by Kyoko M
“She’s lost a lot of blood, Michael.” He slid his fingers over the injury. In an instant, the convulsions in my upper body slowed and then ceased. The nausea and muscle spasms fell away to nothing. A blissful numbness cascaded over me. My vision cleared enough to see the archangel stooping over me.
Gently, Gabriel slipped his long arms around my body and picked me up. “I need to get her out of here. Can you manage on your own?”
“Most definitely, brother,” Michael spat. “Any last words before I send you crawling back to your shithole, Moloch?”
“Just one.”
“And what’s that?”
“Belladonna.”
A slender shadow descended from the rafters and dropped down behind Michael. The redheaded angel held two semiautomatic pistols in each hand—one pointed at the base of Michael’s skull, and the other pointed at Gabriel. She was decked out in black body armor as well, and the hilt of a dagger hung at her waist.
“Evening, boys,” Belladonna purred with supreme satisfaction.
“Belladonna?” Gabriel choked out. “What in the name of the Father are you doing?”
“Whatever the hell I want, brother. And I must say, it’s quite wonderful. Now put that useless little strumpet down, unholster your gun, and toss it over to me, unless you want me to blow what’s left of your brother’s pea brain out of his eye socket.”
Gabriel’s six-foot-six frame trembled with anger, but he slowly lowered me to the floor. He held me against his side with one arm and then chucked his gun at her feet. She sent it spinning behind her with a kick, tapping the barrel of hers against Michael’s skull.
“You next.”
“Blow me,” Michael shot back. “I’ve got a quicker trigger finger than you. I can shoot Moloch before you shoot me.”
“Quite true,” she answered. “But I’m not going to shoot you.”
She tilted the gun in her left hand a bit. “I’m going to shoot your poor little wife in the kneecap.”
“Not on my watch, you traitorous harlot,” Gabriel said. “The second your finger pulls down, I’m going to remove your head from your shoulders. I’d go for your spine, but you clearly do not have one.”
Her brown eyes flickered over to him. “You are simply proving why I have decided to defect. You would trade the life of your sister for this pathetic mewling whore.”
I let out a reedy, shock-induced giggle. “You traded in your grace for a booty call. Calling me a whore won’t change that.”
Her gloved hands tightened on the guns. “I chose to be independent. I chose not to follow the orders of a man so blinded by the mindless sheep he protects that he would sacrifice a thousand of us to the Leviathan. I chose to see the light instead of staying in the dark and following orders. Now put the gun down or I swear by all that is holy I will kill your lover and bathe in her blood.”
“Shoot him,” I whispered. “Just shoot him and end this. We both knew it would come to this someday, Michael. Let me go.”
Michael’s voice came out ragged. “Gabriel?”
“Yes, brother?”
“Can you stop her without getting Jordan shot?”
The blond archangel’s jaw clenched. “I am more than willing to try.”
Michael stared at the passive Moloch, his shoulders rising and falling rapidly with every heavy breath, his fingers clenching the gun as if it were a lifeline. I could almost see the wheels in his head turning, calculating, picturing the turn of events that could unfold if he killed Moloch now.
His gun clunked to the ground.
Tears leaked out of my eyes, sliding past my nose. “You hypocritical son of a bitch. You made me promise not to save you. God damn you, Michael.”
He didn’t answer me. Moloch kicked the gun aside and pulled off the welder’s mask. He stood right in front of the archangel, clasping his hands behind his back.
“Have you learned your lesson yet, boy? Do you understand my position now?”
“You’re an animal, Moloch,” Michael said, arms at his sides, somehow just as calm. “A bloodthirsty brute bumbling through the dark in search of a purpose. You should have stayed in Hell. I will not relent. I will not falter. There is no force in this universe that can stop me from ending your existence.”
Moloch sighed. “Pitiable. You still have not seen the light. Very well. Since you seem to be so sure of yourself, then let us settle this like it was always meant to be settled.”
He walked over to the table laden with random tools and picked up a wickedly sharp pair of rapiers. He faced Michael again, nodding to him.
