by Meg Collett
“The solution would be to take out the Aethere and get the souls judgment. But I understand this is a Band-Aid. So I’ll do it. For you.”
“The Aethere will fall. I’ll see to that,” Michaela said.
“I know.” Loki nodded. He scooted out of the bench and rose. “Now, if you don’t mind, I have a lot of work to do.” He threw some cash on the table before pulling a hat low over his eyes. “And so do you.”
15
“I think the nice version of Loki gives me just as many creeps as the asshole version.”
They were halfway back to Pennsylvania, and neither of them had come to any conclusions about Loki’s change in personality. “I agree. But he’s the only one that can keep the souls safe for now.”
“I don’t care how important he is, he’s still weird.”
Michaela rolled her eyes. “In all fairness, you’re not the most normal guy in the world.”
It didn’t take them long to reach the farm. Michaela parked and got out of the Jeep. Clark jumped out and ripped his pants. He was bent over, cursing and trying to inspect the damage when Michaela noticed there were no Nephilim in the fields or around the farms. The place looked deserted.
“What’s going on?” she asked Clark, but he didn’t pay attention.
“Dude, these were good jeans.”
Michaela left Clark at the Jeep and walked up to the porch. That’s when she heard the buzz of a television inside. “Clark, come on. Something’s happened.”
Clark hurried behind her as she opened the door and went inside. She went straight to the den, following the low hum of muffled voices. Inside were nearly thirty Nephilim all crammed together. Michaela found Iris close to the back of the group.
“What is it?” she asked. The television could barely be heard above the talking Nephilim. Michaela had no hope of threading her way through the crowd.
“All these scientists and professors have been on the television talking about the Seven Seals and the Watchers, because the government found some cast out angels,” Iris said. Michaela’s blood ran cold.
“What are they saying?”
“The President is holding the angels for ransom. He’ll hand them over if the plagues stop.”
Clark swore. “Shouldn’t we help them? Is there anything we can do?”
Michaela ran her hand through her hair in frustration. If she was right about why Abel was casting out angels, then those hostages were some of the only angels who still believed in her or at least doubted the Aethere enough for them to be cast out. It felt wrong to leave them in the hands of the humans, but Michaela didn’t know if there was anything she could do for them now. The President’s demands would be ignored. This was a battle between the angels.
“It might make things worse if we try to take them back. What do you think?” Michaela asked.
Iris slowly shook her head. Her voice was so quiet Michaela had to lean forward to catch her words. “I think it would be hard to motivate the Nephilim to go after the outcast angels. It’s awful to say, but I would pick your battles here.”
In her heart, Michaela knew Iris was right. Her shaky alliance with the Nephilim was something Michaela couldn’t risk on a fool’s errand. She doubted the humans could do any worse damage to the angels than they had already suffered. She nodded. “Okay. I want to meet with everyone this afternoon. We need to start making plans to fight back.”
Iris squeezed Michaela’s hand before she slipped farther into the room. When she was gone, Michaela turned away and walked down the hall. She dug around in her jacket pocket until she found her cell phone.
It was a long-shot hope, but Michaela pressed send. Liam picked up after four rings.
“Hello?”
“Liam, it’s Michaela,” she said quietly into the phone. She was halfway up the stairs and making her way to her room.
“Let me go someplace a little more private.” Sounds of a door opening and closing came through the phone. Michaela was sitting on her bed when Liam finally spoke again. “I have bad news.”
“What happened?” Michaela sighed heavily.
“I couldn’t even get a messenger angel to deliver what you said. The Aethere aren’t allowing any angels out of Heaven apparently,” Liam said. “No one has seen a holy angel since the Watcher turned the Atlantic to blood.”
Michaela thought about the outcast angels. “Not technically,” she said under her breath.
“I’m sorry. I don’t know what else to do.”
“It’s fine. We’ll come up with something else then,” Michaela said. She fiddled with the zipper on her jacket.
“How is Isaac?” The concern was obvious in Liam’s voice.
