by Meg Collett
She didn’t recognize the tears streaming down her cheeks until they leached into her mouth. She cried silently for a long time, but with the tears came relief.
13
The Jeep trundled over the dirt road, crunching and spitting gravels under its massive wheels. Michaela slowed as she reached the white farmhouse. It was past midnight, but every light in the place burned. Nearly all the Nephilim who lived with Iris and possibly even some from other farms had gathered in the yard, waiting.
Michaela took a heavy breath and put the car in park. Already, the Nephilim were at the back doors extracting Isaac. They spoke to each other quietly as they took in his wounds. The half angels were like pale ghosts in the night, reapers coming to gather their dead. They didn’t say a word to Michaela.
In the seat beside her sat the seals. Staring at the ancient wood, Michaela felt as if their presence here was a bad omen. Forcing herself to move, she picked up the box and shoved it inside her jacket, zipping it so the wood dug into her stomach.
Michaela opened her door and stepped outside. The air was bitingly cold; she pulled her gray hood over her dark hair and tightened the leather jacket around her body until the edges of the box dug into her skin. She stayed out of the way as the Nephilim carried Isaac inside.
The furnace cooked the house to almost tolerable levels. Iris waited at the door, smiling, when Michaela walked in. Iris’s hand settled briefly on Isaac’s arm before he was carried into an empty bedroom. She looked back at Michaela.
“Thank you,” Iris said. She left Michaela by the door and went into the bedroom to kneel beside Isaac. She kissed him on his cheek, the motion old and familiar, like they hadn’t been separated for more than a decade. It broke Michaela’s heart.
At that moment, Clark walked down the stairs. His hair was disheveled and his eyes groggy. He stopped next to Michaela. He must have been half asleep, because he looked at her without recognizing her. She raised her brows, waiting. The light went off in his eyes, and a face-splitting grin spread across his face.
“Dude!” Clark flung his arms around Michaela and pulled her in for a crushing hug. You’re back!” Clark drew back and punched her in the arm. “Finally. What took you so long? I was bored to death.”
“I brought your father back,” Michaela said, her eyes slipping back to the bedroom where she heard whispering leaking from the clapboard walls.
“Oh, great. I’m sure he’ll have a lot to say.” He rolled his eyes.
“He’s hurt, Clark,” Michaela said. Her words were clipped and slightly cold, but she didn’t mean them to be. The inside of the house was too hot now. All the Nephilim in the small space suffocated her.
“What?” Clark asked, his earlier sarcasm gone.
“One of the hybrids attacked him. I brought him back as quickly as I could.” Michaela edged back toward the front door, which was carelessly left open, letting in drafts of cold air that did nothing to cool Michaela’s feverish face.
Inside the room, a Nephil spoke words above a bowl of water to bring it to a boil. Another brewed thick, brown syrup. Iris sat on the edge of the bed, holding Isaac’s hand.
“Holy shit.” Clark’s words were quiet. He was frozen.
“Did you guys see all the frogs?” Michaela asked.
“Clark. Come in here.” Iris called from the bedroom.
“Frogs?” Clark said the word, but he didn’t look at Michaela. He found his legs again, and drifted into the room. Michaela watched him go. She was the only one still in the foyer.
Iris smiled at Clark when he drew beside the bed. She patted the spot next to her. Clark cleared his throat before he settled down. “I heard you let one of those nasty things take a hunk out of you,” Clark said, his voice trembling slightly. Isaac smiled weakly.
Michaela turned away from the scene in the bedroom. She closed the front door behind her and stepped onto the front porch. The Jeep’s doors were still open, interior lights blazing. She settled heavily onto the front steps, pulling her knees beneath her chin like she was wrapping her body around the seals.
The activity of the Nephilim spilled from the house. Michaela hoped the Nephilim could control Isaac’s infection. She closed her eyes and saw the hybrid that attacked him.
Your fault. Your fault. Always your fault.
