End of Days: The Complete Trilogy (Books 1-3)

by Meg Collett

  Angels who came to Earth were still powerful, supernatural creatures only encased in a human body, but her recovery was eerie to witness. He had changed the bandages on her back a couple times before he realized his effort was worthless. The muscles pulled back across the bones, the blood vessels fused back together, the skin stretching back across the holes her wings had left. She seemed nearly healed now.

  Clark must have fallen asleep again, because when he opened his eyes, Michaela was not on the cot. He jerked, thinking he’d lost her, but she was by the old, rusty mirror that hung alone on the empty wall of the cabin.

  Clark was used to seeing her sleeping on the cot, weak and healing, so now, seeing her as a strong, able angel, terrified him. Her face was a dark cloud. In her murky reflection he saw her pupils were dilated, leaving only a slim midnight blue ring around them. He was frozen, staring at her like she might sprout a new pair of wings any moment. But that was impossible.

  She slowly turned to see her back in the mirror. Clark wanted to tell her to stop, but it was too late. He didn’t see her reaction as she stared at the place where her wings should have been. It took a long moment, but when she looked away, her eyes landed right on him.

  “Why are the Aethere blaming me? Why is no one telling the truth?” she demanded.

  Clark gulped. Even the air seemed to cringe away from her. He tried to tell himself it was stupid to be afraid of her, but it didn’t help.

  “Molloch’s death scared everyone. Like really bad,” Clark answered.

  He watched her carefully, so he saw when her eyes landed on the thin, dark marks that weaved their way across her bicep and forearm. To Clark, the scars looked more like black ink had been dumped in her veins. Pausing, she ran a fingertip over the two deep holes in the crook of her elbow. She winced.

  “I did kill Molloch. He died at my hand, and I will answer for that. I never should have gone outside the gates, but it all happened so fast. That was my whole world ripping apart too, not just the Aethere’s. I could never have planned an attack on Heaven. To betray Heaven would have been like ripping my own wings from my back. I never would have done that. I didn’t do that,” she whispered, eyes still on her arm.

  They were both silent. Stiffly, Michaela paced across the tiny room. “I’m hiding because I’m being accused of something I didn’t do. The other Archangels are hiding because of what happened to Gabriel and Zarachiel,” Michaela paused. She leveled her gaze on Clark. “But why are you hiding?”

  “I’m not technically hiding,” Clark evaded. His voice squeaked like a twelve-year-old boy going through puberty.

  “But the Aethere have called me a traitor, which means the Descendants think the same. Yet you helped me instead of turning me in even though you’re the Keeper’s son. Clearly we are hiding.”

  Clark shrugged.

  “Why are you here?” Michaela pressed, impatient.

  “I left, okay?” Clark snapped. He raked a hand through his hair and took a steadying breath. His voice returned to its normal bemused tone when he said, “It just wasn’t my thing.”

  Clark ignored her doubtful expression. Turning, he dug around in his bag. When he had gone back to the compound, he grabbed clothes for both him and Michaela. It was a rare moment of insight and one he was proud of since she had been pacing around in a low slung, bug-chewed nightshirt. He hoped she didn’t mind skinny jeans.

  “I brought some clothes for you,” he said, revealing a Def Leppard shirt with grease stains on it. Michaela looked at him then at the shirt.

  “Thank you,” she said, but her voice lacked gratitude.

  Clark handed over the shirt, a pair of jeans with minimal tearing, mismatched socks, and an old pair of hiking boots before turning around so she could change. He heard her drop the dirty, bloody shirt she wore onto the floor. It was impossible not to imagine her naked, and he coughed to rid the tickle in his throat.

  “So what are we going to do?” When Michaela didn’t respond, Clark answered himself. “Well, we could go and talk to my father about this or something.”

  “They won’t listen to us. Gold chains will be wrapped around me faster than you can blink. I’ll be gone, and you’ll be thrown in jail for deserting,” Michaela said as she got dressed.

  “My dad wouldn’t do that.”

