Warring Angel

by Samantha L. Strong

  “And that’s only after Asorat finishes using them up, to extract whatever power he can out of them. They know they’re losing the war, but they’re not giving up so easily. You have half an hour, and then they’re sending in the first dozen.”

  CHAPTER 46

  “Go,” I said to the Attendant and stalked off through the hedgerows.

  Behind me, he faded to Heaven, but Chana and Zaponsla flapped to keep up. “Where are you going?” said Chana.

  “I’m thinking,” I said. “This might not be the Garden, but it’s better than an Antarctic room full of chattering Nephilim.” And I can’t face them until I have a solution.

  Several rows over, a platoon was making a push, so I steered in the opposite direction. I couldn’t give in to Kaspen, but I couldn’t let him end these humans’ lives.

  The terrain here was uneven, the hedges claustrophobic. It was an ideal place for ambush after ambush. The war plan hinged on the Allied troops getting past it—which also meant the loss of many lives. Kaspen would have plenty of cannon fodder to threaten us with.

  And where would it stop? If we refused to capitulate, he might even start kidnapping Guardians, like that poor one whose soldier had been separated from his group. They could tie down eternal beings and torture them to extract sustenance, an arguably worse fate than death. That he hadn’t yet done so yet was evidence that he was indeed committed to keeping from unpleasantries.

  But how long would that last, when his ends justified his means?

  Zaponsla and Chana flapped along behind me. “What are you going to do?”

  “I don’t know yet,” I said. “If you have any ideas, speak up.”

  They stayed silent as I passed through another green wall.

  Even when Kaspen had Fallen, I didn’t believe he had really fallen. But this was terrible.

  No, there’s no time for this. Mourn him when this is over.

  I had no choice but go back and help them. But what would Kaspen be expecting? I’d already inspected the cracks in the weavings of Asorat’s power. But now I knew where it was going: Vycanus, to feed the power the Aleph was funneling for herself. The longer I kept that information to myself, the better it would be for defeating her. I couldn’t let anyone know.

  What I didn’t know was how to stop the funneling of the power. Even if I could figure out how to use all these burgeoning abilities—such as moving power from one angel to another, as Asorat had, effectively raising Kaspen also to the rank of Seraph—I had no idea what all of them were. With the Council dead, only one location held the information I might need.

  “I have an idea.” I stopped. “I need to go to the Archives. We need to go back into those stacks, the ones under the building. We need to send word to have Kaspen meet me there.”

  “What are you going to do?” said Chana.

  “He wants me to research how to fix their little problem? Oh, I’ll do that, all right. And then we’ll just have to see who’s going to threaten whom.”

  Chana looked like she was going to kiss me again when I bid them farewell, and I headed her off with, “I’ll be fine. Really. I’ve awakened these powers, and I’ll figure out how to use them.”

  Zaponsla shifted from foot to foot. “I don’t know about this. Are you sure you can find that book?”

  “I have time before you have to send word that I’m meeting him down there. Nobody’s going to be in the Archives, especially not the basement. What would the demons be doing in there, anyway?”

  Visions of them ripping out page after page of the Books of Life made me angry, but I couldn’t think about that. They’d destroyed enough and we’d rebuild when we reclaimed Heaven. I couldn’t worry about what might be happening.

  “Wait twenty minutes, then answer his message. Wait another ten and join us. I have to go. Time is running out.”

  I envisioned the disorganized stacks of the basement room, the gold and silver and translucent book covers. Zaponsla and Chana’s faces turned watery and disappeared.

  The room was silent and empty but for the myriad shelves stretching toward the rough-hewn ceiling. Light glowed in the corners and crannies, cheerfully illuminating the room in a manner incongruous with all the destruction on the surface. The cozy nook called to me, the book I’d inspected when Asorat attacked still laying on the table—and the Attendant book.

  I flew over and put my hands on it. Closing my eyes, I felt the energy, reaching out with my awareness. The book beneath my fingers hummed, pulsing with energy very similar to an angel’s life spark.

