Angelfire
Page 94

The next instant Wil 's sword sliced through the air between us and halted, poised right between Cadan's eyes. Wil was exhausted and breathless, but he'd never give up fighting. "One more step and I turn your face into a donut."
Cadan stared wide-eyed down the blade. "Pretty sure that sword would turn my face into two pieces, if you want to get technical."
"Only one way to find out."
"Wil !" I shouted, grabbing his free arm. "We don't have time for this. Cadan, the sarcophagus is gone. There's no way you can--"
"Good," he said abruptly. "Bastian can't let that thing out."
"What do you care?" I demanded. "You work for him, though it sounds like you might get fired."
He let out a surprising laugh. "If only. Things are a little more complicated than that."
"Save the speech," I said coldly. "The ship is sinking, and we need to get the hel off it."
"I love it when you get assertive," he said with an edge to his voice.
I rol ed my eyes, and Wil shoved his sword a little closer to Cadan's brow. "Are you done?"
He gave a curt nod. "Quite."
Wil withdrew his sword, but he didn't step away from me. He touched my arm. "We have to go."
"Yeah," I agreed.
"So, the sarcophagus," Cadan said. "It's gone?"
"Nathaniel threw it over," Wil said, his voice laced with ice. "Now go."
Cadan stared at him for a long moment before spreading his wings wide. "Then this journey wasn't for nothing." He beat his wings and flew off into the black sky.
Exhaustion consumed me suddenly, and I looked around me, dazedly, at the human corpses--al that was left of the Elsa's crew--littering the deck. The sarcophagus was gone, I was emotional y and physical y depleted, and now we were stranded on a sinking ship.
Nathaniel rushed by me. "We need to get the lifeboat down. The ship's going under!"
"Did we make it to the Deep?" Wil cried out.
"Close enough!" Nathaniel yel ed frantical y. "There's no way the sarcophagus could've survived, but we've got to get out of here or we're going down with it!"
Wil scrambled for our swords and disappeared into the cabin.
"Gabriel."
The voice was a whisper in my mind, creeping through my veins, through every part of my insides. I felt my winged necklace grow hot and I gaped down at it, pul ing it away from my bare skin.
"Wil ?" I asked. "Is that you?"
"Gabriel," the gentle voice in my head whispered again.
"Close your eyes."
That was definitely not Wil .
The world grew bright very quickly, so bright that al I could do was obey, or else--I knew from deep within--my eyes would burn up in their sockets if I didn't. I threw my hands over my face as the black night lit up as bright as day. I shivered, my eyes squeezed shut as the temperature dropped, and energy rol ed across the deck--pure power unlike anything I'd ever felt before. I fel to my knees beneath its onslaught.
"El ie!" Wil 's voice cal ed from somewhere around me. The brightness dimmed enough for me to open my eyes. Ethereal golden-white light beamed out from al around a silhouetted form, like sunlight peeking out from behind clouds. Had Bastian returned? My pulse pounded through my skul as I tried to find my balance, and I stared in wonder up at the thing above me.
A figure came into view: the ghostly shape of a man surrounded by three pairs of creamy white wings covered in a fine layer of fiery gold, as if the feathers were the color of dawn on a field of newly fal en snow. His head was crowned by close-cropped golden curls, and over his bil owing, blinding white robes he wore armor made of gleaming gold. The weight of his power bore down on me like the summer sun, the glory too pure and divine to be real. My lips grew numb, and I couldn't stop myself from weeping.
"Gabriel," the creature said again, his voice smooth as fine wine. "You must not let the wicked seize the Beast. Lucifer must not gain control. There is no price too great to pay to prevent that."
It took me ages to get my voice to work. "Who are you speaking to?"
His beautiful, determined face watched me for moment. He gave a slow nod toward me. "To you."
I shook my head in confusion. "That's not my name. I'm El ie."
"You are Gabriel," he said. "The left hand and power of God. The Preliator."
I stared up at him. His wings did not move but remained spread wide in al their luminous glory as he floated above me. The revelation of what the mysterious creature said to me hit me like a flood. I couldn't breathe. Couldn't move. I didn't want to believe him, but I knew. . . . Something deep inside me stirred, something bright, something frightening. He was no reaper. He was an archangel. Like me.
"Who are you?" I asked him at last.
"I am Michael, and I am here to guide you, Gabriel, my sister."
Heaviness settled on me, and I felt my body sag--this frail human body that didn't belong to me. I found myself resenting it, longing for something different, something truly mine and without limitations.
Michael came forward, his six wings folding back, and he reached out a phantom hand to mine. I stared into his face and could almost see right through him. His body was like a sheer veil hung over a summer dawn, his skin glowing from a source of light unseen. I laid my hand on his and felt the magnetic pul between us. On contact, I felt the tremors of electricity; he seemed to be made of pure energy instead of flesh. He helped me stand without touching me. Somehow I felt my body pul forward onto my feet.