  “You’re sure? I’m not.”

  Clark thought about that for a moment. She was right, technically. As the Keeper, his father was responsible for the angels on Earth. If the Aethere told him the Archangels were fugitives, he would have to report it if he knew where one was. His father had always put the Descendants before family. It was the reason Clark hated him.

  “I don’t know if there is anything we can do.” Michaela barely whispered the words, but Clark heard. His head snapped around. She looked at him, but seemed to stare straight through him. His eyes narrowed.

  “I’m sorry. What did you say?”

  “I don’t think there is anything we can do.”

  “Are you serious?” Clark shouted, forgetting about not pissing her off. “You’ve got to be kidding. What? You’re just going to let this one go? Let it slide this time? ‘Oh no biggie, Mr. Aethere. Sure take my spot in Heaven. Screw all the other angels. I’m just going to chill down here on Earth and play human. Have fun—’”

  “I need to be alone,” Michaela said.

  Before Clark processed her words, she rose and crossed the room in a single stride. He watched her leave through the front door with his mouth open. Then she was gone, and he stood in the cabin alone.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me,” he said. He jogged across the room and out the door just in time to see Michaela sprinting headlong into the thick woods surrounding the little cabin. He should just let her go. Who would be looking for her way out here?

  Of course, he had found her drunk and wandering through the woods, guided only by his insomniac crazed dreams.

  “Well, shit.” He started toward the woods slowly brightening with a new day and wondered how he would convince an angel to save herself.

  16

  Michaela sprinted through the trees until the earth ran out beneath her, and her toes were on the edge of a rocky overhang, teetering for a moment before she remembered she couldn’t fly. Forcing herself to step back, she stood on the jagged cliff with the edge of the woods at her back, watching the sun bruise its hostile path out of the folds of the horizon. The colors that filled the early morning sky reminded her of a bloody gash—pinks of exposed tissue, reds of spilt blood, purples of deep bruises, flesh beige of torn skin. The intensity of the sunrise sucked the colors from everything else, leaving nothing but specter paleness behind. The sun appeared hidden behind a veil of mourning.

  She closed her eyes and turned her face upwards. She searched deep within, looking for the presence of the other Archangels. She found nothing but an empty, hollow ache along the sides of her spine where her wings should be attached. Without her wings, she was all alone in her head for the first time since creation—just like Lucifer said.

  She felt like a ghost, like any moment she could dissipate into the air, becoming just another particle amongst trillions. But just then, Clark crashed up behind her, ruining the moment and her loneliness. He bent over, hands on knees, and drew long, gasping breaths. He was almost comforting if not a little annoying. Finally, he stood back up in time to see the end of the sunrise.

  “Look, Michaela. I have to know. What really went on up there?”

  Michaela didn’t speak for a long time. Clark waited almost patiently except for the persistent tap of his boot.

  “They were just standing out there—this line of fallen angels. It was infuriating. It’s like they can take whatever they want, do whatever they please. They shouldn’t have been there. I thought it would be easy to step outside for a moment to run them off. By the time I realized I had left the gates open, I was too far away to close them. I didn’t go back like I should have. I hoped it would be okay. But it wasn’t. He was th
ere. When he drew back his hood, and I saw his face, I knew then. Why else would Lucifer be in Heaven? And then Molloch’s knife was in my back, and a mass of fallen angels attacked Heaven. My own Archangels betrayed me.” Michaela’s voice broke. The pain was stifling, but she bottled it up and shoved it into the darkest corner of her heart. “I woke up in the Watchers’ cave with Molloch. We fought. He wanted nothing more in that moment than to choke the life out of me. So much hate…then he fell on my wingtip. And just like that—he was gone. He just…disappeared.”

  Clark seemed to think about that for a while as Michaela composed herself in the quiet. “I believe you,” he said.

  Michaela looked at him and truly saw him for the first time since she woke up. He was too young and too brash and too pink, but he believed her; she heard the truth in his voice. Finally, someone was on her side. For the first time, she felt the tiny pull of a smile on her lips, and she felt like the old Michaela, the one who would never back down. Both the smile and the feeling were gone quickly, but Clark saw her smile.

