Legion? Empty. Lots and lots of irate and angry angels with nothing to do. Desolate. Soon they’ll fight each other. It’s inevitable. Then, there’ll be a great war between them. They’ll kill each other off. It’ll be great.” He opened his metal case and put another cigarette to his mouth.

  “I… shouldn’t… even be here.” Tyrius was right. I should have refused this gig.

  “The world will be at peace,” he added conversationally, his cigarette hanging on his lip. “All the mortals will die. And then I’ll get my show back on the road. I have a reputation to uphold. As the God of the Netherworld and all that.”

  I pressed my left hand into the dirt, trying to balance myself upright. “The Legion… will…”

  “What? Stop me?” laughed the archdemon. “Look around you, Rowyn. They can’t. It’s too late. It won’t be long now. In a few moments, the doorway will be open forever. It will be a forever doorway to the Netherworld. A tunnel, a connection between the two worlds.” He smiled and turned away, his focus on the tall green flames, on the outpour of demons. “My apocalypse has already begun. They lack the power to stop it.”

  I couldn’t stop shaking. My skin was like ice as I abruptly realized that all his claims of domination and death were going to happen. His demons were going to kill everyone I cared about. My gran, Gareth, Danto, Father Thomas, Pam, even Jax and the rest of his rich, stuck-up clan. They didn’t deserve to die. Not like this.

  The Legion couldn’t stop him. They weren’t prepared for this. They didn’t even know he’d used the Holy Grail to open a doorway to let his minions out. They were probably still waiting for Jenna to report back while they prepared their armies in Horizon. The Legion had no idea.

  And by the time they did realize something was wrong, it would be too late.

  My eyes found the smug archdemon, watching his creation with that glorified look all madmen shared after one of their kills. The problem with most celestial beings, albeit an archdemon in this case, was that they get too used to thinking they’re all-powerful, and it made their heads swell. I could use that.

  “I want to be… with Layla,” I grunted in pain, and I
pulled myself forward on the ground.

  “Good idea.” Lucian barely glanced at me as I dragged my ass over to her, leaving a trail of white essence behind. When I reached Layla, I could see that her life-force was barely holding on. She had but a few minutes left of life. Maybe less.

  Damn you, Lucian.

  I didn’t know how I managed, but I reached up and grabbed the edges of the granite monument and pulled myself up. Using it as a support, I stood, the Holy Grail within my reach.

  My vision blurred. I waited for it to clear as the golden cup glimmered in the light of the candles.

  And then I reached out and wrapped my hand around the celestial cup.

  The cup’s metal was warm against my cool skin. The warmth coated my bloody palm. It pulsed, like the beating of a heart, as though the cup itself was alive. Power, magic, whatever you want to call it, surged from the cup. It flowed into my palm and through my body, bonding with my essence and my soul. The power grew and suffused with my essence, filling me with renewed strength, borrowed from the cup.

  I couldn’t run a marathon, and I couldn’t physically kick Lucian’s ass, but it was enough for what I was about to do.

  Lucian must have sensed something because at that moment, he turned around. The archangel snarled when he saw me standing with the Holy Grail in my hand.

  His eyes moved from me to Layla. “The Holy Grail can’t save her,” he said, looking at me again. “It’s over.”

  I nodded. “I know.” The energy of the Grail spread through me, lending me the strength I needed, like it knew the exact amount to give me.

  My eyes fell to my sister. Layla was dead or dying. The mortal world would soon follow.

  Lance’s words about the Holy Grail came to me again. It can heal, just as it can easily destroy.

  “You’re right. It is over. It’s over for you,” I said.

  And then I did the only thing I could think of.

  With a burst of strength, I tossed the Holy Grail in the air. It streaked across the graveyard. I watched it spin like a golden baseball as it soared over Lucian and then plummeted down through the green flames and disappeared into the hole in the earth.

  Lucian’s expression twisted with disgust, and then surprise, and then realization. “No.” The cigarette in his mouth fell to the ground.

  The impact broke the world. Or that’s what it felt like.

  A wind came rushing forth, trees ripping from the ground with the force of it like an angry howl, enormous and omnipresent. Then there was a deafening crack of thunder. The green flames were sucked back into the gap in the ground, the earth pulling itself closed, rock and earth and dirt, trapping the demons back inside the Netherworld.

  A shape moved before my eyes. Lucian grabbed me by the neck, his face twisted in fury, and I heard something snap. I didn’t feel anything. That final burst of energy had taken everything I had left. I was empty.

  He tossed me on the ground like a ragdoll. I lay there on my back staring at the black sky. The green light faded. Darkness was coming.

  I wished I had enough strength to reach Layla, to hold her hand as we both died. I wished I could cry for both of us. I wished a lot of things.

  The last of the earth settled, and then the world went dark.

  28

  The sun rose and a light blinked on the horizon. It shone like a star, though stars didn’t become bigger and bigger unless it was a shooting star coming straight for me.

  The light increased as it approached until it was right above me. I blinked, and a woman stood where the light had been.

  Asian-looking and beautiful, the woman was draped in white linen, the cloth radiating with dazzling white light. Soft red highlights reflected off the jet-black hair that spilled all the way down her back, so thick and glorious it would have had women envious. Her face had a haunting, ethereal beauty, and her expression was serene, with dark piercing eyes.

  If I was staring at a strange woman, it meant I wasn’t dead, dead. But how could that be? Lucian had killed me… hadn’t he?

