CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
I crashed back into my own body—my poor, broken, aching body. I could still hear the sounds of dying and slaughter around me, but it took a minute for all my senses to return. When my eyes focused, I saw Michael hovering over me. His eyes darted between my face and my chest, checking to make sure I was alive. He sighed—a sharp sound—and brushed his thumb across my cheek.
“Welcome back.”
I coughed hard, shaking and rubbing my bruised neck ruefully. “How did you…?”
Just as I pushed myself up to a sitting position, my hand brushed something cold and wet on the grass. I shrieked as I realized it was Mulciber’s bloody, severed arm and scooted away.
“Oh. Well, that explains it then.”
“You were unconscious. It was…the longest four minutes of my life,” Michael admitted, helping me to my feet. Four minutes. It felt like I had been with Andrew and my mother for at least half an hour. Then again, they did say it was a place suspended from time.
Mulciber—minus her right arm—was on her knees with Ithuriel and Zephon holding blades against both sides of her neck. To my relief, it looked like they’d healed themselves.
She sneered at me. “I should have snapped your neck.”
I punched her as hard as I could with my good hand, relishing the groan of pain that escaped her as a result.
“Yeah,” I said slowly, my voice ice cold. “You should have.”
“This isn’t over, Seer.”
Michael stared down at her with hard certainty in his eyes. “Yes, it is.”
He made one quick motion to the angels with his hand and then ushered me away. The sickening slice of her head being removed from her shoulders still reached my ears. Good riddance. Bit by bit, I could feel my strength returning. The instructions from my mother and Andrew rang in my ears. Time to end this war.
“Come on, we have to get you out of here,” Michael said.
“I know how to kill the false angel.”
He stopped. “What?”
“When I was unconscious, my mother and Andrew Bethsaida came to me. They told me we need to form a trinity in order to destroy it.”
He shook his head. “That’s impossible, we can’t form one without—”
“A conduit, I know. I am one. They told me there is a trace amount of Christ’s blood in me. It might be enough to help combine our powers.”
There was an unearthly roar in the distance and the ground trembled. Michael glanced in the direction where Gabriel was fighting the false angel and then back at me. “I don’t like this plan.”
I couldn’t help but smile. “It’s all we’ve got right now.”
He gave me a grim look, but nodded. “Alright. Just don’t die. I’d hate to have to miss you.”
“I wouldn’t want to be such a bother.”
Michael didn’t smile this time, and I didn’t blame him. He motioned for Ithuriel and Zephon, who had come up behind us after dispatching Mulciber.
“Follow me.”
Michael picked me up and launched into the air, soaring over the heads of angels and demons alike until we reached the clearing where his brothers were fighting. Despite the dismal surroundings, the flight was breathtaking. His wings parted the sky with powerful movements. I wrapped my arms tighter around his neck, resisting the urge to touch one of his wings out of pure curiosity.
He landed us a good ways from the creature, calling for Gabriel’s attention. The blond angel retreated quickly, commanding his soldiers to continue fighting in his stead. The false angel didn’t seem to care. It attacked anything angelic within its reach like some sort of rabid animal.
“Am I to assume we have a plan?” Gabriel asked.
“Not the best plan, but it’s better than nothing.”
He stared at Michael then. “That’s not very encouraging, brother.”
“You don’t know the half of it,” he muttered, but pressed on anyway. “Jordan proposed using herself as a conduit to combine our powers and destroy the false angel.”
Gabriel’s eyes widened. “She can do that?”
“Here’s the Cliffnotes version—I have a small trace of Christ’s blood in me, and it should give us the power we need to kill the false angel,” I said.
He frowned. “Should?”
I put one hand on my hip. “You got a better plan?”
He winced. “Point taken. How exactly are we going to pull this off?”
“I figure a three-pronged attack,” I said. “Gabriel, you trap the false angel in the strongest shield you can conjure and keep it still enough for us to make a move. Michael will drive his sword into its chest to injure it. Raphael will use his healing powers. I think that should release the dead souls that give it its power. If I’m right, that’ll cause all three elements to disengage.”
