by Meg Collett
“I saw the floor of Heaven running red with blood. It dripped from your hair as you crouched in the courtyard beside the Tree of Knowledge.” Iris’s brow furrowed in confusion. She shook her head as if she was trying to clarify the image. “You'd won. Heaven was saved.”
Michaela grabbed Iris’s arm. “That’s great! That’s wonderful news!” The anxiety she’d felt a second before morphed into wild excitement.
But Iris shook her head, and Michaela’s elation plummeted. “What?” Michaela whispered.
“You’d won. You had, I swear.” They gripped each other like they needed the support to stay standing. Tears brimmed in Iris’s eyes. “I know that. I know Heaven was safe, but…but I saw you falling.”
Michaela couldn’t find her voice. She couldn’t find the air to breathe. Her legs went numb. This was it. This was her worst fear, and it answered her question about happiness lasting. It doesn’t.
Iris clarified as if Michaela needed to hear the details. She didn’t. “You were falling from Heaven, and you were dead.”
16
Loki hovered in the sky, letting his massive, aching wings hold him aloft. The souls were a slowly unraveling spool of wispy threads inside him. He couldn’t hold them all together. They clung to him like they were drowning, pulling him under and taking his breath. He was dying. He knew it in his soul that he was ending. The souls were taking him under.
As he’d delivered them since the dawn of time, the souls were delivering him into a place of nonexistence. It was a slow murder with a weapon of whispering, living feathers that weighed him down and tore apart his being.
He was created to deliver souls from their bodies, not become their new carrier. He bowed beneath their weight. He was caving in.
He was so deep inside his mind that he didn’t hear the sound at first. He roused, lifting up in the air. His wings refracted the little light around him, capturing him inside a black diamond. He forced his slowing mind to focus. Finally, he heard the chimes. Like delicate death bells, they rung inside his ears and inside his heart.
Loki opened his eyes and pushed aside the call of the new dying soul. His head turned to the ocean, hundreds of miles away.
He was being called. Called to a new place. To a new deliverance.
He was needed in Hell.
So he answered the summons, because he was the only one who could.
* * *
Gabriel waited in the small entrance to Hell. The crystal clear water lapped against the stone at his feet in the small cave structure. Just at the bottom of the little lagoon was an opening into the Atlantic Ocean. It was the only way into and out of Hell, and it was the only spot to which Loki could manifest himself.
Gabriel hadn’t been waiting long when he felt the air pulse behind him. He turned as Loki materialized in front of him. “Thanks for coming, Loki,” Gabriel said once the Angel of Death was fully formed.
Looking at the shriveled form before him, Gabriel barely recognized Loki. His face was only jutting bones and sunken skin that gave off an aroma of decay. Massive wings unfurled around him, causing his back to bow and hunch under their weight. Gabriel didn’t understand how Loki’s slight form could bear the burden. Gabriel forced himself to look away from Loki’s pointed ribs and skinny, frail arms.
“It’s always a pleasure,” Loki said, his voice merely a whisper that Gabriel had to strain to hear.
“Are you okay, Loki?”
The angel made an odd grunt that sounded like choking, but Gabriel realized it was laughter. The angel’s smile twisted his face, making him look like a terrifying toy clown. “Did you ask the ocean outside these walls if it doing was okay as you swam through its bloodied, putrid waters?”
“No.” Gabriel noticed Loki never let his wings touch the ground, even though it must have been agony to hold them aloft.
“What do you think will happen to these bloody oceans and rivers and lakes?”
Gabriel shook his head, unsure of what Loki meant, but the angel waited for him to answer. “They’re unusable. The blood has ruined the waters.”
Loki swept his arms wide, the motion making him teeter off-balance. Gabriel stepped forward, ready to catch him if needed. “Behold!” Loki’s shrill shout made Gabriel flinch. Loki made that laughing, choking sound again. “I’m the biggest, bloodiest body of water you’ve ever seen.”
“The souls are doing this to you,” Gabriel stated the obvious. It was clear Loki’s terrible health could be the result of only one thing. “Did you know this would happen when you agreed to keep the souls with you as they died?”
