by Meg Collett
Gabriel stood, his balance perfect in the bobbing boat. Clark looked up at him. There was no way he was going to stand in front of the angel only to fall back down.
“I know you don’t trust me, but you need to suck it up for a minute.”
Clark instantly went cold. His eyes skirted over the edge of the boat to the blood water. “What are you saying?”
Gabriel reached down and hauled Clark to his feet. The angel’s grip was tight and unrelenting on Clark’s arm. The shadows with wings shifted over the undulating water, stirring a breeze. Clark looked up. He wished he hadn’t.
Like diving birds of prey, the angels streaked down from the sky. They hit the water headfirst with their wings tight against their back and their arms pointed forward. The water sprayed into the sky and splashed back down into the boat. Their bodies sliced into the water one after the other, causing Clark to flinch each time.
“Oh, hell no. Hell no.”
Gabriel sneered. Clark wished he could take back every word he had said on the ride over, because Gabriel was about to get his revenge, and from the gleam in Gabriel’s eyes, he knew it too. “Oh, hell yes,” Gabriel said.
He stepped back, taking Clark with him. Clark fought against Gabriel’s hold, but it was useless. The angel was infinitely stronger than Clark could ever hope to be, and the angel’s arms were clenched tight around him. Gabriel didn’t even give Clark time to take a breath before he took them into the air with a beat of his wings.
Squeezing his eyes shut, Clark felt turned upside down, his body twisted around. Then it was just the water. Its frigid depths enclosed around him, sucking him in. Gabriel moved fast through the water, his wings like a propeller.
Clark fought to keep his mouth closed though his lungs were already begging for air seconds after going into the water. He struggled to choke back the panic that swelled in his throat. No matter how hard he pressed his lips together, the blood seemed to work its way in between. It trickled into Clark’s mouth, tasting like a body decaying on top of his tongue. It leached its way to the back of his throat, and it took all of Clark’s resolve not to gag.
The depth and their rapid descent made Clark’s ears pop. They had likely only been in the water for less than thirty seconds, but it was too deep too fast. Clark felt like his bones were expanding into his boiling blood. This would never work. Gabriel was going to kill him.
As soon as Clark made the decision to open his mouth and breathe the water of blood, the water temperate changed. The pressure changed. Clark could have been swimming in a pool in the Bahamas. His lungs eased as if he had taken a breath of clean, fresh air. He opened his eyes.
They were in a cave. He saw the dark walls around him. He wondered how he could see so clearly until he realized the water was glowing. It was clear and luminescent. There was no blood, no death. The water tasted sweet as Clark let it fill his mouth. He pushed it back out through his lips, forming a stream of bubbles that rose in front of his face.
Rose. The bubbles were rising.
Clark jerked, looking around. Gabriel was swimming them upwards. When had they turned around? An unsettled feeling came over Clark, messing with his vertigo and making him dizzy. The feeling was almost as unbearable as the descent through the ocean.
Then it was over.
Clark’s head was above water. He sucked in a breath of clean air. He floundered around, his head still swimming from the flipping between up and down. He blinked to clear his vision as Gabriel hauled him from the water.
The water?
Clark looked down at his clothes. He was completely dry. Gabriel stretched out his wings, the feathers sparkling and clean. Clark bent over and threw up.
“Trust me now, dude?” Gabriel asked when Clark straightened. Clark glared at Gabriel’s back as he walked away.
For the first time Clark took in his surroundings. In front of him, Gabriel started through a narrow, rocky tunnel with pointed, jagged rocks. The water slapped on the slick rock behind Clark in tiny, hissing waves. The air reeked of salt and brine. The only light came from the water, which acted like its own sun. The echo of Clark’s breathing was the singular sound in the small cave. He shuddered. Gabriel was already halfway into the tunnel. Clark stumbled forward and hurried after the Archangel.
“Where are we going?” Clark asked breathlessly when he caught up to Gabriel.
Gabriel didn’t answer.