“Draw your sword. I shall educate you, boy.”
“Brave man, fighting me with your precious coins right there,” Michael sneered, gripping the hilt of his sword. He unsheathed Celeste, the sword that cut the side of Satan centuries ago. The metal glittered in the ethereal light of the hellfire.
“Afraid you can’t beat me on your own? Is that why you need the bitch with the hair dye over there to hold a gun on my brother and my wife? What happened to your honor, Moloch? You were a caliber of warrior that none of us had ever seen before you fell. Now what are you?”
Moloch twirled the rapiers once. “Come find out, Commander.”
He leapt for Michael. The two met blades in the center of the floor, sparks flying as the metal scraped together. I must have unconsciously moved towards them because Belladonna shifted her stance, both guns still steady on Gabriel and me.
“Don’t get any bright ideas, Seer. Just enjoy the show.”
Gabriel’s hand dug into my waist through the armor and then slipped lower towards my hip where there was a gap in the material. She couldn’t see, but he began tapping the spot in rapid succession. Morse code. Smart angel.
We have to get the dagger. Are you strong enough to move on your own?
My fingers still shook from the pain shooting through me, but I managed a message back.
Maybe. If I get her attention, can you take her out?
Yes.
I can goad her into attacking so you have an opening.
That is reckless.
We don’t have a choice. Just be ready.
Throughout the whole secret conversation, we watched the fight between the angel and the archdemon. Michael’s sword fighting skills were elegant. He used flowing strokes that melted into each other. He never stayed in the same spot, his long legs constantly adjusting, searching for an advantage. He didn’t try for complicated maneuvers or elaborate distractions. He fought with an honest strength and agility that none could match.
Moloch remained defensive, using one rapier to lead and the other to block. His footwork was solid, unmovable, matching his mountainous frame. Despite his bulk, he moved in a smooth, practiced manner. His eyes never left Michael’s, as much locked with them as with his weapons.
They broke apart momentarily and then I saw it. Sweat dripped down Michael’s face and neck, his shoulders heaving up and down. The accursed silver was draining him. He wouldn’t last much longer. I had to make my move.
I switched my gaze to the redheaded angel. “So tell me, Belladonna, does being Belial’s bottom bitch pay well? I turned down the position so I guess I’ll never know.”
Her face pinched tight with fury. “Shut your mouth.”
“I mean, honestly, he must have been pretty desperate to want a virgin. You sure it wasn’t pity sex?”
She stepped closer, aiming both guns at me. “Shut. Your. Mouth.”
“Why? Maybe I can give you some tips on how to give a good blow—”
She smashed the barrel of the gun into my chin, knocking me out of Gabriel’s grip. I hit the floor, yelping as my ruined arm convulsed in agonizing pain. However, her violent outburst gave Gabriel an opening and he took it.
He grabbed her wrist and broke it in one brutal motion. She grunted, whipping the other semiautomatic towards his face, but he twisted her around in a perfect shoulder throw. She slammed into the floor on her back, winded. I grabbed the gun sh
e’d dropped with my good hand and opened fire. One of the bullets hit her in the right shoulder. She cried out, but then she rolled out of the way and took cover behind one of the wooden beams a few feet away.
“Jordan, get the dagger! I’ll cover you,” Gabriel shouted, scooping up the other gun and shooting at Moloch.
The archdemon deflected the first barrage of bullets by spinning the rapiers, bouncing them in all directions. Gabriel gritted his teeth and ditched the gun, going for his own sword. He and Michael attacked at the same time, driving the archdemon backwards towards his beloved hellfire.
I hurried over to the table and grabbed the cast with the dagger inside. It was still scorching hot, but I’d care about second degree burns later. I took the sackcloth out of my pocket and wrapped it around the cast, tucking it underneath my right armpit.
“I’ve got it. Let’s go!”
The link in my ear crackled and then Myra’s strained voice filled my ears. “Guys, you’ve got company headed your way. The strike team’s been neutralized. I’m outside, but I can’t get back in without help. Get out of there now!”
