Then she lunged for it with a cry of utter despair.
Sophia was too shocked to move at first.
She slammed back against the roof, her arms still locked around the hourglass even though Mikel desperately tried to wrench it from her grip. Sophia screamed, holding on as tight as she could. The wounded Kirin, which had been silent for so long, now brayed painfully again.
“Mikel, stop it!” Sophia screamed again, no longer caring how loud she might be.
But Mikel was in a frenzy. She wasn’t about to let go either.
The thunder of wingbeats sounded beside them. Sophia could see nothing but Mikel’s wrathful face hovering over her, until a pair of bony white hands grabbed Mikel by the shoulders and flung her to the side.
Mikel shrieked, tumbling to the edge of the roof.
She snagged an icicle-rimmed gutter with a pained grunt and hung on, her fingers—Lilith’s fingers—now bruised and bloody from the sharp ice. Lilith could fly, but it appeared Mikel didn’t have that much control over her host’s body yet.
The same hands that had flung Mikel sideways helped Sophia stand again.
She turned to find her savior was Juno. Juno’s ears pressed back into her hair, and she growled with a noise that rumbled through Sophia’s entire body. She stalked over to Mikel, slamming a foot with sharp nails down on one of her hands.
Mikel howled and glared up at Juno murderously. “You ragged crow,” she spat at her.
Juno cocked her head at her. “I know you. We’ve encountered you before. What a horrid nuisance . . .”
“If you let this body perish,” Mikel hissed at her, “I’ll just enter yours. So be careful what you do next.”
Sophia straightened. That’s right, Lilith had captured part of Mikel. Somehow she’d made it so that Mikel’s spirit couldn’t escape to another host freely.
Juno knelt down. She licked the blood from Mikel’s fingers, and then her lips. “I don’t think you’ll possess me.”
“What? Why not!”
“Because I’m not going to kill you,” Juno said. She spread her wings and fanned them in the freezing air. “I’m just going to devour the parts of you that matter most.”
Mikel’s eyes widened. For the first time in a while, she appeared to be truly speechless.
Juno leaned down and snagged her nails into Mikel’s hands. They bled profusely, and Mikel moaned and squirmed like a worm on a hook. Juno opened her small mouth, displaying two rows of orderly sharp teeth.
Sophia had no choice but to watch.
She couldn’t intervene even if she wanted to. The second Mikel was free, Mikel would do anything to capture the hourglass again. And that couldn’t happen. So Sophia huddled with the freezing cold hourglass against her chest, squeezing her eyes shut when the first bite came, and all the ones that followed.
Twenty-eight
LUZ THE ACADEMY COURTYARD
Angela leaned against the ice-slicked brick wall of a mansion near St. Mary’s Cathedral, trying not to retch. She could actually feel the Earth Realm starting to buckle and warp. Strange groans met her ears, as if the earth itself cried out in pain, and every so often objects before her twisted slightly or shivered like mirages. The spires of the cathedral seemed to ripple, as if in a breeze. Behind the great church, Malakhim resembled an enormous and forbidding moon rising over the horizon, but one that took up almost half the sky.
The stars surrounding the angelic city burned so gloriously, Angela’s eyeballs pulsed.
She closed her eyes and pressed her hands against them. The roar of the crowd in the courtyard outside the cathedral was deafening. She could have sworn all of Luz worshipped Lucifel.
That certainly wasn’t the case. When Angela dared to glimpse faces, there were too many frightened people. Certainly, a great majority of them were choosing to participate in these horrid sacrifices because they didn’t want to become victims themselves.
I’d rather drown in the sea than behave like that. But I shouldn’t judge . . . If only Kim were still here. If only everything had happened differently at the institution.
But Angela couldn’t think of any way events would have followed another course. Kim seemed to have felt the same way. His face had been that of a man staring into death, and she’d never quite caught on until it was too late.
Where is his soul? I don’t even feel him near me anymore.
She held out her hands and gazed at them, aware of sorrow splitting her heart in half.
