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

by Meg Collett

  Gabriel flew until he crossed some boundary farther inland, where the roads were cleared of cars and junk. No paint lined the walls of storefronts. Houses, massive and expensive, were intact. A group of children played outside a three-story brick home behind a massive set of gates. Police cars and foot cops patrolled, making slow, searching loops.

  This was the land of the rich, where people could pay for protection. But they weren’t paying humans. They paid Lucifer. And the police patrolling were angels in uniform.

  Even surrounded by the end of the world, some people could afford the high price of isolation. They stood like an island in a sea of devastation. But Gabriel knew it wouldn’t be long before safety was just an illusion.

  The homes became spaced farther apart. Soon, Gabriel only saw fields with brown grass and a large herd of horses galloping, wild and frenzied, through the pasture. The white board fence stretched endlessly along the paved drive lined with drooping, bare trees. A massive plantation home sat at the end like a sentinel against the gray sky.

  Lucifer’s home.

  Gabriel landed at the start of the drive outside arching steel gates. Two large guards with glistening black wings stood inside, watching Gabriel with cold, weary eyes.

  “I’m here to see Lucifer. I imagine he wants to see me too,” Gabriel said. His face was chapped from the cold wind. He pressed his wings tightly against his back for added warmth, and because angels were prohibited from flying on Lucifer’s property.

  The guards didn’t speak directly to Gabriel. They lifted their hands to their ears and listened to some command coming through their headsets. After a long pause, they turned and opened the gates. Two more guards joined the other fallen to escort Gabriel to the main house.

  It was a long walk down the drive. Gabriel didn’t look around or try to talk to the fallen. They didn’t try to restrain him. He was one of them now with his black eyes glinting in the murky air like theirs.

  Instead of going inside the house like Gabriel assumed, they walked its perimeter toward the back lawn. Around the last corner of the house was a buzz of activity. Several fallen angels bustled about a large wooden crate. Among them was Lucifer, sitting off to the side near the house, cleaning a gun.

  He looked up when Gabriel approached, his eyes hidden behind large, circular sunglasses. “Hello, Gabriel. How are you on this fine day?” He plunged a long wired-tip brush into the barrel of the shotgun. The sleeves of his white cashmere sweater were pushed up to avoid being dirtied by the black oil.

  Gabriel didn’t respond. A loud thumping came from within the crate. Holes the sizes of half-dollars were drilled into the sides. From inside, a shadow passed back and forth, its growls rumbling the wood.

  “You know, you should treat your superiors with more respect,” Lucifer said. “That means answering a question when one is asked of you.” He snapped a piece back in place, his fingers dexterous and knowledgeable as they stroked the gleaming weapon.

  “I’m fine.”

  “See? That wasn’t so hard, was it? I think you and I could be friends one day, you know.” Lucifer looked away from the gun for a moment to flash a pearly smile up at Gabriel. Gabriel ground his teeth until little bits fell into his mouth.

  “You might think that’s outrageous given our circumstances.” Lucifer went on. “But I think you will find I’m a pretty reasonable guy. For instance,” Lucifer paused, settling the gun in his lap. His eyes met Gabriel’s. “You killed my second in command.”

  Beliar. Hot acid churned in Gabriel’s stomach. He couldn’t stop picturing the angel plucking at Michaela’s limp, amputated wings; the flash of the carving knife stripping meat from bone, whittling her bones into razor points as he was forced to watch. “He deserved to die.”

  Lucifer laughed, the sound floating across the lawn. The angels around the crate tensed, their eyes shifting between Lucifer and the caged creature inside. Gabriel felt like that animal. “I don’t doubt that one bit. The demon was intolerable; I won’t disagree. But he did serve a purpose to me. Now what am I supposed to do?”

  Lucifer’s question was innocent, but Gabriel heard the pointed edge in his words. There was no way to know the bond between Lucifer and Beliar. Gabriel’s fate might be the same as the hunted animal a few feet away. “You can punish me, but it won’t change a thing.”

