by Susan Ee
Raffe nods at me, and I tell them my story. I tell them a version of it that I hope is a diplomatic one—one where I don’t mention which of them was the gateway and what condition he was in when we came through. When I’m done telling them about how we got here, everyone is silent.
“If one of us is the gateway,” says Beliel. “Then that must mean that the gateway Watcher can’t leave, right?”
I drop my gaze. If we manage to get out of here, he’ll be left behind for however long it takes him to claw and connive his way out of the Pit and onto earth. I have no idea how long that will be. But it’ll obviously be long enough to kill off all decency in him.
YOU’D THINK SINCE we’re in the natural habitat of hellions, the place would be crawling with them. But most of them must be hiding, because we can’t find any. I’ve seen more hellions in Palo Alto than here.
Black smoke rises on hell’s horizon above one of the city ruins. I take a step onto the desert rocks near the sand, wondering how far it is to the nearest city. I have a strange urge to see the ruins. It might be an indication of what my world could be like one day.
“Stop!” one of the Watchers calls out just as I’m about to step onto the sand.
A hand whips out of the sand and grabs my ankle.
I scream, trying to yank my foot back. I kick the hand, but it pulls me off balance.
More hands burst out of the sand, reaching for me.
I try to scramble back, but the hand pulls me down.
I get my sword out and frantically slice.
Strong arms wrap around my waist, and a boot kicks the severed hand off my ankle, leaving maggots on my leg.
I shut my eyes and try not to squeal. “Get the maggots off me!”
Raffe brushes them off, but it feels like they’re still crawling on my skin.
“So you do scream like a little girl,” says Raffe with some satisfaction in his voice. I open my eyes a second too soon, because I catch him tossing the severed hand into the sand.
A forest of hands sprout up from the sand to grab it and tear it to pieces, fighting for the scraps.
I scoot away from squirming maggots. Raffe sees my distress and flicks them off the rock.
“Maggots are freaky hideous,” I say, getting up. I try to salvage some dignity, but I can’t help but shiver and shake my hands in the air. It’s an instinctive impulse, one I’m not up for resisting right now.
“You’ve fought off a gang of men twice your size, killed an angel warrior, stood up to an archangel, and wielded an angel sword.” Raffe cocks his head. “But you scream like a little girl when you see a maggot?”
“It’s not just a maggot,” I say. “A hand burst out of the ground and grabbed my ankle. And maggots crawled out of it and tried to burrow into me. You would scream like a little girl too if that happened to you.”
“They didn’t try to burrow into you. They were just crawling. It’s what maggots do. They crawl.”
“You don’t know anything.”
“Hard to argue with that, Commander,” says Howler with a laugh in his voice.
“That’s the Sea of Killing Hands,” says Thermo. “You don’t want to get near it.”
I can see why they call it a sea. The sand shifts like waves. I’m assuming it’s because of the hands or whatever moving beneath it. I can’t help but see the similarities between the Pit and my world now that Uriel and his false apocalypse are creating things like the resurrected crawling out of the ground.
“Oh, she could have handled the killing hands like the truest warrior,” says Raffe proudly. “It’s the little naked worms that make her tremble.”
“Maybe we should call her maggot slayer,” says Howler.
The others chuckle.
I sigh. I probably deserve this, but that doesn’t make it any easier. Now I know how Pooky Bear feels.
I see a small hellion over the desert, and I point to it, excited. But it flies too close to the sand, and three hands shoot out and grab it. The arms are not the length of a regular arm. They reach up at least six feet to grab the hellion. It screeches all the way down until it gets dragged beneath the sand.
One of the guys points to an outcropping of rocks.
The small hellion that was caught by the hands must have been a scout, because a group of hellions flies toward us.
My sword is up, ready for a fight. “Don’t kill them. We need them alive.”
The flying creepies come at us all teeth and claws. They’re as big or bigger than the ones that came after me out of the Pit. There are four of them.
Beside me, Raffe opens his wings and takes to the air over the Sea of Killing Hands. The others do the same. Beliel and I are the only ones left on the ground.
They corral the hellions toward Hawk and Cyclone who catch them.
When they come down, they’ve caught all four. They tie the hellions down with leather thongs that some of them had wrapped around their wrists. Apparently, Raffe had trained them to collect bits of useful items from the local environment whenever they were on a mission.
“You’re smarter than you look,” I say to Raffe.
“But not as smart as he thinks,” says Howler.
“I can see discipline has broken down during your vacation,” says Raffe.
“Yeah, it’s all that lounging on the beach with nothing to do but drink and watch women.”
At the word women, the Watchers become awkward and self-conscious.
“I have to ask,” says Thermo. “I know the others are wondering this too. Is she your Daughter of Man?” He nods toward me.
I glance at Raffe.
Am I?
Raffe thinks about that for a second before answering. “She is a Daughter of Man. And she is traveling with me. But she’s not my Daughter of Man.”
What kind of answer is that?
“Oh. So she’s available?” asks Howler.
Raffe gives him an icy look.
“We’re all single now, you know,” says Hawk.