Loki’s feeble humor fell away, and his eyes drifted to the lapping water at their feet. The blood hadn't affected it, since it was technically a part of Hell. The angel’s eyes searched and studied its clear depths. “Did I know the souls would eat away at me? That they’d devour me until I was but a husk, a living shell for them to hide away inside while they waited for better times?”
“Yes.”
Loki met Gabriel’s eyes once again, and Gabriel had to force himself to not look away. Loki was truly empty; the life that once danced in his eyes was gone. “No, I didn’t. And I’m glad, because who wants to be eaten alive?”
Gabriel shuddered. “Could you leave the souls in the bodies until we can get to Heaven? I know you didn’t want to before, but Lucifer is dead now. He can’t hurt the souls anymore.”
Loki shrugged, the weak motion sending prisms of light dancing through the cave as his feathers caught the light reflecting off the lagoon. “I couldn’t do that. It’s desecration. Besides, there aren’t many left to leave behind anyway.”
“There aren’t many souls left?” Gabriel asked, horror creeping into his voice.
“No. The humans. There aren’t many left to die.”
It was an odd thing to say and an even odder way to say it, but Gabriel understood. There weren’t many survivors after the angels’ war had spilled over into the human world. “Oh,” Gabriel said.
“Oh,” Loki mimicked with another shrug that showered the room with dancing light.
“Loki,” Gabriel said his name slowly. “Will you be okay? You’re not just some ocean. You’re the only Angel of Death we have.”
“I’ve had a purpose all my life. It’s a duty that I find is wearing me down after all these years.” Loki’s voice trailed off. “If one day I should find myself without the responsibility of the souls, I believe I would welcome the freedom, the relief. It’s been a long eternity.”
Loki’s answer left Gabriel speechless. He fumbled for the words to comfort Loki, but the angel didn’t appear to need comfort. Gabriel cleared away the thickness in his throat. “Maybe I can help. I brought you down here because an Aethere angel came to us. He wanted protection from Abel, and in exchange, he’s agreed to judge some souls for us.”
Loki’s eyes shifted away from Gabriel. His focus bounced around the room as the light had. Gabriel went on, unsure if the angel was even listening. “I know we can’t send the souls to Heaven after they’re judged since we don’t have holy carrier angels to take them, but he could judge the souls going to Hell. It might help you some,” Gabriel offered.
Loki came forward and took Gabriel’s hand. His skin was cold and dry, his grip tight. Loki placed Gabriel’s hand on the bare skin above his heart. “Do you feel that, Gabriel?”
Gabriel felt nothing beneath his hand, not even the beat of a heart, which was likely the point. He pulled his hand away, trying not to shiver. He didn’t answer, but Loki knew.
“It will help the souls as it should, but it will not help me.”
“But, Loki….” Gabriel couldn’t finish his sentence.
“What will happen to me?” Loki offered. Gabriel nodded. “Maybe we could set the human bodies adrift on an ocean of blood. Their souls could deliver themselves into the afterlife of their choice. They could be their own Angel of Death, Angel of Judgment, and Angel of the Eternal After.” Loki paused, laughing and choking at the same time. �
�But then what would be the purpose of angels if the humans didn’t need you anymore?”
Gabriel clenched his jaw. “No,” he said. “Only you can deliver the souls from the bodies. We will get this sorted out, and everything will return to normal.”
Loki pursed his lips. “I think whatever you thought was ‘normal’ was exactly what got us into this mess in the first place.” Loki walked around Gabriel and headed to the archway out of the entrance room. He paused. “Do me a favor. When this is all done, please don’t go back to normal.”
17
Michaela found herself back out on the rocky cliff. The outcropping with the lone tree was a few feet in front of her, but she didn’t walk to the edge and dangle her legs over as she always had. The image of her falling from Heaven kept replaying in her mind. Instead, she sat at the edge of the woods with her back resting against a tree.
