by Meg Collett
“Thank you,” Gabriel said again. Sophia was to the door and halfway out when she looked back.
“You’re welcome.” Sophia took a deep breath. “How is Clark? Is he okay?”
Gabriel smiled. It didn’t reach his eyes, but Sophia wouldn’t be able to tell that in the barely lit room. “He’s doing well. Constantly gives everyone hell.” Sophia laughed quietly and shook her head. “And he talks about you all the time.”
Sophia stilled. Her silhouette hovered in the doorway. Her eyes were bright and unblinking. “He does?”
“Trust me. It’s all the time.”
Sophia’s smile was small and blissful. She ducked her head and murmured a goodnight before closing the door, leaving the room completely dark. Gabriel didn’t bother to light the lantern. Instead, he eased his body onto the bed beside Michaela. He pulled the covers around them both and pressed against her body to keep her warm.
He never should’ve left her alone. He was supposed to be here for her. She wasn’t supposed to have to fight anymore. Yet here she was, lying beside him as the injured one. That should’ve been his leg. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t do right by her. He leaned over and kissed her forehead, vowing to do better.
She stirred, her eyes fluttering open and shut. Already her eyes were puffy and swollen. Bruises built beneath her skin. Her lips parted.
“I’m dead,” she whispered, and her eyes closed.
39
Someone roughly shook Michaela. Fingers, desperate and pressing, dug into her sore arm muscles. She groaned and cracked her eyes again.
“You’re not dead.” It was Gabriel’s face hovering above hers. “Don’t even say that.”
“What?” It hurt to speak. Her voice cracked inside her raw throat.
“Please, just don’t say that.”
Michaela had no clue what he was talking about, so she only nodded. Glancing down, she realized they were in her bed inside the compound. Her leg was numb. She couldn’t move her toes. Then she remembered.
“Oh, no,” she whispered.
Gabriel turned her so they were on their sides, face-to-face. The covers were pulled tight around their bodies, supporting her sore muscles. Her head lay on his outstretched arm. In the darkness, she could only make out the shape of his face, not the color of his eyes.
“What happened, Michaela?” he asked. His voice was low and deep, comforting and familiar. She pulled herself closer so he could wrap his arms around her. She felt safe.
“He’s dead.” Michaela realized what it meant. She was stunned.
“Who’s dead? Baby, start from the beginning.”
“We wanted to kill Abel.”
She had gone to Jehoel and the Archangels that morning with a plan. He would return to Heaven and to Abel. He would tell the Aethere he knew where Michaela was keeping the seals. He could show them. The Aethere wouldn’t trust the Watchers to get the seals after they failed the first time. Abel would come to Earth in person, they all had assumed. After they had run through the plan, Jehoel and the lesser injured Seraphim left.
Gabriel was trying to get her attention again. “Michaela! Did you kill Abel?” His voice was urgent, barely contained. Now she saw the dark spark in his eyes. His eyebrows were raised, his arms tight around her. She tasted his excitement in the air.
“They were supposed to bring the Aethere down here. They were going to tell Abel they knew where the seals were. We were going to attack and kill them all,” Michaela said. The excitement from Gabriel faded.
“Who was going to do that?”
“Jehoel.” Michaela knew Gabriel recognized the name, because he tensed. “He and some of the Seraphim came to find me. They wanted forgiveness and to fight for me again.”
“Michaela.” Gabriel said her name like a groan. “They turned their back on you. They actively tried to have you killed. It was Jehoel who likely released the Watchers on you.”
“He messed up. We all have. I don’t expect perfection like Abel does. I gave Jehoel the forgiveness he wanted.” It made logical sense to Michaela, but she thought of the forgiveness Gabriel had asked of her and if she would ever be able to deliver it. “They were the ones who were going to bring the Aethere here.”
“It didn’t work,” Gabriel said.
“No. The Aethere knew it was a trap the moment Jehoel and the others stepped into Heaven. They sent a group of Watchers down. They came…” Michaela’s voice broke. She tried not to picture the gruesome scene, but the vision wouldn’t leave. “They came with Jehoel’s wings and the wings of all the other Seraphim who had returned to Heaven. There was so many. The Watchers just tossed them on the ground like they were nothing. Blood dripped from the torn bones and onto the ground.” Michaela took a deep, shaky breath.