“He’s on a lot of antibiotics, but they don’t seem to be effective against the hybrid’s salvia. The Nephilim are just trying to keep the wound clean and let his body fight off the infection.”
“Okay, thanks for the update. I need to go now.”
“Take care.”
Michaela flipped the phone closed and laid down. She closed her eyes and immediately fell asleep. For once, she didn’t dream.
The next instant, Clark was shaking her awake. She forced her eyes opened and groaned. “What?”
“They’re here,” Clark said. The tone of his voice was unusual without his normal sarcasm.
“The Watchers? The Aethere?” Michaela jerked upright in bed and slung her legs over the edge.
“No. Not them,” Clark said. He stepped back, his eyes careful. He handed Michaela her jacket.
“Then who?” Michaela yanked the jacket out of his grip and pulled it on. “How long was I asleep?”
“Just a few hours. Come on.” Clark disappeared out of her door and down the stairs. Michaela rushed after him. The shoelaces of her boots were loose and tripping her up as she ran toward the front door.
Outside, nearly all the Nephilim were gathered on the front porch. They stepped aside for her as she made her way down the steps. It was easy to see what they were looking at.
The sky was growing dark, nearly black along the horizon of the farthest fields. But Michaela’s attention was on something else. She recognized them immediately.
The Archangels landed lightly on the gravel and walked toward the house. Their wings were white and brutally bright in the snapping air. Ophaniel’s beautiful platinum hair twisted in the wind. Michaela recognized Simiel’s easy smile. Raphael looked even more serious than usual, his bulk taking up twice the room as the others. Uriel stalked slightly behind the others, her hand wound tight around Zarachiel’s, who walked slowly with his head down.
It didn’t take them long to reach the group. The Nephilim watched the Archangels carefully, their weariness ingrained from centuries of being hunted. Their anxiety was only kept at bay by Iris, who stood among them, smiling and beckoning the angels closer. Raphael found Michaela in the crowd.
“You better get the livestock in the barn,” he said, the warning clear in his voice.
“Why?”
The Nephilim parted around her, outlining a clear path between her and the Archangels, who didn’t come any closer. They regarded her with empty faces. Even Simiel averted his eyes. Michaela had only been able to guess up until this point, but now it was clear even her Archangels blamed her for releasing the hybrids and the chaos it had caused. If they knew about Gabriel signing over his soul, they likely hated her for causing that too. There was a divide between them as wide as a river. No one crossed. Their hollow presence sapped any relief at their return. She squared her shoulders.
“Why?” she asked again.
Raphael glanced over his shoulder at the approaching wall of darkness. “Locusts.”
The Nephilim whirred into motion without another word. Iris divided the Nephilim, calling names and pointing in different directions around the farm. She sent Clark and Sophia out along the roads and across the fields running parallel to the humming black cloud to warn the other farms. Others swept into the fields to gather the livestock into the
single red barn. The remaining ones took the boards set beside the windows and hammered them into place.
“Do you have the seals?” Raphael watched Michaela closely, unblinking.
“Yes.”
“Are they safe?” He said the words like an accusation, like she wouldn’t be able to ensure the seals’ safety.
“Don’t.” She bit the words off, her anger building. “Don’t question me.”
Raphael snapped his mouth shut. The wind was picking up. The cloud was close enough that Michaela could see it was no cloud but a mammoth swarm. The insects’ sounds grew to a thunder.
They needed to go inside while they still had the chance. But no one moved.
Out of the corner of her eye, Michaela saw Nephilim rolling the heavy barn doors closed.
Their shadows along the road were lost under the black sky as they ran to the house.
“We don’t answer to you anymore,” Uriel said. Michaela didn’t react to the hate and disgust etched in the Archangel’s words.
“I lead things around here,” Michaela said, meeting Uriel’s dark brown eyes. “So, for however long you are here, you will answer to me.”
