by Amy Braun
It doesn’t matter what you think, my brain told me in a rare, rational moment. They need to work it out themselves.
“I’ll check the left side,” I said, already moving into the foyer. I didn’t plan on going far, but I was going to give the two kids some space.
The house was a mess. Dirty newspapers and crumpled heaps of clothing were strewn over broken plates in the kitchen. Pictures were knocked off the walls and chairs were tossed over the upturned table. All the destruction looked recent, a raid or a fight gone wrong. When I saw the blood splatter on the tile floor, I was guessing which was more likely.
But there were no screeches or clicking claws of a demon. There were no hooting or hollering sinners. It was eerily quiet, and that made me even tenser. Certain that nothing would jump out of the shadows at me, I stepped back toward the foyer. I stopped when I heard the edges of Dro and Max’s conversation beyond the doorframe.
“I wasn’t thinking,” he said. “I was trying to wake you up.”
“You should have run,” she told him. “I’m too dangerous when I’m like that.”
Max sighed. “I know, and I’m sorry I freaked out after, but... Dro, when I touched you, I saw what you were dreaming.”
The silence following that statement was a weight. I edged closer to the corner of the wall.
“I didn’t know what I was going to see,” Max went on. “I just wanted to know you were okay.”
“Well, I’m not,” Dro replied. She sounded bitter, but also a little scared.
There were some footsteps. I was betting they were Max’s.
“You have to tell Constance. Lucifer must have given you that dream. He must have been manipulating your mind until–”
“Lucifer wasn’t doing anything,” Dro interrupted. Her voice was sharp, but when she spoke again, the anger was dialed back. “Or if he was, I couldn’t tell. I was in control in that nightmare, Max. I was the one standing back while the rest of you were murdered. I was the one who... I was the one who went after Constance. It was all me. Lucifer was never even there.”
She took a shuddering breath, the way she did when she was about to cry.
“And the worst part was that I knew it wasn’t a dream. Not really. It felt too real. I can still taste the smoke. And I just didn’t care. I loved how powerful I felt. Like I was actually free, and didn’t need to hide anymore. It wasn’t a nightmare, Max. It was a premonition.”
Max must have moved closer to her, because I couldn’t hear his reply. That or I was in denial-laced shock.
Precognition was one of Dro’s weaker powers, so I assumed that Lucifer was playing some sort of telepathic role in her nightmare. But my sister wouldn’t see it that way. Dro thought she was going to be the death of us all.
Before my heart could strain at the thought, I heard a low thumping noise coming from the back of the house. My senses went on high alert, my hand flipping down to grip my hatchet. I turned around the corner of the wall to check on Dro and Max.
They were standing in front of each other, his hands curling around hers and holding them to his chest. Both of them were looking in the direction the noise had come. I glared at Max.
“I thought you said this place was safe,” I whispered angrily. “That there were no monsters or murderers here.”
He matched my glare. “There aren’t.”
The idea didn’t relieve me as much as I wanted it to, especially when neither Warrick or Sephiel came back. I spun on my heel, yanked my hatchet from its sheath on my hip, and stormed toward the back of the house. I slowed down when I got to the living room, as there were two square windows that opened to reveal part of the backyard.
It was a two story house, but the sound hadn’t come from upstairs, and neither the demon slayer or the ex-angel had gone up that way. The backyard it was.
I slid along the walls, hoping I wouldn’t be seen through the windows. The living room was the same mess as the rest of the house, all the furniture thrown carelessly around the room, making it difficult to maneuver when I finally crossed the room to the back door. Broken plastic crunched under my boots as I moved forward, kicking aside clothes and white padding from the punctured sofa.
Finally, I made it to the back door. It was already open. Just a crevice, like it had forgotten to be locked, but it only worried me more.
There was no way to sneak outside. It was all or nothing now. I pushed open the door with the toe of my boot and stepped outside.
It was definitely a trap, and while it might not have been meant for me, the insult was all the same.
Warrick and Sephiel, looking a bit battered and bruised, were on their knees with their hands behind their heads. Both men were held in place by swords lying across their necks.
Behind them were three men and one woman in long white trench coats. They were human, but still ethereally beautiful and perfect. The two men on the sides stood out more than the others.
One of the angels was a large man with flawless mocha skin and a strong face. His dark eyes were focused on me as he was gripped Warrick’s shoulder with one hand and held a curved blade to my lover’s throat with the other.
Holding Sephiel in place was an angel even bigger than the dark skinned one. He was impossibly beautiful, like Lucifer, though it wasn’t desire mixed with fear that made my pulse pound at the sight of him. Despite the curling golden hair spilling down to his shoulders, the chiseled features of his face, the piercing azure eyes, there was no mistaking the danger he posed. He was wearing a white metal chest plate over his white coat as if he were a saint fighting in Roman armor.
I knew better, just as recognized him the moment I saw him. If I hadn’t, the gold sigil engraved on his chest plate would have given him away.