He would have tried to stop me from doing this, especially after all that’s happened. But now there’s no other choice.
Angela would be practically offering herself on a silver platter to Lucifel to be bled dry. She couldn’t screw this up, and the strategy would have been madness if it wasn’t absolutely essential to everyone that Lucifel disappear, and this might be Angela’s only chance to make sure it happened. Thank God, Troy was on Angela’s side and willing to sacrifice her life so that Angela could destroy the Supernal once and for all. What Angela hadn’t been telling Troy was that she planned to reach Heaven itself by abducting one of those feathered serpents.
Unlike Python, their scales shone like iridescent pearl, and the plumes on their heads had the ethereal quality of peacock feathers. Their blood-red eyes suggested great intelligence, but nothing that approached the demon who shared in their heritage.
Angela had been able to subdue the winged Kirin with the Grail. Now that it was gone, she would have to find another means to fly.
But Troy couldn’t know about that plan. She’d never agree to it.
Angela looked up at the sky again and watched the serpents against the silver backdrop of Malakhim, flying with a great army of angels. Two squadrons composed of thousands of angels had already arrived. Troy had killed at least one hundred angels on their way here. They’d been lucky so far, and the entire time, Angela had her eye on the feathered serpent that arrived with the last contingent.
It rested curled around one of the spires of the cathedral, testing the air with its enormous tongue.
A scraping sound caused Angela to jump.
She clapped a hand to her heart and adjusted the hood over her head again. No one could see her until it was time. This entire endeavor was insane enough.
Troy had returned. She crawled sideways on the opposite wall of the narrow alley, her face scrunched with irritation. She was also wearing a long cloak and hood, which would have made her look like a harmless human if it weren’t for her bloody teeth and mouth. “Can you feel it?” she said. “It won’t take much more for the Realms to collide.” Troy’s long ears swiveled as if to catch a specific sound. Angela listened with her, and the earth groaned again. “No wonder Lucifel is arriving now. She won’t have much more time to reach you.”
“You know . . . I still don’t believe you,” Angela whispered. She knew she had to enter the crowd in the Academy’s courtyard, but every time she worked up the courage, she lost it again. “I still think there’s a way I can get to Heaven to rescue all those souls.”
Troy glanced at the feathered serpent and back at Angela again.
“Like what?” she snapped suspiciously.
Angela just sighed. It would be better to keep everything to herself, as she’d thought. “All right,” she whispered. “I’m going to enter into the crowd now.”
“Wait,” Troy said. She grabbed Angela’s arm, accidentally sliding back the sleeve and cutting into Angela’s skin with her nails.
Angela winced at the pain. She watched the blue blood well up as she quickly pulled the sleeve back down and wrapped a hand against it.
“If you use the Glaive to its full potential and don’t kill Lucifel in time, all will be lost,” Troy said. “Remember that. And remember that I don’t feel like dying without a good reason. So don’t do anything as stupid as Sariel would have—”
Troy’s voice cut off. Her ears flattened and she shook her head. She turned to melt back into the shadows again.
She’s
trying to say good-bye to me.
“Thank you, Troy,” Angela said. “For everything. I know we never understood each other completely, but maybe respect is enough. We’ll meet again someday. I promise.”
Troy paused, and she actually looked startled. Her lips smiled ever so slightly. “Good luck, Archon. You’ll need it.” Her great eyes gleamed at Angela one last time. “So . . . until we meet again . . .” Then the Jinn’s greatest hunter disappeared into the long shadows of the alley.
Angela stared after her.
A moment later, hysterical screams erupted from the courtyard.
It was a woman shouting someone’s name. The horrid sacrifices must have started.
Without any more hesitation, Angela turned and entered the crowd. No one paid any attention to her, and she slipped ahead of one person and the next, weaving her way toward a platform erected especially for the occasion. The bitingly cold air was punishing enough. She couldn’t imagine how most of these people could even stand it. Perhaps it was because they feared becoming victims themselves and had decided that joining the mob would save them, at least until the end. Curiosity and fear did strange things to good people.
