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

by Meg Collett

  “We stand a chance if it’s just the Watchers that come down,” Iris said. Michaela met Iris’s eye when the Nephil spoke.

  “And we won’t have a prayer if it’s more than the Watchers. I don’t think we should bring them down here. This is a bad idea,” Michaela said. Iris nodded.

  Everyone was quiet for a long moment. Eventually all eyes drifted to Raphael. “I’ve already sent some Nephilim to light a fire to bring the Watchers down,” he said. He shook his head at Michaela. “I’m so sorry. I thought you would agree. We didn’t have much time.”

  Michaela saw the anguish in his eyes at his mistake. She was like a landmine they were all trying to navigate around, because they were too scared to set her off. But she couldn’t fix that now.

  “Let’s get ready to fight then,” Michaela said, because there was nothing else to say.

  27

  Like stone gargoyles, the Watchers crouched upon the edge of Purgatory. They did not move nor breathe. Their hollow eye sockets stared emptily upon Earth. Gossamer wings, black and filthy, stretched behind them, softly fluttering in the wind. They were the ugly guard dogs of Heaven, watching out for rogue angels. No one came. No one passed them. And for the first time in history, no angel could leave Heaven without the Aethere’s permission.

  The Watchers had regained their right to Heaven. But they soon learned Heaven was not the same. To be ordered to sit upon the wall day after day was an offense the Watchers couldn’t forgive. They had been pardoned but not forgiven.

  They were needed for their ability to kill.

  And they would kill.

  One Watcher rose from the wall. His name was Semyaza, Azazel’s second in command and now the leader of the Watchers after Azazel’s death. The others rose beside him. Nearly one hundred and fifty angels spread out along the length of the wall, standing like stone statues coming to life. They all looked at the same spot on Earth.

  A great fire unlike any they’d ever seen blazed. The purest white flames sent heat searing into the atmosphere. They would not have known it was fire if not for the heat. Such a special, beautiful fire could only mean one thing: the Nephilim wanted their attention.

  A single Watcher left the wall and approached Heaven’s gates, which had remained closed and unyielding to the Watchers, to deliver the message. Like a great, hulking swarm, the Watchers eased over the wall, crawling down its length like spiders before spreading their black wings and flying downward. Their mouths hinged open, letting out shrill, birdlike calls to each other.

  Once the Watchers were safely gone, Heaven’s gates swung open. The Watchers were feared and not to be trusted near the open gates. Out poured an endless number of holy angels. Hundreds represented every choir. They followed in the path of the Watchers, surging with powerful wings straight to the beautiful, white fire.

  Around them, the great storm built. The clouds thickened with pounds of thunder and sharpened with streaks of lightning. The air was electric, stinging, and sparking. A rumble began within the core of the spiraling black clouds.

  The angels hurried, beating their wings faster to escape from within the storm. Their skin burned, the moisture in the air bearing down on them like a wet blanket. When they arrived above the fire, they saw nothing but trees shriveling beneath the white flames. They landed amongst the trees, the heat nearly unbearable.

  The Watchers were nowhere to be seen.

  The angels briefly wondered if the group of disgraced angels had betrayed them or set them up.

  But the thought was replaced as a horde of Nephilim materialized between the trees. The holy angels didn’t pause. They’d been warned not to pause. They attacked, viciously and without mercy.

  After only a few short breaths, the horde was reduced to a fallen group. The angels looked at one another, their great numbers greatly confused. These creatures were not Nephilim but mere humans. In their haste to not pause, the holy angels hadn’t confirmed the Nephilim scent. The angels saw no weapons as they moved among the dropped bodies. But they did find the unmoving small forms of children and adolescents.

  The humans were unarmed. Innocent. And dead. So very, very dead.

  The woods were quiet around the holy angels as if the trees themselves judged the angels for unjustly killing humans. The angels’ swords hung loose in their grip.

  Was this the fight the Aethere had sent them down for?

  Because it was over just as quickly as it had begun. And Michaela and her army of Nephilim was nowhere to be seen.

  28

  “There’s too many of them.”

  “What?” Gabriel looked over at Michaela.