Michaela sighed at the familiar rattle of the snake’s tail against her spine. It had been mocking her, taunting her, since she’d learned the holy angels wouldn’t be taking care of the hybrids. For once, Michaela agreed with the snake.
She needed a plan. The most pressing problem was the souls. Even with the devastation of the plagues and the hybrids, if the sun became completely blocked behind layers of waiting souls spilling over form Purgatory, Earth would become unlivable. Humans would die faster from the cold temperatures and starvation than from frogs falling from the sky.
She was in the middle of war with no army. She couldn’t rush Heaven’s gates with a thousand angels at her back. So she couldn’t take out the Watchers or judge the souls.
But she could try to slow down the amount of souls that went to Heaven. Michaela knew what that meant, and she didn’t relish the thought.
But before she could meet with Loki, she needed to hide the seals.
Hours later, Michaela sat cross-legged on the four-post bed in her simple room. The morning sun weakly streamed through the clean windows, spreading little light. Only the dying embers in the fireplace cast a red glow into the space.
Michaela’s breaths condensed in the air beyond her mouth. Since bringing Isaac home, she felt sick with dread and fear. For the millionth time, her eyes settled on the patch of floor in front of her bed. The worn, hand-woven rug was neatly arranged over the plank floors, but she knew exactly where to look. She saw straight through the rug to the floor underneath and even to the hollow space beneath.
She unwound her legs and eased to the end of the bed. Leaning over, she flipped back the edge of the rug. Her fingertips ran over the trodden grain of the wooden slat until she found the rough lip. Her nail crooked under and pulled the plank up with a squeak.
Inside, wrapped in a plaid shirt, were the Seven Seals tucked safely in their box. Their power wafted upward to Michaela like a promise…a threat. Michaela pressed the plank back into place before she got sick. Sitting back on the bed, she covered her mouth with her hand.
Maybe she should ask Gabriel for help. She had thought that very same thing almost as much as she had checked beneath the floor. But every time, she came to the same conclusion. She couldn’t ask him for help after all he’d sacrificed. It wasn’t fair.
Besides, she could handle this.
Except the keys to the End of Days were hidden beneath the floor in a farmhouse on an Amish farm. Not exactly the safest place, but no one knew where the Nephilim or Michaela were. It would be nearly impossible for the Aethere to find her. She flopped back on the bed with a sigh, exhausted, but just as her eyes settled closed, her door banged open.
Only one person would enter her room without knocking. Actually, if she thought about it, probably only one person in a house full of Nephilim would come looking for her. “Go away, Clark.”
He flopped on the bed beside her. “You’re a hateful person, you know that?”
“Why aren’t you down there with your dad?” She kept her eyes closed. Clark didn’t answer for a long moment.
“Iris is with him. She doesn’t leave his side, shockingly enough.”
Michaela cracked an eye and looked at him. “Now who sounds hateful?”
“Whatever. He’s sleeping well, and they have an IV in him to help fight the infection.” Clark huffed. “What are you doing today? I have to get out of this house, like, now.”
Michaela debated about telling him, but she didn’t see the point in keeping it a secret. “I want to talk to Loki about the souls.”
“Oh!” Clark rolled onto his side and looked at her. “That sounds exciting. I’m coming.”
“I don’t—”
“Can he help with the lack of judgment and all that?” Clark asked.
Michaela sighed. “Not with the judging. But I’m hoping he might be able to help in other ways.”
Clark sprang up from the bed. “I like it! This kind of shot in the dark plan feels like the old days. Let’s boogie.” Clark waved his hand at her to get up. He was practically bouncing on the balls of his feet.
Michaela got up and pulled on her boots before she slid her arms into her leather jacket, which had actually belonged to Clark. She paused, her eyes sliding down her clothes. Her shirt was a tattered, long-sleeved Prince concert tee with frayed hems. Her jeans baggy and stuffed into the tops of her boots, which were bound with duct tape. Everything she wore had once belonged to Clark.
