Wings of the Wicked
Page 94

He reached a hand to her, his armored fingers touching her cheek with limited affection, but for her it was enough. She closed her eyes to his touch and shivered. Even from here, his skin and armor looked ice cold.
“I’ve missed you,” she breathed.
His expression hardened. “I know.”
My human fear was slowly overcome by sadness and pity for the once-beautiful creature before me. Gabriel shuddered at the overwhelming emotion. “Brother,” I said faintly. “Was it worth it? To fall for the power you have now?”
His golden eyes rested on my face, studying me curiously for several long seconds. Surprise lifted his brow for an instant, as if he didn’t recognize me at first. “Tell me, Gabriel, was it worth it to you? To abandon your grace for a mortal body?”
“I have not abandoned my grace,” I said, lifting my chin and pulling against my chains. “It’s with me now, even with my mortality.”
“I sense no grace. You have fallen.”
I shook my head. “Not as you have, Sammael.”
His lips curved into a quiet smile. “You will be nothing when I’m finished with you. The Morningstar and I will tear Heaven and Earth apart. After I have destroyed the human soul infesting you, Gabriel, this world will burn until blood and ash rain from the sky.”
We stared at each other as memories from the First War flooded through us. The fire and blood. Winged, torn bodies falling with the ash, hitting the scorched earth. Metal stained red as brothers and sisters ripped at one another. No words in any mortal language could describe the violence between angels, creatures who felt no emotion, and the fluid ease of killing without remorse, sorrow, or fear. I was there. I remembered. The orders were to destroy the rebels. Nothing I ever did on Earth fighting the demonic reapers could be compared to the horrors I had seen and done defending Heaven against Lucifer, the Morningstar, so very long ago.
“You can’t kill them all,” I told him. “There are too many angels.”
“We have grown strong and our army is vast, but that is only the beginning,” he replied, holding his palms out at his sides, black sparks flickering and snapping at his fingertips. “Soon I will have the power to tear every single human soul on Earth from its vessel and send them all to Hell to join the countless souls the reapers have already collected. In my head I see them now. You can’t even imagine how many there are. Souls screaming in agony, tormented until all they understand is violence and rage. When we unleash them upon Earth …” He drew in a long, satisfied breath. “It will be magnificent. I will turn our Father’s creations against Him, and all that He loves will be destroyed. It is the ultimate revenge.”
I trembled, considering the weight of his threat. The End of Days everyone had spoken of, this was it. Opening up the gates of Hell and releasing every last tortured soul into the human world. They would tear it apart. And then the Fallen would tear a hole into Heaven.
Sammael spread his arms wide, opening his palms to the sky, the scales in his obsidian armor clicking. “It’s time to start over, light the fires, and burn it all, and from the ashes of Heaven and Earth a new era will rise.”
Whimpers beside me tore me from the visions in my head, and the heavy sense of Gabriel washed away from me. I was Ellie again. Emma had regained consciousness and stared at Sammael as tears rolled down her cheeks. She paled, and her body shook with tremors of fear. She was moaning something under her breath, the same thing over and over again: the Act of Contrition.
“Our Savior suffered and died for us,” the girl chanted. “In His name, my God, have mercy …”
“Emma,” I called gently to her. “Emma, it’s going to be okay. Don’t look at him. I’ll get you out of here.”
Sammael laughed, smooth and deep. “You lie now, Gabriel? That is a first. It must be the human infection.”
I ignored him. “Don’t worry, Emma. We’ll get out of here. I won’t let him hurt you.”
Sammael raised a hand and motioned to Merodach and Kelaeno. “It is time for me to feed. My power must be at its full strength.”
I braced myself for the reapers to take me, but they walked right past me, right toward Emma as she screamed. They took Emma down from her chains, handling her flailing body with ease, ducking out of the way of her flying fists and kicking legs. I wrenched at my chains, felt the stone give a little, but I was no match for the magic binding my power. I was useless to help Emma and save her from whatever terrible fate the demonic had planned for her.
“Please!” I screamed at the reapers. “Please don’t hurt her! She’s just a girl! Take me. Take me instead, please!”
Merodach clenched his hand around the back of Emma’s neck and thrust her body forward in front of him as if he offered the girl as a gift to Sammael. I quickly realized that that was exactly what he was doing.
“Don’t do this!” I screamed. “You can’t kill her! Please take my soul! Let the girl go!”
Lilith turned her face to look at me. My blood ran cold. “Be silent. Your time will come.”
Emma stopped struggling. She was sobbing now, her body limp, shoes dragging on the floor as the reaper held her up to Sammael. The Fallen angel of death held out both his hands, but instead of taking the girl, something long materialized out of thin air in the same way my swords did. Through the shimmering air, the thing in his hands came into view: a scythe. The weapon was enormous; the long helve was as big around as my forearm and decorated with bits of bone, hair, and fur, and human and animal teeth. A human skull was mounted at the top of the gigantic curved blade, which was embedded with the desolate eyes of the soulless damned. The eyes all blinked and stared at the whimpering girl before Sammael. Then the scythe—from the tip of the blade to the bottom of the staff—lit up with fire. Flames danced black and blue; obsidian and midnight. Demonfire.