  Her eyes were on the sky. They were hidden in the bushes on the other side of the Nephilim’s ring of fire, positioned between the fight and the farmhouse. No Watcher was supposed to get passed them, but that plan had accounted for the Watchers actually landing by the fire.

  Gabriel glanced at the sky like Michaela had. Michaela was right. He saw hundreds of angel bodies descending. Fear clenched his gut and twisted it like a dishrag.

  When Michaela didn’t respond, he glanced to where she’d crouched beside him. She wasn’t there. He spun, catching a glimpse of her form crashing through the woods toward the house.

  “Michaela!” he whispered as loudly as he dared. She didn’t stop. With a sigh, he took off after her.

  It took him a moment to catch up to her, but when he did, he yanked her arm nearly out of its socket. “We need to stay here and fight!” he hissed.

  She tried to shake him off. “Let me go!”

  “What’s happening? Why are you running?”

  Michaela jabbed her finger to the sky. “If they brought the holy angels then that means all the Watchers weren’t meant to fight but to look for the seals. Not all the Watchers landed here!”

  Gabriel’s hold relaxed on Michaela’s arm as he understood what she was saying. He looked back at the sky where the holy angels were flying. The suspiciously small group of Watchers Michaela had counted were already on the ground. From where he stood, he heard the fight commence with the sound of clashing metal on metal. The other Archangels were in the thick of it, leading the Nephilim and his fallen. But the sounds were off, like there wasn’t much fighting. If he looked close enough, it looked like the holy angels were flying upward.

  He was torn and confused, but Michaela was already running though the woods again.

  If she was right, she was running toward a group of Watchers. It wasn’t even a decision. He took off after her once again.

  Michaela angled slightly away from the farmhouse, running along the tree line next to the front field. Gabriel knew where she was heading. They should’ve known the Watchers wouldn’t be so stupid to fall for their simple tricks.

  They were hunting the seals, and they knew Michaela wouldn’t keep them on her during a fight.

  But Michaela wouldn’t make it back to the house in time, not running. The Watchers could already be taking the seals to the Aethere. Gabriel pushed off from the ground with a single, quiet beat of his wings.

  It was much easier this time to catch up to Michaela. He swept above her, reaching down, and scooping her into his arms. She flailed for a moment until she realized it was him. Her body went still in his arms. She kept her eyes tightly closed.

  “Put me down.” The words were squeezed through clenched teeth. Her body trembled.

  “It’s faster.”

  The air was gusting. Gabriel concentrated on keeping them from crashing into the treetops. Above their bodies, lightning lit up the sky enough that Gabriel clearly saw the ground below. The thunder was loud inside clouds that seemed to glow green with a brewing turbulence. The soft drizzle was replaced by a pinging noise. It wasn’t until a chunk of ice sliced into Gabriel’s back that he realized it was hailing.

  He shielded Michaela’s body best he could. But it did little use; they were already there.

  The Watchers had found the new hiding place of the seals. The one place they couldn’t
get to.

  A Watcher had Clark by the throat. A small group of Nephilim meant to protect the house and the shelter were on their knees in front of six other Watchers by the pond’s edge. It was clear the Watchers were trying to get Clark to enter the water and retrieve the weighted tube that contained the seals from the pond’s bottom where Michaela had stored them hours before when the temperatures had been more forgiving. Clark’s eyes darted about, his skin slick with sweat, but he didn’t move an inch toward the water.

  “Clark!” Michaela screamed, blowing their cover.

  Gabriel dropped to the ground, pushing Michaela behind him. The gesture did little good. She shoved him out of the way and ran the remaining distance to the Watchers.

  “Let him go,” she said. Her voice dripped venom, her face contorting like the storm above them. She had no weapon. Gabriel drew the solid angel bone sword from its sheath on his back.

  “We want what is ours!” the Watcher holding Clark shouted. The hollows where his eyes used to be were mere shadows in the night. The bones of his cheek pushed against the thin constraint of his yellowed skin. He looked sick and frail, but any minute they could open their mouths and incapacitate them all. The Watchers mouth was right next to Clark’s ear.