The tunnel wasn’t very long. Their shadows flickered across the walls as they walked, the light from the water still illuminating their path. Clark bumped into Gabriel when the angel stopped on the other side.
They stood in a large room with a sweeping buttressed ceiling. Huge pillars lined the length of the room. The rock under Clark’s feet was ancient and pearly white with flecks of sparkling diamond-like crystals inside. Candles hanging from three huge chandeliers spaced down the length of the room provided a warm light. At the head of the room was a large throne. Clark looked closer, squinting to make out the creamy material used to build the chair. Clark’s eyes widened.
Skulls. Thousands of skulls, human and animal, made the throne.
He reeled backward, but Gabriel caught his arm.
“Hello, Clark.”
Clark’s head whipped around to the source of the voice.
Lucifer.
“Welcome to Hell,” Lucifer said with a bright, beaming smile.
***
Gabriel smelled Clark’s fear, but the half-breed didn’t react to Lucifer’s ominous greeting. Gabriel glowered at Lucifer, who only continued to smile sweetly. The fallen angel was thrilled, practically bouncing up and down upon seeing Clark. Gabriel resisted the urge to roll his eyes.
“Clark,” Gabriel said, pinching the skin between his eyes. “This is Lucifer.”
Lucifer crossed the room from where he had entered through a side archway and offered his hand. Clark stared at for a minute before he cocked an eyebrow. “Seriously? I’m not shaking your hand.”
Lucifer lowered his hand; his smile didn’t falter. “That’s fine. We’ll get to know each other plenty.”
“That’s doubtful.” Clark straightened his jacket before he tugged up his drooping skinny jeans. “What now?”
“Of course! You’re probably exhausted from your trip.” Clark snorted, but Lucifer went on. “Gabriel here will show you to your room. We will get started after you’ve rested.”
“No,” Gabriel said. “I want to talk to you for a minute and then I’m going back to Earth.”
Lucifer’s smile grew strained, but he kept it in place. “Let me guess. Sweet Michaela hates your guts, and it’s simply breaking your pitiful heart.”
Gabriel didn’t speak. He only motioned for the fallen angel who had driven the boat to take Clark. It surprised everyone when Clark followed the fallen without a snide comment. In that moment, Gabriel knew how afraid Clark must be, and he instantly regretted not taking Clark to his room. As much as Clark didn’t like him, it would’ve been better than a stranger.
Just another screw up to add to his list.
When the fallen and Clark had left the room, passing under a wider archway on the opposite end of the room from the throne, Lucifer turned to Gabriel. “What now?”
“Don’t you want to know how your army fared against the Watchers?” Gabriel asked, but he knew the answer.
“Not really,” Lucifer said, meeting Gabriel’s expectations.
“Well, it wasn’t just the Watchers they fought. The entire holy angel army came down.”
“And?” Lucifer asked. His eyebrows were raised like he was waiting for the point.
“And it means the Aethere have all of Heaven convinced it’s time for the End of Days. This is more serious than we thought,” Gabriel said. He forced his voice to sound as calm as he could. It wasn’t working.
“Gabriel, you need to know something.” Lucifer patted Gabriel’s shoulder.
“What?” The word sounded more like a snarl.
“I don’t care wh
at the holy angels fight for. I don’t care what the Aethere wants. Let them have the seals.” At Lucifer’s words, Gabriel felt the seals tucked in a bag on the underside of his jacket like hot iron on his skin. “If it’s the End of Days, it’s the End of Days. But that boy you just brought here, he will be my most lethal weapon.”
Lucifer hit Gabriel’s shoulder one last time before he turned and left the room, heading deeper into Hell. Gabriel looked at the throne of skulls. He had known Lucifer didn’t want Clark for purely recreational purposes. But he should’ve known Lucifer wouldn’t do anything to ultimately prevent the End of Days. He had only played along with Gabriel’s plan so he could get Clark.