The exact same symbol was tattooed over my heart to protect me from demons.
But there was nothing in the world that would protect me from the archangel Michael.
A wave of panic went through me for a moment. Even without a connection to Heaven, he was strong enough to blast me into a red stain on the walls. Especially since Michael had made it very clear that we would pay for shutting the Heaven Gate and condemning him and the entire Heavenly Host to spend the rest of their lives as humans on earth.
I was terrible when it came to making supernatural allies.
I did my best to look unimpressed. It wasn’t the first time I’d been witness to an execution setup, but all those times before, my friends had never been on the chopping block. And I had usually been the one holding the axe.
Dro and Max skidded to a stop behind me. I shoved them back, making sure they were trapped in the doorway and not in a clear shot for Michael.
Somehow I wasn’t sure my willingness to be a meat-shield and tendency to mouth off was going to be much help to them. The more I could make this my problem, the safer they might be.
Keep telling yourself that, Constance. Maybe Michael will find you amusing enough not to blow you into a million different pieces.
One hard look at the archangel told me otherwise.
“How did you find us?” I asked. There was no point in asking them to let Warrick and Sephiel go. Anyone who’d ever dealt with serious hostage situations knew that never worked right off the bat.
“I have learned to shield myself from prophets much stronger than yours,” Michael said. He had a beautiful voice, just like Lucifer did. Strong, encompassing, and confident. The kind of voice that would make people do anything just to hear it again.
Most people, anyway.
Max knew when to pick his battles when it came to his pride. I was glad he chose to remain silent and lose this one.
“Following the abomination was perhaps simpler,” Michael went on.
“So you listened real hard and got lucky. Give yourself a pat on the back, Mike. You earned it.”
I don’t know why I found it easier to backtalk to angels than demons. Maybe it had something to do with a subconscious hope that they had tiny shreds of morals and decenc
y in them, and wouldn’t be so willing to crush me for being so flippant.
When the pain first hit, I thought a boulder had broken a vase into my head. My skull seemed to harden into glass, then begin cracking until the shards were pushing outward to break through my scalp. It hurt so bad that I grabbed my head, dropped to my knees, and screamed.
It wasn’t what I wanted to do, something I shouldn’t have done, but the pain was blinding and relentless. I couldn’t focus on anything else. Whenever I tried to, it only got worse.
There were angry shouts and yelps of pain. I couldn’t tell what was going on. I felt heat and thought I heard my name once or twice, but it was a hopeless guess beyond the throbbing, stabbing pain threatening to turn my head into a crushed melon.
One shout was louder than the others. It was Dro’s. I would know her voice anywhere, even if I couldn’t make out the words she was saying. Her tone, though... That I didn’t recognize. It was powerful, demanding, implacable.
It was the exact tone she had once used when she promised to erase Lucifer from the earth after he nearly burned me alive.
The heat remained, but as soon as her voice disappeared, so did the pain. The glass shards were yanked out of my head so fast that I gasped and collapsed onto my side. My head thrummed with remnants of pain, and I couldn’t stop shaking. There was a wetness on either side of my ears. I tasted blood on my upper lip, and wondered how long I had been bleeding.
Dro’s familiar, delicate hand placed itself on the back of my head. I jumped when her pins-and-needles healing sank into my skull and erased the damage he had done.
“Last time I ever piss off an angel,” I muttered.
Dro leaned closer to my ear, but it wasn’t just her I felt looming over me.
“I hope you remember that,” Dro whispered. A second shadow reached down to grab my arms just as she finished saying, “Because we’re going with them.”
Chapter 7
It was strange to be willingly kidnapped. While we’d been transported wearing blindfolds in the back of a van, I’d managed to get the gist of what happened before one of our angel captors silenced us.
Warrick and Sephiel had been caught by surprise when Michael tracked Dro and teleported a squad of angels to our location. Warrick and Sephiel had been subdued, and it was inevitable that I would stumble out. While Michael was torturing me, Dro let go of some of her hellfire to warn them. She didn’t attack them, but said she would turn them all into ash if they didn’t stop. Michael only agreed to do so if we came with them. This was the point where I’d started bleeding out of my ears, so Dro felt no choice but to comply.
Three hours later, the five of us were trapped in a wooden cellar that smelled like sour wine, bound to chairs and stripped of our weapons. Dro and I got special treatment. We were seated across from the guys, with two angels pressing swords to the back of our necks. The theory was that if Dro tried to use her powers to escape, I would be killed in front of her. If I tried to unbind myself, she would be killed in front of me. If the guys tried anything, they would watch us both die.
Their theory seemed pretty sound, and none of us were willing to test it.
We sat there in silence for what seemed like an eternity. We all seemed to come to the same conclusion that talking would lead to throat cutting, so we just stared at the floor like good little hostages. It was infuriating for me because I knew I could get out of the knots. They were rope and loose around my wrists. This time I would have been able to get free and fight easily, since no one was trying to electrocute me in a metal tub.
