Wings of the Wicked
Page 43

“Yeah,” I said. “What’s wrong? What was she talking about?”
“Lilith,” Will said. “The Fallen Queen of Hell and mother of all demonic reapers.”
The blood drained from my face. “Oh. Is that all?” I forced a tiny laugh.
“So Bastian is after Lilith too,” Ava thought to herself out loud. “He is really serious about this second war.”
“Could they really be trying to summon Lilith?” Will asked.
Ava shook her head. “More than that. If Bastian wants the Preliator and Lilith, then the spell will be more powerful than a summoning ritual. The Preliator is an archangel bound in human form. Her blood would be … so immense in power. They must want to restore Lilith’s corporeal form. They want her in this world, and not just for a visit.”
“The ritual would most certainly be contained within the grimoire,” Nathaniel suggested. “I believe I have a near-complete copy in my collection that I wrote myself before the original grimoire went missing centuries ago.”
The word was familiar and stirred memories within me. “I remember what that is. A book written by a Grigori, right? The Fallen angels bound to Earth instead of Hell?”
Nathaniel nodded. “The book is the most ancient and complete collection of angelic spells and rituals.”
“Bastian would definitely need it in order to free Lilith,” Will said darkly. “Only Grigori magic would have the kind of power needed to give corporeal form to any angel or one of the Fallen. Otherwise, they can only roam as phantoms in the mortal world.”
“What would happen then?” I asked, beginning to panic. “If Lilith is released, in her true form? How could I stop something like that?”
Nathaniel let out a long whistling breath. “I don’t think you, or any of us, can. You as Gabriel, however, could. Lilith was never an archangel. Her power could never match the strength of your own true form.”
The solution seemed simple. “Then how can I become Gabriel?”
“If there’s a way, only an angel, like a Grigori or archangel, would know,” he said. “But you already have a form. I don’t know if it’s possible for you to become an archangel out of a human body. That kind of transformation would almost certainly destroy you. Just looking upon an angel’s glory can burn a human’s eyes from their sockets. If your human body somehow transformed into an archangel, even by magic, I would imagine your own glory would incinerate you.”
“But it doesn’t,” I said. When Nathaniel gave me a puzzled look, I continued. “The power I’ve used to burn—Bastian called it my glory. It didn’t hurt me at all, so if he’s right then perhaps my human body could survive my full-on archangel glory.”
Will shook his head. “Perhaps isn’t good enough. Bastian could be wrong.”
“Or he’s right.”
Silence fell on the room. I knew the others, like me, had minds swimming with thoughts and possibilities. What if I were able to become who I really was? What would it be like? What would I be like? I wondered if I would be different, like the me of my memories, stonelike and resolute. Those visions of myself scared me, but I could only imagine the archangel side of me. When the archangel Michael came to me on that boat out in the middle of nowhere, he was eerily calm, beautifully serene, but danger leaked from him, thick and blinding like fog. The angels had no emotions, or at most very little. I wondered then: If I remembered my true self, if I became the archangel Gabriel, would I be a heartless creature who only cared about fulfilling a mission, no matter the loss? Would I no longer be in love with Will?
Would I feel anything at all?
Nathaniel stood, wrenching me from my thoughts. “I can check my copy of the original grimoire. Will, would you help me look for it?”
“Of course.” He rose to follow Nathaniel but paused and looked down at me, his gaze gentle. “Don’t be afraid. We’ll fight through this.”
I forced a smile and ached for him to offer a comforting touch. And then he touched my cheek, and warmth spread to my toes. He drew away and vanished out the door of Nathaniel’s office.
I sat back heavily in my chair. The room was silent for a moment, and I realized that I was alone with Ava. Then I noticed she was staring at me. She studied my face as if I were an amoeba beneath a microscope. The awkward seconds passed, and finally I opened my mouth with words I hadn’t really thought about.
“What does the chain tattoo around your neck mean?” I asked.
Ava hesitated for an agonizing second before she answered in a quiet voice, “It means I was property.”
I blinked. Well, that was not the response I’d expected. “What?”
“When I was young,” she began, “a demonic reaper disguised as a powerful duke kept me as a pet. He bound my power through the magic in the ink he used to tattoo chains around my neck. He raped me almost every night for twenty years. Sometimes he would get bored with me and I wouldn’t see him or anyone else for a week, and I would starve almost to death.”
Bile rose in my throat. “Oh, my God.” I thought about that, unable to comprehend the constant horror she endured through years of slavery and sexual assault. “How did you escape?”
Only then did she look away from me. “Will. He’d heard about this duke keeping angelic reapers as slaves. He fought his way into the castle and killed the demonic vir so that I was free. The magical link was severed and my power was unbound, but this tattoo will always remain for the world to see.” She paused and looked back to me. The corners of her lips pulled into a small smile. “It doesn’t matter, because I’m free. I owe Will everything.”