by Meg Collett
Gabriel wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her against his chest. His familiar smell—smoke and hardwood—helped to ease her mind. Every inch of his chest was hard, defined muscle, but she relaxed into him like she could pour her tired bones through his skin. His lips were warm on her forehead.
She met his eyes, dark pools against the backdrop of night. The words for how she felt escaped her. She was heartbroken, happy, guilty and every other emotion ripping her in different directions.
“Gabe,” she said, floundering.
“I know.” He pressed her tightly against his chest.
The others slowly drifted into the woods. The quiet crunching of twigs on frozen ground signaled their nearly silent departure. She needed to go with them, but she couldn’t bear to step away from Gabriel.
“I can’t believe he’s gone,” she said, whispering as though Isaac could hear her.
“He was a good man.” Gabriel spoke the words into her hair, rustling the strands and sending a chill down her spine. He massaged circles into her lower back, easing the tense muscles.
Neither of them knew what to say after that. When Gabriel had first signed his soul over to Lucifer, Michaela had been afraid of his black eyes. Now she found them entrancing, completely captivating. She watched as his passion darkened them even more.
He wrapped his other hand around the back of her neck, pulling her to him. As soon as their lips touched, Michaela’s stomach flooded with a warm, tickling sensation. In the days since Lucifer’s death, they hadn’t had much alone time. She gripped his thick shirt with her hands, pulling herself up on her tiptoes and deepening the kiss, sucking on his bottom lip the way he liked. A deep hum resounded from the back of his throat, rewarding her efforts. His hand crept down until he cupped her backside. He squeezed, making Michaela’s eyes pop open in surprise.
“Mine,” Gabriel growled against her mouth.
A laugh bubbled up her throat. She smiled, their lips still touching. The newfound joy she experienced in that moment threatened to drown her. Not so long ago, she’d thought it impossible to feel this way. Chasing at the heels of her happiness was a familiar, crushing fear.
“I love you so much. Is that wrong?” Her question was shaky, terrified. She’d rather stand against all the Watchers in the world than think about losing Gabriel.
Gabriel cupped her face, his gaze seeking out every ounce of fear in her eyes. “We make the rules now, Michaela. You and me. Forever I’ll love you.”
Forever. Michaela had considered the concept of eternity a lot lately. Their forever was tied directly to her ability to keep the Seven Seals from the Aethere. The seals were the only way to truly end the world. Her eyes darted to Isaac’s grave. Only she and Liam knew the location of the seals’ final resting place. Protecting them and winning the war was the only way Michaela could ensure her and Gabriel’s eternity. “What’s going to happen to us?”
Gabriel pressed a soft, sweet kiss against her lips. “Nothing but good things from now on.”
At his words, Michaela shook her head fiercely. “Don’t say that! It’s like a curse. Happiness like this can’t last.”
Gabriel clenched his teeth, flexing his jaw. His hair was longer now, the bronze strands shifting in the night breeze. He was breathtaking, staring down at her with his eyes full of passion and power. He may have the black eyes of the fallen’s General, but he was hers. “It will last. I will make it so.”
His words were an oath to her. He stepped back and took her hand. With one last glance over her shoulder at the cemetery, Michaela followed him into the woods. She walked with a slight limp where the holy angels had destroyed her leg. The bones were still mending, and it was possible Michaela would always have a tilt to her step.
It didn’t take them long to reach the cars they’d hidden on the side of the road where the remaining Archangels—Raphael, Simiel, Ophaniel, Uriel, and the broken Zarachiel—stood with Iris and Clark. Iris hugged her son and kissed his cheek. The door of Clark’s Chevelle stood open with the engine rumbling. When his mom released him, Raphael shook Clark’s hand.
Michaela’s heart clenched. She pulled Gabriel forward, jogging the remaining distance between her and her best friend. “Clark! What are you doing?”
They’d planned on leaving right after the funeral. It wasn’t safe to stay so close to the Descendants’ compound since they were still hunted fugitives. Yet something about the way Iris hugged Clark looked like a goodbye, and it made Michaela’s palms sweat.