“Then what happened?” Gabriel’s voice was tight. He was angry, Michaela knew.
“We weren’t ready. We thought it would only be the Aethere and maybe a few Watcher guards. I only had a few Seraphim and Nephilim to help me and the other Archangels. We didn’t even get to fight back.” Michaela closed her eyes and pressed her forehead against Gabriel’s chest. “Some of the Watchers held me back while the others slaughtered the Seraphim and Nephilim. The fallen you’d stationed in the woods came too. They fought for us. A lot of them died. There were so many feathers in their air. It was…” Michaela was crying. When had she started crying? “It was awful.”
Gabriel held her tight while she cried. She hadn’t told Gabriel the worst of it. How the Watchers had held her down and stomped on her leg. They’d groped her body, cackling and mocking her. They’d kicked her and beat her endlessly. She didn’t know how many times they’d demanded she tell them where the seals’ new hiding spot was. Each time she didn’t answer, another Seraphim or Nephilim died. All she could do was watch the feathers as they drifted through the air, signaling the deaths of countless angels. Angels who were only fighting to help her. Nephilim who begged her not to tell the Watchers as they slowly died.
“I told you not to fight anymore,” Gabriel murmured into her hair. She sniffed, tasting her tears in her mouth.
“I won’t ever stop fighting.”
Michaela hadn’t been sleeping well, but that night, in Gabriel’s arms, she slept heavily. She had no dreams or nightmares. The sleep was just a black void wrapped around her edges, holding her together. Together, they slept for hours. Those hours were the most peaceful Michaela had felt since that moment she had gone over the wall in Molloch’s arms.
Fallen or not, Gabriel was her peace.
But they didn’t wake up to peace.
It was doors slamming.
It was tearing screams, horrible, wrenching screams.
It was cries that ended in twisted, choking sobs.
It was crashing outside their door, banging and clanging that never covered the screaming.
It sounded like the end of the world.
Gabriel reared up in bed. Michaela struggled to sit up beside him. He was already tugging on his boots before Michaela caught her breath. He rose, ready to leave.
“Take me!” Michaela shouted.
“Absolutely not. Stay here.” Gabriel turned around to leave once again.
“I’m going.” Michaela had herself positioned to try standing on her leg. She took a deep breath to prepare.
Gabriel rushed back over to her and wrapped his arm around her side. With just a little lift, he had her weight fully supported in his arm. He grumbled under his breath, but Michaela didn’t bother to listen.
When they opened the door, they opened it to chaos. Michaela’s ears rang from the sound of terrified people. Overturned food carts and supplies littered the hall. People raced up and down, crying and shouting. Nephilim seemed stunned and silent, hovering at the edges of the wild scene, too shocked to help settle down the humans.
The door to Sophia’s room was slightly ajar. Michaela looked inside. She could barely make out Sophia’s sleeping form. She tugged on Gabriel’s arm and pointed to So
phia’s room. He nodded.
They slipped from their room. As soon as they were outside its reach, they were bumped and jostled. Michaela gritted her teeth as Gabriel shoved the door open and practically slung her inside.
“Sophia!” Michaela yelled. They waited by the door. “Get up! Something is happening.”
Sophia didn’t move. She didn’t respond. Her face was turned away from them. Her blankets were bunched around her hips like she had gotten hot in the night. Michaela recognized the shirt she wore. It was Clark’s favorite Sex Pistols concert shirt.
“Sophia,” Michaela said quieter this time. She and Gabriel crossed the little room in only a few hobbling steps. “Oh, Sophia.”
Michaela sagged onto the bed as Gabriel checked the sweet Nephil’s pulse. Michaela covered her mouth with her shaking hand. The precious girl didn’t move. Or breathe.
“She’s gone.”
Michaela nodded. “The plague. It’s the first born child in every family.” Gabriel’s mouth pressed into a thin line. “We need to find Iris. We have to get everyone calmed down.”
“They’ve lost so much,” Gabriel said. “I don’t know if we can calm them down.”
“We have to try.”
