by Meg Collett
“Sweet Michaela, I don’t think you are in the position to be making demands of me anymore. Actually, if I were to think about it long enough, I believe it would be my duty to escort you to Heaven. You are a fugitive after all, fallen or not…” he trailed off suggestively.
Michaela stepped forward. The air between their three bodies thickened. Clark thought Michaela might punch Loki. Instead, her voice was calm, almost reassuring, when she spoke.
“Loki, you wouldn’t have told me this much if you were going to turn me in to the Aethere. I know you care about the souls no matter what you or the other angels say to the contrary. I would hope that whatever Lucifer is doing, you wouldn’t want it to continue. So tell me what you meant before I get really pissed off.”
A flicker of emotion passed over Loki’s face, so quickly Clark couldn’t place it, before Loki’s mocking grin settled back into place. His laugh twinkled like a breeze through wind chimes as he raised his hands in mock surrender.
“Easy, Michaela. Don’t get too sentimental on me,” Loki said with a wink. “But I simply don’t understand why you’re bothering with this when you obviously have much graver concerns on your hands?” His eyes settled briefly on the blackness on Michaela’s arm.
“I just need to know what Lucifer is going to do with the souls.”
Loki settled back against a tree and said, “I can’t speak for any angel’s intentions—fallen or otherwise. I can only say what I’ve heard.”
“And what have you heard?” Michaela prodded.
“The Aethere are cleaning house. It’s the Purification, they say.”
Clark heard the capital letter in his sentence. “The Purification?” he asked.
Loki rolled his eyes at Clark. “These holy angels have a word for everything. It’s ridiculous and impossible to keep up with to say the least.”
“What do you mean cleaning house?” she asked quietly.
“Only the best souls make the team. Everyone else gets the boot,” Loki said.
“They can’t do that. They can’t purify Heaven.”
Loki shrugged. “I don’t make the rules. You do,” Loki paused. The glint returned to his eyes, darkening them to the color of steel. “Well, at least you used to.”
Clark narrowed his eyes at the mocking angel’s intentional mistake. Michaela went very still next to Clark. He hadn’t known her long, and he would never assume to know the character of an angel, but he felt her struggle, like she wanted nothing more than to race skyward and burst into Heaven, demanding resolution. Unfairly judged souls went against her very creation.
“Stop playing games, Loki. Why are the Aethere doing this?”
Loki sighed dramatically. “They say you ran Heaven into the ground. Too many unworthy souls were forgiven. They want to return it to its former glory, to Eden. It’s the beginning of a new era, and the Purification is the Aethere’s first reform. And Hell can have all the impure souls it wants.”
Michaela’s eyes snapped. “What does Lucifer have to do with the Purification?”
“Ah, the heart of the matter.” Loki leaned forward, like it was a secret. “Tell me, Michaela, are you fighting to clear your name? Is that why you ask these questions?”
“I just want information,” Michaela responded quietly. She closed her eyes. “I want to know what is happening. Lucifer cannot get away with this.”
“That’s all?” Loki rubbed his pointed chin with long, pale fingers. “You don’t want to rescue everyone? Return Heaven to its rightful guardians?”
Michaela looked away, pausing for a long moment. “Loki, you’ve received countless souls passing from their bodies. You have felt their worth. What would you say of my soul? How would you guess me to be judged if I were a dead human?”
The two angels and one human regarded each other silently. Finally, when Clark couldn’t bare it any longer, Loki spoke. “You are asking the wrong questions. You should be asking yourself if you believe in coincidence.”
Loki’s smile was rueful; the gleam in his eye turned spiteful. Clark could answer that question—no angel of any kind believed in coincidence.
“This,” Michaela said, pointing to the darkness on her arm to signal not only her fall, but Heaven’s, “has to do with the Aethere’s Purification?”
Clark glanced at her. She had shifted, changed. Her body was still, the air around her cold. Her voice was hard. Somehow Clark felt they had treaded upon a batch of thin ice.
“Oh, the Aethere have everything to do with it, sweet girl.”
