by Meg Collett
35
Michaela was pacing in her small room in the underground shelter when there was a knock on the door. “Come in,” she called, trying to keep the annoyance from her voice. She wasn’t mad at whoever was knocking, but she couldn’t seem to keep her anger at bay when she was stuck underground.
Iris poked her head around the door. “Michaela, someone wants to talk to you.”
Immediately, Michaela thought of Gabriel. “Who?” she asked too quickly, annoying herself.
“We helped a few angels who were too injured from the fight to fly,” Iris paused. “They were holy angels.”
Iris’s face was carefully arranged as if worried Michaela would be mad. But Michaela didn’t care about prisoners. She cared about the Aethere. “I don’t want to talk to a prisoner.”
Michaela paced away. Her room was full of moist air surrounded by cold, concrete walls. Beside her bed was a small table that held only a battery-powered lantern. There was space for some cots in the room, but no one had signed up to bunk with her. It wasn’t surprising, especially lately. She hadn’t been the best company the last few days.
“He asked for you by name, saying he had something important to tell you,” Iris said. Michaela wondered if the Nephil ever got impatient.
“I don’t care about anything the holy angels have to say to me.” Michaela couldn’t handle one more judgmental look or whispered word. The plagues were her fault. She was the one who didn’t stop the Aethere. The Nephilim didn’t partake too much in the humans’ conversations about her, but it didn’t matter. Once the humans had learned who she was, and it was an easy connection to make, given all the news footage, the rumors had grown vicious.
“He said it was about Abel and the Aethere.”
Michaela stopped pacing. She looked over at Iris, who stood in the doorway with her hands tucked into the pockets of her smudged apron. After thinking about it a minute, Michaela nodded. She followed Iris out of the room.
The narrow passageway between rooms was filled with humans and Nephilim. Carts rolled down the hall, forcing people to step into rooms to clear the way. More people carried precious water jugs and food. The air was suffocating in only the way over-crowding can produce. From one of the rooms, someone played the cello—the song haunting and heart-breaking. Gritting her teeth, Michaela walked faster. Passing by, she caught everyone’s sharp, cutting glares. She hated every second here.
Iris took her to one of the farthest rooms. It wasn’t where the other injured humans or Nephilim were kept. This room was closed off, a Nephil guarded the door. Inside were narrow beds instead of cots. Metal rolling tables holding various medical supplies were positioned beside each bed. Michaela counted almost twenty beds, all holding angels.
Their hands were cuffed to the metal headboard with gold, metal links. As Michaela followed Iris to the bed in the corner, she noticed all the angels watched her carefully. Their eyes weren’t hateful. She had felt more hate in the hall than she did in this room, a room full of her supposed enemies.
Iris stopped. Michaela looked down at the angel lying on the bed. His leg was badly broken and slow to heal. His face was a mangle of cuts of bruises, but Michaela recognized him easily.
“Jehoel,” she said. Her shoulders tensed, her eyes trailing to the metal that bound his hands.
“Michaela,” he said, giving a slight nod. He licked his dry lips. Instantly, Iris had a cup of water in her hands to offer him.
After he finished drinking, he offered Iris a kind, thankful smile. All the other angels’ eyes were on Michaela. “Why did you want to talk to me?”
“I’ll leave you two alone,” Iris said. Michaela opened her mouth to protest, but Iris was already to the door. She wasn’t scared of Jehoel, but if he made her angry, she couldn’t guarantee she wouldn’t break his other leg.
When Iris was gone, and the door closed quietly behind her, Jehoel said, “I wanted to warn you about the entire army of angels coming down to fight, but there wasn’t enough time. Abel is suspicious of me and rarely shares much information. By the time I found out, there wasn’t enough time.”
Michaela frowned, her eyes narrowing. “Why were you going to warn me?”
“I believe you,” Jehoel said after studying her a moment. “We all do.” He motioned to the angels behind her. Michaela looked over her shoulder. Most of the angels, which she now realized were predominantly Seraphim, nodded back. “We chose to stay behind.”
“Why are you in chains if you decided to stay behind?”