“Hold on tight.” Gabriel pulled her against him, tucking her under his arms as they left the room.
Michaela pointed him the direction of Iris’s room, but their progress was agonizingly slow. Gabriel pushed and shoved as gently as he could, but the humans were crazed. One woman sat in the middle of the hall being trampled as she rocked the body of her little boy. Michaela waited pressed against the wall while Gabriel lifted the woman and carried her into a room. She didn’t seem to notice the change in her surroundings as she kept rocking, endlessly rocking.
They continued on, fighting upstream. Michaela looked into one room as they passed and saw Ophaniel soothing a sobbing mother and father beside a bed holding a tiny body covered with a thin white sheet. Ophaniel’s eyes were full of tears when they met Michaela’s.
When they finally reached Iris’s room, Michaela was sweating and in pain, and Gabriel was grinding his teeth. They didn’t bother to knock on the closed door.
A couple of lanterns lit the room. The bed was a little larger than Michaela’s. Isaac looked small tucked under the blankets. His tired eyes looked up when they came in. His skin was pale and blue, his breathing merely shallow pants. Iris sat beside his bed, holding his hand. Michaela opened her mouth to speak.
“I know,” Iris said. She didn’t look away from Isaac. She ran her other hand through his hair, comforting him.
“We need to calm everyone down,” Michaela said. “They are tearing this place apart.”
Iris nodded, squeezing Isaac’s hand. “The Nephilim and Archangels will settle them down. They just need time to mourn.”
“This goes beyond mourning,” Michaela argued.
“This is a special time.”
“We are—” Isaac coughed as he tried to speak. “We are cowards.”
Iris shook her head. She took his chin in her hand and turned his face toward her. “No, sweetie. We did what we had to do.”
“What does he mean?” Michaela asked. Gabriel brought her farther into the room.
“It was the only way we could save Clark,” Iris said. “We had to let him go to Hell or else he would die. Do you see now why I couldn’t let you go after him?” Iris looked up at Michaela. “He is too special. He couldn’t die. This war needs him.”
“Did it work?” Isaac asked, his eyes pleading with Gabriel. “Is he safe?”
Michaela looked at Gabriel, who seemed as shocked as she was. “I don’t know. I’ve been here this morning.”
“I need to know he is safe before…before…” Isaac’s shaky voice trailed off. Tears filled his bloodshot eyes. “I didn’t tell him I loved him enough. I was too hard on him.”
Iris soothed him, shushing him. “He knows. You were a good father in a hard situation. He’s fine.” Iris met Gabriel’s eyes as she spoke the last part.
Michaela understood what she meant. They couldn’t be certain the plague hadn’t killed every first born or if it was just the children on Earth. But Iris didn’t want to tell Isaac. Michaela smelled it in the room, the scent of coming death. Isaac wasn’t able to fight off the infection.
Clark would lose too much in the course of just one morning. It was too much. She had to tell him.
“I’ll go check on Clark,” Gabriel said before she could.
“I’m going too.” She knew Gabriel would object. She was ready to argue.
Just then Isaac coughed. It was a horrible, wet noise. His face contorted with the agony of it. Tiny droplets of blood spewed from his mouth, dotting the pale yellow blanket. Iris wiped his mouth. She looked over her shoulder at Michaela and Gabriel when she was done.
“Will you stay, Michaela? Stay with us for just a little bit.” Her eyes were breaking. She blinked back the tears before she turned back to Isaac. Gabriel squeezed Michaela’s shoulder. Iris wanted her to stay with Isaac as he died.
“I can go check on Clark,” Gabriel said quietly. Iris nodded, but Michaela was torn.
Isaac had been Michaela’s Keeper, and one of her favorites aside from Enoch himself. She counted him as a dear friend. He and his son had helped her at a time when she needed it most. Iris needed her now. Isaac needed her.
“Okay, of course I’ll stay,” she said. Gabriel helped her settle into a wooden chair beside the bed. He squeezed her hand before he leaned over the bed and kissed Isaac’s forehead.
“You’re a good man. Better than me,” Gabriel whispered. “Thank you for helping her when I couldn’t.”