“They can’t punish us twice for the same crime,” says Cyclone.
“And now that we know you’re out of the race, Commander, that makes me the next best-looking in line,” says Howler.
“Enough.” Raffe doesn’t look amused. “You’re not her type.”
The Watchers smile knowingly.
“How do you know?” I ask.
Raffe turns to me. “Because angels aren’t your type. You hate them, remember?”
“But these guys aren’t angels anymore.”
Raffe arches his brow at me. “You should be with a nice human boy. One who takes your orders and puts up with your demands. Someone who dedicates his life to keeping you safe and well fed. Someone who can make you happy. Someone you can be proud of.” He waves his hand at the Watchers. “There’s nobody like that in this lot.”
I glare at him. “I’ll be sure to pass him by you first before I”—settle for—“choose him.”
“You do that. I’ll let him know what’s expected of him.”
“Assuming he survives your interrogation,” says Howler.
“Big assumption,” says Cyclone.
“I’d like to be there to watch,” says Hawk. “Should be interesting.”
“Don’t worry, Commander,” says Howler. “We’ve all come to our own conclusions. We’ve all been there.”
Then a somber mood comes over them. Thermo clears his throat. “Speaking of . . .”
“Some of them survived,” says Raffe.
“Which ones?”
“It won’t help to know,” says Raffe. “Just know that I managed to rescue some of them, and they lived.”
“And the children?” There’s no hope in Thermo’s voice when he asks this.
Raffe sighs. “You were right. I left to hunt ‘the nephilim monsters�
� only to find they were just children. Gabriel said the spawn of an angel and a Daughter of Man would grow into a monster. I didn’t want to kill them while they were still harmless, so I waited. And waited. Generation after generation, to root out the evil that I’d been warned about.”
He shakes his head. “But none came. I searched everywhere for nephilim monsters, but they were just people. Some of them were particularly large people, and they had fewer children than most. The children they had were sometimes especially talented and beautiful, but nothing monstrous. And eventually, the bloodlines thinned among the humans to the point where it wasn’t uncommon to have at least a drop or two of angelic blood in a population.”
“I knew it was a lie,” says Cyclone.
“Thank you, Archangel,” says a Watcher with a tuft of spotted feathers on his wing. “Thank you for sparing them.”
“My orders were to kill the nephilim monsters,” says Raffe. “Gabriel’s words exactly. I found the nephilim. I can’t do anything about it if none of them were monsters. I did my duty.”
“But you stayed a long time, didn’t you?” I ask.
Raffe nods. “If I went back too early to report on my mission, Gabriel could have clarified his order to just kill the nephilim and sent me back.”
Now I understand. “You were waiting until the nephilim blood thinned, until no one could identify one.”
Raffe shrugs. “Or until one of them turned monstrous. Preferably two. Then I could have come back and said that I killed the nephilim monsters as ordered.”
“But that didn’t happen,” I say.
He shakes his head.
The Watchers look like they need a moment. Some of them find a rock to sit on, while others just look away or close their eyes for a minute.
“Why would Gabriel lie and make a rule that an angel who married a Daughter of Man would fall?” asks one of the Watchers.
“Maybe he didn’t want to taint the angelic bloodline with our human blood,” I say. “Most angels think of us as animals.” I shrug.
“How long have we been here?” asks Thermo. “Our children have great-great-grandchildren?”
“From your perspective, I don’t think it’s been long since you fell,” says Raffe. “But we’re from a different time. In our world, your fall is ancient history.”
The Watchers exchange looks with each other.
“You have to get us out of here,” says the Watcher with the spotted tuft. “Please, Commander. Who knows when Judgment Day will come.” His voice cracks at the end.
There’s desperation on their faces.
“It’s one thing to die in battle,” says Beliel, “but to die in the Pit, or worse—to live eternally in the Pit . . .” He shakes his head. “It’s incomprehensible. We’re being punished for nothing.”
“Uriel says that Gabriel went insane,” says Raffe. “That he hasn’t actually spoken to God in eons. Maybe never.”
Most of the Watchers stare at him openmouthed. A couple of them, though, nod as if they had been suspecting this for some time.
“I have no idea if it’s true,” says Raffe. “Nobody does, except for Gabriel. But it does seem like he was wrong about the nephilim. I’d been telling myself that it was a mistake. But now . . . who knows what else he was wrong about?” He glances at me.
“In the end, it doesn’t really matter,” says Hawk. “Our loyalties are to you, whatever happens.”
“Do you have a plan, Commander?” asks Thermo.
“Sure,” says Raffe. “The plan is to bust you out, then you’ll help me take down Uriel.”
Everyone’s face changes. I’m not sure if it’s awe or disbelief. Maybe a little of both.
“Don’t get excited,” says Raffe. “We don’t know if we can all get out. And even if we can, we don’t know what’s waiting on the other side.”
He glances at Beliel, who looks excited at the thought of getting out. “Sacrifices will need to be made.”
THE WATCHERS ARE sure there are more hellions in the direction where the first ones came from. We decide to split up to increase our chances of finding them.