I turned to see the brothers struggling to hold off Moloch, who held them both at arms’ length, his face a mask of placid concentration. Michael gritted his teeth and then shouldered Gabriel away from the archdemon, catching Moloch’s arm on its downward swing.
“Get Jordan out of here! Now!”
The blond archangel snatched me up in his arms, heading for the door, but we were too late. Moloch’s demons entered the room with their guns drawn, ordering us to surrender. Too late.
Belladonna stepped out from where she’d been regrouping in the shadows. Her broken wrist was bound up with black cloth from her sleeve. Blood dripped down from the wound in her shoulder. She aimed her semi at my face, her energy flaring around her like a zephyr. “Drop it, Seer.”
“Gladly,” I sneered, and I dumped it on the ground. The cast tipped over, spilling the hot metal across the concrete, ruining any chance of turning it into an effective dagger.
She giggled—a choppy, almost childish sound. “You don’t get it, do you? You think you’ve stalled us. You think you’ve won a battle. Fine. Watch for yourselves.”
She shoved Gabriel, making him turn to face behind us where Moloch and Michael still fought tooth and nail. The former had the latter on his last legs, his offense vicious, his blades whirling through the air so fast that I could barely follow them. Finally, he kicked Michael in the right kneecap and the angel fell, trying to stop his descent with his sword. Moloch batted it away and laid both rapiers on Michael’s shoulders, just below his neck. No. This couldn’t be happening. He couldn’t die. Not like this.
“Do you understand now, boy?” Moloch asked, still patient, still calm, still cold. “Do you understand why you have failed?”
“Spare me the speech, Moloch,” Michael said, his green eyes practically glowing with hatred. “Just get it over with.”
“This is not about death. This is about war. War has many casualties.”
He cut through the straps holding Michael’s vest up. He then shoved the rapiers through Michael’s shoulders and pinned him to the ground. The force was so tremendous that the blades dug into the concrete floor, trapping him there. Michael cried out only once, convulsing in pain.
“Michael!” I tried to run towards him, but Gabriel held me back, crushing me to the front of his body.
Moloch placed his booted foot on Michael’s sternum, watching passively as the archangel struggled and bled, too weak to remove the blades embedded in his body.
“War has rules of engagement. You forgot the most important one, boy. Always come prepared. Did you not think it strange that you could interrupt me just as I was making the dagger?”
A cold spot opened up inside my belly. What the hell was he talking about?
“And most importantly, you forgot that there is more than one way to destroy a man’s soul. One way is to kill that man. The other is to kill someone precious to that man.”
Moloch turned his head.
Too late, I realized he was not looking at me.
Gabriel jerked hard against my back. Something sharp pricked me in the spine. He made a soft choking sound. I turned around. My eyes found the bloody tip of a dagger sticking out through his lower abdomen, where the armor didn’t reach. It took several seconds for my brain to put the pieces together.
Moloch had made two daggers with the Judas coins.
Gabriel sagged forward onto his knees in front of me, his sweet face pale. Belladonna yanked the dagger out and wiped the blade clean before tucking it into her belt. No. No, this wasn’t happening. I was dreaming. It was just a dream. A nightmare.
I didn’t remember kneeling, but I was there in front of him, touching his cheek, whispering, “No, no, no, no, please God, no…”
He swayed forward. I caught his impossibly heavy frame, lowering him to the floor on his back. My good hand trembled as I held it over the wound, but I knew by the amount of blood seeping outward and his lack of mobility that she’d severed his spine. I didn’t remember seeing his eyes close. They just suddenly were and he wouldn’t answer me.
“Gabriel? Gabriel, look at me. Come on, look at me! Open your eyes!” I patted his cheek with my bloody hand, but he didn’t move. I tore off his helmet and goggles, searching desperately for signs of life. I couldn’t feel his chest rising. I couldn’t feel his breath on my face. I couldn’t feel anything except raw, unparalleled pain inside my chest, as if I had been the one she stabbed.