Jehoel lifted his arm. The chains weren’t attached to anything like Michaela had thought. Some angels rustled in bed, sitting up to see her better. Jehoel pushed against the headboard. “Iris didn’t want you to panic when you came in.”
“Iris knew you wanted to help me,” Michaela said. She couldn’t help but feel anger once again. Everyone was plotting behind her back. It was infuriating. She raked her nails across the palm of her hand.
“We were looking for you in the woods, but you weren’t there. The Nephilim were fighting the Watchers, so we helped. We didn’t know about the group of humans the holy angels accidentally killed until later. I know they didn’t mean to, but I still hate them for it,” Jehoel said. Michaela noticed he didn’t look her in the eyes often. His shoulders were slumped, his voice weak.
“Why did you want to find me?” Michaela asked. Her back was ramrod straight, her spine aching from the position.
“We believe you,” Jehoel said again. His eyes finally found hers. “I’m sorry it took so long. I don’t think you’ll ever forgive us for not helping you in the beginning. But we want to help you now.”
Michaela stayed quiet as she studied Jehoel. She looked back at the other Seraphim, who all met her eyes now. They stayed quiet as she thought. These used to be her Seraphim, her soldiers. They had betrayed her, but they came back. That alone was reason enough to listen to what they had to tell her. She reached for the metal office chair at the end of the bed and sat down.
“What do you want to help me do?”
A slow grin spread across Jehoel’s face. His shoulders straightened. The angels murmured behind Michaela. “We want to help you kill Abel.”
Michaela couldn’t help but smile. Even the snake liked that plan, wanting the kill. She leaned forward. “I would like that very much.”
Jehoel nodded, but his smile slipped. He pulled his hand out from under the covers, revealing a bone dagger. Michaela jerked back, her eyes on the knife. But Jehoel laid it on top of his legs, withdrawing his hand. “We faltered, Michaela. We stumbled in our service to you, the one true General of Heaven.” His eyes lifted to hers. “But it won’t happen again. We swear it to upon our lives. You can take this knife and kill us now, should you so choose. We will take our punishment with understanding hearts.”
The other Seraphim agreed. Michaela reached for the knife, her fingers closing around the icy metal hilt. Her other hand slid down the bladed edge, feeling the ivory of the bone. Her bone. A piece of her wings. It was the first time she’d touched a bone knife, and it would be her last. Unless it was the knife going into Abel’s heart. She offered the knife back to Jehoel, holding it by the blade. “I forgive you all. I don’t kill to punish. I don’t hurt innocent angels to make a point like Abel does. He isn’t a leader; he’s a tyrant. I accept your apologies, because that’s what a true leader does.”
Relief swept across Jehoel’s face. “Thank you,” he said. He reached for her hand; the movement caused him pain and made him wince.
Before, a seraph would never have dared touch her when she was General. Maybe that had been the problem. Maybe she had become untouchable, giving Abel more ammunition to take her down. She squeezed Jehoel’s hand before looking back at the other angels and smiled at them. “I accept everyone’s apologies.” To Jehoel she asked, “But how did Abel get all the holy angels on his side? Why did they ever fight for him?”
Jehoel thought for a long moment. His eyes a dark, worried silver. �
�Abel manipulated all this evidence against you, like why you had killed Molloch and Asmodeus’s death. It all seemed so convincing when he said it and your actions didn’t refute it. Until we saw your scars that day on the road, I absolutely knew you had betrayed Heaven. For the others who didn’t see what the fallen had done to you, it would be easy to believe you were a traitor. Especially when Abel told everyone you had stolen the seals from Heaven and planned to use them to take back Heaven for you and Lucifer.” Jehoel took a deep breath, his words faltering as he spoke again. “But we were scared.” His eyes trailed to the other angels. “We were weak.” He looked back at Michaela. “We wanted to believe that Abel would lead us through this. We thought he had saved us after the fallen attacked Heaven. He cast out any angel who even looked like they didn’t believe him. We didn’t…I didn’t want to have my wings taken.” Jehoel swallowed loudly and struggled to keep his composure. “I can’t imagine what that must be like. No one wanted to speak out against Abel and risk it. So we stayed quiet and tried to believe him.”
