by Erica Crouch
With this new knowledge, the rumors Barman relayed to Ana the other day suddenly ring more true in my mind. Lucifer is no longer calling the shots, he said. Somehow, Lilith is the one holding the power. I don’t know who was foolish enough to give her the chance, but if Lucifer’s out of the way…
Does that mean…?
No. The middle of a war is no time for wild speculation. I can only focus on what I know is true because it’s right in front of me: that the enemy wants me dead and, if I want to live, I have to focus. But every time more angels disappear into that portal, my attention is pulled away. It’s distracting.
If Ana and Kala knew about the portal, why didn’t they tell me? I shake my head. Of course they wouldn’t tell me. I’m still not sure Ana trusts me, and even if they did, they wouldn’t have been able to predict what I’d do with the information. A portal so close? The only thing they could have been sure of is how heedlessly I would have acted if I had known that Lucifer was close enough to strangle. I would have insisted we try to breech the gates if they hadn’t already. I wouldn’t have let everyone wait around here for Azael and his forces to arrive. We could have done something more proactive, and taking back Heaven—
“Why wouldn’t they have killed him already?” Michael asks. His eyebrows are drawn, and sweat beads at his temples. He has the strain in his features he sometimes gets when he thinks about—talks about—his brother. Lucifer, who may or may not be dead. Who may or may not be waiting just beyond that veil. “If Heaven is so close…”
I shake my head. Why wouldn’t they have killed her, I think, is the better question. Lilith. Is she really sitting in the throne right now? Was Barman’s intel right?
“I don’t think—” I say, stopping short to take down another demon. “I don’t think they know what to do after they kill whoever’s in charge,” I say.
Lucifer’s death would trigger a series of events. Azael would shift into power—no longer King of Hell. He’d sit in Heaven. Another would step into Azael’s place to order Hell. But nothing would happen after Lucifer’s death if there wasn’t a plan to immediately put in place. Maybe Kala and Ana weren’t ready yet. They had to wait for when they could do something that would get them closer to what they are fighting for. The change in Heaven they’ve rallied the rebels of New Genesis around: free will.
The fallout after Lucifer’s death—if there wasn’t a second part of the plan—wouldn’t open up the opportunity for choice, for a chance at redemption. It would just mean Lucifer was dead. That maybe the angels could take Heaven back as their own. But then what? Just continue as they had for millennia before?
Michael turns away from the portal and fends off more demons, saving from sure death a small, weak angel who was cowering on the ground. She has tears in her eyes when she thanks him. With a nod, he reaches out and helps her back to her feet, replaces the weapon in her hand. She moves back into the fighting, furiously wiping at her eyes and gritting her teeth, the muscles at her jaw jumping.
The wind is harsh and loud in my ears, but a silence suddenly muffles my mind. A chill rides up my spine, totally unrelated to the cold, and I look up.
I’m not surprised to see him. Azael, a cut over his eye, blood spilling from the bend in his armor. He’s bruised and he’s ecstatic. He’s smiling and he’s furious. He’s wild, desperation hanging around him like a cloud of smoke.
Azael reaches into the chest of his armor and produces a small vial. Immediately, I know what it is. I can see the difference, and I have no idea why I ever thought we’d actually brought back Michael’s soul. This one is the real thing—I can feel it. Michael can feel it. He stiffens at my back, but he doesn’t turn. His sword rings out as he holds off the fury of teeth and claws. He can’t risk looking back, even for a second.
In his thin, pale fingers, Azael pinches the vial. He holds it up high for me to see and shakes it, a manic grin sliced into his sharp face. It’s horrendous. How had I ever hoped I could save him? That I could bring him back to who he was before?
Come and get him, he says in my mind. He doesn’t wait for me to follow before he backs up toward the wall and steps through the portal to Heaven. He winks out of this world and my stomach drops.
I start to move, and Michael follows, backing up with me.
“Stay,” I say.
“No.”