Clark looked at her, his blue eyes snapping and electric with anger, which died down when he saw her anxiety. “I need a break.” He heaved a giant breath. “I need to be alone.”
Michaela didn’t hear the normal humor or sarcasm in his voice. Instead, his words were laced with a barely contained rage. He took another step closer to the car.
“I’m coming with you.” Michaela tried to go around the side of the car, but Gabriel held on tightly to her hand, keeping her in place.
“No,” Clark said, surprising Michaela. “I’m going alone.”
Clark had left her once before. He had gone to Hell with Gabriel so Lucifer could teach him to use the marks on his arms. After touching the Apocrypha, a book of ancient Watcher magic, the ink had permanently etched itself into Clark’s arms, leaving him with an unstable, uncertain ability to use the magic. But Clark couldn’t control his powers, and he’d ended up killing Lucifer. When he had voluntarily left with Gabriel, she’d feared she would never see Clark again. That same feeling was back now.
“Too bad,” she said, her voice snapping. “I’m coming.” She had no intention of letting him go alone after his father and Sophia had just died. He needed her.
“Back off, Michaela,” Clark snarled. “I’ll meet you back at the safe house in a couple days.”
Michaela recoiled like she’d been slapped in the face. He’d never used such a harsh tone with her. Her feet stilled, and she stopped trying to pull away from Gabriel as Clark ducked into his car and slammed the door. The engine revved; the tires spun against the frozen grass. Then he was gone, rocketing down the road.
“It’s okay,” Iris said, meeting Michaela’s eyes. “He needs time.”
“But should he be alone after this? What if he does something stupid?” she asked. Gabriel tucked her against his side, the motion instantly easing her hurt feelings.
Iris smiled sadly. “Clark is always doing something stupid. He just needs to handle things in his own way.”
Michaela nodded numbly. She was an Archangel, strong and powerful, but she needed Clark’s friendship to feel whole. She wanted to heal him like he’d healed her. He’d brought her back to life with his friendship, and now she could do nothing for him. It broke her heart.
“Are you staying here for a while?” Gabriel asked Iris. His words pulled Michaela out of her thoughts. Suddenly, she realized how devastated and wan Iris looked.
Iris nodded like her throat was too thick to speak. “I’ll stay for a bit. I just want to be … with him for a little longer,” she managed.
“Do you want one of us to stay with you?” Ophaniel asked in her sweet voice, her blonde hair like golden threads glimmering even in the scant moonlight.
“I’m fine,” Iris said before Ophaniel pulled the Nephil into a hug. Seeing how her Archangels had embraced Iris, a Nephil, warmed Michaela’s heart and made her feel better.
“You’ll meet us back at the safe house?” Raphael asked as he squeezed Iris’s shoulder. It was his attempt at offering comfort; he’d never been much of a hugger.
Iris nodded mutely, her eyes searching out Michaela’s again. Gabriel finally released his hold on her. Michaela limped her way to Clark’s mom on stiff legs. “I’m so sorry, Iris. I wish I could undo all the bad things that have happened.”
Iris pressed her warm, weathered hand against Michaela’s cheek. Michaela didn’t know what having a mother felt like, but she thought her relationship with Iris was pretty close. “I have fait
h in you, Michaela. You’re the only one who can make things right again.”
The tears came easily like they were so prone to do lately, but Michaela pushed them back down with a heavy swallow. “Okay,” she said, hoping the word contained more confidence than she felt.
“You will.” Iris stepped away and looked at the group. “I’ll see you all in a few days.”
Her smile was sweet and serene, but her eyes were pools of sadness. They watched as she disappeared through the trees, her feet silent and sure on the wood’s floor. The angels waited until she was far away before they spoke again.
“Okay, let’s go. We’ve got things to do.” Raphael clapped his hands as if he needed to get their attention. He didn’t. They’d been waiting for this moment for days. They were ready to plan another attack against the Aethere.
Raphael didn’t wait for them to respond. Like the flash of a whip, his wings beat the air and he surged upwards, disappearing into the sky with Ophaniel and Simiel following. Uriel closed her arms around Zarachiel’s silent, bent form. The place where his wings should have been was an empty shadow. Abel had not been kind when he’d cut out Zarachiel’s wings to get back at Michaela.