Michaela sat back in her chair. She pushed her fingers through her hair. Her heart ached, again. “You and the other holy angels followed him because you had good reason to. I made an awful mistake when I left those gates open. But it’s a mistake that I can’t undo. I never wanted to kill Molloch. But it’s an action I can’t take back. I’ve done so many things that make me look bad in a holy angel’s eyes because what I did was bad.” Michaela took a deep breath. “But I can’t take any of it back no matter how much I wish sometimes. I regret a lot of what I’ve done, but only because it makes me look bad in your eyes. And that’s not a good enough reason to stop fighting. I can only hope I will win them back.”
Jehoel smiled at Michaela, but it was the sad kind that only made his eyes darker and full of hurt. “I hope so too, but Abel has turned them against you. Their intentions are not good. They are not the holy ones anymore. Maybe…” Jehoel took a deep breath. “Maybe there is a new type of holy angel now.”
His face was intent as he stared at Michaela. Everyone’s eyes were on her, their gaze like pinpricks on her skin. Her heart faltered. The snake was deadly silent. For the first time since she’d realized her Archangels betrayed her, faith stirred inside her. It felt like squeezing Jehoel’s hand. Or feeling Gabriel’s kiss. Or watching Clark laugh. It felt like all those things, but she felt them for her. Her faith in herself was slowly returning. She pressed her lips tightly together and commanded the tears not to fall.
It was no use. She was going to cry. Relief flooded through her, drowning out any doubts. With a scrape of her chair, she rose, nodding at Jehoel. She hoped her voice sounded strong. “Right.” She coughed to clear her throat. “Well, we’ll talk soon. I mean, I’ll be back soon to talk about a plan. Soon.”
She hurried out the door, leaving the Nephil to close it behind her. The looks she got as she ran down the hall, ducking and weaving through people, were only sheer surprise. The tears came like torrents down her face.
But she was smiling.
36
Just make her listen, Gabriel had been telling himself those four words frequently on his way to the Nephilim shelter. He pulled at the fibers of his courage, yanking them back together.
It’s Michaela, he thought, reaching down to knock on the door of the shelter’s hatch. You will ask for forgiveness not her love.
He had destroyed that option. Burned it to the ground. He couldn’t stand for her to love him or kiss him or touch him and know she saw black eyes staring back at her.
The door to the hatch flew open with much more velocity than he was expecting. He leapt backwards, stumbling over a root and falling down. He scrambled backwards as he tried to pull his knife loose.
Michaela surged through the hatch without seeing him on the ground a few feet away, because he was hidden in the shadows from the weak afternoon sun. She turned and slammed the hatched closed. She was ready to take back off when she finally saw him. Her blazing blue eyes met his and her body froze.
He waited, trying to sense her mood. Her face was blank but wet. She had been crying recently, and all thoughts of making her listen left his mind. His eyes fell to the ground.
He had made her this way.
He was rising to his feet so he could leave when Michaela shoved him down again. She stood over him, her eyes on fire and completely dry. He opened his mouth, unsure of what to say. Confusion kept his voice quiet. She didn’t look mad. She looked…
Wild.
He tried to sit back up, but she pounced on him, pushing him to the ground. Her fingers gripped his jaw, pressing his head into the ground. She pinned him with her body stretched across his. He held his breath, uncertain.
He was expecting her to drive a punch into his nose, instead, her lips locked over his. One hand stayed on his jaw while she shoved the other into his hair to angle his head up to hers. She had him trapped both mentally and physically as she worked her warming lips over his. Her teeth sank into his bottom lip and yanked, making him gasp. She moaned, the sound deep and throaty.
She was straddling him, her hips tight over his. She grinded into him, rocking her hips into the hardest part of his body. Her mouth was crazed against his until he could barely keep up with her sucking and pulling.
He clenched his eyes so she wouldn’t see them and kept his hands against the ground although they begged to touch her. His palms itched and burned. Bright pinpricks of light exploded behind his eyes when she released his jaw and shoved her hand inside his pants; she closed around him, he convulsed.