  “So I thought angels were immortal,” Clark said.

  “We’re supposed to be.”

  “What do you think happened? Can wings kill angels since Molloch died after you stabbed him with yours?”

  Michaela concentrated far into the distance. She hadn’t understood Gabriel when he had told her about Lucifer’s theory, but she did now. “No. I think only the bones in my wings can kill an angel. I’ve never stabbed another angel using my wings before so it’s hard to say...”

  “That makes sense I guess.” Clark ran his hand over his face with a sigh. “So what happened to your wings?”

  Michaela looked away as her scars tingled. “Lucifer took them. Gabriel said it’s why the others can’t find me. No one can find me. Where are we?”

  “Kentucky. But why would Lucifer take your wings?”

  “It was his revenge for when I took his. He couldn’t have gotten to Heaven without wings unless other angels held him as they flew,” Michaela paused. “I can’t get back either…”

  Clark jerked like he had stuck his finger in an outlet. “Wait a second. When the hell did you talk to Gabriel? I watched you every minute! I wasn’t even drinking!”

  “He channeled me through my dreams.”

  “Oh.” Clark struggled as if he was deciding if he should still be upset. “Well, okay. You can do that?”

  “Yes. It’s an ability we have. Gabriel is better at it because he is a messenger angel, but all the angels can do it.” She paused. “How did you find me when all the angels couldn’t?”

  Clark crossed his arms over his chest. “Don’t even think about calling me crazy, but I dreamt it, okay? I know it sounds weird, but I just knew. I’m not some freaky physic person. Trust me, I prefer sleep. But my mom used to take me to this park all the time, and I recognized the types of caves. When I got here, it felt like I was pulled forward, like you drew me to you. Look, I can’t explain it, so don’t ask me to.”

  “I believe you,” she said quietly.

  “I don’t care what you—” Clark stopped. “Wait. Really?”

  “You believe me. I believe you. Stranger things have happened,” she said with a simple shrug.

  Clark rolled his eyes. After a minute, he sighed. “Can those angels, the…”

  “The Aethere. They are a choir of angels just like the Archangels only they judge the souls. What kind of Descendant are you?”

  Clark skimmed over her question and asked, “But can they just take over like that? I mean, the Archangels are like supposed to run Heaven.”

  “This hasn’t exactly happened before,” Michaela responded quietly. In all honesty, she didn’t know if the Aethere could take Heaven from the Archangels, but they had. And she was thankful they had saved Heaven when she wasn’t able to.

  “Look, I think we should think about going back to the Descendants’ compound. I can call my dad—”

  She looked back up to the sky and said, “I’m not going to the compound, and you are not calling your father. The Aethere have misunderstood. Everything will be cleared up with time. It is not my fight anymore.”

  Gabriel made her promise not to get involved. For once, she should listen. Every one of her instincts said to fix this and fight back, but she didn’t trust those instincts anymore.

  “Seriously? Oh, come on!” Clark yelled. He looked like he wanted to shake her.

  “I’m not the General anymore. The Aethere are the commanding choir. No matter what they say about me, I am not a part of them anymore.” Michaela pointed to the dark scars on her arms where the snake’s venom has left inky paths under her skin. “There’s this darkness in me. I can’t just fix this—”

  “What about the rest of the Archangels, Michaela? Do you care that they are being hunted down for something they didn’t do? Gabriel is in Hell! That can’t be fun. Of course this is your fight! You’re the only one left to fight it!”

  She whirled around to face Clark. “Look at me! I have no wings. I killed an angel. I’m practically two breaths away from being a fallen. I can never return to Heaven!”

  Saying the words out loud had a bad affect on Michaela. The dark corner where her pain was bottled up bulged for a second, threatening to spill its toxic contents into her heart. Her breath shuddered. It was a moment before she spoke again. “It will work out. Everyone is just panicking right now.”