Today should’ve been a good day. They’d taken out the Watchers. The souls Loki carried could be judged. Finally, they would fight, and it was a fight they could win. Heaven could be saved if nothing changed in Iris’s vision.
But Michaela would die. She was selfish enough to pity herself, to forget about this being a good day. She’d just needed time to herself so she could have her moment of wallowing before she had to put on a brave face.
Or maybe longer than a moment, because tears pressed at the backs of her eyes.
It wasn’t fair. She’d lost so much, sacrificed so much. Maybe if Gabriel still hated her, or maybe if she hadn’t been able to love him after he signed over his soul, maybe then dying would be an easier fate to accept.
Michaela scuffed her boots across the grass, digging her heels into the frozen soil. She quit only when her boots were filthy and the muscles in her legs hurt.
It wasn’t just death that terrified her. Throughout her existence, death had always meant an afterlife. But that was for the humans. For an angel…death meant the end. What would the end feel like? Would everything fold itself into a neat little package of nothing? Michaela couldn’t even imagine it.
Uriel had been right: Michaela wasn’t ready to kill angels. She wasn’t even ready to die herself. She couldn’t allow the bone swords in the fight.
She stood. Her moment alone hadn’t helped, but she needed to get back to the cabin and tell the Archangels about her decision. They needed to plan and prepare. In just a few hours, they would meet the holy angels in the sky for battle without the bone swords. The holy angels would answer the Archangels’ trumpet blast, and the fighting would commence. It would be as it always had been, but Michaela hoped they could push the holy angels back to the edge of Purgatory quickly with the help of the fallen. From there, they stood a chance of getting Michaela into a position where she could open the gates.
Michaela didn’t relish the thought of being carried so high, but she was the only one who could open the gates. She turned back to the woods, wondering who would be carrying her, when she saw him.
Gabriel was just coming through the woods, his feet silent over the ground. He saw her and smiled. “I hurried back.”
Staggering relief flooded through Michaela. Immediately, the words to tell him about the vision formed on her tongue, but she held them back. The urge to tell him fell away, and she said instead, “I appreciate it.” She asked through her tight throat, “How many fallen did you bring?”
“Thousands. They’re camping around the cabin, waiting for the signal.” Gabriel took her hand and kissed it before he hugged her briefly. Michaela wished it was longer. “Wait.” Gabriel leaned back and regarded her face carefully. Michaela knew she wasn’t hiding her sadness very well. “What’s wrong?”
Michaela smiled and tried to laugh, but it sounded off. “Nothing,” she said, clearing her throat.
A look of confusion flashed across Gabriel’s features as Michaela sat back down. He settled on the ground next to her, his eyes lingering on the ruts she had dug. Before he could ask again, Michaela situated herself in his lap. He wrapped his arms around her waist. “I know something is wrong, Michaela,” Gabriel said, drawing in her scent with a deep breath.
“I don’t want to talk about it yet,” she whispered into the soft down of his hair.
He rubbed her back, easing the tense muscles. “You’ll tell me when you’re ready?” Michaela could only nod as the tears welled up again. “Okay then,” Gabriel said. “That’s good enough.”
Michaela blinked her tears away and leaned back to look down at Gabriel. “Did Loki come?” she asked. Gabriel dipped his face down and nuzzled the side of her neck, making an affirmative mumble. “Is Obil judging the souls that Loki had then?” Gabriel nodded as he moved up to her ear, pulling her lobe between his lips. Michaela sighed.
“I love you,” Gabriel said when he started kissing her jaw. It was causal and careless, effortless and easy, like they had forever to say the words. Michaela pulled away from Gabriel’s kisses. She was being crushed from the inside. A great pressure shifted onto her chest and cut off her air. A tear slid down her cheek.
“What is it?” Gabriel asked, alarm in his voice. “What’s wrong?”
Michaela shook her head, her watery eyes meeting his. This was it. She should tell him about Iris’s vision of her death now, because she would never be ready. She opened her mouth to tell him the words that would surely tear him apart as they’d torn her. But once again, the words didn’t come.
