“Hush,” Raziel said over his shoulder, “I’m trying to concentrate.”
Uriel snorted. “You can concentrate in the middle of a NASCAR rally in a thunderstorm, us talking isn’t going to put you off.”
Raziel muttered something under his breath and returned his attention to the gate.
Gabriel found himself holding his breath as he watched Raziel work. Raziel was laying a lattice of strings of Archangel light over the gate, murmuring spells of his own, as he exerted the power of Heaven upon the structure. The gate seemed to be all aglow in shimmering light, a myriad of colors that were like a giant, celestial rainbow.
There was a loud bang as the locks on the gate suddenly shattered, and Raziel stepped forward and laid his hands upon the iron bars and gave a tug. With a screech of long-unused hinges, the gates slowly opened. The blackness behind them was as dense as a mud pit.
“It’s old,” Raziel reported, peering into the darkness. “And it hasn’t been used since Elam’s time. We’ll need to move carefully, though; the path behind the gate forks several times, and I need to keep a bearing on those coordinates to get us into the area we want.”
“As you say.” Michael turned to face the assembled. “We go,” he ordered. “Follow.” And then he stepped through the gate, holding his palm up, balancing a spot of light that illuminated his way.
Gabriel stepped after him, with Raziel close behind, and heard the tread of many feet as everyone else followed them into the gaping maw that led into Purgatory.
The path was dusty and the air thick with cobwebs. Every so often someone would sneeze, the dust being kicked up by their passage tickling sensitive noses. There were no other sounds, just the noise of footfalls, the creak of leather armor or sword belts, the panting of wolves and foxes, and from somewhere far to the right, Gabriel could hear the slow drip of water. He walked with his sword in his hand, a conjured globe of light hovering above him.
He was not the only one to have created a light source—there were so many that the path was very well lit. Gabriel could see that the walls of the passage had been rock, hewn neatly smooth by many hands. He wondered who had created the passage and the gate that led to it, so long ago.
It also angled downwards, a slope that wasn’t too steep but also wasn’t gentle, and after an hour of walking, Gabriel began to feel an ache in his calves and the unpleasant sensation that a blister was forming on his right big toe. He grit his teeth and willed his body to stop complaining—and to stop reacting like a normal human form. He was an Archangel, after all, and he didn’t have to endure such things as blisters and muscle aches if he didn’t want to. Beside him, he heard Raziel curse and shot him a quick look. Raziel was looking at his feet, and his lips were moving, and Gabriel realized then that he was not the only one suffering discomfort. He wondered how many of them were using their powers to stave off the seemingly mundane reactions of their shapes that could, if let alone, be a grave inconvenience in battle.
“The floor levels out just ahead,” Michael said from just in front of him, and Gabriel peered over his lover’s shoulders.
“There’s a four-way fork,” Gabriel said. “Raz, which one do we take?”
“I’ll need to see it up close,” Raziel said. “I’ll know when we’re there, don’t worry.”
Gabriel rolled his eyes. “I wasn’t worrying, I was asking.”
“You know, you sound a lot like Uriel when you talk like that,” Raziel said.
“Yeah, and I can totally understand why he would talk like that to you sometimes,” Gabriel retorted.
“Gentlemen, if you do not mind,” Michael said, “we have work to do. Cease your bickering.”
Gabriel clamped his lips shut, and behind him Uriel chuckled.
“I’m glad I’m not the only one who gets irritated when Raz does that whole ‘don’t fret’ thing,” Uriel said.
“It’s fucking annoying,” Gabriel said. “It’s almost condescending.”
“Yeah, I know.”
Raziel glared at the pair of them but said nothing.
“Raziel, come here,” Michael said, and Raziel went to join him.
A few moments later, they were walking along the right-most fork, and Gabriel wondered how much longer they would be following this path between realities.
“We’re nearly there,” Raziel said, twenty minutes later. “I can feel the changes in the air and the atmosphere. We are about to reach the gate that opens into Purgatory. From there, it is only a few meters to the wall of Naamah’s abode. There is a hole in it, I can feel it. We can squeeze through and then make our way to the coordinates for our entry to the building of the house itself.”