  Expanding my awareness, I stretched out feeling into the room. Eyes still closed, I flew slowly toward the stacks. Each of the books buzzed with energy, but the one in my hands had a unique feel.

  I refused to worry whether this would work or not. I’ll find what I need. I know I will.

  Stopping in front of a shelf toward the back, I opened my eyes. A translucent book with a silvery stripe sat in front of me. “Not it,” I whispered. I pulled it out and tucked it under my arm.

  I flew some more, searching until I found one with a purple stripe, then a blue, then a brown. The five books were getting awkward to carry, so I put them into the bookshelves in the sitting area. I searched and searched, gathering another three, but none of them were what I was looking for.

  Kaspen would be here soon. It would be best if I found it before he arrived.

  I had gathered up every one except the gold-striped book. I returned to the nook, shoved them next to the books, and was about to fly away when I realized that the very first book on the shelf directly across from the nook had the gold-striped binding.

  “There you are!” I pulled it out, wondering at how it had shown up here. Maybe they don’t resist organization. Maybe they resist certain types of organization.

  A thought for another day.

  I flipped open the book and began reading as fast as I could.

  Seraphim had more abilities than I would ever had guessed. I held up my hand and, concentrating, created a glowing ball. But this was no ordinary fire: according to the book, it would leave a permanent scar if wielded against any creature—angel, human, or demon. But it wasn’t what I was looking for.

  I quickly made it disappear, ran my finger down the page, and came upon a method of distilling angel water from my own plucked feathers, a way to heal another’s injuries by pressing my fingers around the wounds, and how to create an aura that would lull whoever was in my vicinity into calm. Each ability was something that belonged to one of the other ranks, although each was more efficacious than anything I’d ever heard before.

  When this was over, I’d have to read all these books.

  But my time was running out. Kaspen would be here any moment, and I hadn’t found what I was looking for. I flipped to the back of the book, skimmed page after page, and then I found it.

  Transference of power.

  “So you’ve actually come.” Kaspen’s smile seemed more a grimace than any delight at seeing me, and the bond echoed his reluctance at being here. “I’m surprised it wasn’t a trick.”

  With one final glance, I shut the book and rose. “Yes, well, I know when I’m defeated.” Hopefully saying so would help the aura of calm I was also attempting to exude.

  His eyes narrowed. “What are you doing? You know I’m a Seraph now.” He flapped his wings. “I can tell when you’re up to something.”

  I stopped the clumsy attempt at that spell. It wasn’t what I was there for, anyway. “Sorry. A bad habit from when I was a Reaper.” That much was true. Putting out auras was something I’d always thought was interesting when I was a Guardian and didn’t have the ability to do it, and as a Reaper, I always enjoyed affecting my humans in that manner. “I like to make sure those around me are calm.”

  He stepped closer, flapping those golden wings again. “So you’re awakening your Seraph abilities.”

  “It’s lucky for you I am.” My voice was louder than I’d meant, but his tone was grating. “If you
want me to help finish overthrowing Heaven, it’s best for me to know what I’m doing.”

  He clucked. “I don’t know why it’s come to this. You very well could have joined us. Asorat is not that bad once you get to know him. He runs a disciplined military, and he expects the best from those who contribute. It’s something you of all people should appreciate.”

  While he talked, I inspected the power that flowed from the Source into the place where his wings joined his body. Say something so he doesn’t get suspicious. “I’ll not join you. I’ll do what I have to, but then I’ll do what I have to in order to stop you.”

  “What will you do after that? Defy us at every turn? Raise your own demon army? It will be much better if you surrender now. You can’t win. We have all the power. Even if you are the tenth Seraphim—which I very much doubt anyway—you can’t stand up to the power of the other nine.”

  Then I saw it. I found what I was looking for. All the power funneled into one small spot at the base of his wings, like a plug. All I had to do now was get close enough to clamp my hands around the cords and hope that what I’d just read was enough training to do what I needed.

  “Kaspen.” I sighed and stepped forward. He was only a pace away. “You’re right. I don’t want to fight with you.”