“Quit checking yourself out. I doubt we’ll run into Gabriel.” Clark drew out Gabriel’s name in a swoony, sing-song voice while he batted his eyelashes. He looked like an idiot.
“You look like an idiot.” Michaela scowled as she stalked past him. “We are so not talking about him.”
“Yeah right. You can tell me all about your drama in the car.” Clark stomped down the stairs with Michaela right behind him.
“Nope. We’re taking my car this time.” Clark screeched to a stop at her words. Michaela dangled her keys in his face as she continued down the stairs.
“Oh, hell no. Did you hear me, Michaela? Hell no!” Clark called, but Michaela was already out the front door and heading toward her new Jeep. She looked up at the sky, searching for the sun. The clouds were thick and dark, completely hiding it. The air was colder today than yesterday, making Michaela wish she had gloves and a thicker shirt.
Michaela had the car started and pulled up to the front porch by the time Clark dragged himself out the door. He took one look at the dirty Jeep and started hollering at her. Thankfully, the car was virtually soundproof. She honked the horn. Clark stood there for a moment like he was trying to prove a point. But when she started to pull away, he ran to the car and yanked open the door.
“This isn’t how this friendship works. I drive,” Clark said.
Michaela ignored him as the car bumped along the farm road. She fiddled with the radio until she found a news channel. The government had declared Marshall Law in the southern region of the United States. Military units were deployed to help restore order.
Clark tried to pout in silence for about a minute before he asked, “How are we going to find him this time?”
“Last night I asked him to meet us in Maryland for lunch.”
Clark jerked his head around, his eyes narrowed at her. “Excuse me. You just asked him?”
Michaela shrugged. She turned onto the main road and hit the gas. The little town in Maryland wasn’t far from the farm, but it was far enough. She thought it would be safe. But she still wanted to be back before nightfall. She didn’t like leaving the seals alone for this long. The roads were eerily empty as she drove.
“Yes.”
Clark threw his arms into the air, hitting his fingers on the roof of the car. He swore. “And how did you do it?”
With a smirk, Michaela said, “I called him on his cell phone. Iris had his number.”
After a minute or two of relentless glaring, Clark rode in stony silence the rest of the drive. Michaela could’ve sworn the peace and quiet was just like Heaven.
14
In less than an hour, they’d reached the town of White Hall, Maryland. Michaela eased the Jeep into a narrow parking spot outside a coffee and sandwich shop. Loki sat at a booth by the window sipping on his drink. He didn’t bother to look up as they climbed out of the car.
“Well, this should be fun.” Michaela shot Clark a dirty look as she opened the store’s door.
Loki sat his drink on the table and stared at Michaela. The look on his face kept her hovering by the door. She nodded to the clerk watching them from behind the table. “Clark, why don’t you get us something to eat? I’m starved.”
“No way. I don’t want to miss anything,” Clark said.
Michaela pushed him back when he tried to walk to Loki’s table. “Just order something, okay? I need a minute.”
She didn’t hang around to debate, but Clark must’ve listened because he didn’t follow her. When she sat across from Loki, she noticed the dark shadows beneath his eyes and his shrunken appearance. The collar of his trench coat was turned up. He had the jacket pulled tightly around him. He watched her with cool eyes.
“Loki, what’s wrong?” Michaela asked, immediately sensing a change in the Angel of Death.
Loki took another slow sip of his hot drink. “What isn’t wrong these days?”
“Is it the souls? Are they making you sick?”
As the Angel of Death, Loki had no allegiance to either the holy of fallen side. His sole purpose was delivering souls to their judgments. The task defined his existence. Without it, Michaela didn’t know what would happen to him.
“They certainly aren’t making me feel better,” Loki said. He sat the empty cup on the table and looked at Clark, who was ordering food. “You brought the fairy with you I see.”
“He risked his life for me, fought beside me. He’s my friend.” Michaela crossed her arms and sat back in the bench, ready for Loki’s onslaught of sarcastic humor.
But Loki only nodded. “He seems like a good human.”