If only Lucifer knew that Gabriel held the very tools for the End of Days. While Lucifer had gotten exactly what he wanted from the exchange, so had Gabriel. The seals were safest in Hell. The thought was almost laughable, but Gabriel didn’t dwell too long in the throne room. He had to find a place to hide the seals.
32
“When will you be back?” Michaela crouched outside one of the shelter’s hatches. She and the other Archangels were covered by dense trees and a dark sky, but they were vigilant to keep their voices down. They’d already spotted a few Watchers making wide, swooping patrol loops. They hadn’t found the shelter yet, and anyone who went above ground had to be extremely careful not to get everyone killed.
“Tonight or tomorrow,” Raphael said. His dark skin hid him well in the shadows of the woods. His bright eyes glowed. “We’re going to do some outward sweeps to search for survivors, which means we may be gone overnight.”
“But no longer,” Simiel added like he needed to remind Raphael. If it were up to the burly Archangel, Raphael would want to travel to the ends of the earth to find survivors.
Raphael gritted his teeth and looked away, the guilt evident in the set of his mouth. “No one could’ve known those humans were coming to the shelter right then, Raphael.” He looked at Michaela when she said his name. She shook her head. “Focus.”
Raphael blamed himself for what happened last night, but one thing Michaela learned long ago was that guilt was a useless emotion here on Earth. It seemed they couldn’t fight back without causing collateral damage. No one could have known those humans were coming to the shelter right at the time of the fight and storm. From the look of Raphael, every one of those humans’ deaths would haunt him for the rest of his existence.
Promising he could go look for survivors was the only way the other Archangels could get him to calm down last night. He needed to save someone. Michaela understood that.
“I’ll stay in town. Keep low,” Michaela said, her eyes searching the patches of sky through the tree foliage for the countless time.
“You need a partner,” Ophaniel said. She was going east with Simiel. Raphael and Uriel were going south to the state border before the hybrids broke through the police border and surged even farther north.
“I’ll be fine. I can’t be gone long. Someone needs to stay close and guard the shelter.”
“What are we going to do about that?” Simiel pointed upwards, his gaze troubled. They all knew he meant Heaven and the Aethere.
“What can we do but wait and endure the final plagues?” Raphael snapped, his voice too loud. Ophaniel shushed him. Uriel stayed quiet, slouched against a tree.
“If we take out the Aethere, all this will be over,” Michaela said.
“You think the holy angels will just come crawling back to us?” Raphael hissed. “We underestimated the Aethere, but it won’t happen again.”
“They’ve got the entire holy angel army on their side. It’s not a fair fight,” Ophaniel added.
“It wasn’t a fair fight. We got lucky.” Simiel set his jaw, his eyes serious for once.
“You’re saying those innocent humans’ deaths were luck?” Raphael clenched his fists and rounded on Simiel.
“No. I meant the storm. We were lucky it got so bad and convinced the holy angels to leave,” Simiel answered without getting riled up. His face was impassive.
“You idiots can discuss this later. We need to focus on what we came to do before we all get zapped by a Watcher,” Uriel said, causing everyone to look at her in surprise.
Michaela was about to agree when the hatch behind them slammed opened, making them all jump, revealing Sophia’s pretty, round face. She smiled brightly and eased out. She had changed into a pair of pants and hiking boots. Her shirt was tucked in neatly and buttoned up to the collar underneath a thick, wool coat. “Hello!” she said after she closed the door much more carefully than she had opened it.
“What are you doing up here?” Michaela asked.
“I’m going to help you look for survivors,” Sophia said like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
“You need a partner to go with you,” Ophaniel said, her big eyes steady and unblinking.
“And we’re leaving now,” Raphael said.
“Bye!” Sophia said.
Uriel grabbed the sleeve of Michaela’s jacket, jerking her until they were nose to nose. Sophia’s eyebrows rose.
“You better not let anything happen to Zarachiel while I’m gone. Do you hear me? Because if you do, you won’t have to worry about who should fight who cause you’ll be dead.”
She shoved Michaela away with a hiss. Michaela didn’t react as she stumbled. Uriel’s feet silently slid over the forest floor as she followed the Archangels. Michaela stood there for a moment. Finally, she looked up at Sophia.
