by J. L. Murray
“You think God is here?” said the spiky-haired woman. “Now I know you're crazy.”
“I told you who the first voice was,” said Sasha. “Now I tell you about the second. A child. My own daughter. She was killed by the owner of the first voice. Michael killed her.” His voice broke, but he closed his eyes for a moment and got control. “Michael killed her right in front of Niki here. He cut her open like she was nothing. A child. A baby, really. There is no good in this man.”
“Are you talking about Michael the Archangel?” said the religious man. He laughed a dry laugh. “You are trying to convince us that the right hand of God is trying to take over the world?”
“Worlds,” corrected Sasha. “He thinks he is God. But he is full of hate. He hates you, too. Anything human. He will destroy you all if he has his way.”
I noticed some figures roaming in to join the crowd of onlookers.
“Stop fighting,” said Sasha. “He cannot win if you stop fighting.”
“There's no point to this,” I whispered to Sam. “They could all die anyway if we don't find the Creator.”
“They need hope,” said Sam. “They need to stop killing and to believe in something. It's important. Sasha is doing something very powerful, Niki.”
“Giving them false hope?” I said.
“No,” said Sam. “He's giving them back themselves. He's giving them peace. Even if they die today, they won't be committing crimes of hate. They will be committing acts of love. Comforting and protecting those they care for. Do you understand?”
“I'd rather fight than sit there waiting to die,” I said.
“But you are not human,” said Sam. “Are you?”
“I used to be,” I said.
“Possibly,” said Sam. “But it would appear that Sasha has hit a chord with more than the humans.”
I looked at the newcomers again. They weren't other Abbies. They were angels. And their numbers were growing. Angels wandering in from all sides.
“Michael is not a god,” Sasha said. “He wants you to think he has evolved, but he has not. He is as ordinary as you and me.”
Sam leaned toward me and whispered in my ear. “Michael is leaving Briah,” he said. “He's coming to the world, I believe.”
“Why would he do that?” I said. Sam shook his head. “Doesn't he need Janis?”
“Why should we believe you?” said a slight angel in a dirty robe in the back. “Maybe Michael really is the New Creator.”
“He bleeds,” I said, stepping forward. “If you went to Briah, they will tell you. I'm sure you will hear it from others soon. I shot him. And he bleeds. Does that sound like the Creator to you?”
The humans looked at each other, confused, but the angels whispered heatedly among themselves. Sasha nodded at me.
“He bleeds,” said Sasha. “He is not the Creator, he is just an angel, like you. And he tells you lies. He claims the Creator is dead. But the Creator is alive. Niki will find him, I know she will.”
“If God is here,” said the religious man, “if I were to believe any of this rubbish you're feeding us, why has He done nothing to stop it?”
There was a sudden bright light in the sky, like a high-powered spotlight. There was a sound like ripping fabric and a shape emerged in the light. A floating, slowly-descending man-shaped form. I looked at Sasha.
“He's here,” said Sam.
All eyes were on the shape descending from above. Michael spread out his arms majestically and as he got lower I saw that his eyes were closed. His wings were also spread out, their blinding whiteness magnificent in the bright light. The holes in his chest and abdomen had scarred over but were still an angry red color. He alighted in the middle of the crowd, which parted for him, backing away with curious looks on their faces.
He opened his eyes and looked at me. And smiled. The bastard smiled. I felt the bile rise in my throat again. Michael looked out at the faces staring at him.
“Do you know who I am?” he said.
Several of the people, including a few angels, looked up at me and Sasha before looking back at the winged man in their midst. The angels looked frightened. The religious man stepped forward boldly.
“Are you the right hand of God?” he said.
Michael's nostrils flared. “I am not the hand of God any longer. I am God. I am the New Creator.”
The man faltered. His smile fell. He glanced at me. “How can there be a new God?” he said.
“The Creator is dead. He left us,” said Michael. He wouldn't look at the man, but instead looked over the crowd toward the angels. “He's not coming back. I am willing to take the helm. I will be your new god, just as powerful and righteous as the one that left you.”