Soon, Angela got her first real view of the platform. She willed the blood from Troy’s accidental cut on her arm to collect in her hands and start forming the Glaive. She would have to keep it small like a knife for now, just in case.
Black pillars had been erected with red pentagrams carved upon them. A lone chair had been set between the pillars. At least two-thirds of Luz’s priests, novices, and city officials had arranged themselves in a semicircle before it. They wore black robes, and the angels behind them presided over everything like crows perched on wires.
The woman screamed again. Someone had taken her child up to the platform. It was a little blond-haired boy who kicked and cried furiously.
Angela gasped along with the rest of the crowd.
As the boy shrieked, ice grew over the platform, spreading from a deep blackness that hazed over the air.
Lucifel’s lithe figure appeared from amid the haze, her four gray wings like a terrible smoke fanning from her body. The two gray wings on her ears were elegant as a swan’s. Her piercing eyes roved over the crowd with utter disdain. She’d dressed herself head to toe in black, without any ornamentation of any kind. The jewels of her eyes were apparently enough.
A chilling silence took over.
Even the chosen child’s mother went utterly still and quiet.
Lucifel took a few steps forward, and ice actually spread from where her feet touched the platform.
Two men threw the boy at her feet.
He cried pitifully as Lucifel stared down at him without any emotion whatsoever.
Angela tensed. The moment Lucifel touched him, the boy would die. His energy would transfer to her completely. Angela trembled, trying to hold back from revealing the Glaive in all its fearsomeness. Her entire body ached from the effort, and her feet were already growing unsteady. It didn’t feel like the right moment. This was all happening so fast. But then she noticed the blood head students being herded like cattle up to the platform. A few novices shoved them roughly onto their knees. Angela was sure she recognized some faces from her classes at the Academy.
All right. Let’s do this.
Her left eye burned fiercely. Brilliant light surrounded her body. The Glaive appeared, forming from the blue blood that had dripped and still dripped from her arm.
It was like a bomb had been tossed into the courtyard.
Chaos erupted everywhere. The feathered serpent screeched so loudly, Angela thought her eardrums would burst. She could hear exorcisms being pronounced until harsh words from the angels forced the priests to be silent again.
Angela expected the crowd to rush upon her, but most people dashed far away and ran into the alleys or hid beside buildings.
Lucifel, though, had spotted Angela. Her gaze sliced the air between them like a knife.
Two angels landed beside Angela, but she swung the Glaive right and left as swiftly as possible and they dropped to the ground wingless and flailing with pain, causing more screams and more panic. The other angels suddenly swerved, giving her a wide berth from every direction. A wild mob began, but the few people who ran up to Angela quickly changed their minds when they saw her weapon.
“It’s her!” a priest’s voice shouted from the platform. It was Bishop Kline. He pointed at Angela. “Get the Archon!” he shrieked wildly. Angela recognized his voice instantly. So he’d been the one who’d tried to capture her in Memorial Cemetery. “Do anything to take Her down! Now!”
But no one listened to him.
Almost everyone backed away as Lucifel turned from the boy on the makeshift altar and walked slowly in Angela’s direction.
The boy scampered off the platform into the waiting arms of his mother. She then held him tightly, staring at Angela as if she and not Lucifel were the real Devil. But Lucifel continued walking toward Angela as if everything around her—the surging crowd, the screams, the panic—were nothing more than a whirlwind of dust easily fanned away by her wings.
Her gaze pierced through Angela like a twisting blade.
“What a shame,” Lucifel said, her voice echoing powerfully through the air. “And here I thought you’d play hard to get again. But isn’t it just like you, Angela Mathers, to play the hero now that you have no other role to adopt?” Her voice resounded until it was painful to hear.
Angela’s brain screamed at her to turn away, to do anything besides look into Lucifel’s crimson eyes. Instead, for some reason even Angela couldn’t understand, she remained transfixed and nearly helpless.
