by Dima Zales
“Such brave words, angel. We both know there is no way you can extract the girl without hurting her. Therefore, I can do anything I want while you just stand there like whipped puppies.” She stroked her long fingers up and down my left arm. Goosebumps rose as her red fingernails began digging in, creating painful welts.
“What do you want, beast?” Gabriel spat, taking a step forward as well.
Mulciber’s pale face broke into a triumphant grin. “Oh, I have what I want.”
She reached into the pocket of her black Armani pants suit and withdrew a tinted glass vial. Through the light from an overhead lamp, I could see a tiny piece of wood no bigger than a needle inside it.
“Tonight is the fall of man and angel. Tonight, we will conquer life and death in one fell swoop. Tonight, we wage war against the Heavens and spit in the face of God. Tonight is all about revenge—sweet, glorious revenge. Starting with you, Seer.”
She grabbed my chin, making me look at her face, nearly inhuman with rage. “You took my favorite body from me. By your hand, your arm, you took away my victory. And so I will take away yours.”
Before anyone could move, she grabbed my left arm and shoved her palm against my elbow, shattering it. I screamed, convulsing in Belial’s arms. He held me upright as my body lurched forward, weakened by the pain that shot through my upper torso. Bile rose in the back of my throat. Too much. I would pass out from shock soon.
With a wordless roar, Michael lunged at Mulciber, his fist cocked to pummel the daylights out of her. She tossed the vial to Belial, who let go of me enough to catch it.
“Do it!”
Michael tackled her off her feet, grabbing her by the throat and slamming her to the ground. Gabriel leapt for me, but Belial raised the blade to my neck, stopping him.
“Move another inch and I’ll flay her jugular,” Belial sneered, popping the vial open with his thumb. Gabriel met my eyes and a look passed through them that I somehow understood. He was going to try something. I needed to be ready. I pushed past the aching feeling of loss in my chest and blocked out the pain of my ruined arm, waiting for him to make a move.
Belial used the tip of the knife to slice a neat line across his cheekbone. He held the vial up to it so the blood would run inside. The sliver burned a bright white color, nearly blinding both me and Gabriel. Belial used the distraction to slash one side of my neck. Blood poured forth and he held it to the vial as well to let it flood over the sliver. He lowered the knife a fraction from below my throat, giving us an opening.
I elbowed Belial as hard as I could in the sternum and dropped to the ground, giving Gabriel the chance to kick him in the chest. Belial flew backwards, head over feet, and landed near the shoreline of the lake. The vial went flying into the midst of the ghosts behind us, spewing light as if it were a supernatural sparkler. As Gabriel helped me stand, I felt some horrible power building only feet away where the vial landed. What had they done?
The ghosts turned to face the vial and a huge pillar of light exploded upward, creating a maelstrom in their midst. Wind tore around them into a funnel and sucked their bodies into it one by one until they all disappeared. Then it expanded. The people who had been in the park scattered at the sight of the twister. Gabriel wrapped his arms around me, protecting me from the debris that slapped against us. It surrounded the area in a huge tornado as if acting as a barrier to the outside. I had seen tornadoes before but this was nothing like them. It didn’t move on towards another side of the park. It stayed where it was, trapping us inside the dangerous torrent.
I peeked through a gap in Gabriel’s arms to see a man standing where the spirits had once been. He was naked and easily over eight feet tall. His skin was deathly pale and his hair was black and slicked back from his face, the cheekbones sharp, nose narrow, brows thick. I couldn’t see his eyes because they were closed, but I knew he wasn’t human. Gabriel unwrapped his arms from around me, his face slack with shock.
“What…what is that thing?” I whispered.
Its eyes opened and they were opaque with no irises, no sclera, nothing but twin orbs of black. Seconds later, wings stretched from its back but something was horribly wrong. The archangels’ wings were white with sheens of gold, or silver, or bronze over them, but this creature’s were blood red and singed at the ends.
“It can’t be. This shouldn’t be possible,” Gabriel murmured, the blood draining from his face, leaving him damn near as pale as the thing in front of us.