“Lead on,” Michael said before Gabriel could say anything. “Everyone,” Michael went on, looking over his shoulder at the group that spread out behind them, “we are close. Be alert and prepare for anything. Remember your briefings and follow your orders to the letter.”
A chorus of “Yes, sir” came from everyone, even the demons, and Gabriel was privately impressed. Michael had the ability to inspire anyone, Gabriel thought, even though Michael himself was unaware of it. His strong, steady leadership and his tactical savvy were genius enough, and coupled with his firm, calm voice and the way he seemed to radiate wisdom and power and compassion, Gabriel felt that none would fail to be inspired by Michael. He was almost bursting with pride in his lover as they reached the end of the path and Raziel set about opening the gate to admit them into Purgatory itself.
As soon as Raziel pushed open the gate, the sudden glare of light from the world beyond was almost blinding. Gabriel swore as he shielded his eyes, noting that he wasn’t the only one. But Raziel and Michael were walking through the gate, and so, squinting against the sudden brightness after so long in the dark, Gabriel followed.
They emerged into a world that looked remarkably similar to Earth. There were large trees that looked like oak, although Gabriel was certain they were not, and the calf-high grass was green and healthy. The land was hilly and there was the sound of birds calling to one another overhead. Gabriel looked up and started in surprise—they were not birds, but harpies.
“There’s the house,” Raziel said.
Gabriel looked in the direction Raziel was pointing and stared at the building not far away. It was made from cream-colored stone and mortar and resembled nothing more threatening than a manor house from Renaissance Italy or Pre-Revolutionary France. There was a high wall bordering a well-manicured garden full of lavender and roses and fruit trees, with box hedges and neat paths covered over with white gravel. The house was set in the middle of all this, with whitewashed window fittings and several sets of double doors set into it. All in all, it was remarkably pleasant, a building that Gabriel felt would be home to happier souls in a place other than here, particularly with a mistress other than Naamah.
“The way through the wall is this way,” Raziel said then, his voice breaking through Gabriel’s reverie, and with a sigh, Gabriel started walking again, following Raziel toward the breach through which they would gain access.
“It’s creepy,” Uriel said as they walked to the wall.
“What is?” Gabriel asked.
“There’s nothing around, just a flock of harpies. No sentries, no monsters, no demons, nothing. Don’t you find that really damn creepy?”
Gabriel frowned. “Now that you mention it, aye. I wonder if she knows we’re coming.”
“Don’t fucking jinx it,” Uriel growled.
“It’s a possibility,” Gabriel said with a shrug. “We are compromised a bit, you know.”
“I know that.” Uriel scowled. Then he lowered his voice. “He got away from me yesterday, Gabe. I tailed him to Jordan and then he fucking vanished. I couldn’t get a lock on his Grace or aura or anything.”
Gabriel looked at Uriel sharply. “Only Archangels can do that.”
“I know that,” Uriel growled.
“I’m not totally convinced Camael’s our traitor,” Gabriel sa
id softly, “but I’m not totally convinced he’s innocent, either.”
“Keeping an open mind on it, huh? Yeah, well, either way, I think I’ll be fucking surprised if he’s not,” Uriel said.
Gabriel sighed. “That’s because your glass is always half-empty.”
“Yours used to be, until you fell in love.” Uriel drawled the last word.
“Oh, shut up.” Gabriel felt his cheeks heat up, and he was glad that it was his turn to squeeze through the broken wall into the garden of the house.
It didn’t take long for everyone to gather in the garden, and then Michael issued more orders. “Ondrass, Adramelek, once we are inside the building, take your forces and go with Lilith. Clear the house. Melcherisa, Lix Tetrax, and Markus will serve as your seconds-in-command. Gabriel, you and I and the others will go directly to the basement with Agrat. When Adramelek and his people join us, we will deal with Naamah. Unless”—he scowled—“she attacks us first.”
Gabriel nodded. “Right.”
Adramelek saluted. He held an evil-looking sword in his left hand, the blade serrated and ending in a jagged hook. The steel of it gleamed in the sunlight. “You think that there’ll be little resistance in the main house?”