Yeah, it would be a cakewalk. If it weren’t for that damn sword poking into my spinal column.
We might not be allowed to talk, but we were allowed to look. Very carefully, I turned my head toward Dro. She caught me looking at her and tilted her head to meet my stare. Her braid was gone, long, wavy strands of pale hair spilling down her shoulders and half concealing her face. I understood the look in her eyes well enough, though.
I tried.
Try she had, and for now it seemed as though she’d done the best she could. I didn’t think Michael would want to sit down for tea and biscuits when he came back, but different circumstances didn’t always mean better ones. We were still alive, and that was the most important thing.
Though it seemed like that was going to change when the heavy door creaked open and Michael stomped down the stairs.
I couldn’t see him clearly yet, but I knew it was him. The way people stamp their feet is more distinctive than they realize. Michael’s footfalls were all about power, certainty, and demanding respect.
If that weren’t enough to make people cower in front of him, the heavy silver broadsword he carried at his side would probably do the trick.
It almost looked like Sephiel’s short swords, but longer than both of them combined. The hilt was white leather wrapped in gold, the blade looking sharp enough to cut through a tree trunk with a single swing.
Michael took his time marching toward us. The closer he got, the more I could feel his power. He was strong. Not as strong as Lucifer, thanks to me and my sister, but as the most formidable archangel, it would only make sense that he would retain some of his gifts even after the Heaven Gate was shut. I didn’t drown in his power the way I did with Lucifer, though it was enough to make me think twice about what I said to him. As he eagerly proved earlier, he wasn’t above torturing anyone he thought was below him.
I was guessing that was a long list.
Michael stood between us, almost completely blocking the guys from my view thanks to his enormous body structure and the overcompensating sword. I barely caught Max’s nervous eyes twitching toward the sword, Sephiel’s hanging head, or Warrick’s angry, desperate expression as he looked for a way to help us.
I was just about to lift my own head when the tip of a sword kissed my chin. I didn’t flinch, but the rest of my body froze in place. Even with this lightest touch, I knew that sword was wickedly sharp. One clean swipe, and my throat would be split in half. My eyes were the only part of me that moved, rising slowly to meet Michael’s.
His clear azure eyes were cold and calculating, like he was a vengeful murderer deciding on how he wanted to take apart his enemy.
It seemed like forever before he decided to speak.
“Your allies have been the cause of great trouble for Heaven and Hell.” He narrowed his eyes. “Though I presume you are the key orchestrator of it.”
I grinned, unable to help myself. “What can I say? I never liked walking a straight line.”
Michael, of course, wasn’t amused. He pushed the tip of the sword just a little higher, put on just a little more pressure. I felt it bite into my skin just under the bone. I set my jaw but didn’t blink or turn away from Michael. He stared at me with no visible emotion, studying my face and ignoring the trail of blood dripping down the front of my throat.
“Why are you here?” he asked, finished with the pleasantries. If he considered holding a broadsword to a woman’s throat “pleasant.” I clearly didn’t know enough about archangels. Maybe this was happy hour for him.
“We’re trying to find the Hell Gate,” Dro answered for me. Her voice was a little rushed, and since she was closest to me, she could see how the sword was inches from the tender spot of my throat, right where it connected to my head. One push, and I was dead.
“What purpose does the Hell Gate serve the daughter of Lucifer?” Michael asked bitterly. He might have been talking to Dro, might have wanted her dead, but he was completely focused on me. This was probably his way of making sure he had all the answers he wanted before he got bored and started taking literal heads.
I wished it wasn’t working so well for the bastard.
“We want to close it,” Dro answered. “The same as you.”
“Do not presume to know what Heaven desires, half-breed,” he spat. Keeping the sword on my neck, he turned his head toward Dro. “It is because of you we are Fallen. It is because of you we shall nev
er see our home again. It is because of you that we shall die.”
Dro looked like she was going to apologize, then thought better of it. Saying sorry to the most powerful angel ever known after stripping him of most of that power would add insult to injury. Considering he might be barely containing his anger, the injuries would be of the fatal variety.
“Closing the Hell Gate is not a matter that concerns you. It is the responsibility of Heaven to destroy Lucifer’s attempts at corrupting all of mankind. Had you become my vessel, you would have been able to save humanity. We would have purged the unworthy from Hell and created a new prison for the sinful. One that was just and true to its namesake.” Michael paused, never moving his eyes from my sister.
“But you chose to abandon faith and rationality. You presumed we were the enemy, and you claimed a responsibility that did not belong to you. You mutilated those with the power to stop the Archfiend. I am now forced to scour this wretched place, recover my broken brothers and sisters in the hope of forming a suitable resistance to combat the minions of Hell and their King. You have not saved the human race, daughter of Lucifer. You have ensured its demise.”