Camael had said I wasn’t needed, that I was a mistake. I didn’t want to be a mistake, and my mind kept racing back to him. I could do this. I had to do this.
I stared at the plush carpeting only to see newfound stains staring back at me, bringing me no closer to the Three Spheres.
“What are you doing?” a sudden voice behind me asked.
It was Matt, standing in the same clothes as last night, with an aggravated look on his face.
I blinked. Just how did they do that? They knew exactly where to go and when. “I would think between the blood and the salt, it’s obvious.”
He scowled at me and sat down in the rocking chair in the corner. “Obvious isn’t the problem. Logic is. Do you really expect this will change anything? You might not even come back.”
I shrugged, biting my lip in a poor attempt to steel my nerve. “I have to.”
“No, you don’t,” he said simply. “I didn’t tell you this so you could pull this same stunt twice, Amelia. Our order has existed for thousands of years. I think that we can handle a little bit of chaos. We just can’t have humanity being affected by it. I wouldn’t have given you the choice if I thought you were going to squander it.”
“I’m not,” I told him as I slid the messenger bag around my shoulder, letting it fall into place at my hip. “You told me I had twenty-four hours to give you an answer, so I’m doing just that.”
“No.” He bolted upright and stalked to the border of the circle, taking care not to cross it. “You’re doing just what you did last time. You’re completely crazy, and for what?”
I shook my head. “You don’t understand.”
“No,” he said, throwing his hands up. “I don’t, Amelia. Why are you risking your life for this?”
And then I knew. “Because they’d do the same for me.”
“Even if you get into Rai’ek, you still have the middle and upper realms to cross.”
“I know.”
“And they’re going to be guarded.”
“I know.”
“Heavily.”
“I know, Matt!” I told him. “You think I haven’t thought about this! What if I can stop this?”
“What if?” he balked. “What if you can do a lot of things? I’m not going to let you put yourself in harm’s way repeatedly.”
“Why?” I asked, reaching for the knife in my boot once again, this time getting ready to take the blade across my wrist. Maybe I had to be close to death. We were all going to die anyways, so why not?
“Why, what?”
“Why do you care?” I stopped mid-motion. “Why is this is so important to you?”
“I already told you,” he said, grabbing the knife from my hand as he pressed it against the bleeding part of my palm, coating it in my blood. “I made a promise to Adam that I would keep you safe when the time came.”
“And that time is now?”
“Yes.”
“But you’re going to kill him if I tell you to.”
He nodded. “Yes.”
“Complicated friendship you’ve got there.”
“I’ve already said we're not friends. I’m just doing my job.” He looked up from his work as he coated the blade a couple more times until he seemed satisfied and began to drag it across the salt line. It wasn’t until another minute or two that I realized he was etching a design into the carpeting.
It was a different emblem than the one Goat had used, but I figured that was expected given their affiliations. This one had far less writing in it. Comprised mainly of two large triangles and a square within the salt circle, its simplicity didn’t seem to bother Matt as he stepped into the circle and grabbed my hand.
“Here,” he said, finally placing the dagger back in my palm. “You won’t need this. Not yet.”
I nodded nervously, following his lead as I wiped the blood on my pants leg and stuffed the dagger back into its boot-holster.
“You ready?”
“Yeah,” I snorted. “This time I think I am.”
“Good,” he growled, “because after this, we’re even. Through. I owe you nothing, and I owe Adam nothing.”
“I understand.”
“Should we survive this, you crazy bitch, and it doesn’t work,” he laughed, shaking his head, “Just remember, I’ll be expecting your answer.”
“I know.”
“Then let’s do this.”
And then the floor opened up, this time burning like white fire instead of blue as the entire world was sucked away.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Teleportation was a hell of a way to travel once you got used to it. The good news, it seemed, was that each time I crossed between planes, the level of continuum displacement that hit me seemed to ease. By the time we stood outside the large stone portal that Raphael had accompanied me to once before, I was able to walk and breathe freely. Matt, however, was struggling just to stay on his feet.
“Have you ever been up here?”
“In Heaven?” he asked from his hunched over position.
“Yeah,” I said as I glanced around for any sign of entry other than the massive gate in front of us.
The small platform we stood on couldn’t have been more than fifteen by twenty, just large enough for the doors themselves to scrape across as they opened.
“No.” Poor guy looked like he was in the middle of an anxiety attack, his hands pressed to his chest as he stood there.
As helpful as he was being, I had to remember he was the one giving me the ultimatum over Adam and Camael. It was bad enough knowing that we were walking into the hornets’ nest where thousands of bloodthirsty angels waited to kill me without knowing that Matt was insuring I wouldn’t run.
Like he had said, he had a job to do. I kept having to remind myself that he was just along for the ride. And because of that fact, I ignored him as he struggled to acclimate himself to the place and gaped up at the door.
Though I had been through it once, Raphael had been the one to summon its opening. “Matt, how does an angel, or Grigori, or whatever, teleport between realms?”
