The acolytes bowed.
“Thank you, Matron, Patron.”
They inclined their heads, and the acolytes knelt to begin their whispered prayers.
“Wonderful speech,” said Zaponsla, linking her arm in mine.
Perhaps it was, but I still worried. Will the simple prayers of a dozen faithful humans be enough to protect the entirety of Heaven against a focused, long-planned, demonic attack?
CHAPTER 14
Three days later, Zaponsla and I stood in the enormous War Room in the Praetorium with the five hundred other members of our platoon. Heppeliam, Parsiel, and Umiet were on a stage at the front, and our sixteen squad leaders huddled off to the side.
Heppeliam explained that due to the coordination required to oppose Asorat’s attacks, both he and Parsiel would be acting as co-leaders in the war. Parsiel’s duties to oversee the Attendants would fall to Gamsior, who was now responsible for Guardians, Reapers, and Attendants.
Though most of my squad looked bored during this announcement, I was intrigued to learn about the inner workings of the Council since I’d witnessed their decision-making firsthand.
“Enael, Zaponsla, come to the front,” said Umiet.
We exchanged glances and then flapped through the parting crowd to join our leaders.
“You two will be acting as Pair One. Now, look up here.” Umiet pointed a gnarled finger at a giant paper hanging on the wall, on which was a floor plan of Asorat’s stronghold. The giant fortress, like Yasva’s tavern and Voctic’s brothel, was located both in Hell and on Earth simultaneously to allow access to all.
“Here is where each squad will attack.” Umiet pointed to key locations. “We’ll fight for as long as it takes Pair One to sneak inside the fortress.”
Zaponsla and I exchanged glances again. They’re putting us in a key position for this fight?
“Our continued attacks will distract Asorat from our real purpose. Our spies have revealed the location of the symbols. Once Pair One reaches it, they’ll place their hands on the slab and fade from Hell into this War Room. Keepers will be waiting to receive it, and they will then transfer the swastikas back onto the floor of the Nexus.”
Zaponsla whispered, “Easy as that. We’ll be back before anyone notices I stole one of Umiet’s feathers.” The silver glinted as she twirled it between her fingers.
I’d dared her the day before to pluck out one of our Archangel’s feathers as a prank. “You win. I didn’t think you could do it.”
“Is there something you wish to contribute, Enael?” Parsiel asked. “Any concerns? Thoughts?”
The weight of all the eyes in the room bored into me. “No, no. I just wanted to say let’s go steal back what’s ours!”
The room cheered and Parsiel frowned.
“Settle down, settle down,” Umiet called. “Let’s ready for departure. Squads One and Two, draw tridents.”
Zings of metal echoed through the left half of the room.
“And… go!” Umiet grinned. “Squads Three and Four, draw tridents. And… go!”
She called out all sixteen squads in turn and then disappeared to Hell to oversee the battle. Finally, only Parsiel, Heppeliam, Zaponsla, and I remained in the cavernous room. A pair of Keepers came in, angel water in tow for cleansing the symbols when we returned.
“I don’t have to impress upon you the importance of this assignment, do I, Enael?” asked Parsiel.
“Of course not.”
“I still don’t agree with putting you back on active duty, let alone making you the key to this battle. You might be a Cornerstone, but I don’t think you’re ready for this. Unfortunately, my colleagues didn’t agree.”
I smiled as demurely as I could. “Then why even bring it up?”
Parsiel’s mouth fell open.
Heppeliam’s grunt may have been a laugh. “I think what Enael is trying to say is that my opinion or your opinion is indeed irrelevant. The Council voted and this is the outcome. It’s our duty to carry out orders. Enael will do her best and we will support her victory. Yes?”
“Yes,” I said, though Parsiel kept silent.
I grabbed Zaponsla’s elbow, and snickering, we began fading to Hell. As the room turned watery and black, I twirled a golden feather, plucked from Parsiel’s wing, where only she and I could see it. “Got it.”