“I do,” Michael said. “I believe it will be concentrated in this temple the ladies spoke of, but it would not be prudent to leave enemies behind us.”
“Got that right,” Melcherisa said.
“Very well, let us go.” Michael started out, sword in hand, the point held low, and the others followed.
Agrat and Lilith were waiting for them. Agrat leapt to her feet from where she sat on a stone bench, her face wreathed in relief. “Thank God,” she exclaimed.
“Where is everyone?” Michael asked.
Lilith stood, smoothing down the skirts of her gown. “Naamah has them inside doing preparatory rituals. She knows you’re coming.”
Michael swore under his breath. Gabriel couldn’t hear him, but he could tell that his lover was angry.
“Change of plan,” Michael said to the assembled. “We will go directly to the temple area.”
“Everyone’s down there, Mike,” Agrat said. “Lilitu and I can pull aside the innocent, but this is going to be a nasty, bloody battle, I think.”
“What about the rest of Purgatory?” Uriel asked. “I mean, we didn’t see any life apart from some harpies. Where’s the rest of the residents?”
“Hiding,” Lilith said. “They’re terrified of Naamah, and they all know she’s up to something with the Grail. Arthur told us that everyone who lives here has hidden in caves and are praying for salvation.” She smiled humorlessly. “Who knew that salvation would include Uriel, Archangel of Fire, the crankiest Archangel alive?”
“Don’t flatter me,” Uriel said. “It won’t work. I like boys. One boy in particular.”
“Must you banter with each other now?” Michael demanded. “We have work to do.”
“Sorry, boss,” Uriel said.
Lilith gave Michael a curtsey. “I was momentarily distracted.”
Agrat laughed softly. “At least we all still have our sense of humor. Let’s go down to the temple.” She turned and led the way.
The house was just as silent as Purgatory itself. Gabriel found that eerie. His skin crawled as they walked through the palatial building and down a great many flight of stairs hidden at the back of the kitchen. They were dusty, which spoke of how long they had not been used, and Agrat told them in a whisper that Naamah had forgotten they were there at all. The stairs ended on a shallow landing, and with many angel, demon, shifter, and a few human bodies, it was crowded and uncomfortable.
“Well,” Raziel breathed, “there’s nothing for it, I guess. She knows we’re coming, so let’s not disappoint her. Aggie, Lilitu, come up here. You’ll need to get the innocent to safety as soon as I open this door.”
Agrat and Lilith moved to stand at his side. Michael stood beyond them, Gabriel at his shoulder.
“We ready?” Raziel asked. He looked around, gave a curt nod, and then threw open the door.
They burst in, Agrat and Lilith taking off at a dead run. Gabriel couldn’t spare a glance for them, as he was met almost immediately by four demons.
“Kill them!” screamed a hoarse female voice. “Kill them all, but bring Prince Michael to me alive!”
Gabriel parried a clumsy swing from one demon and decapitated it, sending a spray of blood and gore high into the air as the body teetered for a moment before crumpling to the floor. Then he ran another demon through, kicked the body off the blade of his sword, and swung, sinking the weapon deep into the body of a third. The demons looked terrified, but Gabriel kept coming, swinging his sword with deadly accuracy, and was soon wading in blood and worse.
The floor was slippery, littered as it was with the growing detritus of battle as angels, demons, shifters, and humans surged across it, fighting hard. The wolves of Angelique’s pack wove in and out of the fray, hamstringing a demon here, crushing a throat of another demon there. They were extremely efficient, and Gabriel found their tactics to be a perfect complement to his own troops.
Shateiel’s angels were fighting well and in formation, as were Ondrass’s and Adramelek’s demons. Gabriel paused for a moment to take stock of the situation, and then he saw Michael advancing on Naamah alone, sword in one hand, dagger in the other.
Gabriel’s blood ran cold and he started to run, dodging demons and body parts as he skidded over the marble floor, racing toward his lover. Even as he ran, he saw four demons come to stand with Naamah, and between them, Michael was being hard pressed by his foes. He fought with consummate skill, however, and in the short amount of time it took Gabriel to cross to the melee, Michael had dispatched three of the demons flanking Naamah and was working on eliminating the fourth.