“Gabriel! Gabriel, please! Wake up! Just wake up! Don’t leave me. Please don’t leave me,” I sobbed, pressing my forehead against his, brushing his feathery hair away from his face over and over again.
I couldn’t hear anything except the sounds of my own cries, so I didn’t even move when I felt the ice-cold barrel of Belladonna’s semiautomatic against the nape of my neck. A sharp click. She was going to kill me. I couldn’t bring myself to care.
“Leave her,” Moloch said, walking towards us. He held the crucible in one hand and the hellfire blazed inside it, casting an eerie yellow light across the room. In the other, he held Michael’s sword Celeste. A trophy, maybe.
Michael stayed on the floor, his sweaty forelocks in his eyes, but I could still see them from here. He stared at his motionless brother, his entire frame shaking with shock.
“Why?” Belladonna spat. “You said only moments ago that you wanted her dead.”
“I had a thought,” he said. “The angels will need someone to blame, someone other than their former Commander. It will keep them distracted while we gather the rest of the coins.”
“She will try to stop us. Let the wench die now.”
Moloch caught her wrist and pried the gun from her grip. “She could not save her own friend. What hope does she have to save their entire race?”
With that, he swept his way out of the room. One of the soldiers scraped the smelted silver off the floor and they all retreated, leaving the two of us in the dark. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t think. There was a vast emptiness inside me that stretched to fill the world and suck it dry.
She could not save her own friend.
It should have been me.
Not Gabriel.
It should have been me.
Noise. Wasn’t sure what it was. Maybe a name. I didn’t recognize it.
“Jordan!”
Footsteps behind me. “Jor, I’ve been looking all over for you! Where’s—”
Myra’s voice cut off mid-sentence. I heard her whisper, “No” and then she fell to her knees beside me.
“No, he can’t be. He’s not…he just can’t be!”
She checked his pulse—in his wrist and his neck—and her hand fell away after a moment or two. She touched her mouth, her eyes welling up with tears. “God. What happened?”
“They killed him,” I whispered. “They killed my best friend while I stood there. It’s my fault. It’s all my fault.”
&n
bsp; “Oh, sweetheart,” she murmured, tugging me against her in an embrace. Numb. I was just numb all over.
She pulled away after a while. “We can’t just leave him here. We need to move him. Where’s Michael?”
“What?” I asked.
“Where is Michael?”
I gestured towards the left side of the room, my gaze following my finger, but then I realized he was gone. When? I hadn’t even heard him leave the room. Moloch’s rapiers lay askew on the ground in twin pools of blood, but the archangel himself had vanished.
Then, an inhuman roar shook the walls of the building. It hadn’t come from inside.
Myra helped me stand and we stumbled over to the dingy window, wiping it clean so we could see. The abandoned office building across from us was the source of the chaos. Every few seconds, there was an enormous thud and then a scream of pure, unfiltered anger, of anguish, of true and definite suffering. The shockwaves rumbled through the ground and with each one, a crack slithered up the side of the concrete. All at once, I knew what was happening. It finally hit Michael that his brother was gone.
“Get me over there,” I said in a hollow voice. “Please.”
Myra said nothing, simply obeying my request. We passed the corpses of the angels in the hallway, dozens of them, brave warriors who had fought and died for nothing because of us. Because we failed. Because I failed.
Myra left me outside and went back for Gabriel’s body. I winced every time I heard Michael’s enraged bellows echo through the block. Glass tumbled out of panes. The ground vibrated with tremors. Thunder rumbled overhead.
The building could only handle so much. I didn’t even flinch when the foundations in the walls crumbled and then the whole thing caved in upon itself, shooting a suffocating cloud of dust, plaster, and hundreds of other things into the air. I waited until everything tumbled and fell and the night wind blew the haze of rubble aside.
I walked through the wreckage to the center of the building. The walls had split to the sides, leaving the middle relatively untouched. I stepped over mounds of concrete and broken linoleum until I found him, kneeling in the destruction, covered from head to toe with dirt. His face was a mask of blood, as were his arms and shoulders. He’d mangled several of his fingers from punching through the walls. He was, in every sense of the word, broken.