  “The seals were never yours! Or the Aethere’s. You won’t get them tonight,” Michaela said. She took a step closer to the pond and Clark. The Watcher jerked Clark’s body, lifting his feet slightly off the ground.

  “Don’t come any closer, Michaela.”

  Her name was revolting in the creature’s mouth. Gabriel wanted to rip away the Watcher’s tongue. He didn’t realize he was moving forward until Michaela slapped her hand across his chest to restrain him.

  “So precious,” the Watcher said, smirking at Gabriel. “We’re punished for our sins, yet you two can stand here and tell us that what you do to each other isn’t a sin? Isn’t that lust that’s barely concealed on your faces? It seeps from your skin like a perfume.” The Watcher inhaled deeply. “You reek of it.”

  “Just let him go, Semyaza,” Michaela said.

  “Oh!” Semyaza laughed. Clark cringed away from the hacking noise in his ear. “You remember me! After your lover killed Azazel, I assumed we would all just be a nameless horde to you.”

  “I know you. We can talk. Just let him go.”

  Semyaza’s smile fell. “No. Not until you jump in that pond and get what we came here for. Do it now and be quick about it, or this little piece of filth will get a proper Watcher farewell.”

  Clark swore, but the words were garbled within Semyaza’s tight hold on his face. He shook his head at Michaela.

  “Don’t, Michaela,” Gabriel said, but it was too late. She was already out of her jacket and boots. She peeled her long sleeved thermal off, revealing a black, nearly sheer tank top underneath. Clark thrashed within Semyaza’s grip. The Watcher leaned forward, licking his lips as Michaela wiggled out of her jeans. Her pale legs shined under the flashing lightning.

  “Stop this. Let me go instead.” Gabriel reached for Michaela’s arm, but she stepped around him and closer to the pond.

  A sheet of ice covered the expanse of the water. Gabriel had no way of knowing how thick it was, but when Michaela took her first barefooted step onto it, a low cracking noise spread across the pond. She took another tentative step, her fingers already trembling from the cold. Her breaths came in foggy puffs around her face. The wind was relentless against their backs, causing Michaela to slip unsteadily.

  “Hurry up!” Semyaza shouted.

  Michaela flinched. With a few more steps, she stood, trembling, nearly in the middle of the pond. The ice still hadn’t cracked, because the Nephilim had frozen a thicker layer of ice over the pond after she hid the seals. She knelt, her loose hair flowing around her face. Lightning struck a tree in front of them, scorching off the bark like bullets flying through the air. The thunder was deafening. Michaela pulled her fist back and hammered it into the ice as another flash of lightning split across the sky.

  The ice cracked again. Splinters wove their delicate strands across the surface of the pond. She struck again and again until her knuckles left streaks of red across the ice. She’d left a fist-sized crater, but even with her angelic strength, she couldn’t crack the Nephilims’ thick layer of ice into the water beyond. Looking over her shoulder, she yelled over the wind. “I can’t break through!”

  Gabriel’s head whipped around to Semyaza, who was already whispering. The Watcher’s eyes were on the closest tree to the pond. The tree popped and pulled, ripping from its roots. With a screeching groan, it toppled. It fell straight onto the pond and Michaela.

  “Michaela!” Gabriel was almost to the pond before the remaining Watchers grabbed him, yanking him backwards and ripping his sword from his grip. All six of them held him tight; one pressed a dagger against his throat. Gabriel smelled the bone within.

  But Michaela was already crawling backwards, her head tilted back to watch as the tree crashed down on her. Her movements were clumsy on the ice. She wasn’t moving fast enough.

  The tree fell on her, breaking the ice, and dragging Michaela down into the water.

  “No!” Gabriel writhed, forgetting the dagger that nicked his skin. The skin singed and burned where the knife cut him, but it did little to slow his struggles.

  The seconds were long as the group watched the loose chunks of ice bob on the unsettled surface of the pond. The hail had stopped, but in its wake was an eerie silence. Above was a green, restless sky reflecting off the pond. They all waited for Michaela to emerge.

  She didn’t.