“Howler and Cyclone, come with me,” says Raffe. “The rest of you, split into small groups and each take a direction. We’ll meet back here.” He looks at the sky. “How do you tell time here?”
“It’ll get hotter,” says Thermo. “We can meet when we feel like we’re baking.”
“That’d be now,” says Howler.
“We’ll meet when Howler feels like he’s burning and the rest of us feel like we’re baking,” says Raffe. “Ready?”
“Uh, can I go with Thermo?” asks Howler.
“Thermo?” asks Raffe. “The last time I assigned you with him, you said it was dangerous to pair up with him because you were afraid you’d fall asleep on the mission.”
“Yeah, that’s why he’ll be the odd man out, and if I go with him, I won’t have to go with you and your Daughter of Man.”
“Good point,” says Cyclone. “Can I go with Howler and Thermo? They’re helpless without me.”
Howler snorts.
“What’s wrong with going with me?” I ask.
“No one wants to be stuck with love birds.” Howler shakes his head.
“Awkward,” says Cyclone, already walking toward Thermo.
“You think I’d do something to risk a fall?” asks Raffe.
“You can’t fall for anything you do here, Commander,” says Thermo. “You’re already in the Pit, so technically, it’s equivalent to being in a Fallen state during the time you’re here.”
The heat intensifies in my cheeks, and I want to crawl behind a rock.
Raffe looks like he wants to be stubborn but then says, “Fine, but you’d better bring back a bunch of hellions, Howler.”
“You can count on it, boss.” Howler throws us a broad wink, and takes off into the air. Cyclone and Thermo fly after him.
The rest of the Watchers take off in small groups, each taking different directions. It’s a wonder that they can still fly on their mangy wings. I guess there’s nothing functionally wrong with the wings since they fly expertly. It’s just that they’re not pretty to look at.
Raffe watches them go, then looks at me. “Shall we go for a ride and see what the place looks like?”
I nod, trying not to look embarrassed.
I step closer to Raffe. I’ll never get used to stepping into his arms.
Instead of putting his arm under my knees, he holds me up with his arms around my waist, with us facing each other in a hug. With a couple of sweeps of his wings, we take off.
I have my arms around his neck, but my legs are dangling. I don’t feel as secure as I normally do when he holds me with his arms behind my back and below my knees. I instinctively slide my knees around his middle and squeeze for a better hold.
But that’s not enough. As we go higher, I can feel myself sliding just a little. His arms around my waist are firm, but as we rise above the Sea of Killing Hands, I feel an equal mix of excitement and fear.
“Don’t drop me.” I cling tighter and press myself up against him a little more.
“Never.” There’s so much confidence and assurance in his voice. “I have you. You’re as secure as can be.”
Oh, what the hell. I wrap my legs completely around his hips and hook my feet across his butt.
He tilts his body forward a little with a smile spreading across his face. My cheeks flame.
Now I’m hanging on like a monkey as we glide over the Pit. I can’t see as well as I’d be able to if he had been holding me the other way. Instead of looking over his shoulder at his sweeping wings, I turn my head to see the landscape below. That puts my face almost lip to lip with his.
I try to focus on the smoldering city ahead of us, but my head is filled with the warmth of his breath and the electri
c tingle of his cheek against mine.
Flying is not as smooth a glide as it might look from below. There’s a subtle shifting of our bodies as his wings push against the air. I’m hanging on to him so tightly that I begin to notice that he’s rubbing against me with every whoosh of his wings.
The heat in the Pit is becoming more intense. The Sea of Hands below shifts and moves like currents of lava flowing over each other.
The rubbing is causing a warm, tingly sensation, as if all my blood is rushing to the parts of my body that are pressed against him. My head begins to feel light. My breathing comes faster.
His breath speeds up to match mine, or maybe it’s the other way around. Before I know it, he’s nuzzling his head against my cheek. A low moan escapes his lips.
I shift without thinking, tightening my legs around his hips, pressing myself against him. He strokes the curve of my back, pressing me even closer to his warmth. I marvel at the sensation as he subtly shifts his body against mine.
He lowers his head while we’re flying and touches his lips to mine. His kiss is hot and wet as it intensifies.
My head seems to be rumbling. Then I realize it’s the sky. It’s thunder. Suddenly, warm raindrops fall on us, spraying us until we’re completely wet.
Raffe ignores it and continues to kiss me. We hold each other, pressing tighter and harder together.
We fly in each other’s arms in the rain over a smoldering hell.
BY THE TIME we get back to the group, the Watchers have caught the rest of the hellions that we’ll need. A dozen hellions are tied up on the ground, flapping around and trying to gnaw through the thongs that tie them.
The Watchers eye us like they know what we’ve been up to. As soon as we land, I hop off and step away from Raffe. I’m glad it’s so hot that I won’t have to explain why my face is so red.
Raffe immediately gets down to business. He explains what needs to be done to ride a hellion out of the Pit and what we might find on the other side. He doesn’t seem at all embarrassed that they assume we made out.
He then talks to the hellions. “Take us to the other side.” He motions along Pooky’s blade and uses his hand to show a sliding motion into the sky.