“You're saying that God left us?” said the man.
“He didn't leave,” I said. “He's here. I've met him.”
“Lies,” Michael spat. “This person has just come from Hell. She is on the side of evil. Just look at her. She's frightening, is she not? Her own father has brought an army of demons here. This is not someone you should be listening to.” He fanned his wings. “I am Michael Archangel. Follow me and you will be judged as worthy to join me forever. I will bless you with eternal life.”
“You don't have that power,” I said.
“Do I not?” he said. “Do not presume to know all, child. Being Death's whore does not make you wise.” I felt the heat rise considerably in my chest. I felt my eyes flare bright.
I felt Sam at my side. His presence felt stronger and I heard a few people gasp. I looked to see him. He had made himself visible and was walking through the crowd. People scrambled out of his way, eager to be far away from him.
“Samael,” said Michael. “I thought I felt your unpleasant presence here. How are you, brother?”
“Stop this,” said Sam.
“Stop what?” said Michael. “The path to righteousness? Maybe you should join me. We'd make a great team.”
“No, we wouldn't,” said Sam.
Michael sighed theatrically. “Perhaps you're right. You're far too drab and serious for me. Besides. You'd have to pay fealty to me. I have my doubts that you would do that.”
“You're right about one thing, at least,” said Sam. “Stop this. Stop the fighting.”
“I've yet to wake the rest of the Abnormals,” said Michael. “So far I have only awakened those within this disgusting city. When I wake the others, the entire world will fight for me.”
“You're losing,” said Sam.
“I'm not,” said Michael. “I can't lose. I am the Creator.”
“You're insane,” said Sam. “Let these people go. Let the angels go. Stop the killing.”
“Even if I did tell them to stop, they wouldn't,” said Michael. “Gabriel and Camael are warriors, remember? They haven't come down yet, because I've forbidden it. But when they do come, they will fight. I'm barely restraining them as it is. You remember what they can do, don't you? Entire countries will be decimated. I would think that you, who claim to love this world so much, wouldn't want that. If something were to happen to me, they would avenge me. They would take command of the war. If you think I am cruel, you would not like to see what they can do.”
“If you're the Creator,” I said, “how could anything possibly happen to you?”
“Things do happen, don't they, brother?” said Michael, not taking his eyes from Sam. “You don't remember, do you?”
“Remember what?” said Sam.
Michael clucked his tongue. “Pity. You were there. Don't you think it odd that you don't remember? That we all remember the Creator, but you are unable to? Curious, isn't it?”
Sasha was fumbling for something next to me but I didn't look. I eased my way down the rubble where I'd been frozen, watching the exchange. I went to stand beside Sam. “What did you do, Michael?” I said. I looked at Sam. His face was inscrutable, but I thought I could feel his confusion. His realization.
“I have a little skill with minds,” said Michael. “It's why dear Nata
lie and I got along so well. For a time at least. Poor Samael was so trusting. When he went to go live in the world, I had some conditions. Did he tell you?”
“Yes,” I said. “You changed him. He can't walk in the world unless he looks like this.” I gestured at Sam. “Unless he's frightening.”
“There is that, yes,” said Michael. “But I took something of his as well. Well, more like I hid it. He's had it all along. The memories. If he was living in the world, I didn't want him to...” Michael suddenly looked around at the faces staring at him. He'd gotten carried away, forgetting what he was doing. “The Creator is dead,” he said loudly. “I am the replacement.” Michael crouched low towards Sam. I could hear him but just barely. “Do you want to know what I took from you, Samael?” said Michael, a cruel glint in his eye. “Perhaps I will give it to you. Just so you know what to miss. I could make you grieve the Creator's absence all over again.”
“I don't want it,” said Sam. “Just stop this, and we'll never speak of it again. Lucifer is loosing the Scourges. Stop this and you can continue to rule Briah.”