There’s the smell of fire again, and the demon he was fighting is gone. I keep an eye on the portal and notice Jeremy slip away after Azael.
“It’ll be easier if I just go by myself—”
“No,” he says again, pivoting around quickly, his sword tearing through the air. Side by side, we stare at the portal. “We go together or not at all.”
I chew on the inside of my cheek, wanting to argue. He’d be safer here, far from Azael’s reach. He’d also be more help to New Genesis here…
I might be able to talk Azael down; if I’m alone, I stand a better chance. It would throw him off if I came alone.
There are a million reasons why I should go alone and just as many reasons why I shouldn’t, so I don’t argue. It’s not worth the fight. If the situation were reversed, I’d insist the same thing. Together or not at all.
“It’s my soul,” he says, his voice hard, determined. But he doesn’t have to work any harder at convincing me.
I nod and take his hand in mine again, pulling him next to me. “Don’t let go,” I tell him. “I love you,” I tack on just in case. There are so many things that could go wrong now.
One hour at a time. How much longer do we have?
Michael strikes out with his sword when anyone comes close to us, when monstrous claws reach out to stop us, to hold us in this world. But we evade them all, and together, we jump into the portal and we’re back in Heaven again.
Azael
MOST OF THE FIGHTING IS concentrated around the gates of Heaven. There are some sounds of clashing swords coming from the White Garden, but hardly anyone breaks away from the entrance. The fighting in the immediate radius of the portal is dense and vicious. The demons are holding off their advances, protecting the palace. Protecting Lucifer. They know their duty before I even have to remind them.
I yell a handful orders at those who notice me, telling them to keep the rebels at bay—push them to the dormitories, into the garden, back through the portal. Wherever. The palace is to remain on lockdown. No one is allowed to get close enough to make a move on Lucifer. Do whatever is necessary to stop them.
By now, Lucifer knows I’m here. He is sure to hear the fighting. He could be inside, gearing up, readying himself for battle. I think I’ll bring him a present; I’ll deliver Michael right to his feet, and he can kill his brother himself. It’ll be the finality he needs, the absolute guarantee that this is the last we will ever see of the cursed archangel. I know he’ll follow Pen through the portal—they both let their emotions cloud their judgment, and it makes them predictable, two easy targets. She won’t let him out of her sight, just as he won’t let her out of his. Our two fugitives, walking straight into a trap. With any luck, I will have a chance to pull Pen away from Michael as he fights Lucifer. I still want to deal with her myself.
I shove my way through the battle, slipping my sword into anyone who steps in my way or tries to block my path. The angels are soft and warm, their blood draining fast from their golden faces as I run my sword through them again and again. I lose track of how many fall; even their screams become background noise to me. A static sound that lives under the one thought that runs through my mind over and over again.
Pen will find me.
Eventually, I make it to the doors of the palace. As I shove through the heavy front entrance, I look over my shoulder and watch as Pen and Michael appear at the gates, their faces pale and their eyes wide. A lifetime of memories flicker over Pen’s features. Her first time back in Heaven since she’s fallen. What is she thinking? What is she remembering?
I pause just long enough for Pen to catch my eye. She has to know w
here I’m going if she’s going to follow me. But it’ll take her a while to get through the sickening skirmish of my army and her rebels. They’re brutal, they’re bloody, and they’ll give me time before Pen makes across the space.
Slamming the large, gilded doors closed behind me, I take off down the marble hallway, hooking left around a corner and heading toward the throne room. I swear I hear the doors open and close behind me, but I must have imagined it. It’s impossible that Pen would have made it through the mess at the gates of Heaven that fast. I strap my sword on my back again, crossing it with Pen’s twin blade.
I pass Lilith’s bedroom, the doors open to the empty room. I pause a moment, taking in the barren drawers of the dresser, the empty wardrobe, the stripped mattress. The only thing still in the room is a piece of bone, curved with jagged edges, sitting on a stain of old, dried blood.