“It might work,” Gabriel said. “The only problem is that Raphael is fighting Belial, and I doubt he’s going to let him just walk away.”
“We’ll take care of that,” Ithuriel said, glancing at his partner. Zephon nodded. They stepped back and leapt into the air, flying over to the vicious fight between Belial and Raphael.
Michael touched my shoulder. “Do you know how to form this trinity?”
I hesitated. “More or less. I need to release my energy and meld it with each of yours to form a connection. It probably involves some form of physical contact to get it started, just like our healing powers.”
I paused. “I always pictured my first foursome going a little differently.”
Gabriel and Michael both sighed in unison, which made me grin. “Not now, Jordan.”
“I’m here,” Raphael’s voice called out from behind us, making me turn. He was breathless and bleeding, but still in one piece. Michael scooped me up again and we launched into the air. The false angel was swatting angels aside like flies, covered in blood, dirt, and gore. The ground around him was littered with the dead and the dying.
After Michael set me down, I stood in the middle of the three angels, pressing one hand to Michael and Gabriel’s armored chests while Raphael laid one hand on my back. I closed my eyes and reached down inside myself for the power that lay dormant, cajoling it to rise up between us. It felt like a warm, radiant light in my chest: comforting, soothing, and yet the most powerful thing I’d ever experienced.
The archangel’s energy rushed in to meet with mine. They all mixed and blended and then hardened, as if three precious metals had been melted down and fortified into something unstoppable. At last, the connection solidified and our minds were on the same accord: vanquish.
The false angel spotted us and dove forward, reaching its monstrous hand for me, but Gabriel lifted his arm. An invisible force stopped it in mid-stride. The false angel let out a sickening roar of fury, struggling with all its might, but it couldn’t move. Michael stepped away and unsheathed his sword, walking towards the false angel. White fire licked up the blade as he neared the creature. A spot in Gabriel’s shield opened for him.
In the distance, Belial screamed “NO!” just as Michael plunged the sword into the false angel’s chest. No blood came out, only a blinding white light, almost like the one that had been in Michael’s body when Belial tried to overtake it.
Raphael stepped forward as Michael removed the sword, pressing his hand over the wound and closing his eyes in concentration. He murmured soft words in a Latin healing incantation. The false angel began to convulse in his invisible prison, its head flying back in a soundless scream. The light grew even brighter and shot into the sky like a beacon. All at once, the souls of the dead that the sliver had called to it flew from the wound in the false angel’s chest. I felt it in my bones that they were now at peace and crossing over to the other side to see the Father. It was a beautiful sight.
When the very last soul left, the false angel evaporated into ash, nothing more than a black stain and burnt red feathers. Around us, all of the demons and angels had gathered to watch in wonderment, their battles forgotten
as the light slowly faded from view, leaving us in the quiet embrace of night.
Belial rushed to the spot where the false angel had once stood, whispering “No” over and over again. He fell to his knees, his face anguished. I couldn’t bear to see the look on Terrell’s face. I took an unconscious step towards him, but Michael laid a hand on my shoulder.
“Jordan…I have to…” he struggled with the words.
I shook my head. “Please…there has to be another way.”
“His soul left this world a long time ago,” he whispered. “I have to put the body to rest.”
I knew he was right. I knew it. But it still hurt.
Belial’s voice was low and mournful as he spoke, and I could feel the tears welling up in my eyes as I recognized the words he recited. Ash Wednesday by T.S. Eliot. God help me.
Michael lifted his hand and pressed it over my eyes, closing them. Seconds later, I heard the sound of the sword slicing through the demon’s chest and the quiet thump of his body falling over. When I opened them again, Terrell lay fallen by the ashes of the false angel, his face strangely peaceful. I knelt and kissed his forehead, my voice hoarse.
“Forgive me.”