Angela glanced at them furtively, a hot rage welling up inside of her that overpowered her fear. Her heart ached with pity and pain. “What an evil thing to do,” she said firmly.
“You mean necessary,” Python said in an ironic tone.
They came to an enormous Gate set into the rocks. Its thick iron bars gleamed in the dim light. It was becoming more difficult to see, but Angela had certainly seen enough. Two angels flanked either side of the Gate. Their bodies had been set into the walls like the others, but they were not frozen in place. Instead, the wall was more like a nest for them. As Angela, Python, and Kim approached, they began to move.
Angela’s throat tightened. Her breathing quickened. These angels looked familiar.
One looked male, with tangled black hair and sparsely feathered wings. The other was a female with silver hair, though her wings were even more degraded by the mist.
That’s right. They’re just like Israfel’s guardian Thrones.
Angela remembered what terrors they had been. She paused, uncertain. Kim’s footsteps paused behind her. His breath sounded ragged and fearful. He touched Angela’s shoulder, as if to pull her back.
“Don’t worry,” Python said, continuing ahead. He smiled grimly. “Lucifel’s Thrones will not harm you, my dear. Lucifel knows you will be arriving soon after all. It’s all part of the plan. Even I know she’d be a fool to murder you just yet . . .” He glanced at the dreadful Thrones without a hint of fear as he passed. “Down, pups,” he whispered at them maliciously. “No treats today, I’m afraid.”
The twin angels glared at him with wild eyes, but merely rustled back into position.
There was a heavy clank.
The Gate’s doors swung open. Lucifel’s Altar appeared in a haze of red light. Pentagrams glowed from the walls, and a gigantic pentagram marked the middle of the floor. Python paused right at the threshold, pushing Angela into the chamber with a hand to the small of her back.
For a second, she hesitated. Fear coursed through her like fire. The Grail burned her hand, bunching tears of pain at the corners of her eyes. A sickly scent pervaded the room.
Worse, there was an ever-watchful, ever-searching presence.
This was why she’d come here. It was why Angela went through so much torment. She knew this moment would arrive. Yet it was more awful than she could have ever imagined.
“Good luck, Archon,” Python whispered in her ear ominously. “You’ll need it.”
He pushed her deeper into the room. As they entered, the Gate clanged shut behind them.
Angela froze. She could barely think or stand.
High above, Lucifel hung amid a web of chains, her limbs shackled at her wrists and ankles. She looked unbelievably pale in the dim light, almost sickly. Angela had encountered Lucifel’s shadow and destroyed it a year ago, and that experience had been dreadful enough. In person, Lucifel was lithe, almost delicate looking. But her commanding presence sent a person’s soul reeling and fractured it asunder. She hung in the chains, seemingly asleep. Grayish hair hung in her eyes. She looked much like Israfel, but her hair was shorter, and her entire body was covered in black clothing that had been restitched a thousand times, as if everyone was too afraid to simply touch her and change it.
Kim stepped beside Angela, staring up at the reigning Prince of Hell.
He swallowed, closing his eyes.
“You won’t become a coward on me now, will you?” Python whispered to him.
Angela struggled, but Python’s grip was firm.
I should have stopped Kim before we even got as far as the Watchers. But what could I do? I couldn’t kill him. I can’t be that kind of person—like Lucifel.
“You won’t change your mind about taking Lucifel’s place?” Kim said to Angela, not even looking at her.
She trembled, but her voice was firm. “No.”
Angela’s voice echoed and she thought Lucifel would awaken. The angel stayed asleep.
“All right.” Kim sighed painfully. He turned and grabbed Angela by the arms, pressing their lips together so hard it hurt. “I’m sorry,” he said, anguished. Then Kim tore himself away and approached Lucifel step by terrible step.
Angela wanted to pull him back and scream. “Kim—”
A low rustle erupted from the other side of the room.
A person huddled to the right of Lucifel, her wide eyes reflecting back the red light. Her face was terrified, but someone had tied fabric around her mouth, keeping her from talking. Then she moved so that a pendant on her chest caught the light and tossed it back like a star. Her features became more visible and familiar.
SOPHIA!