Michaela’s own back was a mass of scars, but she tried not to look too closely at Zarachiel for fear he’d think she pitied him. She did, but she didn’t want him to know it. They hadn’t spoken since she’d stayed with him in the Descendants’ orchard right after he’d been thrown out of Heaven. Uriel had kept him hidden away from the other Archangels, her lashing anger better than any guard dog. Michaela knew it wasn’t just Uriel that kept her away from Zarachiel. It was her fear, her cowardice. She didn’t know what to say to him.
“Ready?” Gabriel asked.
“As I’ll ever be,” Michaela said through gritted teeth. Flying in someone else’s arms was awful. The panic set in when her feet left the ground. Her back flared with a scorching heat, and her vision swam.
“Look at me, baby,” Gabriel whispered in her ear, pulling her out of her fears. “Just look at me.”
She opened her eyes, not even realizing she’d squeezed them shut. She found Gabriel’s face inches from hers. His eyes rose to the sky around them, his short hair ruffling in the wind. He cradled her like she was the most precious weight he’d ever held.
Immediately, her heart eased. Her lips found the tan, slightly sweaty skin of his neck. Unable to resist the urge, she nibbled. Gabriel dipped them, causing her stomach to flip. She laughed, the sound bright in the dark sky. In his arms, Michaela allowed herself to enjoy flying again, knowing she was safe with him. Smiling, she nestled herself against his chest.
But it didn’t take long for the fear to find her happiness. The snake, a remnant of Molloch’s dark soul that would forever be a part of her, hissed, tightening its coil around her spine. Everything ends. Happiness never lasts. Nothing is forever. Her smile faltered, and she held on even tighter.
4
The safe house in Kentucky wasn’t far from the Descendants’ compound, especially when flying straight through the air. Gabriel stayed close to the others, but not too close. They flew near enough to help if attacked, but far enough away to not draw attention to themselves. Everyone knew it was a possibility that they could run into holy angels or Watchers patrolling the skies.
When Gabriel set Michaela down in the clearing near the cabin, a surge of memories overwhelmed her. This was the same cabin where Clark had brought her after he’d found her torn apart in the cave. Michaela looked around and recalled the days of her agonizing recovery. She shuddered as she remembered the horror and crippling guilt she’d felt when Clark told her the Aethere were labeling her a traitor and had banished Gabriel to Hell. The clearing looked different now. The trees, once heavy with leaves, were bare, and the lush green grass had shriveled, brittle and dead. A winter haze filled the air, even though it was summertime. The little house looked like something supernatural, especially when the other Archangels landed around them.
“Home, sweet home,” Simiel said. He tried to sound cheery, but his voice echoed in the silence.
Gabriel remained beside her as the others started toward the porch, sensing she didn’t want to go in just yet. Not surprisingly, Clark had left the cabin unlocked after their departure weeks ago, and the angels made their way inside.
“Michaela….”
She knew what he was going to say. She heard it in his searching voice. “You’re leaving again.”
“I have to. They need a leader,” Gabriel said, sounding torn.
Lucifer had named Gabriel his second-in-command after Gabriel killed Beliar, but when Lucifer died, it meant Gabriel was next in line. Michaela knew leading the fallen was his duty now and she didn’t resent it, but she missed him. She could have gone with him as he commanded his new army, but it didn’t feel right and he didn’t ask her. Besides, she needed to be with her Archangels.
“I understand," she said, trying to sound supportive. "Where are you going?”
“We’re finishing up the hybrids.” Gabriel rubbed the back of his neck, considering his words. “The trick is finding them.”
Michaela nodded. She’d tried to kill off Lucifer’s half-angel, half-human creatures before, but she’d failed without the number of angels Gabriel had now. The hybrids were lethal, and their bloodlust made them even more cunning and daring. “Be careful.”
“I will.”