Clark scowled at him.
“Go on,” Michaela said quietly, fiercely.
“The Aethere say they started this grand Purification to cleanse Heaven by disallowing impure souls from entering. By raising the bar in judgment, guess what happens?”
“Lucifer gets more souls for himself,” Clark answered.
“Exactly. Heaven only knows—well I guess it really doesn’t—what Lucifer is going to do with those souls. But I doubt the Aethere care too much about that,” Loki said, looking at Clark with a wicked gleam, shining bright off his pale face. He turned to Michaela. “They got what they wanted,” he added.
“What did they want?”
“Who do you think the Aethere hate more than Lucifer?” Loki asked.
“I don’t know…” Michaela began to frown, lines forming between her brows.
“Who, in their eyes, ruined Heaven? Who puts more emphasis on the souls than the angels? Who, in their minds, got what she deserved?”
Michaela looked away, her mouth pressed tightly closed. Her eyes searched the trees like she might find answers written in the bark. She began to shake her head, covering her mouth with a trembling hand.
“Exactly. They wanted you and your Archangels out of the way. They needed a path to power cleared, and what better way than turning everyone against you? The other angelic choirs had to support the Aethere. They knew they couldn’t just call a witch-hunt for no reason. What do you think gave them that reason?”
Michaela trembled beside Clark. Her emotions sparked like a live wire along her skin, causing static electricity. Loki saw Michaela wasn’t able to speak, so he went on.
“What would discredit a choir more than losing half their ranks to the fallen? Not to mention a General who let the enemy in the front doors. And a murderer on top of all that? It’s a perfectly acceptable reason for the Aethere to step up and save Heaven and Earth from chaos. Think about it. They are doing us all a favor by rounding up you Archangel hooligans. But of course, that isn’t the point we are getting at is it?”
“Then what is the damn point?” Clark asked, glaring at the angel.
Loki leered at Clark with that mischievous gaze of his. “So you’re really not a fairy then? Okay, don’t get so riled up. The point is, the Aethere couldn’t have asked for a better excuse to take control. It was almost too perfect, wasn’t it? Like maybe it had been a set up from the very beginning.” Loki emphasized every word in his last sentence.
“No,” Michaela whispered.
“What are you saying?” Clark asked, his head moving from angel to angel, trying to understand.
“I’m saying it was the Aethere from the very start. In exchange for the rights to a few extra leagues of souls, Lucifer invaded Heaven and framed the Archangels, so the Aethere could sweep in like the saviors of Heaven,” Loki answered, gesturing with his arms like he had just revealed a bright, shining treasure. “Of course the only problem is they didn’t stipulate how Lucifer could use the souls or his new shiny, fallen Archangels. So, I guess the joke is technically on the Aethere…and you of course.”
“How is he using them?” Clark asked, frowning. Michaela looked unable to speak.
“Not in conventional ways, let’s say that.”
“But if the Aethere want to purify Heaven, why are they working with Lucifer?” The sound of crunching metal came from the road, diverting Clark’s attention. When he looked back, Loki was watching him closely with a sweet smile.<
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“The Aethere hate the souls.” Clark felt Michaela’s body sag next to his at Loki’s words. Her eyes were on the ground. “They’ve been sick of judging worthless souls for a long time. They want Heaven for the angels, not the humans. So they don’t care who they have to work with to accomplish their goals. To them, Lucifer can have Hell and Earth if he wants it. As long as they get Heaven.”
“But will Lucifer be happy with just Hell and Earth?” Clark asked, winning him a beaming smile from Loki.
“That’s the million dollar question.”
“I don’t believe it.” Michaela finally spoke. “I can’t believe our own angels would do something like that against us.”
Her words were not intended to draw a line between the holy angels and Loki, but they did. Clark saw the flash of anger cross Loki’s face.
“Suit yourself. Now, if you don’t mind,” Loki said, touching his finger to the brim of a hat he wasn’t wearing.