Sophia shook her head violently, trying to tell Angela something.
Angela stared at her, helpless. She tried to fight her tears. Her throat tightened even more, cutting off her air. Her vision swam. Her mind raced as she glanced around wildly and tried to think of a way to save them both. Suddenly, Python grabbed her by the chin and turned her around to face him. “You’ve made it,” he said in her ear, his fingers pinching her face painfully. “Congratulations. Now for the prize, Archon. It awaits. The Throne of Hell will be yours in a few precious moments. All it takes is the courage to do what you know must be done.”
She tried to wrench free, noticing with horror that Kim was fast nearing Lucifel. Kim’s pale face became suffused with awe as he gazed up at the Destroyer Supernal.
“Look,” Python whispered as he watched, his orange eyes bright with eagerness. “She is about to awaken. Then, all you need to do is open the Book of Raziel, take what belongs to you, and snuff her out like a flickering flame.”
Tremors rocked through the earth beneath them. Angela stumbled.
Pebbles dropped from the ceiling.
A shudder rippled through the ground and tossed Sophia to the side. The fabric slipped from her head, and with her mouth free, she sat up and screamed at Angela. “STOP HIM. STOP KIM.”
“Hush, darling,” Python hissed. He snapped his fingers, and the fabric wrapped itself around Sophia’s mouth again. “It looks like the Book doesn’t believe in you, Archon. Well, I do—”
Angela turned and kicked him hard near the waist.
Python grunted, clutching at his stomach. He laughed between gritted teeth. “Isn’t it terrible when people betray you? When they disappoint your hopes?” he said snidely into Angela’s ear. “What is friendship, really? I think you’re about to find out.”
Kim’s hands reached for Lucifel’s chains. They touched the silvery metal.
“Kim!” Angela screamed, no longer able to keep quiet. Sophia struggled, her gray eyes wide and tormented. A shiver ran through the air.
Python shrieked.
Angela turned in a panic. Blood ran between Python’s fingers from a sudden wound on his face. He pulled away his hand. A familiar pattern of cuts had streaked to life across one of his eyes. They almost exactly matched the cuts Troy had set in Python’s cheek.
Troy was alive. She had hurt Python—somehow. Had he sent a part of himself to fight Troy while they walked toward Lucifel?
With a loud cry, Angela twisted out of his grip and pivoted on him. She flung him back against the ground.
Python’s face contorted with pain. He cursed under his breath and gazed at Angela and her upraised left hand in panic. With a sharp cry of frustration, his eye gushing, he vanished from sight.
The earth rocked. Angela fell, slamming to the ground amid the sound of metal clanging against stone. Her palms caught her fall, but her teeth snapped together hard. Her head echoed with pain.
Sophia screamed even beneath the fabric in her mouth.
Lucifel’s eyes had opened.
Thirty-six
No one can hide from me. To my eyes, the darkness is bright as day. To my ears, a whisper is a roar. —LUCIFEL
The universe shuddered. The gray angel’s gaze pierced into Angela wordlessly.
Their souls met like two bolts of lightning, twining together. Lucifel bro
ke the spell to look beneath her as the shackles on her arms opened with bursts of light and fell away to the earth, resting with the web of chains that had surrounded her legs. Kim stared up at her in a trance of awe and terror.
With a gesture faster than thought she reached down and grabbed his hair. Kim’s face drained of even more color. He looked at Angela with fear and pain, and then his eyes rolled back in his head.
He collapsed to the ground with a heavy thud, seemingly dead.
Angela screamed. She ran for Lucifel almost blindly.
Lucifel waved a hand, and an invisible blow threw Angela back against the wall.
The pain was excruciating. Angela screeched, and her bones threatened to shatter. Coughing, she crawled to her knees. Without another thought, she changed tactics and hobbled toward Sophia.
Another wave of Lucifel’s hand, and the ether rippled.
Angela fell and rolled, her head throbbing. Lucifel swept her arm sideways, and a rock seemed to sock Angela in the stomach. She groaned, frozen with agony as Lucifel approached steadily and stopped to stand over her like a shadow. Slowly, Lucifel reached down and grabbed Angela by the throat, wrapping cold fingers around it. A horrible buzzing sound filled the air, like the noise of a million flies. Black specks dotted Angela’s vision. She stared back into Lucifel’s blood-red irises and found nothing there but icy disregard.