Asorat’s gray-walled castle towered over the flat landscape of Hell. Turrets stabbed into the sky against roiling clouds. The screech of metal-on-metal faded into a rumble as the ground shook. A vent belched steam nearby, and a gust of wind whipped up before dying down. The black windows glared out at us like a many-eyed Fearling.
I saw the attack off in the distance. Nephilim, whose emotions ranged from determined to furious, flew between egress points, harrying demons, only to flap away toward where the Archangels hovered in the sky. Heppeliam’s gold wings flashed as he faded in from Heaven to join them.
Combat Tenders waited nearby, supplies at the ready. Two were already caring for a Nephil with a large gash across her side, pressing an angel water compress into the wound. A demon must have hit her with a lucky shot to wound her so badly that the Source’s power wasn’t healing her fast enough for her to return to battle.
“What’s his problem anyway?” Zaponsla asked.
“Parsiel? He doesn’t like me. He never has.”
“Do you think he’s the Aleph?”
“It doesn’t fit with what Harbinger said after Voctic died, about it wanting me to confide in it. Nothing he does makes me want to befriend him.”
“You would expect an ancient being who’s bent on ruling over Heaven to be bad at social niceties,” said Zaponsla. “Maybe he doesn’t know how to make you trust him.”
“Maybe, but she said the Aleph used its influence to gather the true names of many angels. Wouldn’t it know how to make me trust it?”
“That makes sense. But he has good reason to hate you if he’s the Aleph. The Source is going to use you to stop him, right? He might be bad at putting aside grudges.”
“I suppose.”
The power from the symbols inside the castle glowed in my mind in the same way I felt the life spark when I searched for angels in other locations.
“For luck.” I held up Parsiel’s feather and kissed it.
Zaponsla held up Umiet’s. “For luck.”
We tucked them into our tunics. In this bleak landscape, stealing the feathers seemed less funny than it had only moments ago, but the only way we were going to get through this war was with humor amidst the pain. At least, that’s how the humans seemed to cope with the wars we thrust them into.
We turned toward the hulking fortress. The walls were thick and impenetrable, built to withstand a human army. The monstrosity had been built centuries ago on Earth, and Asorat’s ability to use such a large building already standing was a testament to the power he’d gathered. With the swastika in his possession, he could gather even more.
Staying as close to the castle as we could, Zaponsla and I flew to a window on the third story. Metal bars covered it, and I held out my trident, focusing.
One by one, I sliced through each bar, Zaponsla catching them before they clattered to the ground. When we were finished, I crawled inside, barely able to make it with my wings pressed against my back. She followed and silently put the bars on the floor. The screech of Hell’s sky echoed through the room and I nearly jumped.
We were in a small, empty room. Our ability to see through walls on Earth was absent due to the edifice also being in Hell, which unnerved me because of the decidedly human architecture. I felt blinded, in this intimidating place.
But Zaponsla boldly marched to the door and pressed an ear to it. I stretched out my awareness, searching for creatures, but I wasn’t sure how much Asorat’s power dampened our abilities here.
Finally, Zaponsla pulled open the door. The unadorned walls were gray stone, the floors smooth and bare. We tiptoed along, listening for approaching beings. The stillness was
eerie—the wind, the screeches, and the rumbles in Hell were all muted now. Closed wooden doors lined both sides of the hallway. Swastikas carved into each were the only decoration in this part of the fortress.
We ascended a staircase made of the same dreary brick. At the top, black carpeting ran down the middle of the hall. Our intelligence had indicated that the symbols were in the heart of the fortress on this floor. The feel of the symbols’ power, still glowing like a beacon in my mind, confirmed it. All we had to do was wind our way into the center and find the entrance.
“Easy,” whispered Zaponsla.
Red, white, and black swastika flags hung on the walls between alcoves that would have held a statue if Asorat hadn’t decided on the bare look when decorating his castle. We passed through two corridors, heard a voice, and froze. I grabbed onto Zaponsla’s shoulder, ready to pull us into an alcove, but the voice didn’t get any closer. It was coming from behind an almost-closed door. I flew over to listen.