To Clark, they had stepped in one big steaming pile of it, and now Loki wanted to blow them off. Michaela didn’t respond to the Angel of Death when he started to leave.
“I have a question for you,” he asked Loki, who paused and looked back at them. Michaela stirred at his side. Clark felt her eyes on him.
“Clark.” Her voice was low and full of caution.
“Shoot,” Loki said over her, his cunning grin in place beneath his eyes that shimmered with renewed interest.
“You take all the souls to judgment? Every one?”
“Technically, I retrieve the souls from the bodies. The carrier angels take them to judgment,” Loki amended.
“So you take every soul from every person who dies?”
“Yes,” Loki answered, warming to the game.
“How? I mean, how can you get to every one?”
“Time doesn’t exist for me. This conversation, however long we have spent here in the woods, means nothing to me. I can get everywhere I need to be, because there is no place I can’t be.”
That definitely made Clark’s head hurt, so he moved on. “Do you remember every soul?”
Loki paused, like he understood where Clark was going. He leaned closer, making Clark want to inch backwards. He held his ground.
“Who are you asking about, boy?”
Clark sucked in a breath. He heard Michaela start to say something, but he ignored her. “Iris St. James.”
Time for Clark seemed to stand still too. Loki cocked his head as if he recognized Clark, but then he shrugged. “I can’t remember every one.”
Clark nodded, his eyes shifting to the grass and roots at his feet.
“If you don’t believe me,” Loki said to Michaela, “then you should see the answers for yourself. Go to Devilish Desires in Charleston. But really, is it so hard to believe?”
Loki began walking back to the road. He called over his shoulder, “Just be careful what you listen to though.” He winked and disappeared.
When Clark and Michaela finally reached the Chevelle, traffic still hadn’t moved. Clark climbed into the driver’s seat. Michaela didn’t comment as he took a huge swig from the whiskey bottle. He kept a tight grip on its neck as they maneuvered around the cars, hopped the grassy median, and wove down the shoulder of the opposite side of the interstate until they were free enough to hit eighty miles an hour.
“What do you think Lucifer is doing with those extra souls?” Clark asked.
“Nothing good.” Michaela spoke with her face turned toward the window.
“I thought you didn’t believe Loki about the deal?”
“It feels unimaginable. What kind of angel would frame their General for an invasion? Heaven is not about power, it’s about servitude and honor. If Loki is telling the truth then I will not turn myself in to the angels who actually betrayed Heaven and framed me for it,” Michaela said.
“So how do you know who is telling the truth?”
“We go to Charleston.”
“All right! That’s my girl!” Clark lifted his hand for a high-five, but Michaela only gave him an empty stare before she looked away. Michaela was quiet as they drove. Her forehead rested on the glass, eyes fluttering open and closed as she drifted to sleep.
19
Michaela opened her eyes and instantly knew she had succeeded in channeling Gabriel, because she was in a cage. Sitting up, teeth chattering, she looked through bars and saw more cages hanging from a large dome made of rusty scaffolding. She swayed beneath huge fluorescent lights that flickered and clicked high above her.
She looked down nearly two hundred feet to a large, circular arena where a crowd jeered and heckled. A noise like a keening, high-pitched scream pierced Michaela’s ears, causing her to cringe away from the bars. The sound wasn’t human. A large cheer went up, sending a chill down her neck.
She was in Hell.
“Michaela?”
Gabriel sat in the back corner of the cage, wearing only a thin leather cloth around his hips. His wings, dirty and stained, were wrapped around him for warmth. Blood, both old and new, spread across his torn and battered body. His lip was deeply cut, and a large bruise blossomed across his cheekbone. The ethereal, light golden color of his eyes had faded to a dingy yellow that seemed hidden behind a shadow.
“Is that really you?” Gabriel asked.
He tried to stand, but the cage rocked violently, and they both clutched the bars for balance. He sat back down, slumping like he was too weak to hold himself up. Even his voice sounded dirty.
“What have they done to you?” Michaela crouched in front of him, clasping his face in her hands. Her thumbs brushed across the bruise on his cheek.