Sophia’s cries were heartrending.
Angela tugged at Lucifel’s hand around her neck, her legs kicking the air.
“Well done,” Lucifel said, her voice scratchy with misuse, but echoing. She opened her hand, and Angela collapsed to the ground in a heap.
Angela coughed in surprise, clutching at her throat. Her body groaned like it had been crushed and remade again. Pain needled her everywhere. “You—you won’t kill me?” she gasped. “After all the trouble you took to get me down here?”
Lucifel’s face showed little emotion. “Kill you?” She shoved Angela toward Sophia with the edge of her foot. “You are the only one who can open the Book. I would be a fool to kill you just yet.”
“No one knows how to open her,” Angela said, turning back and glaring at Lucifel. “So in the end, you’re not winning anything. You’re free. But for what? For the demons who serve you to imprison you again?” Angela almost laughed through her pain. She glanced at Kim and tried to wish away her painful tears. Her soul ached and burned with agony. “So much for your Revolution. Even Raziel didn’t—”
“Quiet,” Lucifel hissed, snapping her fingers. A flicker of anger crossed her face.
Angela’s mouth sealed shut against her will.
Lucifel shoved her toward Sophia again. Angela grunted, trying to catch her breath. “I’m not the one who brought you here, Archon,” Lucifel said softly. “So save your spite, and spare me your lectures. That snake called Python thought he could outsmart me. Perhaps he had reason to. He played you and your ragtag friends for idiots, gaining your trust and betraying it by turns, all so that he can put you on my Throne as a puppet, with his slippery fingers pulling your strings. He’s typical of his generation: naive and ambitious—and dangerously bored. I hope you enjoyed his labyrinth. I’ve let him play within Hell for too long. Very soon, it will be time for the snake to lose his den . . . forever. Besides, he was wrong about the most crucial thing of all . . .”
Lucifel leaned down.
“ . . . you’re not going to win.”
Even if Angela’s mouth hadn’t been forced shut, she would have gone silent.
She was a fool.
Troy had been right to mistrust Python, and Angela had actually believed his lies long enough to think he really did want her as his new ruler. Of course, now his actions revealed themselves for the deceptions they were. Python had deliberately separated Angela from Troy, Nina, and Juno. He’d thrust Angela into his mother’s dangerous ball to force visions out of her head. And he’d helped her get to Lucifel, only so that when Angela hopefully destroyed the Prince of Hell, he could fawn at her feet before turning his treacherous fangs on her as well.
Python’s mocking laughter sounded in her ears all over again.
“Friends are only friends when they find you useful,” Lucifel murmured. “And so Python was your friend as long as you cooperated with his plans. Now where is he? You see, Archon . . . promises can be broken, just as easily as they can be made. Right and wrong depends on the eye of the beholder, and love is a feverish dream.” Lucifel paused beside Angela again.
Angela fell at Sophia’s knees. Sophia glared at Lucifel with pained, red-rimmed eyes.
“From the very beginning, I’ve been planning my moves,” Lucifel said gently. “Python couldn’t know that his game ultimately suited my purposes. You should pity him. He’s as much a victim as you are. Without him, perhaps you would have never made it down here to the Book’s side. But now I am free, and you have nowhere to go.”
Lucifel snapped her fingers again.
Angela touched her lips as they opened. She was free to speak again. She rocked to her knees, gasping. “You . . . you don’t know how to open Sophia. So it doesn’t matter . . .”
“Oh, but I do,” Lucifel said. “And I plan to watch. It’s what you both deserve, after all. For believing that something as ludicrous as friendship is worth dying for. In my world, that’s a cardinal sin. I call it blindness.”
“No wonder,” Angela hissed. “Because you don’t have any friends, right?”
Lucifel kicked her hard in the side. For the briefest second, inner pain flashed behind her eyes.