  “I know,” Lucifer said, smiling. His lips turned up at dangerous, conniving angles. “Tell me, what prompted your actions?”

  “He ordered me to help him kill Michaela. For obvious reasons, I refused.” Gabriel didn’t blink or shift his solid gaze as he stared down Lucifer. “He came too close to me, showed me his back, and I plunged a knife into it. I tore him apart, burned the pieces, buried them, and hung up his bones. He was stupid to believe I wouldn’t kill to protect what I love.”

  Lucifer threw back his head, laughing and clapping. When he finished, he wiped the tears underneath his eyes. “I’m impressed you would go to such lengths to save Michaela when days ago you would’ve spit on the ground she walked on.”

  “I will always love her,” Gabriel said through clenched teeth. “No matter how angry she makes me.”

  “I feel your pain, brother.” Lucifer nodded knowingly.

  “Don’t call me that.”

  Lucifer ignored his comment. Instead, he sighed. His hands found the gun in his lap again. From the pocket of his gray pants, he produced a long, silver bullet. It slid into the gun easily. With a snap, he locked the barrel in place and propped it against his shoulder. “But there’s still the question of what I’m going to do now without a second in command. You’ve put me at a loss, a disadvantage. I would punish any other fallen harshly for a much lesser offense.”

  “You can kill me. My life means nothing to me.” Gabriel said the words and felt their truth. When he had kissed Michaela and felt her body against his once more, he’d known. His forgiveness was all he could offer her. He’d been changed in irrevocable, permanent ways. He was fallen, unlovable, and unredeemable.

  “That’s surprising to hear.” And Lucifer did look surprised. He stood from the chair, its legs grating across the large tiles of the patio. The sound sent the crate rocking in a frenzy. A lion roared, rattling the boards. For the first time, Gabriel recognized the animal. The fact that Lucifer was hunting a lion in his backyard while the world wasted away around him was almost laughable. “I would’ve thought you might fight for your life as you did in Hell.” Lucifer nodded toward the cage. “And against much worse beasts.”

  “I’ll not fight anymore to survive.”

  “Because you’re a fallen?”

  “Yes.”

  Lucifer thought for a moment. The fallen shifted beside the crate. Long shadows stretched across the lawn. There was no way to tell the time of day without the sun, but Gabriel assumed it was close to noon after his long flight. A bitter wind whipped against the side of the house with a howl. The lion roared, its throat vibrating with a deep-rooted anger.

  Gabriel sensed the same anger in his bones. Standing next to Lucifer, Gabriel felt like that caged lion. There was only one way out of his box. And every move he made brought him one step closer to the end.

  “This has turned out to be more interesting than I planned,” Lucifer said. He smiled at Gabriel before he turned to the fallen beside the crate. “Now.”

  Lucifer positioned the gun tightly against his shoulder. His expensive clothes were a sharp contrast to the intensity of his face, shadowed beneath a lost sun. A fallen pried at the crate with a crowbar. The lion growled as it waited.

  With a crack of splintering wood, the front of the crate popped free. The fallen angels jumped back, propelling farther away from the crate to fade into the darkness at the edges of the lawn. Lucifer whistled, the sound sharp and antagonizing. “Here kitty, kitty, kitty.”

  The lion stalked out. Its wild mane disheveled. Ribs poked through its dull hide, but its head was high, its teeth razor sharp. Black eyes, darker than Gabriel’s, settled solely
on Lucifer. It took its time approaching him. Muscles rippled along its emaciated shoulders and haunches.

  It slowed, drawing its body, readying to pounce. With a ripping growl, it sprung from the ground mere feet from where Gabriel and Lucifer stood.

  The gun fired.

  Gabriel flinched. The lion thumped heavily to the ground. One paw twitched. Its black eyes faded behind a dull veil of death. Lucifer laughed with glee as the fallen angels approached the lion. With grunts of strained effort, they heaved its carcass up and carried it away. Others tidied up the loose boards and tufts of bloodied hair.

  “I’ve decided,” he said, turning to Gabriel.