“I can rule Briah anyway,” said Michael. “The Scourges couldn't touch an Arch. Do you think they'll take her?” Sam looked at me. “Do you still not know what she is? It would be a gamble to find out that you started all this for her, only to have her taken from you.”
“I'll only tell you one more time,” said Sam. “Stop this now.”
Michael smiled and held up his hand. Something sparked there. He grabbed Sam's arm and Sam gasped and arched his back. He fell to the ground and looked to be having a seizure. I went to his side. “What the hell did you do to him?” I said, narrowing my eyes at Michael.
“I only gave him back what he lost.”
“What's wrong with him?” I said.
“He's remembering,” said Michael. He smiled again. “A gift from brother to brother.”
I stood up. “Make it stop,” I said. I felt the white fire inside me burning. It was hurting me, but I wanted it to. I wanted to burn again. I wanted to burn and take Michael with me. I suddenly knew I could. If I wanted to kill him, I would be able to. I was strong. Stronger than anyone knew. I held my own arms out as he had done when he had floated to Earth. White mist curled out of my hands and wrapped around my arms and around my neck and torso.
“Niki, no,” said Sam through clenched teeth on the ground. I was breathing hard. I could feel my eyes burning like they were on fire. I could do it. I could kill him. I could hear Sam scrambling to his feet behind me. I felt the power inside me bubbling up, growing hotter and hotter until I felt as though I was going to scream.
“You didn't have to kill her,” I said, my voice strange in my ears.
“Who?” said Michael. He frowned when he looked at me. He was surprised.
“My sister,” I said through gritted teeth.
“And my daughter,” said a voice beside me. It was Sasha. He had one of the large, strange-looking guns I'd seen the Hellions using.
Michael laughed, but kept glancing at me nervously. I saw that Mastema was standing behind Sasha, his arms behind his back.
“Did your girl not tell you?” Michael said. “You can't kill me with a mere gun.”
“The gun is just to stun you,” said Sasha. My friend here has something else to use on you.” Mastema pulled out a wicked-looking knife. It looked like a hunting knife that was about ten times too big. It was designed to cut things open. I didn't want to think about what.
“Niki,” said Sam. He had gotten to his feet and was leaning heavily on his knees, his hands braced on his thighs. “Let Sasha do it. Please.”
“I know what I'm doing,” I said.
“No, you don't.” Sam started coughing, the exertion from talking seeming to tax him. But before Sam could say another word, there was a deafening explosion next to me. Sasha's gun was smoking, but Michael didn't fall. In fact, Michael was smiling again. Sasha looked at me, his face full of surprise.
“Surely you knew I would take precautions, didn't you?” said Michael. “Protection spells, old man. An old Summoner like you should have thought of that. The only reason the girl got me was because my powers don't work in Limbo.”
Sasha was holding a hand to his stomach. He shook his head at me. A red stain was spreading from under his hand.
“Sasha?” I said. The demons were becoming restless behind us. Mastema stepped out to assess the situation. He saw the blood and narrowed his eyes, his hands tightening on the knife. He looked at Michael who was looking at Sasha with a mixture of satisfaction and pity. Slowly, easily, Michael reached his arm over his opposite shoulder.
“Briahne scum,” Mastema growled, icy hatred in his voice. “I'll slice those wings off your back.” The big demon lunged for Michael, but not fast enough. Michael was bringing the flaming sword out as Mastema was thrusting with the knife toward's Michael's belly. Halfway, the demon dropped the knife as a flame emerged from his back. Black blood spurted from his mouth. Michael twisted the sword violently and Mastema spasmed.
With a grunt, Michael pulled the blade out of the demon. He examined it, then turned his gaze on Sasha. “And now you,” he said his lip curling. Faster than I could see, so fast it was a blur, Michael raised the sword and brought it down with force onto Sasha's gray head.
I didn't understand what was happening. Sasha fell. I couldn't understand why. Michael was standing a good two paces away from us. Until Michael smiled. And then I knew. I remembered how fast the Arches could move. I remembered the angelwine. But by the time I knew what Michael had done, it was too late.