Isaac was shivering. He nodded at Gabriel, blinking back the tears. Gabriel smiled, genuine and pure, down at the man. He turned and hugged Iris, kissing her cheek.
“It’s time,” Iris whispered to Gabriel too quietly for Isaac to hear, but Michaela caught the words.
“I’ll take care of it,” Gabriel said. Then he left. Before Michaela could ask, Iris spoke, her attention turned back to her.
“I need to show you something very important.”
40
“Where are we going?” Michaela asked.
Iris was already kicking back the rug on the floor in Isaac’s room. Michaela watched her carefully, confused. But when the rug was pushed aside, she saw a square piece of wood on the floor. Iris pulled up the wood using a piece of rope. She grabbed a lantern off the table, smiled at Isaac, and held up the light in front of Michaela’s face.
“It’s time you see something,” Iris said.
She swung the light from Michaela and lowered it to where the piece of wood was lying open. Only then did Michaela see what was under the wood.
It wasn’t just a piece of wood. It was a door.
Iris started down the rickety wooden ladder. The light bounced wildly around her, illuminating a narrow passage straight down. The walls were stacked stone and dewy. A weird smell wafted up and curled in Michaela’s nose. She shifted uneasily.
“It’s okay.” Michaela looked over to Isaac. He nodded at her, smiling. “Really, it is. Trust her just one more time, Michaela.”
She didn’t want to go even farther underground. The smell in her nose burned and tingled like an ominous warning. Standing in the room with Isaac in the bed behind her and Iris descending the ladder in front of her, Michaela felt like they had been leading her to this moment. And that moment felt big.
Slowly, Michaela approached the open door. Using the edges for support, she placed her foot on the first rung. As she stepped farther down, Isaac slowly disappeared from view. There was little light, and Iris’s lantern didn’t help her descent. Michaela had to trust the rungs would be beneath her feet. She climbed down with her eyes closed and her breath held.
It surprised her when her foot hit solid ground. She gasped. When she turned around, Iris was right behind her holding up the lantern. Michaela blinked and held up her hand to shield her eyes from t
he brightness.
“Follow me,” Iris said. She ducked under a stone archway and into the darkness.
With a deep breath, Michaela followed. They didn’t walk far. Michaela could tell the space wasn’t nearly as huge as the shelter above. Michaela didn’t know what to expect, but when Iris stopped and lifted her lantern to illuminate the space, Michaela knew she couldn’t have even guessed.
“This is our catacombs,” Iris said.
They stood at an intersection. Branching off in four different directions were narrow aisles stretching into the darkness. In each hallway were slots barely a foot tall carved into the bedrock. There were hundreds of slots Michaela could see, which meant there had to be thousands she couldn’t.
“You keep your dead here,” Michaela said. Thousands of Nephilim bodies had been kept just under her feet for days. She swallowed.
“Yes.” Iris stepped down a step and into one of the aisles. The ceiling was curved and low. Michaela stepped down after her. In the closest slot to her face, Michaela saw a body, shrouded into white. She clenched her jaw. But she didn’t smell decay.
“What is that smell?” she asked Iris, who stood in the middle of the aisle facing Michaela. The lantern was on the ground between them, casting haunting shadows up the rough-hewn rock shapes.
“Our dead do not decay,” Iris said. “Their bodies give off a…certain scent.”
“You're half-human. The bodies have to decay,” Michaela said. A tightness in her chest was growing as was her unease.
Iris shook her head. “We don’t. Not if our souls aren’t removed.”
Michaela frowned. She scanned the slots. In each one she saw, the bodies were full and solid. They could’ve been sleeping, but Michaela knew they weren’t. “Why do you keep the souls in them?”
Iris waited. Her eyes were sad as she watched Michaela, like she had hoped Michaela would understand the point of all this. “We keep their souls inside them, because we are waiting for a time when we can go home, Michaela.”
Michaela’s heart sped. “You mean for when the Nephilim souls can go to Heaven.”
“Yes,” Iris smiled, but it was the aching kind of smile that is worse than despair, because it’s when the tears no longer work, and you’re left with nothing but a desperate twitch of your lips. “We’ve waited a long time for this. We waited for you, just like I said that night I met you in the woods.”