Angela fell, blood dripping where she’d bit into her lip. “You suffered in chains and let millions of angels die all because Israfel . . . wore the crown you wanted.” Her breaths almost refused to pass through her aching ribs. She forced herself to breathe deeper. “But I think . . . there’s more. I find it hard to believe you’d destroy the whole universe just because you’re still feeling jealous. You show the world an icy demeanor—but I’d bet it’s all . . . an act. I would love to know who broke your heart so badly . . . the entire universe now has to suffer for it . . .”
Lucifel stooped down and pulled Angela by her necklace. The chain dug like a rope of fire into Angela’s neck. She coughed.
They stared into one another’s eyes.
“You’re perceptive,” Lucifel whispered. “But don’t think your pathetic glimpse into the past was enough to figure me out. You can’t even begin to fathom why I started that Revolution. You don’t know a thing—and here’s the best proof of your staggering ignorance. I’m not the one about to let the universe fall apart, Archon. You are. At least, that is, if you refuse to open the Book. Then, I suppose Ruin will be upon us as promised long ago. And by now, I certainly welcome it.”
Lucifel gestured and Sophia’s cloth fell from her mouth.
“Stop it,” Sophia immediately said between her tears. “Stop it, Lucifel. It’s not worth it—”
“I have no desire to be preached to by a ‘thing,’ ” Lucifel said quietly. “Stop wasting my time, Sophia, and break the spell of this pathetic friendship. Tell Angela Mathers what she must do to open you. Raziel refused to do it a year ago. How much better for you to speak for him.”
Sophia swallowed. She tipped back her head and shut her eyes. “No,” she said in a small voice.
“How clever my brother was,” Lucifel said. She took a deep breath and shut her eyes as well. “He told me there was much more to Sophia than locks and keys. That she was better than a box to be cracked. And then, much to my surprise, I learned that to open Raziel’s treasure, she needed to be broken after all. But the weapon that breaks her . . . the Key.” Lucifel shifted her position, behaving eerily patient. “Tell Angela, Sophia. Where is the Key that opens your Lock—the seal on the Book of Raziel? And just where can the precious Lock be found?”
Sophia shook her head violently.
“Tell her,” Lucifel said, her voice still low yet resounding eerily like thunder.
“What is she ta
lking about, Sophia?” Angela said, fear creeping into her, stealing away her heartbeats. “Breaking a treasure to open it? What does that mean?”
“I—” Sophia stammered. Tears rolled down her cheeks. “Angela, I’m sorry—I told you not to enter the door! I told you not to follow me . . .”
“I had to,” Angela whispered. “We’re friends.”
“Yes. Friends.” Sophia squeezed her eyes shut.
“Tell her now,” Lucifel said, glaring at Sophia with threatening eyes.
“No,” Sophia said again.
“Now.”
“NO.”
The ground shivered. Sophia’s eyes widened. She looked around with abrupt sadness, as if seeing the devastation for the first time. Finally, she hung her head. “It’s my body,” Sophia said so softly it sounded like a breath.
Angela’s heart wanted to stop. Everything froze inside of her. “What?” she said weakly.
“My body is the Lock of the Book of Raziel,” Sophia said slowly.
Angela stared at her.
Sophia’s misery was all-encompassing. “So to open me . . . the Key is . . .”
“No,” Angela said, a dreadful realization dawning on her. “That—that can’t be true.”
“It is,” Sophia cried, shuddering.
“No. No. You’re wrong.”
Sophia turned aside. Her personal torment was horrible to look at. Anguish misted over her gray eyes. Normally so deep and flashing, now they held a devastating tiredness.
Lucifel loomed over Angela. “It’s simple, you see,” the angel whispered. “To open Sophia and save this universe, you will have to murder her with the Glaive, Angela. Why else do you think I would let you arrive on my doorstep? Because I suddenly feel nostalgia for our brief encounter last year? Sophia always knew—and Raziel made certain—that the Glaive is the only weapon in the world that can harm her. Irritatingly enough, he also made sure you’re the only soul who can use it for its truest purpose. But can you be like me and stain your hands with the innocent blood of millions? To choose not to kill Sophia and open the Book of Raziel. Well . . . that would be a rather cruel fate for the dying universe wouldn’t it? From what I remember, you don’t share my dream of eternal silence . . .”
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