“I’m sorry your friends left you,” the Nephil said.
“It’s fine.”
“Oh, okay! Well, let’s go.” Sophia charged off into the woods, heading in the direction of town. With a sigh, Michaela followed.
They walked in silence for a while, careful to keep an eye out for the Watchers. As they went, Michaela tried not to think too much, but random images of Gabriel smiling or Clark laughing kept popping into her head. She shoved the unwanted thoughts away. “I’m sorry about Clark,” she said.
Sophia looked over her shoulder. “What for?”
“For letting him get taken to Hell,” Michaela said slowly.
“Oh!” Sophia stepped over a fallen tree. They were passing through where the fight had taken place. The ground was charred and the air tasted like iron. “Don’t be. He wanted to go.”
“But still…” Michaela said, muttering. She didn’t look up, where huge patches of gray sky could be seen through the gaping holes in the twisted, gnarled tree branches.
“It’ll be okay, Michaela. Uh oh!” Sophia’s tone had Michaela jerking to a stop. “Look there.”
Michaela looked where Sophia pointed. Through the trees, an angel crouched upon a ridge facing the shallow valley where the compound was. The angel was a shadow, pressed into the ground. He or she would’ve been impossible to see if it hadn’t been for the glint of their sword and the hulking shadow of their black wings.
“A fallen,” Michaela said quietly. The angel turned his head as if he heard her, his gaze landing completely on where they stood. Michaela tensed and wished she had a weapon. But the angel looked away, his focus back on the compound.
“There’s more,” Sophia said. She almost sounded happy.
Michaela scanned along the ridge, her eyes skipping through the trees where more fallen were positioned. Some others were scattered along the rocky outcropping of a hill along the back border of the valley. Others stood, thin and tall, along the field’s edge closest to the burnt ruins of the house.
“What are they doing?” There were too many to fight. But none seemed to be approaching the compound, yet they all seemed to know it was there. Almost like…
“They’re protecting us,” Sophia said. “Gabriel must’ve sent them. That was awfully nice.”
“I don’t know if ‘nice’ is the exact word I would choose.”
She had to repress a shiver as she looked around the edge of the Nephilim’s field and saw the fallen angels’ shadows. But it was protectio
n. Michaela chewed the inside of her cheek.
“Let’s keep going,” she said. Sophia followed, humming slightly.
It took them a while to reach the town at their slow pace. They ran across a few fallen, but the angels only silently watched them walk by. Michaela had never found herself under the watchful eyes of the fallen, and the sensation caused chill bumps to rise on her arms.
They had avoided roads into the town, choosing to walk along the edges of farm fields and pastures, sticking to the tree line to avoid being seen by possible Watchers in the sky. Michaela kept her eyes open for movement of possible survivors, but it seemed as though she and Sophia were the only two people in the world.
They approached the tiny town from a side street, keeping in the shadows of the buildings. Sophia’s smile was gone, replaced with a quiet intensity that seared Michaela’s back. They crept along, their shoes crunching over broken glass.
The town was ruined after the storm. Buildings were torn apart and scattered. The devastation was like a jigsaw puzzle with missing pieces, impossible to put back together. Michaela stood at the corner of the street in shock. If there were any survivors, they would be hard to find.
“We will need to split up and look. Let’s meet back here in two hours.” Sophia gave her orders and walked away, slipping between the rubble on the street. Michaela watched her go before she turned in the opposite direction and began her search.
They spent hours searching, meeting back up twice to coordinate. Dust and dirt covered their clothes and faces. Each time Michaela saw Sophia, the Nephil looked more tired. They agreed on one last search before they headed back to the compound. Michaela didn’t want to be stuck outside the compound at night.
Michaela was poking through what used to be a grocery store, picking up cans of food that were still intact and putting them in her backpack. She was crouched over a bag of flour, looking for holes, when the floor squeaked behind her. She whirled around, springing to her feet.