Behind me, Belial chuckled. I whirled around, drawing my energy around me in case he decided to attack, but he wore a joyous expression, his hands spread wide.
“Thank you, Jordan. You have handed us the victory once again.”
“What are you talking about, demon?” I snarled.
“We have tried for centuries to beat the angels at your own game and every time, we have been unsuccessful. Arrogant though we demons are, we have come to one final conclusion. There is no equal for God’s angels. And so, we decided to create one.”
As if on cue, the false angel landed beside Belial, training its empty eyes on the two of us. Fear curled up through my stomach, washing away the agony from my broken arm. I had faced death before—twice, in fact—and yet it paled in comparison to the stare of this abomination.
Gabriel pushed me behind him, murmuring under his breath. “You need to get out of here.”
“I’d love to, Gabe, but I don’t think Naked McEvilGuy is going to let me make a run for it,” I replied through a grimace.
He seemed to realize the truth in my statement, but he didn’t like it. Neither did I.
“Very well. Draw up your shields. Things are about to get…messy.”
“Messy?”
Before he could answer, the false angel lunged for me, one huge hand outstretched. Gabriel shoved me out of the way and its fist punched a gigantic crater in the ground, scattering gravel, dirt, and dust into the air. I scrambled backwards with my good arm, swallowing hard, but there wasn’t enough time to react because Gabriel shouted: “Michael! Now!”
The archangel appeared behind me and raised his hand to the sky. “Celeste!”
Thunder roared and clouds materialized above us. The sky seemed to explode with activity. I shielded my eyes, just barely able to see a gigantic lightning strike hit the false angel. The sound of the electricity connecting with its flesh made my ears pop and the hairs on my arms stand to attention. When the bolt disappeared, there was only a huge plume of smoke coming out of another even larger crater.
I shook my head, holding out my hand for Michael to help me up. “No way it’s that easy.”
He set his jaw, stepping towards the hole. “It’s not. But that’s not what the bolt was for.”
Some of the smoke cleared and the moonlight caught upon a long, silver object stuck in the ground. A sword. Its handle had beautiful patterns beaten into the metal, images depicting angels soaring and demons falling in their wake.
Michael plucked it out of the ground. I had read about it before in Paradise Lost. It was the sword that cut the side of Satan and helped them win the war in Heaven.
When his hand closed around the hilt, the metal shone brilliantly. In a flash of movement, a silver liquid flooded up over his arm, his shoulder, his upper torso, down his body to his feet until he was covered from head to toe. Seconds later, it solidified into a sleek armor, with patterns and markings that matched the sword. It was similar to the type of armor that Roman and Spartan warriors once had—separate pieces that were solid yet light enough for quick movements. He turned, looking at the sky.
Another huge gust of wind whipped through my hair. Dozens of angels, all different sizes, male and female, landed behind us: armed to the teeth with swords, spears, lances, and axes, their snow-white wings flaring. Among them, Raphael stepped forward, radiant in a dark bronze helmet and armor, and carrying twin short axes.
“Jordan, you should not be here,” he scolded softly, brown eyes filled with worry as they fell acros
s my injured arm and the blood dripping from my neck. I was panting and shaking so hard that I could barely manage to shrug my uninjured shoulder.
“So I’ve been told.”
Sheathing his axes, he laid his gloved fingertips on my arm and throat. I felt coolness enveloping the damaged areas, soothing the pain until the gash on my neck vanished and I could move my fingers again. I flexed the muscles in my arm and winced.
“That is only a temporary fix. I will need more time to mend the bones completely.”
“Assuming we survive this.”
He flashed me a bitter smile. “Indeed. Get somewhere safe.”
I shook my head. “They’ll only chase me. Give me a weapon.”
“I don’t have time to argue with you.”
“Whether I leave or stay, I’m dead,” I replied, my voice hard with resolve. “I’d personally rather go out fighting,”
Raphael stared down at me for a long moment before handing me one of his axes, which took a moment to balance in my hands. He motioned to two male archangels behind me—a pair of dark-haired, olive-skinned twins.