What am I doing! She’ll kill me!
Lucifel smiled coldly. She wasn’t very far away now. If anything, she was far too close. “Angela,” the Destroyer Supernal said, “your eye has healed nicely since I dug it out of your head. How lucky you had a spare waiting in the wings.”
Flashes of pain, of Lucifel’s fingers burrowing into Angela’s face, erupted throughout Angela’s mind. She could have screamed or fainted, but instead she only shivered and dared to stare down Lucifel with as much defiance as she could. She breathed shallowly, her heart pounding like a mouse’s. Dizziness tugged at her, but she was getting better at fighting it off. For now. By God, she had to.
“I can’t say I mind disappointing you,” Angela murmured with the same coldness. Though she didn’t sound confident at all.
Now her grand plan to get rid of Lucifel and travel to Heaven revealed itself for the impossibility that it was.
“Did you like being the new Prince of Hell?” Lucifel whispered. Somehow her voice still seemed louder than ever. “Did you enjoy sitting on my Throne, Archon? I suppose the prophecy came true after all. Judging by the pitiful state of the universe, Sophia is still alive. And I thought that I could be selfish—”
A heavy booming in the background interrupted Lucifel. The cathedral shivered and warped.
It seemed impossible for the situation to get any worse.
BOOM. BOOM.
Now Angela recognized this noise. It was exactly like the sound Troy’s wings made when she flew, except amplified a million times over.
Angela glanced up at the cathedral’s black turrets. Silhouettes of innumerable angels shot over the spires and into the city. The angels approached too fast and grew larger by the second. Hundreds of them were alighting in Luz. The next regiment had arrived in earnest and likely at Lucifel’s direct decree. Now some of the priests actually tugged prayer wards out of their coats and pockets, though they trembled and shivered like leaves. Bishop Kline stood at their helm, stalwart, but his face deathly pale.
Angela refused to feel sorry for him now. He’d made his ultimate choice.
Wind barreled across the courtyard. The stained glass of the cathedral’s windows exploded all at once with a deafening roar.
People ducked screaming beneath a hail of rainbow-colored shards.
Angela fe
ll on her knees with them, half covering herself. Pieces of glass struck her skin and left cuts that burned in the icy air.
Two more angels touched down next to Angela, seeming to converge on her with determined eyes. Long coats covered their bodies and brushed the ground as they walked. They held up shining metal bows with arrows that sparked at the tips.
Angela still crouched, holding the Glaive. She wasn’t fast enough to swing in time.
Two of their arrows whistled through the air above Angela’s head. Painful cries and the cold thump of bodies hitting the stone ground echoed around her. Blue light flashed, and souls in the shape of spheres flew toward the angels.
The wind grew more violent. Another groan that rumbled through to Angela’s soul shivered everywhere, as if reality itself screamed with her. Her blood-red hair whipped into her eyes, and she gritted her teeth. Her lips hurt so bad. She must have bitten them by accident. Blue blood dribbled like liquid salt into her mouth. The shouts and cries of the priests and novices and the swarming crowd mixed with the howling gale. Words in the Tongue of Souls were barely audible.
Suddenly, a male angel with chestnut-colored wings landed directly between Angela and Lucifel. He lifted his bow and arrow, notching it so swiftly and expertly his arms were like a blur. He pointed it straight at Angela’s face.
She barely had a chance to duck this time.
With a lethal whirring sound, the arrow shot right into her left arm.
A sword could have been driven right through Angela’s shoulder. She screamed even louder, sinking to her knees and clutching at her wounded arm manically. A burning sensation wormed its way through every inch of her skin. Fire exploded throughout her chest. Warmth gushed from her wounded skin. She clenched her jaw, fighting off the mind-melting agony as she broke off the arrow shaft sticking out of her arm.
Thump.
A man dropped beside her, right next to Angela’s face, an arrow pierced straight through his chest. Blue light flashed around him, and his spirit materialized as a sphere and shot in the angel’s direction.
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