Nothing has been disturbed, but it’s as unsettling as if it were. Where has Lilith moved to? Is she still in Heaven, or did she decide the battle was worth seeing for herself? Poor timing. We may have just missed each other. But if she is back on Earth, in the middle of the “great, bloody battle,” Gus foretold, then I’m sure she’s enjoying herself.
The throne room is at the end of the hall, and I barrel through the door. Gus is running around the room, rolling up scrolls, and stacking books. He’s packing up everything of value with shaking fingers. The scruff on his cheeks has grown shaggy, and his hair is more unkempt than I’ve ever seen it before. His eyes are bloodshot, and he nearly falls to his knees when he sees me. He opens his mouth as if to say something but is cut off by a hiss, and he melts into the shadows to hurriedly finish his work. I stop short when I take in the figure sitting in the throne.
“Where’s Lucifer?” I ask.
Lilith raises her head and pulls her pale hair over her shoulder. Her lips are painted a violent red, and her eyes are as liquid as ever, rimmed with dark charcoal. Atop her head sits a twisted crown of thorns and white roses. The thorns have broken the skin at her forehead, drawing just enough blood to paint her temples with thin rivulets of crimson. She smiles.
“Azael, how nice to see you again.” She sits up straighter in the throne, crosses her legs, taps her sharpened fingernails on the gold arm of the chair.
“Where’s Lucifer?” I ask again.
I don’t understand what’s happening, and we don’t have much time. Michael and Pen will be in soon, and it won’t take them long to figure out where I went. The fighting can be heard from the throne room, so she must know—we don’t have time for her games. For her coy vagueness.
“Haven’t you heard?” Lilith asks, smiling. “He abdicated his throne.”
My hands feel cold, numb, and empty without my sword. I shake my head. “What?”
“Oh, not willingly of course.” She rises from the throne and the long, white, silk dress she is wearing spills to the ground like rain. Only her toes peek out from beneath the fabric, her bare feet silent as she moves across the marble floor. She waves me forward and coos, “See for yourself.”
I stare at Lilith. Her catlike eyes are wide and excited, a vicious little smile curling across her face. What did she do? What’s happened to Lucifer?
It’s never been so hard for me to move before. My feet are lead, and it takes all of my strength to cross the room to her, walking between the marble columns that line the room and create a loose aisle to the throne. It’s darker in here than it was before I left, like the golden glow of Heaven has been muted, smothered by heavy drapes. Lilith steps back when I’m at the throne and gestures for me to look behind it. She’s smiling, her eyes excited. Her shoulders are thrown back with pride.
The door to the throne room opens and closes. I don’t look to see who it is. I can’t because I’m unable to take my eyes off the tableau in front of me.
There, sprawled behind the great golden chair, is Lucifer. Or what’s left of him.
He’s gray, as gray as the clouds hiding the sky on Earth. His skin is puckered and dry, so thin that it looks like he could be ripped apart as easily as tearing a page from a book. Every vein in his body is prominent and traceable, dark as ink and webbed across his skin like a spider designed him, spun him from darkness and death.
I can’t move forward, but I do. I kneel next to him. There’s a wound in his chest, a giant hole through his ribs from claws and an angry fist. His head has rolled away from his body, and his archangel sword lies next to him, the blade twisted and useless, the sapphire stone shattered. I can’t process any of it. None of it seems real.
“How do you kill the devil?” Lilith’s voice is high and light. She sings her words, composing a short and eerie lullaby. “You get him to trust you.”
Acid burns up my throat.
Not possible. This isn’t possible. I would have known—I would have…
“He was so preoccupied with that brother of his,” she sighs. “And with your pathetic sister. He didn’t notice the snake in his own den. It was really all too easy. He was dead before he even realized how deeply I despised him.” Her nail slides across the metal of the throne, ringing out like a finely honed sword. “You didn’t really think you were still serving him, did you?” Lilith asks behind me.