“Ithuriel, Zephon, stay close to her.” The two angels nodded.
Raphael joined Michael and Gabriel where they stood in front of the crater, weapons poised. Across from us at the edge of the lake, Belial had acquired his own suit of armor: not nearly as intricately decorated as the angels, but the black metal looked as frightening as the demon himself. He raised a hand and scores of demons trudged out of the lake. Their dingy armor, weapons, and burnt grey wings dripped water as they came to a stop behind him.
Mulciber came up beside him with her face bloodied and bruised from Michael’s assault. It made a grim smirk touch my lips. She too had summoned a dark brown armor and a whip made of fire, flickering light across her filthy mahogany-colored wings. They weren’t kidding when they said they wanted a war.
The smoke cleared and the false angel rose to its feet from a crouch. Patches of burnt skin sloughed onto the ground, exposing muscle and cartilage, but the damn thing still stood.
Belial lifted twin katanas above his head, smiling that serpentine smile that did not suit Terrell’s face at all. “Well, Prince of Heaven’s Army, doesn’t this seem familiar?”
Michael’s eyes narrowed from beneath the brim of his silver helmet as he spoke. “For proof, look up and read thy Lot in yon celestial Sign where thou art weigh’d and show how light and weak if thou resist.”
Fury flooded across the demon’s features in a rush. “Don’t you dare spit those words back at me, you arrogant fool! You struck down my Master once with that sword and I will make sure you pay back every drop of blood.”
Belial motioned forward with his katanas. “Rain Hell upon them!”
The war began.
24
The demons released a battle cry that shook the ground beneath my feet and hummed through my bones. They ran at us, weapons raised, armor gleaming in the moonlight, and every inch of my body tensed at once. I gripped the axe in my hands, and it seemed to grow lighter on account of the fresh adrenaline coursing through my veins. God help me.
The first wave of demons slammed into the front lines, surrounding me in a cacophony of noise: metal scraping metal, blades slicing flesh, blood splashing through the air. The two angels whom Raphael had assigned as my guardians flanked me, making a triangle facing outward so no one could sneak up behind us.
My eyes locked onto an approaching demon, a hulking man carrying a broad sword. He swung at me in a powerful but slow movement, allowing me the time to dodge and slice into his kneecaps with the axe. He screamed and collapsed to the ground, dropping the weapon. Zephon plunged his lance into the demon’s neck, killing him. One down, hundreds to go.
Bodies wriggled and writhed around me on all sides, making it hard to concentrate, but I forced myself to widen my focus to anything wearing the wrong color armor headed in my direction. I parried a blow from another demon, struggling to hold off the sickle mere inches from my skin, and called out: “Strike!” My energy shard went straight through his forehead, killing him instantly, and I kicked him out of the way.
As I continued fighting, I could just barely hear the sound of the archangels fighting the false angel. Every time it struck and missed, the ground trembled like a miniature earthquake. Out of my peripheral, I spotted Gabriel floating overhead, his golden wings flapping to keep him aloft, his thin sword already black with demon’s blood. He went into a straight dive and slashed at the false angel’s right arm, slicing deep into its skin, but it was still too tough to cut through completely. The false angel batted him away with a vicious swipe, sending him spiraling into the air. It swung its massive fist down at the ground, where I noticed the glinting armor of Michael. I felt a sudden rush of concern, but the angel blocked the blow with his sword, shouting out attack incantations. Large wounds appeared on the creature’s wide chest and blood spurted forth like a fountain, but still it stood.
Not far away, Raphael was locked in battle with Belial, swinging his axe as if it weighed no more than a pencil. Belial fought back just as fiercely, the sickening grin replaced with an utterly cold, murderous expression. But that wasn’t what worried me. Where was Mulciber?
“Jordan!” I whipped my head to the right as Ithuriel called my name, his brown eyes wide as he pointed his rapier at something beside us. I followed his gaze and saw the tip of the flaming whip latching around the neck of one angel, throwing him into a group of others. It made a small clearing among the melee. Mulciber marched towards us with death in her eyes—a look that was meant for me and only me.