  Clark yelled for a while. Michaela stared over the cliff, ignoring him as he flapped his arms in wild motions. He paced for a couple more minutes then seemed to wear himself out. Or maybe she was the one wearing him out.

  “I need a drink.”Clark sat with his legs hanging over the edge of the cliff. He took a shaky breath. “Okay, look. You don’t want to go back to Heaven—”

  “Of course I want to go back. I just can’t.”

  Clark waved his hand at her like what she said was irrelevant to his point. “Whatever. But don’t you think you should at least try to prove your innocence for the sake of your Archangels? For Gabriel? They deserve to go home.”

  Clark didn’t know it, but with two words, every wall in Michaela fell apart.

  Gabriel. Home.

  The words soared through her, ripping at her insides, yanking at her breaking heart, hammering against her battered back. More than anything, she wanted to step from the ledge, hover, then sail into the air. Up, up, up. She wanted to see the gold in Gabriel’s eyes, to see the air rush through his feathers as they flew. More than anything, she wanted to feel complete again, to not feel alone.

  Michaela didn’t think long. She made up her mind easily; her heart was never set on bowing out of the fight. Gabriel would be mad, because she broke their promise. But if she cleared the Archangels’ names, it would be worth it, especially if it meant Gabriel went home. She would turn herself in and take whatever punishment the Aethere gave her.

  Clark didn’t even need to hear her agree before he said, “All right. Now that’s settled, what do we do first?” His smile was crooked and cocky.

  “Oh no. There is no ‘we,’” Michaela said.

  “Yes, there is.”

  “No.”

  “Yes.”

  “Look, you’re just a kid. You’re not going with me.”

  “Yeah, I am,” Clark said with a cocky grin.

  “No. I’m serious.”

  “Me too, dude.”

  “I said no! And don’t call me that.”

  Clark leaned back on his hands. Michaela towered over him. She knew the glare on her face. It had caused seas of angels to quake before her, but Clark just kept smiling a ridiculously obnoxious grin.

  “I can do this all day,” he said.

  Michaela’s eyes were angry slits. She’d never met a human so irritating. “I’m going back to the Descendants to turn myself in. Hopefully I can convince the Aethere that the other Archangels had nothing to do with it.”

  “That was my plan from the beginning!” Clark sprang to his feet, indignation hot in hi
s voice. He paused and cocked his head. “Sort of. Wait, you’re going to turn yourself in?”

  “I’m going to explain to the Descendants what really happened. After all these centuries of serving as Heaven’s General, maybe they will listen to me and help me convince the Aethere that the remaining Archangels did nothing wrong.”

  “But what about you?”

  “I’ll accept my punishment,” Michaela answered. Her words felt right. This was the way things needed to be.

  “Nope.” Clark shook his head like he had the final say. “I don’t like it. We can explain together.” Michaela looked ready to argue some more until Clark asked, “How are you going to get there?”

  Michaela glared at him for a moment. With a huff, she turned and started walking back through the woods. “Maybe they will be so distracted killing you that I will have enough time to explain what really happened,” she muttered.

  Clark drew up beside her, a fresh spring to his step, and laughed. “I’m too handsome to die.”

  17

  Michaela watched Clark pack up their few belongings in the cabin and wondered, for the millionth time, if she should just steal his car and leave him behind. But the truth was, she kind of liked his company. He was certainly interesting enough.

  Clark’s jeans were the skinny, skin-tight version that looked as though they were more than a few years old and not once washed. He wore heavy worn motorcycle boots with the laces untied and duct tape holding the soles together. Dirt and grease covered his white shirt, and his pink Mohawk flopped into his eyes, but Michaela thought she liked him well enough to maybe even consider him a friend.

  “Let’s hurry. I’m starved,” Clark said as he tossed their few bags into the car. Michaela stood with her arms crossed as she waited. She noticed Clark kept the whiskey tucked in the crook of his arm while he heaved the last bag in the car.

  “What happened with the Descendants?”Michaela asked.