  A small trail of rich red blood made its trickling way toward the edge of the patio tiles. A fallen quickly blotted it away.

  “You will be my new second in command.”

  23

  “This smells like shit.”

  Since early that afternoon, the livestock had been dropping dead from disease. It was another plague sent by the Aethere; it stopped the animals’ hearts, killing them instantly. Those who could be spared from stocking the shelter were sent to gather the dead bodies littering the frozen earth to be burned before the disease spread farther. Michaela and Clark grunted as they drug a dead cow across the field.

  Sweat dripped from Michaela’s brow even in the sinking chill of the night. She looked across the long field to where a huge fire blazed. Even from the distance, charred flesh stuck to the back of her throat. Ashes from the carcasses floated in the air, drifting and settling into her hair.

  Clark was right. It smelled like shit. But Michaela didn’t bother to respond as they heaved once again.

  Clark complained some more as they slowly made their way to the fire. He groaned about the lack of tractors to haul the bodies and how ironic it was all the mules had died. Michaela only halfway listened.

  All around them Archangels and Nephilim toted dead livestock to the fire where bones popped and sizzled. It was the first time the two groups had worked together. Beside Michaela and Clark, Raphael helped two tall Nephilim pull a horse’s stiff form. Raphael probably could’ve carried the horse alone, but he worked with the Nephilim to preserve his energy and work longer.

  It was an odd sight, one that stirred conflicting emotions inside Michaela. It was good everyone was finally getting along, but Michaela still felt a sense of wrongness around the Nephilim. It was a hate deeply ingrained in her, and it would take a while to forget, especially on nights like this amongst so much death.

  Clark noticed too, because he said, “Kind of morbid that everyone gets along now, huh?”

  “Yeah,” Michaela said. She spoke the words so quietly no one would hear.

  “Well, quit looking around and put your back into it. I’m doing all the work.”

  Michaela snorted, rolling her eyes. He smirked at her, because they both knew she was the one doing most of the work. Their progress was slow, but they eventually made it to the fire. They each took a leg along with two other Nephilim. Together they swung the cow back and up into the fire. It landed with a spray of sparks and hisses.

  Michaela stepped back, shielding her eyes. Clark cleared his throat and bumped into her. Michaela looked up. Sophia walked by with an armload of chickens. The Nephil and Clark avoided eye contact. Clearly they weren’t back on speaking terms. Sophia hurried away, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. Clark raked his hand through his scraggly hair.

  “Dude.” He sighed.

  “Why don’t you just talk to her since it’s bothering you so much?” Michaela asked.

  “It’s not bothering me!” Clark sounded offended.

  “Yeah. Right. This is you not bothered.” Michaela walked away, heading toward the next dead animal.

  The endless night finally turned into early hours of morning. Everyone was still working, though the progress had slowed, and everyone stopped often to stretch their backs. Smoke from fires all over the community blazed, thickening the air with ash. Michaela craved clean air. Her muscles quivered; her feet slipped in muck and mire. She was filthy and stank of death. Clark looked even worse than she felt.

  Currently, he was collapsed on the ground, panting and moaning about a pulled hamstring. Michaela stood over him, stretching her arms above her head. She was staring along the wood line at nothing in particular when she saw movement amongst the trees. She froze.

  Gabriel and a handful of fallen emerged from the shadows. They stalked into the field like a pack of wolves. Gabriel’s eyes settled on the pale, toned flesh exposed above the waistband of her jeans. Embarrassed, she lowered her arms, smoothing her shirt down.

  “What’s going on?” Clark asked, sitting up. He followed Michaela’s gaze across the field. “Oh.”

  As the fallen came closer, Michaela noticed they were carrying loads in each of their arms. The lighting was sparse, the main source the fire, so Gabriel was only feet away from her when she realized they held bodies of angels.

  More outcasts.

  “What happened?” Michaela asked, closing the distance to Gabriel and the angel he carried. She searched the angel’s destroyed face, but the features were too broken to recognize.

  “The Aethere.” Gabriel said the word like a swear word laced with disgust and hate. Michaela sensed something different about him, but it was hidden behind the shadows of his eyes. She stepped back.