“I don’t want the fallen to carry bone swords in the battles,” she managed to say.
“Of course,” Gabriel said, wiping away the tears as they fell, lines forming between his brows. “We won’t use them. Is that why you’re so upset?”
Michaela shook her head, realizing she couldn’t speak. The silence stretched out between them as Michaela struggled. The lines deepened on Gabriel’s face, but he didn’t speak or ask again. He waited in his silent way, holding her so close that she heard the echo of his heartbeat.
Michaela realized then why she couldn’t tell Gabriel about the vision. Saying the words out loud to him sounded like cowardice. Maybe the weak, broken Michaela would have cried and told him how scared she was, but she was different now, stronger. She was still a broken angel, but she’d made herself whole again with Gabriel’s love. She didn’t need him to hold her and tell her everything was going to be okay. Instead, she wanted to cherish every moment with him without the knowledge of her death looming over them.
She shifted in his lap to straddle his legs. Cupping his face, she stared deep into his black eyes. He didn’t look away or lower his gaze like he’d done when he was ashamed to be a fallen. Unblinking, he watched her as she looked at him. “Love me now.”
Her words were a soft demand, a plea, and a need. They would have sounded weak anywhere else but in Gabriel’s arms. As the tears dripped from her eyes, he lowered her onto the ground as he dipped his head into her neck and kissed her.
His mouth was moist and brief across her skin, sending tingles throughout her body. Supporting his weight above her with one hand, he used the other to open the buttons of her shirt. He was deft and quick. Soon her shirt was undone and his hand was skimming up her ribcage and cupping her breasts.
He moved down her body, tracing a scorching path down her neck to her chest with his tongue. She closed her eyes and moaned as his mouth closed over her breast. His fingertips traced a line above the waistband of her jeans until her hip bones ached with the slow torture of the motion.
His warm breath across her nipple caused a shiver to ripple down her spine, making her gasp. He rose above her, pulling his arms out of his jacket and his thermal shirt over his head. Immediately, she was enveloped in the warmth of his wings. They settled around her, capturing her inside their soft, warm glow. Their light brought out the bronze of Gabriel’s skin and the golden filaments firing through his eyes.
“I wasn’t cold,” Michaela said. She pulled his hand back down to her hip bone.
Gabriel lowered his head back down to her breasts. “I want to keep y
ou warm while I make love to you.” The breath from his words tickled her delicate skin, and Michaela could only nod as he began his magic again.
He popped the button on her jeans and eased her zipper down. The anticipation swelled between Michaela’s legs until she squeezed them together. Gabriel noticed, the side of his mouth crooking into a satisfied half-smirk.
“I like it when you do that,” he said, lifting his head back to her mouth. She focused on his kiss, the way his tongue explored her and claimed her. Part of her mind registered the tug of her jeans, the scrape of the material exposing bare skin.
Gabriel ran his hand up the length of her thigh, his thumb teasing the inside of her leg. His body hovered just above hers, so that his weight was just a suggestion of solid muscle pressing into her. She lifted her hips and pressed into him, her bare skin finding the rough tightness of his pants.
His half-grin turned into a full one as she pulled off his pants. Her hands closed around him, feeling his length and width with marvel and wonder. That anticipation was back; her desire was almost painful. She moaned, her body agonized with waiting.
“Open your legs, Michaela,” Gabriel commanded, his voice deep and gravelly.
Her mind scattered, obliterated by his touch. She parted her legs, and he hooked them over his hips, lowering his body until his weight was heavy and full on top of her.
“Hold on,” he growled. She barely had time to put her arms around him before he was inside her, taking her and filling her. He angled her hips up against his with a shift of his hand on her back, and he was deeper than ever before.
Michaela kept her eyes open to watch him move above her, his broad shoulders flexing with each motion, his scent the only thing she smelled. Her fear and pity were gone, leaving behind nothing but her love. If these were her last days, she wanted every moment of them filled with Gabriel either beside her or inside her. She wasn’t ever going to let him go. She wasn’t afraid when he held her like this.