“… and tomorrow, we’ll talk to Asorat about the upcoming Nazi leadership gathering. Yes?”
My stomach dropped. Kaspen.
“Yes,” answered a female-sounding voice. “Don’t forget that you need to be confident. He doesn’t stand for weakness.”
I peered through the crack in the door to get a better look, and Zaponsla, apparently unwilling to wait her turn, dropped to her knees and did the same. When she saw who it was, she clutched at my leg.
Fanush and Kaspen stood inside a warm, inviting room. A cozy-looking bed sat on one side, and heavy draperies hung on the walls. She was facing us, arms crossed, swastika severe on her forehead, face curled into the sneer I’d seen so many times when I was a Reaper. Kaspen stood with shoulders bowed in a way that reminded me of when he was under Yasva’s influence.
“I know. I will be confident.” He straightened his back, lifted his chin. “He trusts me because of everything I went through with…” his shoulders slumped, “… you know.”
“Yasva. You can say her name.” Fanush’s tone was hard and I hated her a little for that. I’d spoken Yasva’s name in the same way when Kaspen and I had fought about my jealousy while we were Reapers.
Both Fanush and Kaspen had the same gold-flecked black wings from when they’d burst into the Hall of Mirrors. To keep wings as part of their aspects, Asorat’s demonic Council had to consume almost half again as much of the angel water as a regular demon. Based on the display he’d performed at the treaty signing, I imagined that was an expense he was willing to incur.
Where are they getting it, though? The Nephilim had begun guarding the angel water supply near the Sanctuary, limiting it to two jars per demon per day, and no demons wearing the swastika had ever been spotted collecting their ration.
They’d need to get it from an angel or human connected to the Source. I wasn’t sure which horrified me more.
So much for Kaspen’s claim of Asorat’s nobility.
Fanush’s sneer was replaced by a coy smile. She stepped toward Kaspen and ran a finger through his hair. Despite myself, I focused on her emotion and immediately recoiled. Desire was rising inside her.
She stepped forward, tilted her head up, and kissed him full on the lips.
I jerked back from the door, willing the hatred pulsing through my soul to slow and dissipate.
I’d always suspected that Kaspen and Fanush were more than friends. I knew that in running off to join Asorat, they’d likely end up in bed together. It was only logical.
But still, seeing it with my own two eyes stung.
“Oh, Enael.” Zaponsla pushed up from where she was crouching.
“No, it’s fine.” I scrubbed at the corners of my eyes and turned toward the hall that would lead us deeper into the fortress. “We’ve lingered here too long. We have a mission to complete.”
I marched off, Zaponsla trailing behind.
CHAPTER 15
I took one step around a corner and stopped.
Zaponsla tugged gently on my arm. “We have to do what we came for. Going back won’t tell you anything you don’t know.”
“But I need to find out…” I wasn’t sure what.
“You already know what you’ll see if you go back.”
Reluctantly, I let her push me along.
We rounded another corner, and the tall corridor opened up into an entryway of sorts, wide and deep like a room, but leading to a huge set of double doors. Tessellated swastikas covered the floor, and swastikas made of twisted metal served as handles.
But the most chilling aspect was a line of humans, strapped onto wooden boards, with Fearlings covering their faces.
The closest human twitched and moaned, straining against the leather straps binding her arms and feet. A black cloud of fear billowed from her, and the Fearling nipped at a corner. The cloud drifted to the side and then rained into a glass bowl. Tubing led from the bottom of the bowl to a half-full jar sitting on the floor. Every human was strapped down with the same setup next to them.
“What is this?” I whispered, horrified.
Zaponsla marched forward to the closest woman. She called her trident, whipped it over her head, and stabbed it into the Fearling. The creature keened before bursting into a puff of smoke, which drifted into the bowl and splashed into the jar.
I rushed forward to help, reaching for the straps to release the poor human.
The woman’s blue eyes snapped open. “Who are you? What are you doing?”
“We’re rescuing you.” I splayed my wings behind me, hoping she’d calm when she realized we were angels.