  They waited longer. Gabriel grew still, his eyes probing the water’s depth.

  The wind stopped, followed by the rain.

  No one breathed.

  Suddenly, the water erupted. Michaela surged up, gasping and spluttering. Her black hair plastered to her blue face. Her teeth chattered. Her limbs were weak from the cold as she tried to swim to the surface.

  “Help her!” Gabriel yelled. The Watchers wouldn’t let him go. But the Nephilim rushed forward, knee deep in the frigid water that had already begun to refreeze, and helped pull her out.

  In her arms was the box, which held the seals. Gabriel heard the heavy clunk of the weight rolling about their wooden confine.

  Michaela sagged to the ground, her fingers clutching the box. The Nephilim wrapped her jacket around her shaking shoulders. One rubbed his hands briskly over her arms. The others guarded her, their eyes trained on the Watchers.

  “Give it here,” Semyaza said.

  Michaela tried to speak, but her body was convulsing with the cold. She was too weak, and barely managed to shake her head. Gabriel understood what she wanted. “Let him go first,” he said, pointing to Clark.

  “Put it on the ground and step away. Then I’ll let him go.”

  Michaela’s grip loosened on the box. But she couldn’t deliver the End of Days to an angel like Semyaza. She couldn’t sacrifice the world for one half-breed even if he was her best friend. Gabriel had to figure something else out; he had to do something. He strained against the Watchers’ hold as his eyes fell on Clark.

  Gabriel stilled. Something was happening to Clark. His eyes were closed, his breathing slow and managed. Everyone grew quiet, their focus turning to Clark. Even Semyaza turned his hollow eye sockets to Clark, his bony forehead growing lined with confusion. Clark, only inches away from the Watcher’s face, spoke.

  Nothing happened.

  At least not at first.

  Gabriel was the first to see the watery tendrils reach from the pond’s edge. They were icy and jagged, crackling and splintering, only to reform and progress. A tendril reached the closest Watcher and wrapped around his ankle. The Watcher jerked and let out a cry. Other tendrils surged forward to grasp the other Watcher’s limbs.

  The angels stumbled as their feet were yanked from underneath them. Semyaza’s grasp on Clark didn’t falter, and he pulled Clark down with him as a tendril jerked the Wat
cher back. Gabriel shook off the hands that clutched him and ran forward to grab Clark’s arm. He had to pry Semyaza’s withered, bony fingers from Clark’s flesh as the Watcher was dragged ever closer to the water’s edge. Gabriel heard the splashes and thrashing as the other Watchers hit the water.

  Semyaza’s legs were half way submerged when Gabriel finally yanked Clark free. They fell, their feet within inches of the water as Semyaza was drug under. The other Watchers were lost underneath the surface.

  The water grew still and from the very center formed a thick, glass-like ice that spread across the pond. Everyone on land stood. Gabriel rushed to Michaela’s side and took her in his arms, pressing her shivering body tight against his chest.

  They took a step closer. They couldn’t resist, because every ounce of water had turned to glass. And with picture-perfect quality, Gabriel could see the Watchers frozen within. As everyone else could only stare, Gabriel’s focus shifted to Clark. Lucifer’s requirements for his fallen army came to mind.

  Gabriel turned Michaela’s face to his and pressed his mouth to hers. He kissed her—tasting her and memorizing her.

  Because the kiss would likely be the last time he ever touched her.

  29

  Gabriel’s mouth was the only warm thing Michaela knew. She wanted to pull herself inside him and warm her bones beside his beating heart. Until she felt him pull the box from her hands.

  She pulled back. “Gabe?” The word was a weak rasp in her throat.

  “Michaela, I’m so sorry about this. And for what I’m about to do, but please realize that it’s the only way to keep us safe. To keep you safe. Please try to understand,” Gabriel said. Michaela became very worried; Gabriel never pleaded.

  “What are you saying?” Michaela’s eyes were on the box. Her legs were too heavy, too numb. A Nephil had to support her weight after Gabriel let her go or else she would’ve toppled over.

  “I’m taking the seals to Hell. It’s the only place to keep them safe.”