“The Grail!” It was Raziel, and Gabriel saw the youngest Archangel running toward Naamah, Uriel hard on his heels. Samael was not far behind, and Gabriel was only a few feet from Michael when Naamah, now facing Michael without any backup, swung a weapon that resembled a scythe. Michael parried it, but only just; Naamah spun on her feet as agilely as a cat and swung again. This time, Michael was not fast enough and the sharp blade of the scythe bit deeply into his side.
Gabriel saw red. Battle fury and terror for Michael took hold of his brain. Even years later, he would not remember crossing the floor, but he had Naamah by the throat, his gauntleted fist crushing her windpipe as he hacked at her hands with his sword, determined to get her to drop the scythe. She was whimpering and choking, but despite that, her expression was one of triumph.
“You have failed, Gabriel,” she wheezed out as he continued to hack at her hands, squeeze her throat.
“No, he hasn’t,” Raziel snarled. Gabriel spared a quick look at him, seeing through the fog of rage that Raziel had gathered up all three parts of the Holy Grail. Somehow, all three were clean, restored, and whole. Gabriel didn’t know how Raziel had done it, but the effect on Naamah was instantaneous.
“Curse you!” she screamed, writhing in Gabriel’s grip. She dropped the scythe and raised her bloodied, damaged hands and pointed at Raziel, incanting in a language that was full of guttural snarling syllables. The power she unleashed made Gabriel stumble and he dropped her, shaken violently by the spell.
Raziel, however, began to glow. Brighter and brighter he became, and as Gabriel watched, distantly registering the call from Liam to the shifters and his brother and the demons to “Cover your eyes, dammit,” Gabriel watched as Raziel revealed his true shape.
The shining incandescent form of an Archangel in the height of his power was magnificent, but its effect on Naamah was overwhelming. She began to scream, incoherent and gibbering, as she reached for Raziel and the Grail, but the light of Raziel’s Grace, pure white and unyielding, touched her, engulfed her, and she began to melt.
Before Gabriel’s eyes, he watched as the skin drained off her body like wax off a candle. Then her muscles and tissue followed
until all that was left was a skeleton, a pair of ragged wings, and a still-beating heart. Raziel’s light grew even brighter and there was a loud, despairing cry that seemed to come from just above Naamah’s skull, that gradually dissolved into a rattling gurgle and then fell silent.
The clatter her remains made as they dropped to the floor was lost in the sound of Celestial glory as the angels in Heaven gave voice to a hymn of praise, loud enough to be heard by all monsters, angels, and demons.
Raziel’s light faded and his form shimmered a moment and Gabriel blinked. When he opened his eyes again, Raziel looked as he always did: a young male in his midthirties, shoulder-length dark brown hair, pale skin, a light dusting of freckles on his nose. His eyes, bright blue, were calm and wise, and he sighed.
“It’s done.”
Gabriel looked at him for a long moment. “Are you sure?”
“Oh yeah.” Raziel rolled his shoulders. “And the Grail is safe.”
“Good.” Then Gabriel turned and moved to Michael. His lover was kneeling on the floor, one hand pressed to his side, and Raphael was tending to him. He was pale and his lips were compressed in a firm, thin line. Gabriel moved to him, dropping down to kneel opposite Raphael.
“Gabriel,” Michael said. His lips were flecked with spots of blood. “You are uninjured?”
“I’m fine,” Gabriel growled. “But what the fuck possessed you, Michael? You knew she’d try to kill you! Why didn’t you wait for backup? That was fucking poor form, and you shouldn’t have done it. I should ground you for that, actually, I’m going to. You’re grounded, Saint Michael, and no fucking arguing, because you’re going to endure it for the next six months.”
Michael was smiling as Gabriel ranted. He reached out and touched Gabriel’s cheek with bloodied fingers. “I love you very much, da bao.”
“Aye, and I love you too. You’re still grounded.”
Michael bowed his head, the smile still on his lips. “As you say.”
“I’m glad you sorted that out,” Raphael said drily. “Now hold still, Michael, please.”
The Bone Cup Page 17