“The Fallen have lost everything. They won’t forgive that. And Lucifer, if I remember correctly, has a particular interest in you. So yes, you should fear the Fallen. And you should stop seeking to place yourself in harm’s way. I have gone to considerable trouble to protect you from them, Alice, but I cannot protect you from yourself.”
And with that, he waved his hand at her, and it was clear she was dismissed. She was still furious, but she was something else, too. Everything Adriel had said sounded suspiciously like the ‘you’ve let yourself down’ speech she’d heard too many times in the past. She had disappointed him, and it left her with a fresh ache in her chest: one that had nothing to do with the beating she’d taken. Was that it? All this, it wasn’t just to keep an eye on her. It was to keep her safe. And she was just getting in the way.
She hadn’t forgotten about Lucifer. He wasn’t exactly easy to forget, speaking with her mother’s voice, looking out of her mother’s face; asking her to join him. She hadn’t so much ‘forgotten’ that as ‘chosen to ignore.’ Plus, of course, there was the whole problem of the fact she’d managed to set two Archangels against each other and... it was all just such a mess. And where was Mallory? Gone.
She sighed, fury abating, and turned towards the door. As she reached it, Adriel called her name and she stopped, looking back at him.
“Alice? I think perhaps you should take a few days. Think of it as sick leave: I’m afraid it simply won’t do to have you covered in bruises. It’s bad for business, and people will ask questions. I don’t enjoy questions, as I’m sure you can understand.”
“Sorry. I didn’t think.” And she was sorry, she really was. She hadn’t thought, had she? Because she was used to there being someone who could patch her up whenever she needed it. All traces of her anger were gone now, replaced utterly by regret. She hung her head, and was about to step out into the corridor when Adriel coughed quietly. Again, she stopped.
“One more thing,” he said – this time, with what looked like a half-hidden smile on his face. “If you really must persist in getting into these running battles with the Fallen... at least stop letting them hit you, hmm?” He held her gaze for just long enough to make his point, and then nodded goodnight. She closed the door behind her.
ADRIEL SHUFFLED HIS papers again and sighed, listening to her footsteps heading down the corridor, and to the door banging as she let herself out.
“You not done with all that paperwork yet? You’ve been fiddling with it long enough,” said a voice from the corner of the room.
Adriel glanced up. “I find paperwork soothing. Particularly when talking to Alice. She’s... struggling.”
“She’s not.”
“I beg to differ. That... girl” – Adriel paused – “is in free-fall.”
“She’s fine.” The angel who had been standing unnoticed in the darkness stepped out into the room, his leather jacket creaking as he flopped into the chair across from Adriel and swung his boots up onto the desk. Adriel scowled at him pointedly, and he swung them back down again. “She needs to find her feet again. That’s all.”
“I’m not sure it’s that simple.”
“I didn’t want her to know I was here, Adriel. It would defeat the point of all this.”
“I understand. But...”
“It was for the best, but you’re right. Things have changed, haven’t they? And whether you believe it or not, I do appreciate you calling me. She’s pissed off. I didn’t think for a second that she wouldn’t be. Frankly, if I didn’t think she missed me, I’d be pissed off. I’m the kind of man you’d miss, don’t you think?” He cracked a grin, burrowed down into the chair, and this time, when he swung his feet up onto the desk, Adriel simply rolled his eyes.
“Now. You got anything to drink around here?”
CHAPTER SIX
Dancing on Pins
“YOU CAN LET him go now, Zak.”
Michael was pacing the floor. Behind him were a half-dozen angels, all standing to attention and blocking the doorway, and in the middle of the floor between them was Zadkiel, his boot firmly placed on the back of one of the Fallen, pinning his chest to the floor and his wrists to his spine.
“You sure? Because I’m good here.”
“Zadkiel, let him up. He’s clearly of no use to me.” Michael snapped his fingers and a very small flame appeared on the floor, an inch in front of the unfortunate Fallen, whose eyes crossed and then widened as he tried to focus on it. “Unless, of course, he happens to remember something I want to know...”
“Wait!” The Fallen thrashed, trying to turn his head away from the rapidly growing flame. Michael snapped his fingers again, making the flame vanish, and dropped into a crouch directly in front of the Fallen. He tipped his head sideways to look at him.
“Yes?”
“That half-born! The one with the fire!”
“Yes?”
“She killed Murmur.”
“Did she now?” Michael sat back on his heels and glanced up at Zadkiel – who shrugged, then took his weight off the Fallen’s back and stepped away.
The Fallen sat up, slowly at first, and was obviously about to scuttle into a corner when he spotted the other angels, and thought better of it. He met Michael’s calmly inquisitive gaze.
“So... what’s your name?”
“Astorath.”
“Astorath. You look familiar. Have we met?”
“I don’t...”
“Frankly, I don’t really care either way. And I don’t have to tell you how this will go, do I? You’ll tell me whatever it is you know, because I want to know it.”
“And you’ll let me go?”
“Yes, yes. Something like that.” Michael waved a hand vaguely. “Now. Tell me about Murmur.”
“He was... in a warehouse. The Earthbounds came. They had the half-born with them and she...”
“She burned him, I imagine. Well, well. Look who’s all grown up. Murmur, you say?” He frowned, and looked up at Zadkiel, who made a looping motion with his finger across the lower half of his face. Michael got the message. “Ah, him. Mmm.”
He rocked back on his heels and stood up, running his hands through his hair as he turned away. Behind Astorath, Zadkiel took a quiet – but exaggerated – step back.
“That’s it? That’s all you wanted to know?”
“Why? Do you know more?”
“No. No, no. I don’t know anything.”
“Well, then.” Michael had stopped with his back to Astorath, and the Fallen clambered to his feet, one eye on the door.
“I told you what you wanted to know. I can go now, right? You said you’d let me go...”
Michael was back across the room, eyes blazing and wings unfurled, in a heartbeat. He swung one of his wings at the unfortunate Fallen and knocked him sprawling onto the floor. “Let you go? For what? To go snivelling back to your master? Vermin,” he hissed, and suddenly his sword was in his hand. He raised it high... and then stopped. Astorath – who had curled into a ball and wrapped his arms around his head – peered out between his elbows. He watched as Michael lowered his sword, then smiled. When Michael winked, he drew his arms away from his head... and then burst into flames. Michael stood and watched as the Fallen burned away to nothing – not even ash – and he folded his wings behind him.