He prayed none of the fallen angels he had stationed around were paying attention.
She let him go just when he started throbbing. She reared back, and he heard her rip off her jacket and shirts. He wanted to tell her it was too cold, even though he was burning on the inside, but when she ripped his thermal shirt in half, he kept his mouth shut. She yanked at his jeans, tugging the zipper down until she could wrench the material low enough.
And then she was over him, consuming him, filling him as he filled her. He could’ve floated off the ground, rising slowly back into Heaven as their bodies moved together. He loved her. He knew from the nearly bursting swell of his heart. It took all his control to keep the words inside his mouth.
He wanted to guide her, to slow her frantic rhythm down so he could enjoy feeling her skin again. But he dug his fingers into the frozen earth until his fingernails bent back, and he had a handful of dirt in his hand. She didn’t question why he kept his eyes closed, and he didn’t explain.
She wasn’t his anymore.
She didn’t lie on him or beside him afterwards. The cold air replaced her warmth when she stood and gathered what few clothes she’d taken off. He rolled onto his feet and pulled up his pants, ditching his ripped shirt. He didn’t bother with his jacket. The icy air felt good, cleared his head, and kept her smell from his nose. He spread his wings a little to keep the breeze from hitting her.
He waited for her to say something. When she finally looked at him, her eyes were darker, and her chin was jutted out. “This doesn’t change anything.”
She was mocking him, repeating the words he’d said to her in her bedroom. He didn’t know how she could stand to touch him. That she could even want him that way was unfathomable. “Then why?”
She wrapped her arms around her torso and chewed on her lip, completely losing any defiance she’d had. “I wanted,” she said, struggling, “I wanted to be close to you. I needed it.” She seemed to hate the words, because she recoiled, snarling like she’d tasted something disgusting. “I hate myself for it.”
“Don’t say that.” Gabriel stepped closer. “Hate me. Just me.”
Her eyes found his, but she looked away just as quickly. She shook her head. “I didn’t mean to do that. But I saw you and I…I just couldn’t think.” She rubbed her hands over her eyes and sighed.
“I’m sorry for doing this to you, Michaela. I didn’t want to hurt you. I just wanted to take t
he burden for once,” Gabriel said.
“But you did hurt me. Again. But putting all that aside, this has gone way beyond us. So much more is at stake than whatever we had. And you directly compromised my ability to do my part in this fight.”
“I know.”
“Then why are you here?” Michaela shoved her hands into her coat pockets. She was already hunching against the cold.
“Because I wanted to ask you.”
“For forgiveness?”
Gabriel nodded. Michaela’s face changed. Lines formed between her eyebrows like they did when she was deep in thought. She actually seemed to consider it, and that gave him hope. So he said, “You don’t have to decide now. Or ever. I’ll leave you alone.”
He walked away before she could say anything else. He tucked his wings in and pulled on his jacket. His insides felt like the smoking remains of a fire, sizzling and crispy. Taking a deep breath, he kept telling himself to not think about her as he searched the woods for peeping fallen.
37
The bead of sweat rolled between Clark’s eyes. He tracked its slipping, tickling path to the top of his nose. It clung there, gave up, and fell off. It splashed onto the dirty floor of the rec room and splattered, forming the one, tiny semi-clean spot in the room that reeked of angel ass sweat.
Clark then remembered he was supposed to be putting out the match between his fingers. Too late. “Shit!” He dropped the match and brought his singed fingers to his mouth.
“Have you always been this worthless your whole life, or is it a recent development? If so, I have really awful timing.”
Clark cut his eyes to where Lucifer reclined on one of the benches along the walls. Lucifer sprung to his feet and stalked around Clark, sizing him up. He threw up his hands in disgust.
“You’ve got a lot of really awful qualities that I don’t harp on all the time. So take a hint and shut the hell up while I concentrate,” Clark said. He plucked another match from the box and lit it.
“I don’t see how you can concentrate at all with this horrible music blaring!” Lucifer covered his ears to emphasize his point, and Clark took the opportunity to tell him what he could go do to himself. “I heard that,” Lucifer said, narrowing his eyes and dropping his hands.