  “Clark, go get the Nephilim,” she said.

  “On it.”

  But the Nephilim were already there. Without pause, they brushed past Michaela and approached the fallen. No one said a word as the fallen handed over the wounded holy angels. It was an unbelievable gesture. No one expected the fallen to help the outcast holy angels. Michaela looked at Gabriel. His dark eyes met hers.

  He was the reason the fallen were even helping at all. And it was a weighty gesture.

  There was a surge of activity around them, but Michaela couldn’t take her eyes away from Gabriel. The Nephilim took the outcasts to the fire to mend their tortured bodies. The Archangels approached Gabriel, but they saw his face as he watched Michaela and only nodded a greeting before leaving. Gabriel’s fallen sank back into the trees, retreating to wherever it was they’d come from.

  They were alone.

  Michaela wiped her sweaty palms on her jeans, breaking their trance as her eyes slid away from his. She took a deep breath. “Why did you bring them?” she asked, nodding toward the fire behind her.

  “The fallen took me to where they’d landed so I could bring them here. I wanted to get to them before the humans did.” Gabriel’s voice was raw. He took a step closer to her.

  “But why? Doesn’t that go against some fallen order to not help us?”

  Gabriel stepped closer still until only inches separated them. He reached out, his finger trailing up her arm, leaving fire and ice in its wake. He brushed her hair behind her ear then dropped his hand. She missed his touch instantly.

  “There’s something I have to tell you,” he said.

  The response was instinctual. Michaela shifted away from him and wrapped her arms around her middle. She frowned. “What is it?”

  Gabriel had moved away from her too, his eyes cautious. Michaela wondered how they could have gotten to this point where they didn’t trust who the other had become. Her heart ached.

  “Lucifer made me second in command.”

  Michaela’s head snapped around, her eyes dagger-like. “I thought Beliar was his second.”

  “Beliar is dead.”

  Michaela slouched, the tension in her shoulders releasing. “You killed him?”

  Gabriel only watched her. She knew the answer. The demon was gone. She wondered why Gabriel had done it. Why he had brought the outcasts to her. Why he was telling her this now.

  “Is that why the fallen took you to the outcasts?” she asked quietly.

  Gabriel nodded. His gaze landed on the fire and the bustle of activity around it. “They trust me more than Beliar. I think they even like me.”
>
  Michaela battled with his words. She heard it in his voice, Gabriel had grown fond of some fallen. He trusted them too. They liked him. She shuddered. Gabriel noted her reaction with darkening eyes.

  “I’m leaving,” he said. He turned to go, but Michaela’s hand snaked out and grabbed his arm.

  “We’ve decided to attack Heaven during the big storm plague.” The words spilled out. As she said them, her heart told her to not see a fallen in front of her, to make the decision to love Gabriel for who he was now. But her head screamed that she was giving secrets to the enemy.

  Gabriel went very still when she finished speaking. A chill radiated from his body, permeating the warmth of her jacket. “Are you going?”

  She wanted to shiver at his icy words, but she jutted out her chin instead. “Raphael is going to carry me. We think it’ll work since that’s probably how Lucifer made the trip when the fallen trespassed.”

  “No.” Gabriel shook his head at her. “You’re not going.”

  “I am.”

  “Damnit, Michaela, that’ll never work. You’ll all die.”

  “What else are we supposed to do? The souls are blocking the sun. It gets colder every day. The humans are barely surviving as it is. We have to do something.”

  Gabriel looked like a shadow in the field. His face hidden beneath the veil of night, but Michaela saw the glint in his black eyes. The trees over his shoulder shifted in the frosty wind.

  “Don’t do this. Let me have the seals,” he said. Michaela stiffened. “I can protect them.”

  Michaela was already shaking her head before he finished. “No.”

  They both heard the meaning in her words beyond the simple answer. She didn’t trust him with the means to the end of the world. He was on the other side of the line between good and bad. Michaela didn’t think she stood on the good side, but she was the only protector of the seals.