“What?” He stared up at me with his eyes wide, holding a hand up to stay my questions. It took another couple of seconds, but the blood finally returned to his face.
“You. Camael. Raphael. Adam. How do you get from one place to another? I mean is it something you think about? Something you feel? Something you see in your head?”
He shook his head. “I don’t understand. Why are you asking?”
“Because I’m trying to figure out how anchors work, and how someone could not need one.”
“Do what?” he asked, moving next to me in front of the gate. “Who do you know that doesn’t need an anchor? Adam? Is that why we couldn’t detect hi—”
“Me, Matt,” I said curtly at his incredulousness.
His eyes widened again, only this time for a completely different reason. “You don’t need an anchor?”
I shrugged. “I guess. I don’t even know what that really means.”
“No wonder Adam is protecting you so fiercely.”
“No,” I said, “I don’t think Adam knows.”
“Something like that?” he asked, grabbing my hand at my side and touching it to the large stone door. “Oh, I’m sure he does. You can get into any room, any place. Only the Seraphim can do something like that.”
“But how does it work?” I sighed and stared at the large monstrosity of a door. It was just as grotesque and amazing on this side.
“Teleporting?” He looked at me.
“Yeah, I’ve done it randomly more than a few times,” I said as I searched the midline for the crack to make sure it really was the right door.
“Yeah, well.” He laughed and took a step back. “It’s not like you can just knock. So unless you know the incantation, it’s not going to open for you, or me. You’re going to have to teleport inside.”
“Okay,” I nodded, bracing myself for anything. “Let’s do this. What do I do?”
“Well, an anchor is like a seal, a mark on your body usually, and it corresponds to the realm you’re from. It’s kind of like the security gate at the airport. It directs you where you need to go.”
“Okay,” I said. “I’m with you so far.”
“If you have no anchor,” he explained, “then basically when you reach that gate, it has no idea where to send you. It doesn’t control you, but you, it.”
I turned to face him. “So how did you know where to find me? Like how did you get into my room? Are you a Seraph?”
“Me?” he choked. “Gods, no. I’m happy where I’m at, thank you very much. Being that Barachiel is our leader, some of his abilities transfer to the Grigori. Since we are Watchers, we have the ability to . . . We’ll call it sensing.”
“Okay...”
“We have the ability to sense our charge wherever they are, whenever they are, and teleport to them instantly.”
This was somehow beginning to make sense. “So, basically, the charge becomes your anchor?”
“Exactly.”
“Was I always your charge?” I asked. “From the moment we bumped into each other?”
He did a sort-of shrug. “Not exactly. Was I aware of you? Yes. Was I to do anything about you? No.”
“So that changed when Adam went missing?”
He frowned. “A lot of things changed when Adam went missing, Amelia. I’m not saying who’s right and who’s wrong, but a lot of trouble has been caused by both sides. With Lamafuere now in Camael’s hands, everyone is worried about what is going to happen next.”
“He’s going to kill Enoch,” I admitted, much to the shock of Matt.
His eyes widened. “What? That’s what this is about?”
I looked around awkwardly. “I guess.”
“Oh, shit,” he groaned, rubbing his face with his hands. “I knew it was something bad, but this is a little more than that.”
Apparently I knew more than him. Yay me. “Why do you say that?”
“Because it is, Amelia. This is bad, really bad.”
“You know Araboth has a bounty on my head, right?”
He didn’t say anything for a second but merely blinked, his jaw tightening into an unpleasant grimace. “You didn’t think to tell me that before leaving?”
“Why?” I shrugged. “You seemed quite aware of the dangers in coming here.”
“Yeah, well,” he mumbled, “This is different. Sneaking into the realm when it’s guarded and actively being wanted by it are two different things.”
“Not to me,” I snapped and turned my attention back to the monstrous door in front of me.
“You damn crazy bitch,” he said, shaking his head as he moved next to me. “You’re going to get us both killed with this stupid shit. If you would just give me your answer, all of this would be over.”
“Yeah, well, I’m not, so deal with it. We’re getting Adam back, and we’re getting Camael’s head off the chopping block.”
“You’re awfully optimistic for someone so damned crazy.”
“Yeah, well,” I said. “Someone’s got to be. Now help me or get out of my way.”
I snatched my blade back from Matt’s belt and followed the same process he had earlier. I dipped the tip back into my palm as I squeezed my hand around it, forcing more blood to come to the surface. Compared with the pain of silver chains and being stabbed all the way through, this was nothing.
Before long, the dagger was entirely coated with my blood. It was a good thing that neither of us was squeamish, because after wiping the remnants on my shirt, it was beginning to look like something out of a horror movie.
“So what’s the plan, oh wise and noble leader?” he mocked.
“Simple. We knock.” My fingers held the place where the seam existed. It was hard to see, but it was there. “Back up.”
“What?” he said as he complied. “Why?”
Before he could ask any more questions, I drove the blade into the crack as hard as I could, wedging it just above my fingertips with a loud thunk.
“Hmph,” I snorted. The blade was made of sturdier stuff than I had expected.