Ithuriel and Zephon stepped in front of me, blocking most of my body from view. Ithuriel sheathed his rapier and drew a bow from his back, loading it with three golden arrows. He released and they whistled through the air in a deadly arc. She flicked her arm and the whip slashed two of them in half, but the third hit the weak point in her armor at the shoulder. She flinched, grabbing the offending dart and throwing it to the ground. Blood dripped down her brown armor, but she kept coming.
Ithuriel kept shooting, stepping back to usher us to retreat as she got closer, slapping away the arrows as they came.
“Get ready!” He shouted to his companion, shouldering the bow and retrieving his rapier as she got within range.
She aimed for me, but Zephon blocked the blow with his lance, twisting the end of the whip around the blade and yanking. She flew forward and he punched her in the face, flooring her.
Hissing, she leapt back onto her feet, clutching her end of the now useless whip, and kicked his legs out from under him. He went into a back roll, coming up to grip his lance, but she jerked her wrist and the whip ripped it out of his grasp. It landed in the grass several feet behind her.
Ithuriel came at her next, his rapier raised, leaping in close to keep her from using the whip again. She used the handle to block him, moving almost too fast for the eye to see. Zephon joined his partner, armed with a blade that had been tucked in his belt as a back-up weapon. I continued fending off the demons that managed to break through to us, trying to keep an eye on their battle when I could. It wasn’t until I heard their sharp cries of pain over the roar of war that something went wrong.
I turned. They were both on their knees, clutching identical shoulder wounds. A dagger had sprung from the handle of her whip—an obsidian-tipped blade. Judging by the pain on their faces, it must have been poisoned. She stepped towards me. Ithuriel reached for her, but she kicked him away, knocking him senseless.
Zephon grimaced, trying desperately to get to his feet. “Jordan, get out of here!”
I hacked and slashed at the demons in front of me, making a path for myself, but I didn’t get very far. I didn’t have enough ground to retreat to, and she was almost to me. I squared my shoulders and clutched the axe, raising it.
“Fine. You want me dead, bitch? Bring it.”
Mulciber smiled sweetly back at me, her voice like poisoned honey. “Gladly.”
Sh
e slashed at me with the whip. I shouted, “I reject!”
The weighted tip of the weapon ripped through my shield as if it were paper, but it gave me enough space to roll to the side, aiming for her already injured shoulder. She turned away at the last minute, making my axe miss and sink into the ground. I yanked it out of the dirt, wincing as my injured arm burned with pain, and faced her again.
“How adorable,” she purred as she circled me, her hand twirling the handle of the whip. “I see the angel has taught you how to attack and defend. It won’t work on me, my dear. I’m a new animal.”
“On that we agree.” I lunged forward and aimed for her head. Mulciber blocked me with her forearm and the blade sunk into the metal, crumpling it. Well, at least I’d hit her. She shot me an insolent glare, surprised that I’d at least managed to get through to flesh.
“Well done, Seer. I will play with you no more. It’s time to die.”
She aimed for my neck. I brought the axe up, but the tip of the whip wrapped around the handle. She pulled with inhuman strength, yanking it out of my grip. Shit!
I scrambled backwards, checking the ground for any loose weapons. Just as she raised the whip again, I found a discarded sword and blocked her next blow, wincing as sparks flew into my face, nearly blinding me. She laughed and kept coming, shouting above the sounds of dying all around us.
“What a piece of work is man!” Mulciber exclaimed, punctuating the quote with another powerful blow. My arm had begun to throb with pain from absorbing the strikes into the sword. It seemed to be getting weaker by the minute.
“How noble in reason!” CLANG!
“How infinite in faculty!” CLANG!
“In form and moving how express and admirable!” CLANG!
At last, she managed to hit my left arm with the whip. I cried out, dropping the sword. Wearing a nightmarish grin, she kicked me in the chest, sprawling me on the grass. I clutched the wounded spot, struggling to rise to my feet, but she tossed her whip aside and grabbed me around the neck. She slammed my head against the ground. Pain crackled through my skull.