The swarm was to the place where the Archangels had landed moments ago. Michaela calculated they had seconds before the locusts were upon them. One stray bug landed on the ground between them, buzzing and flitting in the dirt. Michaela stepped on it before she focused back on the angels.
“Why are even you here?” Michaela asked, demanding.
The Archangels’ eyes drifted over her shoulder as a breeze tickled through her hair. Their faces softened, allowing the anger and hurt they directed at Michaela to slip away. Excitement and joy danced in their brightened eyes in a way Michaela realized wasn’t directed at her. Goose bumps prickled across her arms.
“Because I sent for them.”
16
The Nephilim hurriedly boarded up with front door with slats of plywood and thick pieces of wood when the Archangels entered the house. Michaela flinched at the hammering. She was on edge, her teeth grinding in the back of her jaw. She stalked farther into the house, passing the crowded living room and kitchen in favor of the back den with the ancient television and dark paneled walls.
She stalked to the middle of the room and closed her eyes. The other Archangels and Gabriel walked in behind her, making her feel like a caged wild animal. “Why did you ask them to come?” she asked Gabriel, who stood along the opposite wall by the door with his arms crossed.
“So you don’t want us here?” Uriel said, her words sneering.
“I didn’t say that, but why are you here now? How did he get in contact with you?” Michaela swallowed. The lump in her throat might have been her pride that she pushed down. “Why didn’t you come sooner?”
No one had a chance to answer. The first locust struck the house along the outside wall behind Michaela. It was a sharp crack against the wood, a splintered splat diverting everyone’s attention to the empty, plain wall. There were no windows in the room so they just waited, holding their breath and not knowing when the next strike would come.
It came farther down the wall. Michaela jumped. All the angels stepped away, crowding toward the inside of the house. The sound was quickly followed in rapid succession by more and more locusts like gunshots fired against the house. The noise grew to a dull roar, louder and louder until Michaela covered her ears.
“Are you happy now?” Uriel shouted.
Michaela turned to the angel who stood behind her. “What?”
Uriel gestured wildly around her as the house was pounded by millions of locust bodies. The walls trembled beneath the onslaught. Even though the glass windows were boarded, they wouldn’t last long if the locusts kept coming.
“Because of you, Abel has the power to unleash plagues on the Earth!”
“Come on, Uriel. That’s not fair,” Simiel said, nearly shouting. A tiny flare of hope grew in Michaela at Simiel’s defense.
“It’s the truth!” Uriel sputtered. Zarachiel stood like a shadow behind her, hollowed and shrunken as Uriel constantly, unconsciously shielded him.
“Any one of you would have done the exact same thing I did! You can’t keep blaming me!” Michaela yelled back.
“We don’t blame you,” Ophaniel said. Her voice still managed to sound sweet even though she had to shout. Her smile comforted Michaela marginally.
“We just don’t understand why you opened the gates without all of us there.” Raphael looked at her, his pain and sadness reflecting her own.
Michaela didn’t know what to say. Without their connection, they couldn’t see her thoughts and know her intentions. If they could see her heart, they would know she hadn’t meant for any of this to happen.
“How about you tell us how you managed to ruin Gabriel’s life so spectacularly? Or do you plan on selling all of our souls to Lucifer?”
Michaela’s eyes cut to Uriel, but all she could see was red. “How dare you? I didn’t make him do anything!”
“Is that your defense to everything now?” Uriel shouted back.
“Both of you shut up!” Gabriel’s voice sounded over everyone’s. Michaela stepped away from where she had been advancing on Uriel with her fists clenched at her sides.
Gabriel glared at her with black, piercing eyes. Michaela wanted to look away from his gaze but she refused. His entire body radiated anger and coiled strength. He was definitely bigger. His tan skin stretched tight across his rippling muscles. Smoke slightly tainted the air around him. Longer hair grew from his typical buzz cut, revealing the hint of its golden shimmer that used to match his eyes. He noticed her staring and held her gaze.
