by Lou Morgan
After another long stare, she frowned and turned her back on the shadows.
AS EXPECTED, THERE were more steps. A lot more steps. And they kept on climbing: sweeping stairways which wound around the sides of buildings, narrow stairs cut into the bare rock between walls... and one heart-stopping rickety wooden staircase which clung to the bare rock, with nothing below it but the sea and a rather unpleasant death. Even Zadkiel hesitated before setting foot on that one, but after a brief pause, he shrugged and ploughed on. “I don’t usually come this way,” he called back over his shoulder.
“It’s very quiet,” Alice said, trying to keep her mind, and eyes, off everything below her. Definitely not looking down. Not thinking about looking down, either. “I thought there’d be more people about by now.”
“What, you mean the people who are busy rioting and watching the world crumble around them? Everything’s falling apart. The balance has tipped, even if they don’t know it. They can feel it all the same. You really think they’re going to put ‘holiday’ on the top of their to-do list? And if they did, do you think they’re going to be queueing up to visit the town where the inhabitants all up and took to the streets and hanged their children in the school hall?”
“You always have an answer, don’t you?”
“Archangel. It’s my job.”
THE STAIRWAY OF near-death brought them up and out again into a cloister, enclosed by an open-sided corridor. It wasn’t exactly large, but it was big enough. There was a well to one side, and a wooden bench where two monks dressed in the same black habits as Phillip sat in silence in the sun. But the most striking thing about the square was that it was filled with angels. They weren’t just standing around, chatting, either. They weren’t walking in loose groups, or sitting, or doing any of the things Alice had got used to seeing them do.
They were in organised lines; blocks. They stood to attention. They shone: breastplates strapped over glittering mail, swords in their hands and wings outstretched and scudding with flames. They looked, not to put too fine a point on it, like an army.
Michael’s choir were drilling, but all Alice could see was the fire. It was everywhere: in their hair, running down their arms. Sparks rose into the air from their swords; danced at the ends of their wings. She could feel it, could smell it: the faint scent of woodsmoke carrying on the breeze, mixing with the smell of the sea.
Home. It smelled like home. Even though she had never been here before, it smelled like home.
There was a bark of command and the rows of angels spun to face Zadkiel and raised their swords in salute. He waved them away, looking embarrassed. “I hate that,” he said, and then a very complicated expression crossed his face: something between happiness and relief and disappointment... and nudging against despair. And there was that aching pain behind her ribs again, just like the one she’d felt earlier, but stronger now. So much stronger.
There, on the far side of the square and half-hidden by the wings of Michael’s angels, was Castor, leaning back against the wall and watching the drill.
“Oh,” said Alice. She remembered Xaphan’s sneer, back in the church.
Mallory was right behind her. “You don’t want to get in the middle of that.”
“Castor. And...”
“Castor and Zadkiel. Messy. Painful.”
“Oh,” she said again.
“Want to know the best bit?”
“I thought you said I should stay out of it...”
“No, no. Let me finish.”
“Fine.”
“The best bit? Is that of all the angels you shouldn’t put in a room together, we’ve come here with three. And the fourth is inside this very fortress. And hates us.”
“Gabriel?”
“Gabriel.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah.” Mallory unscrewed his hip flask, and took a long swig before holding it out to Alice. “You sure you don’t want any?”
“ALICE!” A FAMILIAR voice boomed across the square, and Alice saw a figure weaving between the others, trailing sparks behind him. He was smiling. And waving enthusiastically.
A’albiel.
Apart from Mallory and Vin, he was one of the few angels who Alice both liked and trusted. It was entirely possible he was the only one besides Mallory and Vin. It was A’albiel who had rescued her from Xaphan’s first attack, when she was alone and vulnerable and had less than zero control over her gift. It was A’albiel who had helped uncover Gwyn’s betrayal in hell; who had made Michael see sense.
And he was here.
He marched over to them, the flames streaming across his wings dying down, the feathers folding in on themselves and away.
“I heard rumours,” he said. “I heard rumours, but I did not believe they could be true.”
“Were they good rumours?” Alice asked, smiling at him. This appeared to puzzle him, and he frowned. She shook her head. “Never mind.”
“Is it true?”
Mallory tucked his flask away again and straightened up. “You’re going to have to tell us what the rumours are if you want us to answer that one, Al.”
“Indeed.” Al nodded. “They say you come to see Michael...”
“No shit.”
“If I might? They say you come to see Michael, and to bring him a prisoner. One of the Twelve.”
“And his girlfriend,” Mallory snorted. A’albiel looked blank again, so Alice stepped in.
“Xaphan, Al. It’s Xaphan. And Florence.”
“The half-born?”
“Try not to make it sound like a dirty word, would you?”
“My apologies. I meant no disrespect, Alice.”
“None taken.”
“But you have Xaph?” He glanced from Alice to Mallory and back again. “This seems...”
“Unlikely. Thanks for the vote of confidence,” Mallory shrugged. “I know, alright? But apparently, Michael has something they want.”
“What can Michael have that the Fallen would want?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Power? An army of angels? A great big fuck-off castle?” Mallory kicked at the wall. “It’s the brother. The girl’s brother. She’s a trade.”