I screamed. I couldn't stop screaming. I fell to my knees by my father. I tried to take his face in my hands. I tried to hold onto him, but his body fell apart into two symmetrical pieces. The street was flooded with blood. I was soaked in it. I held my hands out and they were dark red, even through the white mist that was growing stronger inside me. Someone else was screaming, too. More than one person. But I could hear very little but the pounding in my ears. I looked down at Sasha. He was a mess of guts and blood and blackened, charred meat. I tried to see his face, just to see it one more time. I had to see his face again. But I couldn't find it. There was too much blood. He was covered in it. I was covered in it, too.
A spirit hovered over me. Sasha. “Do it, Nikita,” he said. “Finish him.”
A sob rose in my throat. Something so deep I couldn't even believe it came from me. My father was dead. My body shook. I thought it was from the sobbing, but I wasn't crying any more. I was standing, though I didn't remember getting up. I looked down at Sasha. It wasn't supposed to happen this way. He was supposed to talk to me one last time before he faded away. Like the movies. He was supposed to tell me he loved me one more time. I was supposed to be able to say goodbye. Instead my father was a pile of gore on the dirty street. And I wasn't shaking from crying. I wasn't crying. I was shaking from the force inside me. It was throbbing and pounding behind my eyes, in my ears, in my belly, my groin. My hands felt heavy and large. Rays of light shot from my fingertips. The power was growing bigger than could be contained.
Someone was still screaming. All I could see was Michael. He wasn't smiling any longer. He had his sword raised towards me, but he was backing away. He was afraid. I had never been so pleased to see someone terrified. He knew this was the end. The only thing between him and death was the power I was barely holding inside myself.
I let go.
Seventeen
For a heartbeat I went blind. I felt the power leaving my body like an atomic bomb. I was exploding. I could feel every cell and bit of energy colliding into each other. I had never felt such pain, but I didn't utter a sound. The power pushed its way through my bones and my organs and my skin, splitting me in two. Or so it felt. I let it go and the light was so bright that it was like a star reaching supernova. Only I was the star.
I had no control over my body any longer. I arched my back and the power tore through my heart and shone through my chest. I could still se
e Michael. His mouth was an O of sheer terror. He had dropped his sword and the flame began melting the asphalt. His eyes were wide. He fell to the ground and his lips formed a word. I thought of Natalie. I thought of Sasha. And I forced the power towards him.
The white fire all around me rose into the air where it hovered for a moment, coalescing into a giant ball that writhed and pulsated with an electric fire. It was so bright it hurt me to look at it, but I forced myself. I knew in that instant that I could do anything. I could know anything. I pushed it towards Michael. He had to pay.
The ball spread out into the air into a flat disc, the energy flickering through it. The edges seemed twitchy, like the energy itself longed to be free. Michael was screaming now. I almost stopped. But the smell of Sasha's burning flesh was still in my nostrils. I couldn't breathe, couldn't speak, couldn't scream. And then the energy sped out from itself. It raced towards Michael, burning a path to him on one side, the rest of the energy spreading out, filling the air with itself. It hovered overhead like a writhing blanket. One more second and it would all be over. It was waiting. Waiting for me, I realized. It needed me to tell it what to do. I looked at Michael again. And let it go.
It hurtled down through the air, pulsating, undoing the very matter of the buildings as it went. Undoing the air. Unraveling the world. It was almost on us. Michael only stared at it coming closer and closer.
And then everything stopped. I blinked my eyes. Michael was frozen in terrified amazement. The power hovering in the air had frozen. It wasn't pulsating and flickering any longer. It had just stopped. I looked around. There were people around us, paused in mid-run, panic-stricken expressions on their faces. The demons that Sasha had brought with him were running, jumping, their faces fixed in looks of rage. They weren't running away, though. They were bounding around me towards the place where Michael lay. I touched one of them. He was alive, warm, but unmoving. I turned around and found Sam.
He walked towards me, and he looked like himself. No robes and death-mask, just Sam. I couldn't decipher his expression.