“Why are you here? If this is another trick, I’m not buying it.” His eyes were hateful as he watched Michaela, scrutinizing her face. He had never looked at her that way before.
“Gabe, it’s me. I channeled you,” Michaela said quickly. Gabriel didn’t move, and his eyes never left her face. It was a long moment, but he finally smiled weakly, and a surge of relief flooded through her. His eyes lost some of their hard edge, and she saw a spark of their golden fire beneath the exhaustion and pain.
“Demons come to me a lot, looking for laughs. They always make themselves look like you.”
Although he shrugged dismissively, she heard the torment in his voice. Being in Hell wasn’t all physical torture, although he had fresh claw marks across his chest. The place changed an angel, influenced them. She couldn’t fathom what Gabriel must be going through. As if on cue, another loud cheer erupted from the crowd below.
“Lucifer’s form of entertainment,” Gabriel offered. “Beliar creates demons for misbehaving fallen to fight as punishment. I’m the grand finale. I take on all the survivors. At once.”
Michaela took in his bruises and wounds with a newfound horror. He was in one piece—barely. Guilt and shame consumed her. He was there because of her.
“No wonder Lucifer didn’t object when Abel sent you here,” she said. She watched his eyes. Gabriel made no comment as he stared down into the crowds of the arena. “Gabe, I’m so sorry.” Michaela’s voice was thick with tears.
Gabriel opened his wings and pulled her against his bare chest, rocking the cage more. His feathers brushed softly against her back; their warmth soothed her tattered skin and reminded her of home.
“Don’t say that.” He pressed a kiss to the top of her head as he stroked her hair. They were silent for a long moment before Michaela spoke.
“Why does this channeling feel so different than last time?” she asked, her voice muffled against his chest.
Michaela hadn’t channeled much in her existence, but she knew enough to recognize this time was different. Nothing was hazy as it was before in the shack with Clark frozen in time. Here, everything seemed to move forward as normal.
“Time doesn’t matter down here. Everything moves on, even dreams. Plus, I wasn’t completely asleep. Sleeping is normally a bad idea down here.”
There it was again—the overwhel
ming guilt of what she had done. Michaela pulled away slightly so they were eye to eye. “Gabe, I…I’ve missed you.”
He picked up her hand, his fingertip tracing the lines in her palm. “You know I’ve had to stop myself from channeling you,” he said without looking up.
“Why?” Michaela asked, shocked. “I want you to!”
“Michaela, Hell makes me…different.” Gabriel shook his head. “I want you.”
“Want me? You have me.”
“No.” Gabriel let go of her hands. “I mean I want you…and your body.”
Open-mouthed, Michaela stared at Gabriel until she realized she was gaping. Their relationship had always been platonic. It was a passionate relationship, but not in a physical sense. Michaela loved Gabriel with every fiber of her body, because her body was made to love him. She had never considered actually making love with him.
“Is it wrong for us to…”
“I don’t know.” Gabriel shrugged. The movement was casual, but Michaela sensed his unease.
“I don’t want to tarnish your soul,” Michaela said, making Gabriel’s eyes cut to hers.
“Does it matter anymore?” he asked, his words bitter.
Michaela thought for a moment before she said, “Okay.”
“Okay, what?” Gabriel watched her closely now, lines forming between his eyes.
“I think I want you too.” Michaela held up her other hand to show Gabriel how it shook. “See? And I’m all tingly—”
Gabriel’s eyes flared a molten gold, and he yanked her into his body. His mouth landed hard over hers as Michaela sucked in a surprised breath. Their kiss was hot and wild and nothing like it had been the first time Gabriel channeled her. Michaela’s eyes were wide open, staring at him as he kissed her. A heavy fist clenched around her gut, and she felt lost.
Her eyes closed, and then she was in his lap. The leather cloth around his hips bunched underneath her as she straddled him. Her thoughts were on the leather and what a thin barrier it was between their bodies when his arms banded around her, pulling her tighter against him until she felt the thump of his heart beating against her chest.