“She handed herself in?”
“Something like that. Our... paths crossed back in Camden.”
“The riots.”
“The riots. And as you can imagine, Xaphan was having a fine time dressing up as a copper and beating the shit out of people.”
“It wouldn’t be the first time.”
“No. But it’ll certainly be the last.”
“Curious.”
“How so?”
“That Xaphan would allow himself to be captured – whatever the reason. Now, of all times.”
“You’re going to have to fill in the backstory, Al. We’ve been a little busy...”
“Michael believes he has found a way to bind Lucifer together, body and soul. And if he can bind him...”
“He can destroy him.”
Alice interrupted. “Destroy Lucifer? Is that even possible?”
“Michael appears to believe it is,” said A’albiel. “But only if he is the sum of his parts. Otherwise, you can destroy the body...” He shrugged.
Mallory rubbed his chin. “I was afraid he’d try something like that. It’s unheard of. I mean... restoration. It would change everything. Everything. Do they know?”
“The Fallen? I can only imagine that they do.”
“It would explain a lot, wouldn’t it?” Mallory looked thoughtful. “And Michael’s sure? How?”
“The library here. He believes there is a text that holds the key. Gabriel is redeeming himself by searching for it.”
“I almost feel sorry for him...” Mallory muttered, then turned to Alice. “I don’t suppose it’s too much to hope that you missed the mention of the word ‘library’ there, is it?”
“Yes. And now you’ve said it again, you have my full attention.” She batted her eyelashes at him.
“Bloody libraria
ns. You’re all the same.”
“Thank you. Continue?”
“Michael’s library holds... everything. Everything we’ve ever learned about the Fallen.”
“Wait... so, if there’s a book that tells you how to destroy Lucifer, why hasn’t Michael just done it already?”
“Because of the risk.” Zadkiel’s voice made Alice jump: she had had no idea he had joined them. “To destroy Lucifer, you must first restore him.”
“Put him back together, you mean?”
“No. I mean restore him. He can only be destroyed as an Archangel.”
“Ah.”
“You see. We’ve never had to consider it before: the war... all this, has always been about the balance. As long as we could always keep the balance, Lucifer was irrelevant.”
“Irrelevant? That’s one word for it.”
“What would you understand? What are you? Human. Human with angel blood running in your veins, perhaps, but human nonetheless.”
“Your boss seems to think differently,” Alice said, surprised at how smug it sounded when she said it aloud. One of Zadkiel’s eyebrows shot up, as did Mallory’s.
“Michael has never been as” – Zadkiel paused, considering his choice of word – “desperate as I’ve seen him lately.”
“Desperate?” Mallory stepped in. There was a strange emphasis on the word. Zadkiel shook his head.
“He doesn’t like losing.”
“You mean he’s not willing to lose.”
“Whatever the cost. In his mind, the end justifies the means – whatever those might be.”
Mallory didn’t appear to have an answer to that. Instead, he closed his eyes as though in pain, and hung his head. Vin, too, stared at the paving beneath his feet, and even Al looked dejected.
When Mallory spoke again, his voice was hoarse, like he was trying to hold something back. “I’m sorry, Alice. I shouldn’t have brought you here. It was a mistake.”
“Bollocks. You didn’t bring me. I came.”
“You don’t understand. What Michael’s planning – if he succeeds... Archangel against Archangel. It’s unthinkable.”
“It’s a death sentence,” Vin said quietly, but Mallory made an impatient ‘hush’ sound.
“There’s a reason no attempt has ever been made to completely destroy him, Alice,” Mallory continued. “It’s simple: it’s because it could destroy everything. All of us. All of you, even. Lucifer has always been allowed to remain because he was imprisoned, both by us and by the balance. Everything that spun out from that was... manageable.” He smiled sadly. “And Lucifer always knew, I think, that we would never risk trying to destroy him completely. He knew what could happen.”
“Mad,” said Alice.
“Perhaps...”
“No. Not ‘mad.’ Mutually assured destruction. Equilibrium strategy. The balance.”
“This time you’ve lost me, Alice.”
“It’s game theory, right? All that stuff?”
“Strategy? You’re lecturing me on strategy?” Mallory stepped back and looked her up and down. “What happened to ‘I’m a librarian’?”
“Spend long enough around books and some of it sort of sinks in,” Alice said with a shrug. She was aware that Zadkiel had cocked his head on one side and was looking at her with a thoughtful expression. “What?” she asked, suddenly embarrassed. She felt like a five-year-old crashing their parents’ dinner-party.
“Perhaps Michael’s right about you after all,” said Zadkiel.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means you’ve given me an idea.” He nodded to A’albiel, who nodded back and walked away. He grew faster and faster as he went, until he was almost running. Zadkiel watched as he disappeared through a door at the base of a tower. “We’ve always played by the rules of engagement. It’s time to change the game.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Zero-Sum
TO SAY THE stairway was unevenly-lit would have been an understatement, thought Alice. There was the occasional candle stuck to the wall here and there, and the odd little window along the way, but it really wasn’t much to work with. Thankfully, there was a thick, braided rope running around the outer wall in soft swags by way of a handrail, so she clung to that and followed the sound of footsteps ahead of her. It wasn’t like she could get lost, after all; it was just a case of climbing until they ran out of steps.