“Hmph?” Every time I looked at him, the dejected look on his face grew more worried. If I was Dorothy, he was most certainly the cowardly lion of my tale. Perhaps I had never been in Wonderland but was in Oz instead. Now where was the man behind the curtain?
“Yeah, well, I thought for sure this would work,” I told him.
“Yeah, well, I just hope you know what you’re doing because knocking in any capacity sounds like a terrible idea to me.”
“You know, for a guardian, you’re a scaredy-cat,” I replied as Matt inched backward on the platform. “Matt?”
“Amelia . . .?”
“Matt?” I spun around to face the now opening gate. Almost as if light pierced its borders, the opening crack swarmed with a blinding radiance that only worsened as the monstrosity opened farther. I shielded my eyes with my hands, cowering away from the light as I squinted to see anything. But there was nothing in this blinding light. “Matt?” I called. “Are you catching this?”
I waited until the light dulled enough to make a move. Holding a fireball, one hand guarded against whatever would come through the gate, but nothing did. It was starkly quiet. I saw no walls beyond the gate, no doors inside of it, no rooms.
“No anchor, huh?” I mused aloud. “What if I get lost? What happens then?”
At that point, when Matt still didn't answer me, I turned around to check and make sure my hero hadn’t passed out from sheer exuberance for our task, but he was gone.
“Matt?” I spun around, searching vainly for something that was obviously not there. “Matt! Shit!”
With the gate having opened, he could have been very well sent into a different realm, and we had never discussed which realm that would be. He could have been anywhere in Araboth or back in Assiyah.
Great. Now I had three men to save.
It felt a lot like babysitting gone awry. With yet another task to complete before I could go home, I stepped through the gate’s threshold, the doors not making a sound as they scraped closed behind me, locking me inside.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
For the first time in the longest while, Camael stood above the plains of Gehenna lost and completely alone. Alone if the tattered copy of Faust didn't count. A book he had read countless times over the centuries, and yet the outcome of his own story would end the same.
But there was still enough time to make it right.
He had sent Amelia back weeks ago, and in that time, the intel from the First Sphere had dwindled to a halt.
War was coming, and it was coming fast.
He had ten thousand men at his disposal, but Michael had thousands more. It would be a massacre if he didn’t find a way out of this mess.
Enoch had proven his point; Araboth was coming for him and Amelia. By severing her anchor and sending her back, he had gotten her out in time. She could be safe this time around without fearing the repercussions of his actions.
And there were so many mistakes. So many things that needed correcting.
Now, he would have to do this the hard way.
“You know, Camael,” Mephistopheles said as he strolled up slowly beside the fallen Seraph. “I never took you for such a brooding fellow.”
“Shut up, Mephis,” he said sourly even though he knew the adviser meant no harm.
Antagonistic, yes, but not malevolent. At least never to him. In all the years they had been friends, Mephis had supported his every endeavor. There had never been any questioning of loyalties or doubts of motives, which made Mephis the best type of adviser. He never vied for control, just offered his wisdom.
“You know, Camael, if you feel so discontented about sending her back, then why did you?”
“I had no choice.” He looked down at the copy of Faust.
Mephistopheles cleared his throat. “You say that like you actually believe it.”
/> Camael shoved the book back in the satchel at his hip. “And you say that you like you know better than me.”
The adviser snorted and ambled around the cliff’s edge, his hands languidly crossed behind his head. “Enoch is going to kill her, you know.”
Camael said nothing but simply stared out at the horizon.
Gehenna was a vast, open expanse of rocky crags and endless plateaus, all of which led to a single entrance into Sheol. One way in and one way out. All except for Amelia.
Even before her anchor had been removed, she had teleported freely across planes as if time and space held no restrictions over her, but why? What had Enoch done to her? What was he planning?
“So what are you going to do about it?” asked Mephis.
“What am I supposed to do?” he whispered.
“Well, you need to do something.” Mephis adjusted his waistcoat and straightened his sleeves. “Very shortly, the Principalities are going to find her, and when they do, they’re going to kill her. And then you after that.”
“You doubt me?” Hell’s leader asked without even looking back at his friend.
“I don’t have to doubt you, Camael. I doubt in the First Sphere’s ability to move past this. You should have never taken Lamafuere; that alone was grounds for war.”
“Maybe, Mephis.” Camael said, swinging his boots over the cliff’s edge as he sat down. “But I needed to see how far he would take it.”
“Well, now you’re here.” Mephis moved over to stand beside him.
“Don’t like my company?” Camael feigned a smile.
“Oh, it’s not that, mate,” Mephis said as he kicked away the few pieces of rubble in his way. “I just don’t like my suits getting dirty.”
Camael shook his head, always appreciative of Mephis’ attempt at brevity. There was no beating around the bush with him. “Yeah, well, Amelia doesn’t like them.”
Mephis laughed, dropping down beside his friend as he brushed the flaps of his waistcoat out from beneath him. “Yeah, well, there’s no accounting for taste. I paid over a hundred and seventy-five dollars for this suit four-and-a-half centuries ago.”
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