It took Michaela a moment to recover from her surprise. She was completely taken aback by Loki’s demeanor. He actually seemed…nice. “You’re different. What’s wrong?”
“Michaela, come on. I wasn’t that obnoxious.” Loki rolled his eyes at her suspicion just as Clark set a tray of food on the table.
“Ha!” Clark snorted. “You were the biggest pain in the ass I’ve ever met, and I’ve met me.”
Clark plopped on the bench beside Michaela and started doling out the food. He sat a club sandwich in front of her with some hot chocolate. He had a burger, kettle fries, and a large glob of cheesy macaroni.
The silence stretched out uncomfortably. Michaela took a bite, chewing as she thought. She didn’t understand why Loki was acting like this. Unless the Aethere had gotten to him before her. She swallowed.
“Has anyone come to talk to you?” she asked.
“Not the angels you think.”
“What do you mean?” Clark asked around a mouthful of burger. He took a swig of Coke to wash it down.
Loki focused on Michaela. “You’ve got a big problem.” He pointed to the sky to indicate the souls. “That’s not a plague. But those souls need to be judged. It’s a fine line between life and the afterlife. There’s not supposed to be a long period in between. You need to understand that those souls must be judged soon.”
“Loki, I agree with what you’re saying about the souls. I understand, and I came here to ask for a favor.”
“I know,” Loki said. He picked at the edge of the table with his shoulders hunched.
“You do?”
“Yes. I know what you want, because Gabriel has already come to ask the very same question. You want me to stop taking the souls from the dead and delivering them to Purgatory so they won’t keep spilling into the skies. You want me to go against nature and keep the dead in limbo. You want me to go against my duty, the one duty that has bound me and cursed me my entire life. I turned Gabriel down when he asked me.”
Michaela stole a glance at Clark, who looked just as stunned as she did. “Gabriel has come to talk to you? I thought you said no one had come?”
“I said it wasn’t the angels you thought who had come to see me.” Loki cocked an eyebrow. “Is this not what you’ve come to ask?”
“Well, yeah, actually. That’s what I want.” She took a deep breath. She didn’t know why Loki had turned down Gabriel, and if he would turn her down too, but she had to try. “I know it goes against nature, and I would never ask you to—”
“I’ll do it,” Loki said.
“Wait,” Michaela said. “You will?”
“I
will, because you asked me to.” Loki bowed his head toward her in a manner she hadn’t seen since her days as General. It sent goose bumps cascading down her arms.
“What’s going on here?” Clark asked, looking between the two angels.
“Since the beginning of time, I have been the Angel of Death,” Loki said. “I perform a very important duty for the angels, both holy and fallen. I don’t do it because it’s right or wrong. I don’t do it because it makes me a good holy or fallen angel. I’m none of that. Without any thanks or appreciation, I do what needs to be done because I am the only one to do it.”
“I know that Loki, and we—”
“No, you don’t. Or at least you didn’t. None of the angels appreciated what I did. But when you released those hybrids into the world to prove that the Aethere are not the noble angels they claim to be, you did what needed to be done instead of what would make you the better holy angel. Instead of killing them all right there, you shined a light into the gray area between good and bad.”
“I don’t know what you’re saying, Loki,” Michaela said slowly. What little she’d eaten settled like lead in her stomach. Her hot chocolate was getting cold.
“Like me, you are walking the line between holy and fallen. No side claims you, and you claim none of your own. As long as you keep shining that light and walking the middle like I do, doing what needs to be done and not what’s expected, I will help you. If you do that, you will have my allegiance.”
It took Michaela a moment to speak around her shock. Finally she said, “You’ll stop taking the souls from the bodies?”
“No, I’ll take the souls from the bodies.” Michaela stiffened at Loki’s words. “But I won’t take them to Purgatory. I will keep them safe with me. If I leave them in the bodies, Lucifer will take them for his projects.”
Michaela hadn’t even thought of that, but she nodded, relaxing. “Okay. Thank you, Loki.”