If she never saw another staircase – up down or sideways, it didn’t matter where it went – it would be too soon, as far as she was concerned. And then she remembered that she was being taken to see Michael, and all of a sudden, the idea of walking up stairs for the rest of her natural life seemed quite appealing.
At last, there were no more stairs. Her heart was hammering against her ribs, and her legs felt like someone had taken hold of her ankles and shaken her. Hard. It was with no small satisfaction that she heard Vin panting behind her. If even Earthbounds found that climb hard going, she wasn’t in as bad a state as she’d thought. Mallory and Zadkiel – naturally – looked as if they’d gone for a twilight stroll. Alice shot them both a dirty look, but neither noticed.
The stairs opened onto a small landing, and a door. There was a slightly larger window than the ones which had almost-lit the stairs – an archway cut straight into the stone – and looking out of it, Alice felt dizzy. The sea was so far below now, even the streets on the island looked distant and small. The staircase they had just followed, according to Zadkiel, had been built by some of the first monks there, expressly at Michael’s command.
“His command?” asked Alice.
“He appeared to them in a vision,” said Zadkiel. “At least that’s the story they told.”
“And the real story?”
“He sauntered into the refectory one day, sat down and put his feet up on the table and asked when he could expect his room to be ready.”
“Bullshit.”
“I was there, remember,” Zadkiel said with a smile. “And here we are. Secret staircase, secret room. Not even the current monks know where this one is – not that it’s stopped them from looking.”
“But there was a door. It was kind of... oh.” Alice suddenly remembered who she was talking to. “You.”
“Me.”
“Have you ever said no to him?”
“To Michael? Why would I? He’s my commanding officer. More than that: he’s my friend.”
“You need to pick your friends better,” said Alice as the door opened.
“And you still need to learn some respect, child,” said Michael from the other side of the doorway.
He was standing in the middle of the room, his hands on his hips and his wings open, watching her.
And she had absolutely nothing to say. All she could do was stand and look at him... at the face which had followed her through her dreams and her nightmares for months. A face which had haunted her in every crowd and made her look for eyes filled with fire. Eyes which peeled back everything she was and saw beneath it all.
Michael was watching her and she was afraid.
And he knew it.
“That’s it, is it? You won’t respect me, but you fear me?” He laughed, and his laughter bounced off the walls, filling the room with sound. “Well, it’s a start.” He beckoned her into the room, and her feet obeyed, stopping in front of him. He walked around her in a circle, slowly surveying her, and she could feel his mind crawling over the surface of her own, weighing and measuring and examining everything he found.
“I’ve been following your progress, Alice. And what progress it’s been,” he said. “You’ve been busy. I heard about Murmur. I was impressed. Not as impressed as I might have been if it were say, Purson, but I hear someone else took care of that.” His gaze flitted to Vin, just inside the doorway, who gulped audibly. Michael gave up on orbiting Alice, heading instead for Vin. “You again. You think I haven’t been watching you, too?”
Vin held his head up and met Michael’s gaze, but
said nothing. The Archangel narrowed his eyes. “Hmm. Still have spirit, I see. I remember why I liked you. Yes. You can stay. And you...” He spun back to Alice. “What am I to do with you? I take it that you’ve considered my warning? I told you to think about your priorities. Your place in the world. Have you?”
“You tell me.” Alice’s voice shook a little more than she would have liked, but she still sounded confident enough. Sort of.
Michael threw back his head and laughed. “You hear that, Gabriel? Isn’t she infuriating?”
It was only then that Alice realised there was someone else in the room. Another angel, this one leaning against the far wall, close to a table heaped high with papers and scrolls which spilled onto the floor around it. His wings were clipped, shortened, and the feathers were not the same shining white as Michael’s, but the scruffy grey of Vin’s. And his eyes, when he locked them on her, were full of fury.
“Hello again, Alice,” said Gabriel. His voice could have cut glass. Alice shivered. Even more than Michael, this was what she had been dreading.
After all, it wasn’t every day that you got an Archangel demoted. Especially not one as vengeful as Gabriel.
A sudden crack of lightning outside the windows lit the room as Gabriel glowered, but Alice didn’t move. She didn’t know what else to do. If she flinched, Gabriel would see just how afraid of him she was. And that was not going to happen.
“Good girl,” said Michael, straightening his shirt sleeves. “Alice, you never fail to impress me. Infuriating you may be, but impressive.” He made a sound that might have been another laugh, or perhaps not. “Gabriel, behave, or you’ll go back to the dungeon. And I don’t think any of us want that now, do we?” He waved Zadkiel and Mallory into the room. “Mallory.”
“Michael.” Mallory’s voice was flat.
“You’ve brought me Xaphan, I hear?”
“It’s complicated.”
“So I gather. You understand it’s a trap?”
“I had a feeling it might be.” Mallory nodded.
Alice twitched. “A trap?”