  When I realized I was still lying on my back, I pushed myself up and looked around. I was in the same graveyard, but it was daylight. Something was off. There were no signs of battle, no visible demon bodies or ashes. The leaves on the trees didn’t move. There was no wind. And where there should have been the happy chirping of birds was only a wall of stillness and silence. Everything around me was still, like a picture or a painting.

  “This isn’t Horizon?” I asked the strange woman.

  She looked at me, and her perfect face melted into a brilliant smile. “No. This is the in-between. A place between Horizon and Earth, where time stands still.”

  Creepy. “Who are you?”

  “My name is Raphael.”

  Why did that name sound so familiar? My eyes searched her face. A golden shield crisscrossed with two silver swords marked her forehead. Holy crap.

  “You’re an archangel,” I felt myself smile. “The healer.” If I had to pick which archangel to ever meet in a face-to-face encounter, she would have been it. Yes, she was an amazon-looking-warrior-chick and could probably kick Lucian’s ass blindfolded, but she was a healer first and foremost.

  The archangel Raphael beamed watching me, her dark eyes bright. “That’s right.”

  Memories washed over me, dozens of little things, all coming back to me all at once—Lucian, the Holy Grail, the hole in the world, and me tossing the cup into it… and Layla.

  I whirled around. Layla lay at the exact same spot. “Is she dead?”

  “No,” answered the archangel. “Merely sleeping for now. She’ll be fine.”

  “You healed her?” I asked. The skin on her wrists was smooth, no evidence of were Lucian had cut her, no blood.

  “Yes.”

  “What about her mark? The oracle and I made a deal.”

  She arched a brow but said nothing, so I pressed on. “Okay, I sorta didn’t bring the Grail back. I think I may have accidentally destroyed it; my bad. But I think I managed to stop Lucian’s apocalypse.”

  Raphael never stopped smiling. “Have a look.”

  I did. I leaned over Layla, and my eyes moved to her neck, to the P-shaped birthmark—the archangel Michael’s sigil. So, the Legion had kept their word after all. The sigil was like a protection ward. She’d be protected from Lucian or any other archdemon bastard who tried to infuse her with their power. She was safe. Thank the souls.

  “I’m sorry I destroyed your cup,” I said, looking back at the tall woman. “It was an accident.” Technically, that was a big fat lie. It wasn’t an accident at all. I’d meant to throw it. The fact that it exploded like a high-tech bomb was an afterthought.

  “Don’t be,” said Raphael, her voice gentle and patient. “Without its destruction, you wouldn’t have been able to seal the Hellmouth.”

  “Nice. Is that what the giant hole was?” Even the name was creepy, let alone the nasties that were spewing out of it.

  “Yes.” Raphael nodded soberly. “A Hellmouth is a permanent doorway to the Netherworld—unlike a Hellgate or a Rift, which are temporary gates. The Holy Grail held the power to close the Hellmouth, to seal it permanently.”

  I wanted to smile back, but I couldn’t. “What happened to Lucian?”

  Raphael’s perfect features scrunched into a frown. “Hiding. Licking his wounds. Back in the Netherworld where he belongs.”

  “Smoking a thousand cigarettes. He won’t stop you know. He’ll be back with something new.”

  “Yes.” The archangel pursed her lips, and her expression grew distant. “And we’ll be waiting for him. Again.” Her voice sounded calm still, but I could sense the underlying tone of her own anger. There was history there. Interesting.

  “And my friends?” I asked my throat tight. “Tyrius? Gareth? Lance?” Gareth looked exhausted the last time I saw his face and Tyrius was bleeding profusely. Lance, well, I had lost sight of him.

  “They’re all fine.”

  “All of t
hem?” I asked, my mood brightening.

  “Yes.”

  They were alive. This time my lips did try to curl into a smile. But my elation was premature. I didn’t have anything to celebrate if I was going to Horizon, separated from my friends and family, from those I loved. Granted, it could have been way worse. I could have ended up as a stripper in some demon’s club in the Netherworld.

  “You’re here to take me back. Right? To Horizon?” I asked, regret a bitter taste in my mouth.

  When Raphael smiled this time, I could see her perfectly straight teeth. “Not this time.”

  I had a little moment of panic. “If I’m not going to Horizon… then…” Oh, God. They’re sending me to the Netherworld. My lips parted and the influx of happy thoughts took on an ominous feeling.

  I shifted my weight. “But, I thought you said you were happy that I sealed the Hellmouth?”

  The archangel smiled, a gentle serenity in her eyes. “I am. We are.”

  “So why am I getting the boot to the Netherworld?”

  “You’re not,” said Raphael, her eyes drifting over my face.

  “I’m not?”

  “No.”

  I scrunched up my face, my voice low. “What’s going to happen to me?”

  Raphael moved forward, pressed her hands around my face, and then closed her eyes. Immediately, I felt a soothing warmth spread from my head to the rest of my body, as though someone had just poured a bucket of warm water over my head. The sensation turned to little pricks inside me, like tiny lightning bolts bouncing on the inside walls of my core, as though my internal battery was being recharged.

  “You’ll be a great angel someday, Rowyn,” I heard the archangel say suddenly. “But not today.”

  29

  I stared at myself in the mirror. It was the twentieth time today, but I couldn’t help it. My eyes traced the darker lines of a birthmark in the shape of the letter P on the right side of my neck. The archangel Michael’s sigil, just like Layla’s.

  My heart still thumped at the sight of it. My lovely, lovely, beating heart. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t stop smiling. My face would forever be cemented into a goofy grin. Hell, I didn’t even mind.