Gabriel hugged her tightly against him. She lifted her head and their lips met. It was a brief kiss, but it still made Michaela’s stomach flip. Gabriel’s hand found the exposed skin at her hip where her shirt had lifted. His finger traced the sensitive ridge of her hipbone before he stepped back.
“Come back soon,” Michaela said, her voice a murmur. She never told him goodbye anymore; it hurt too much. Gabriel reached for her hand and kissed the top before he jumped into the air, sending a gust of wind through her hair.
The clearing was even colder and less welcoming with him gone. Michaela stood outside for a while, lost in her memories. With a sigh, she forced herself to move. She was almost to the steps when Uriel banged open the flimsy door.
“Do you think you could have found a smaller house? It doesn’t even have a decent bed for Zarachiel!”
Her voice was sharper than normal, angry and icy cold. Her features were even more angular in the night, her cheekbones cutting underneath her olive skin. Short, black hair hung razor fine below her chin. From the top of the porch’s steps, Uriel glared down at her with almond-shaped brown eyes. She was beautiful, even with the rage etched into the lines on her face, which was her permanent mask these days.
“It was our only option,” Michaela said, trying to keep her composure. She understood Uriel’s pain. Zarachiel was her partner, like Gabriel was to Michaela, and Uriel blamed her for Zarachiel’s injury. It was a guilt Michaela shared, but Uriel’s attitude was getting old.
The other Archangels quietly came out onto the porch, their faces apprehensive as Uriel stalked down the steps and across the ground until she was inches from Michaela’s face.
“Well, since it’s our only option, maybe you should sleep outside. Like a dog.”
Michaela was wrong. Uriel had once been beautiful, smart, and witty, but with the hateful sneer slashing across her face, she was ugly. Hate had transformed her.
“I’m not sleeping outside, Uriel. There could be looters or hybrids around. We need to be careful.”
Uriel snorted. “We’re not lucky enough for you to die that easily.”
Michaela looked over Uriel’s shoulder to the porch. The Archangels stood tense and wary. They’d all walked on eggshells around Uriel, cutting her slack as she worked out the pain and anger caused by Zarachiel’s injury. That patience was wearing thin now.
It could have been Michaela who was torn apart by hate and pain, but she’d worked through it with time. She’d found the ability to love and trust again. They’d given Uriel enough time to get over it.
Michaela stepped clo
ser, a mere breath away from Uriel’s face. Her patience slipped away, and she felt the hardness of a warrior settle on her face. She felt it in her bones, in the strength of her fisted hand.
“I’m done with this, Uriel. This ends tonight. One way or another, we settle this 'cause I’m sick of your shit, and I’m tired of the rift you’ve driven between all of us.” Michaela’s words were icily calm and steady.
Uriel vibrated with anger, her eyes sparking with anticipation. This is what she’d wanted, Michaela could tell. “Good,” Uriel growled.
The Archangels descended the stairs, nearly floating onto the ground. They waited, ready to step in at any moment.
“I know you’re hurting, and I know you’re angry. You can hit me once if it’ll make you feel better. But only once. So you better make it a damn good one,” Michaela said, her growl matching Uriel’s.
Uriel stepped back, but not out of submission. Her face twisted with intention and focus. Michaela took a deep breath to prepare, because she knew this was going to hurt.
Uriel was so fast, Michaela barely had time to register the flash of pale, tight-knuckled skin before it crashed into her face. The impact caused a white eruption of light across her vision and a ringing in her ears. The pain was secondary. Michaela was right; it hurt like hell. She gasped involuntary, stumbling slightly on her sore leg.
Fresh, golden blood covered Uriel’s cut knuckles. Michaela appreciated the injury and the pained look on Uriel’s face, because a steady stream of blood poured from Michaela’s busted mouth, a loose tooth rattling around inside. She’d bitten her tongue from the impact, causing the tissue to swell and fill her mouth. She worked her jaw, feeling the aching bruise spreading across her face. It hurt, but it wouldn’t take along to heal.
But one wasn’t enough. Uriel was angrier than that, and she wanted to hurt Michaela. Michaela understood, and she ducked just in time. Uriel fell to the side, carried by the propulsion of her swing.