  Behind him, Zaponsla and Chana appeared.

  “Then let’s not fight.” His face softened. “We can never be together again but perhaps we can be friends.”

  I let an anguished look come over me, carefully gauging the emotions I was letting through our bond, and stepped closer. “But what would Fanush think? She wouldn’t like us to be friends. She might be jealous.”

  “Don’t worry about her,” he said. “She does what I tell her.” A strain of embarrassment came through the bond—enough to tell me he was lying—but I couldn’t afford to let concerns about their relationship distract me.

  I balled my right hand into a fist, the signal that it was time for us to move. Chana, Zaponsla, and I leapt at the same moment. They grabbed onto his arms and twisted, while I snatched at both cords of power.

  “What? No, stop!” he shouted, beating at us with his wings.

  His body attenuated as he tried to fade somewhere else, but Chana and Zaponsla clamped down hard, keeping him in the Archives. If he got away, my plan—and attempt to save Heaven—would fail.

  I pressed out an aura of calm and he did the same. But I fought against it, and against him, as I snatched at the base of his wings.

  Focus, Enael, focus.

  With a twist of my wrist, I pulled free the cords that were feeding him strength. His wings began fading from golden to brown immediately, a thin, dirty cord of power, which my hand rushed right through, the only thing left keeping him from becoming a demon again.

  I wasn’t ready for how quickly the two cords of power snapped loose. They flew toward the ceiling, reeling back toward the Nexus. I leapt up after them, grabbing one and missing the other. Desperately, I flapped upward and snatched at it.

  Just before it snapped into the ceiling out of my reach, I snagged the second cord.

  I reached behind me, looking for the first time at the power feeding me. Rather than being blue, as expected, it was the bronze my wings were turning. Using the method explained in the book, I melded the stolen power into mine. A brilliant light made me squint—it glowed bright and then faded.

  I turned and dove to the floor, where my friends were struggling with Kaspen.

  Except—no. Zaponsla was grappling with Kaspen. He had his hands around her neck, and she was stabbing at his body with a trident. Brown blood dripped across her weapon and into her face, mingling with the blue that was coming from a wound in her forehead.

  And Chana was lying on the floor, silver blood pooling under her body, eyes closed as they had been when she was in a coma.

  CHAPTER 47

  I knelt beside Chana’s body. The energy coming from her translucent wings was silver and strong. “What’s happened? What did you do?”

  Grunts came from where Zaponsla and Kaspen grappled.

  I traced where the silver blood was leaking from and lifted up Chana’s tunic. A jagged gash had ripped open across her side. Using my newfound ability to perceive energy, I could see black pulsing around the edges. That’s got to be the new poison Asorat’s militia has been using. What else could make an angel faint?

  “Enael!” shouted Zaponsla.

  I looked up. Kaspen had pushed her away and she’d fallen against a bookshelf. He was scrambling backward, growing misty as he prepared to fade somewhere else.

  We couldn’t lose him.

  I called up two knives and threw them. The first flew through the air and stuck in his chest, the second in his abdomen. He gasped, wheezed, and grew solid again.

  “What… ?” He coughed, and brown blood sprayed from his mouth.

  That wasn’t supposed to happen. He should have grabbed the knives, pulled them out, and healed. But his hands scrabbled at the wounds, and his form grew watery.

  “Did you… ? Did you just… ?” He coughed again. “You can’t… Did you just kill me?”

  No, it’s not possible. I don’t love him. I hate him.

  He attenuated and took one step.

  He took another step.

  And then he burst apart in a spray of droplets.

  What?

  What?!

  The brown drops hung in the air. I was suspended in time, not moving, also hanging, witnessing something impossible. My breath whooshed in and out of my lungs. Why am I doing that? I don’t need to breath. Why is it so loud?

  The droplets—the remains of my former lover, my soul mate, Vice Commander in Asorat’s army—finally came unstuck from the terrible, unbelievable, horrifying moment and floated gently to the floor.