“He’s dead.” I stand. My temper explodes. “Lucifer is dead!”
Gus drops his books and quickly falls to the ground, his kneecaps cracking on the marble as he stacks them again.
Lilith watches me, licking her lips as she takes me in. Like I’m prey and she’s predator. Since when did this change take her over? When did she stop looking at me as her equal?
“He killed my children,” she says, her voice cool and low. “Every last one of them. Said they would get in his way, remember? He said that I would understand.”
She moves forward and I pace back. Away from her, away from Lucifer’s decaying body. She steps over him and returns to the front of the throne, less shrouded in shadows. Her eyes still look hollow though, an odd darkness thrown over her face.
“Well, he was in my way,” she says. Her teeth are razor sharp in her mouth, her voice superior and terrifying.
I’ve never seen this version of Lilith. She was always soft and beautiful; now, she’s horrifying. Every nightmare polished into brilliance. A monster with a smile that turns her victims’ knees to wax and melts them to the ground so they have no way to run.
“I’m sure he understood.”
I shake my head. “How—?”
“How could I?” Her voice is pure, untethered fury. “When he killed my children,” she says, “he did it because he wanted to punish me. Not because they’d be any trouble, but because he wanted to knock me down. It’s not the first time he’s done it.” She drops the accusation to the cold, hard ground. She crushes it under her heels, winces as if she can feel its pain, like she’s walking over broken glass. Broken promises. “He wanted to take away all the power I had—all the power I would ever have. What he did not realize was that he was not the one who allowed me power—I allowed his. No longer.” She seethes.
An ethereal, mad monarch with a twisted crown.
“I am King of Hell!” My voice is tight. I can’t hide the hurt. Again, I was lied to. Again, I was left out. Overlooked. Belittled. “You could have served as my queen!”
“‘Could have served.’” Lilith laughs coldly. “That was never the plan, Azael. Don’t lie to me. You’re better than that, and I’m no fool.”
My mouth falls open and I can’t find my voice. It’s dried up somewhere inside me. Dead.
“I know you always planned on saving Pen, on bringing her back to your side. She was to be your queen, the two sibling rulers of Hell side by side. Romulus and Remus all over again. ” Her lip curls back. “We don’t need another Rome.”
I’m shaking my head, shaking with anger. My vision blurs as my mind tries to process everything at once. It’s too much—it’s all too much. Everything I’ve done on Earth, it was in the name of Lucifer. I was delivering his will. But t
hat was a lie. Has everything I’ve ever done been born on the breath of a lie? Another tally to add to my many mistakes. I swore I wouldn’t let failure find me again, yet it has.
“So, what did that leave me?” Lilith asks. “As some mistress to the King of Hell? I’ve been that before, and it’s gotten me nowhere!” Her words reverberate off the stone walls with a crack. “Besides, I do not serve anyone anymore. I bow to no one.”
Jeremy steps forward, away from the doors. “I told you I could be trusted,” he says, staring at Lilith like she is the only star in the universe.
I spin around, taking my sword from my back in one quick movement. “Him?” I glare at Lilith, burning with betrayal. “He knew? He knew and I did not?”
How little does she regard me if she told Jeremy—an unstable coward whose eyes have barely finished darkening to the violet hue of Hell—and left me in the dark? Is that how insignificant I am to her? My chest is tight with the need to scream.
“Who do you think helped me kill Lucifer in the first place?” Lilith asks, her eyebrow arched.
I back up, my sword dropping to the ground and scraping loudly across the marble. “When?”
“Right before you left,” she says casually, amusement lighting her eyes. “I wouldn’t let Lucifer’s behavior save him for one more minute. He is not the leader Hell deserves, and neither are you.” I look away from her as she says, “I am.”
She snaps her fingers and Gus runs to her side, books stacked precariously in his arms.
“Are we ready?” she asks him.
“Really, Gus?” I stare at him, don’t let him look away from me. “Lilith?”