She snarled, a feral sound I’d never heard from a human. “Scum from Heaven,” she screamed. “Asoraaaaat!”
Zaponsla leapt forward and pressed her hand against the woman’s mouth but pulled away as the woman bit her. I created a baton and shoved it across her mouth, gagging her. The woman tried to squirm away, but I was much stronger and held her fast.
“What do we do?” said Zaponsla
“Ughh, ughhh.” The woman’s greasy blonde hair brushed my arm as she tried to thrash free.
I pressed the baton tighter. “We can’t leave her here, or she’ll shout and bring the entire castle on us. But we very well can’t let her go, or the same thing will happen.”
The swastikas from the Nexus were just beyond the doors—I could feel them, and Zaponsla’s longing look in that direction told me that she did too. She said, “I could go in, and you could stay here with her until I’m done.”
“No. It takes two of us to bring them back. You heard Umiet. You know what we have to do.”
Her mouth opened. “You can’t.”
“Their Incarnation Plans have gone awry. They’re aiding Asorat—providing his armies sustenance and strengthening his attacks. They can’t be allowed to stay.”
Zaponsla stared at the door. “Let me try. I have no stomach for killing humans. We were created to protect them, and I just can’t—” Her eyes flicked over to mine.
I was certain we were both remembering what I’d done to Nicolas. I would never forget the look of terror on his face after I goaded his daughter to kill him. If Zaponsla had been there, she would never have agreed to be my partner.
“Fine. Go and try,” I said. “If you can’t, I’ll do what needs to be done so I can come help you.”
As Zaponsla pulled open the door, the woman’s efforts at escape redoubled, but I was as solid as a fortress wall against her feeble human panic. I craned my neck to see past the doors. Inside, the room was huge, the ceilings vaulted. The marble tile sat twenty paces inside, at the direct center, where the swastikas glowed faintly.
My partner glided over to it, knelt down, and placed her hands on the tile.
She closed her eyes, moved her lips in silent supplication.
Nothing happened.
Zaponsla cursed a colorful string of words I’d heard only out of the mouths of human sailors, and despite the tense situation, I stifled a laugh. The woman beneath me struggled, but I turned my gaz
e on her and she stopped.
“I’m trying again,” Zaponsla called.
This whole scenario seemed wrong somehow. Stumbling upon Kaspen with a new lover, coming upon a row of tortured humans, and discovering the swastikas unguarded was quite a coincidence. Umiet carried out orders, but Parsiel and Heppeliam put together strategy. Asorat was arrogant, but he didn’t seem arrogant enough to leave the major source of his power unattended. Parsiel—or Heppaliam—could want us to fail.
Zaponsla appeared at the door. “I can’t do it. I need your help.”
I pulled the baton from the woman’s mouth, turned my weapon—fittingly—into Voctic’s knife, and slit the woman’s throat.
“That’s for siding with the demons,” I said as she gurgled in her death throes.
Zaponsla whirled away, horror etched on her face.
I kicked over the cloudy jar of angel water—if it could even be called that. The black liquid spattered across the swastika flooring. Reaching into the woman’s body, I pulled out her soul. Concentrating, I created a cloak around myself with twelve pockets, one for each human’s soul. I tucked the first inside the bottom left, and before Zaponsla had turned back around, I was at the next human, pulling out his as I’d pulled out Harbinger’s. Gently, kindly, without the fuss of the first.
Zaponsla joined me on the fourth human, and methodically, we removed the souls from each of the humans’ bodies. They died with sighs, and soon my cloak was heavy with their essences.
Silently, we moved into the room with the symbols. I went to the left side of the tile and Zaponsla went to the right. We placed our hands on the marble and closed our eyes.
I envisioned the empty room in the Praetorium, where the Keepers would be waiting for us. They had angel water and notes on how to reverse what Asorat had done to steal the symbols from the Source. Parsiel would likely be flitting over them, barking orders and generally making a nuisance of himself, and Heppeliam would be chuckling to himself in the corner.
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