“Everyone calm down. I made the decision to sign over my soul for Michaela not because of her. So drop it.” Gabriel waited to see if everyone would stay quiet. No one spoke. “Now, let’s talk. Where are the seals?”
Michaela studied his face, his dark eyes. The tips of his feathers melted into a slight gray hue, but it was the tiniest sign of his alliance. It meant Michaela couldn’t trust him with the location of the end of the world. She gritted her teeth and looked away, sensing Gabriel tense. She caught the brief flash of hurt cross his face from her corner of her eyes.
“They’re safe.” Her words were quiet, defensive. She crossed her arms and rocked back onto her heels.
Raphael watched her for a steady moment, his light eyes like spotlights beaming down on her. “Crap, Michaela.” He raked his hands over his face. “They’re here, aren’t they?”
“What? Why didn’t you leave them with the Descendants?” Ophaniel asked. She looked like an animated porcelain doll.
“Stupid,” Uriel said, snarling. “You stupid bitch.”
“Don’t ever call me that again,” Michaela shouted, glaring at Uriel with all the hate she felt in her body.
“Stop it, Uriel,” Raphael snapped before he looked back at Michaela. “It was foolish to hide them here. If the Aethere learn where you are, they will tear this place apart.”
“What was I supposed to do?” she hissed. The locusts were like a deep drumming, vibration against the house. “Isaac gave them to me when he was practically on his deathbed!”
“You were supposed to hide them somewhere else!” Raphael shouted, not caring if the Nephilim heard him.
“There was no time to hide them anywhere else!” Michaela yelled back. Her nerves were fraying, her composure slipping.
“What do you think, Gabriel? Where should we hide them?” Simiel asked.
Michaela shook her head in frustration. Immediately she was forgotten, the conversation directed to Gabriel. No one questioned him or blamed him. They trusted him irrevocably. What had she done that was so much worse to lose their faith? She turned her stare to the battered wood grain of the floor and kept her mouth shut.
Around her, the others talked about a plan. Their words spiraled around and into each other’s, one angel completing the sentence of another. Michaela knew it was their bond, their ability
to hear one another both inside and out. She could barely keep up, let alone understand. She peeked at Gabriel. He looked as though he felt the same way.
Of course he would. He was a fallen. Cast out from the group. Yet they swept him forward, asking him for advice and approval.
Where was this attitude when Michaela was fighting to ruin Abel’s name as he had ruined hers? She watched the angels interact without animosity and judgment with each other and Gabriel. She was jealous. Jealous of their acceptance of Gabriel even though technically, he was the enemy. Michaela stood on the outskirts, growing impatient.
“We need to expose the Aethere. If we can’t prove their deceit, we need to assassinate Abel. He is the leader. Without him, we can take back control of Heaven,” she said, talking over everyone else.
The Archangels looked up as if they had forgotten she was there, staring at her with uncomprehending eyes. Uriel snorted with laughter. “That’s your plan? Really? Maybe we should just kill everyone. But that sounds like that’s been your plan since you opened the gates and let in the fallen.”
Michaela froze. Her eyes grew dry from the musty air of the room, but she didn’t blink. The locusts dully slammed against the walls, numbing her to the noise. The anger, like an old friend, welled inside her, masking the despair she felt at Uriel’s words.
“Where were you, Uriel?” The words were short, quiet. Her anger boiled beneath the quietness of the others amidst the thumping of the locusts. “Where were you? I was the only one to fight back while you all hid. You hid. And now you come here to judge me for something only I was strong enough to do.” Her eyes pricked with tears, but she would not cry in front of her old friends. She turned to Gabriel, who stood as a shadow within a shadow. “And you. Just get over it already.”
Gabriel raised his eyebrows, but he kept his mouth closed. Michaela gritted her teeth as she stalked through the group, pushing them aside as she crossed to the door. She needed to be alone.
“I told them to hide, Michaela. I gave them the order to lay low before I went back to Heaven,” Gabriel said. Michaela paused at the door, looking over her shoulder.