  He can’t have just died. I didn’t mean to kill him. I didn’t love him. Not anymore. Is it because I’m a Seraph now? Is it because things…

  “… have changed? How is it possible? I only wanted to stop him.” I was babbling my thoughts out loud. “I did love him before. I never wanted to kill him. I only—”

  “Never mind him!” Zaponsla’s shout echoed and died.

  I shut my mouth.

  “We don’t have time for this. You need to stop Asorat, and then you need to stop the Aleph. Kaspen made his choices. You can mourn for him later.” Then, under her breath, “Not that he’s worth mourning over.”

  I couldn’t take my eyes from the mass on the floor that was the angel I’d considered closer to me than anyone else just a couple short centuries ago. It was brown, the same shade as a Reaper’s wings.

  “He can’t be dead.”

  A tremor ran through my body, and then I couldn’t stay upright any longer. I collapsed to my knees, reaching a hand toward the lump that had been Kaspen.

  “Oh, Enael.” Zaponsla knelt next to me.

  This time I didn’t try to stop the tears.

  I sobbed and sobbed, pushing the goo together with my fingertips until it was piled in front of me. Maybe there was something in the Seraph book that explained how to put someone back together once they died. He can’t be dead. He just can’t.

  But despite my horror, my disbelief, I knew I wouldn’t be able to put him back together. Kaspen was gone. Furthermore, the angel I had known was gone long before. Maybe he never was the angel I thought I had known. I could never have done what he did, aiding a megalomaniacal monster, encouraging torment and suffering on Earth, sacrificing innocent humans to the Source in order to win a war. Even if he was on the right side of the conflict, it was wrong. There were ways he could have won that didn’t mean sacrificing all that was good inside himself.

  The room slowly came back to me, with the rows of books, the light glowing from under the shelves, and Zaponsla at my shoulder.

  And Chana, lying in a pool of silver blood. I gasped, horrified that I had forgotten Voctic in my stunned reverie.

  Crawling—because pushing to my feet seemed too much of an
effort—I inspected her face. She wasn’t moving, but at least she was whole. That meant something, right?

  “What am I supposed to do?” I looked into Zaponsla’s face, her silver wings flaring behind her, the anguish I was feeling echoed through the bond we shared. Anguish for me, though, not Kaspen. She’d known who he truly was years ago.

  “Go complete your plan,” said Zaponsla. “I’ll bring Kaspen to Antarctica, and you can give him back to the Source when this is over. I know you can do this. You’re our only hope.”

  My plan seemed so cruel and heartless now. I was going to masquerade as a kidnapped Vice Commander in Asorat’s army, after Zaponsla and Chana had wrestled Kaspen under control and locked him away to deal with later. Now, instead, I was going to masquerade as a dead angel. An angel I had once loved.

  “I’ll take care of Chana too,” said Zaponsla. “She’ll be all right. Don’t worry about her.”

  Tears were still wet on my cheeks, and I wiped them away. “Is there an antidote for the poison?”

  “No, but the Tenders are working on one. No one has…” she hesitated, “… died from it yet. There must be a cure. We’ll find one. You can’t worry about her, not right now. There’s no time.”

  Zaponsla put an arm under Chana’s knees and one under her neck. She stood, lifting our friend in her arms. I leaned forward and hovered before kissing Chana’s forehead. “I’m so sorry,” I whispered. “I’ll be back. I’ll stop Asorat. You’ll get well. You have to get well.”

  I might have lost Kaspen and, in a way, Chana, but at least I still had Zaponsla and Voctic.

  I closed my eyes and remembered how Kaspen looked when he was alive. Dark hair, brooding eyes, strong nose, thin lips… and golden wings. He was tall, lithe, and preferred black pants and tunics. When I opened my eyes, Zaponsla’s eyes were narrowed.

  “Well?” I said.

  “You look just like him. I want to spit in your eye.”

  When my laugh came out masculine and mean and a bit despairing, I almost choked on it. After this, I would never again hear that voice.

  “For all the horrid things Voctic did to you, he at least seemed to care.”