As a little girl, she had always wondered about the life Dorothy had led after coming back from Oz… How had it changed her? She couldn’t be the same old Dorothy anymore.
Remy was looking at her now, and he seemed happy to see her, but the way he looked…and what he had done…
Ashley could see it on his face. He was actually coming toward her when he stopped.
She’d never been very good at hiding how she was feeling, and right now she was terrified of him…of what he was.
Maybe it was just like in the movie, and the scarecrow was Hunk the farmhand, and the Wicked Witch was actually Miss Gulch.
Remy Chandler was actually…
What is he?
The word was suddenly there, and there was no doubting it was right.
Angel.
But she’d never seen an angel so…
Scary.
She was going to try to speak to him when something happened to stop her. The thing in the sky-that swirling, whirlpool thing-it was getting bigger.
And she thought that it might be trying to swallow the world.
The thing in the sky screamed and swirled in all its fury, bringing darkness as it grew, blotting out the sun.
And with the darkness there came shadow.
More and more shadows.
It was not hard for Remy to look away from the girl. The look of fear in her eyes was enough to dissuade him as he turned his gaze to something not as troubling: the rupture that had been created between two realities. The pull of the maelstrom was getting stronger, the hole tearing larger with the passing minutes. He could hear panic in the streets below, imagining the horrors that might be emerging from the darkness spawned by Deacon’s return to his world of birth.
But it was not only the people on the streets who faced danger from the shadows.
A beast of black flowed out from beneath a section of rubble, hungry for the taste of angel. Surprised by the attack, Remy fell backward to the ground as the shadow monster pounced on him. Its claws were like ice, sinking into the exposed flesh of his arms. He saw from the right corner of his vision the hobgoblin coming to his aid, leaving Ashley alone.
“No,” he cried out, attempting to heave the thrashing animal from atop him. “I’ve got this… Don’t leave her side.”
The goblin warrior obliged him, backing away to stand before his charge, as Remy attempted to thwart this latest attack on him from the realm of shadows.
And if something was not done about the opening in the sky above, it would be far from the last.
He got the flat of his forearm beneath the slathering animal’s throat, holding its snapping, black jaws at bay, and was forcing it from him when there came an explosion of gunfire, and its head temporarily transformed into a Rorschach pattern before rolling off of him to the ground, where its mass was swallowed up by yet another bottomless pool of darkness.
Remy jumped to his feet in time to see Francis and Angus coming across the wreckage of the rooftop toward him.
The passage above their heads had grown larger still, expanding across the sky, the shadow realm now pouring into this reality.
“You know that isn’t good, right?” Angus said to him, pointing up into the sky. Francis and the sorcerer had now joined the hobgoblin and Ashley.
“Is there anything you can do?” Remy asked the sorcerer, hoping for a quick fix but already knowing the answer.
“I’ve got nothing,” Angus said grimly over the sound of the shrieking anomaly in the sky above.
Remy peered up into the eye of the unnatural storm, shielding his vision from the flying dust and debris, and looked into the heart of darkness.
He felt a stirring at the center of his being, the reality of what he was-where he had come from-roused to act.
He was the embodiment of God’s light-which drove away the darkness-and he knew what he must do.
As if sensing the realization he had come to, the center of the vortex grew suddenly larger. With an ear-piercing cry like a living thing, the whorl of the gyre became faster.
Larger pieces of stone and glass were now being sucked up from the rooftop, and he could see that his friends were having difficulty staying on their feet.
There was no more time for hesitation.
“It’s time for you all to go,” Remy yelled over the storm.
They all began to balk, and he spread his wings and began to flap them furiously, adding to the winds and driving them back.
Francis was the only one who did not move, standing his ground, gun still in hand.
“What do you think you’re doing?” he asked Remy.
“I’m ending this before it’s too late.”
“Is there anything that I can do?”
“Get them out of here,” Remy said. “Keep them safe until it’s over.”
Francis knew what he had to do; they’d always had an understanding about these things. Remy turned away from his friend, knowing full well that he would do what Remy had asked of him.
Remy couldn’t think of them anymore, only of what needed to be done. Springing off the rooftop, his wings beat the air, propelling him skyward, fighting the insane winds as he allowed himself to be sucked up into the cyclonic force.
He did not fight it as he was spun around and around, inexorably pulled toward the center of the widening gyre. This was what his life had felt like of late-slowly being pulled toward the eye of storm, no matter how much he fought, inevitably being dragged toward the center.
But he wasn’t going to fight it anymore.
For at the center was solution.
Remy felt the cold of the mouth as it yawned wider to accept him, and for the first time in a long while, he was completely at peace. His natures-his human and angelic-were as one, knowing what needed to be done.
What the Almighty would want them to do.
And as the darkness took him, he heard the words so often attributed to his Heavenly Father.
Let there be light.
And there was light.
An old woman pushing a shopping cart filled with bottles and cans was coming toward him, terror in her eyes. Something was after her, something that jumped from one patch of shadow to the next as it stalked its prey.
Mulvehill saw this and acted, guessing where the beast would next appear and aiming his pistol accordingly. He smiled at the fact that he had been right as the lionlike monster sprang out of a shadow cast by the overhanging sign of an Indian restaurant that he frequented.
His pistol barked twice, the shots hitting the unearthly animal in its muscular side, sending it thrashing to the ground in death. Mulvehill ran to the old woman, who had fallen. Her brimming cart had tipped over, spilling its contents onto the sidewalk.
The shadow beast had crawled onto its feet, considering them with hungry eyes as it bled darkness onto the sidewalk.
“C’mon, then,” Mulvehill said in defiance of the monster. “I’m not afraid of you.”
As if accepting his challenge, the monstrous thing sprang across the expanse of sidewalk, as Mulvehill raised his weapon once more to fire.
And that was when the sky became filled with a sudden brilliance and the threat of the beast was gone like the passing of a nightmare with the coming of dawn.
The light was like nothing he had ever experienced before, permeating every crack, crevice, and corner of the city where the darkness could hide.
He could feel it even inside himself, burning away any despair and fear that still remained and filling him up with fire.
Filling him up with hope.
Eyes watering from the intensity of the flare, Mulvehill’s vision cleared and he found himself making his way into the center of the street across from Hermes Plaza, where he gazed up to the desolated top floor of the building.
But the sky above it was as blue as the sea and twice as calm, and the shadows around him were just shadows.
He didn’t know where the words came from. They just came, bubbling up from one of those places locked inside the brain where things like that were stored away.