Straight at Mont Saint-Michel.
The island rose steeply out of the sea and up from its causeway; its lower slopes were surrounded by tall stone walls. The windows were tiny pinpricks of light, reflected in the water. And soaring over the walls, dwarfing them, was the cathedral-like structure of Michael’s fortress, its spotlit walls rising in a riot of ornate buttresses and turrets. In the evening light, the roofs looked like they were on fire. At the very highest point, gleaming in the last of the sunlight, was a golden statue, its wings outspread.
“Subtle.”
“Michael.”
“Michael.” Alice stared out over the water at the towers. No wonder the tourists loved it: it wasn’t exactly a discreet place to hide, but it really was Michael all over. Who else would top his castle with a bloody great statue of himself, she wondered... and then it dawned on her that there was only one other name that came to mind. Lucifer. It was the kind of thing she would expect from him. The idea made her uncomfortable, and without her really meaning to, her fingers found their way to the sigil on her arm. Michael’s sigil.
He had warned her, hadn’t he? He was an Archangel, the head of her choir. The head of all the angelic choirs. He could see inside her head if he wanted. Was he watching her now? Did he know they were there? And if they did, would he come for them? For her?
“That’s what Pollux is here for.” It was as though Mallory had read her mind.
“I thought Castor...”
“Castor’s going to be busy enough keeping Zadkiel off our trail. Pollux is a Descended, remember, and while he’s not a match for Michael if he really wants to find you, he’s enough for now.”
“But Castor’s an Earthbound. And Zadkiel’s an Archangel. So how does that work?”
“They have... how do I put this? History? I’d say Castor knows how Zadkiel’s mind works. And that’s good enough for me.”
“This. All this. It’s ridiculous.”
“I know.”
“I don’t even understand why we’re here. Not really.”
“Oh, you do. It’s wearing sunglasses and standing about five feet behind you.” Mallory jerked his thumb back over his shoulder towards Vin. “This business with Florence has hit him harder than he’s letting on. Jester, too. Jester particularly.”
“And here we are.”
“Here we are.” He clapped his hands together. “Come on.”
“Where?”
“Pub. Obviously.”
“Obviously.”
THE PUB WAS tiny, and it didn’t look promising from the outside – but its sign was encouraging. There was no picture; only curling, swirling script, reading ‘The Angel & Pistol.’ Alice raised an eyebrow at Mallory. “I thought you said you’d never even met one of Michael’s choir. How come I get the feeling you’ve been here before?”
“I hadn’t. And I haven’t.”
“You want to explain that, then?” She pointed up at the sign.
“Just because I don’t know this place doesn’t mean they don’t know me,” he said, pushing his way through the door.
It was like walking into a tomb. Everything was completely still on the other side, and a thick silence filled the air. Mallory’s hand immediately moved inside his jacket, pulling out one of his guns. The sound of the safety clicking off was altogether too loud.
“Vin? By the door,” he hissed, and Vin nodded, dropping back to the entrance.
“Where is everyone?” whispered Alice. Neither Mallory nor Vin answered. Instead, Vin half-opened the door and peered back into the street to where they’d left Castor, Pollux and the others. “They’re still by the road back there. No problems,” he said. Mallory leaned over the bar in the far corner of the room and looked at the rickety door that led further into the building. “Stay here,” he whispered at Alice, and without another word he slid over the little counter, dropping out of sight.
“Alice? Alice!” It was Vin hissing at her. “Get out the way, yeah?”
“Oh. Good point.” Alice scurried across to the wall, where she stood and waited for... anything. Vin had his foot wedged in the door, keeping it open, and was looking back at the van. “Something’s not right,” he said quietly, his nose wrinkling. “Can you feel it?”
“Feel what, exactly?”
“Not sure. Just something. Something... off.” He shivered. “You’re really telling me you can’t feel it?”
“I don’t know.” There was something in the air. A heaviness. She had just thought it was the silence, but it was more than that. There was an oppressiveness that hung over the whole place... something Alice realised she had begun to feel as soon as they got into town, but which she’d dismissed as a side-effect of all the walking. But it was more than that, and she had felt it before.
“Vin? I think we need to go.”
“Go where?”
“Anywhere.”
“You can feel it...”
“Yeah. And I remember where I’ve felt it before. Right before the riot.”
“Like a storm coming in. It’s them.”
“The Fallen? Is this a trap?”
“I don’t know.” He slid his foot out from the door and let it close, peering towards the back of the room. “We need to get Mallory.”
“I don’t know where he went...”
“Bloody typical. Stay here, alright? I’ll be right...”
“No you don’t. Either you stay with me or we’re both going.”
“What?”
“I’m not being left here like some useless... girl.” She fumbled for the right word, flapping her hands as she said it. Vin pulled a face.
“You’re weird.”
“Fine. Are we going?”
He jerked his head sideways, then darted across the room and slid across the bar like Mallory had. Alice followed, but chose to go around the bar.
The faint niggling headache she’d had since getting out of the van was getting worse. It was a chilly pressure on the inside of her skull; it crept into the top of her neck and rolled around in her head and showed no sign of abating. And then there was the faint, but insistent, prickling of her palms. There was pain here. A lot of pain.
As she followed Vin through the door to the back of the bar, Alice found herself hoping they had a fire extinguisher somewhere.
THEY FOUND MALLORY in the back, surrounded by barrels and standing in a puddle on the uneven flagstones. Judging by the smell, the puddle was largely beer. It foamed slightly at the edges. Alice ducked through the low doorway after Vin, stopped and rolled her eyes. “Is now really the time?”
Mallory cut her off with a hiss, waving his gun. They stood like statues, listening. Waiting.
Nothing.
And then Mallory pointed to his ear. “Hear it?” he whispered.
And Alice did. At first, there was nothing other than the thick, silky silence. Not counting the overwhelming urge to set fire to... everything. But she listened, and she saw something like recognition flicker across Vin’s face, and finally, she heard it too.
A low, steady buzz, like flies trapped in a bottle.
“What is that?”
“Something happened here,” Mallory was stock-still in the middle of the room. “Something bad.”
“No shit,” muttered Vin. He was watching Mallory, waiting for a word or a sign, but still Mallory did nothing.
The buzzing sound grew louder and louder until there was no mistaking it and no ignoring it. It was everywhere.
She had no idea how long they had been standing there when they first heard the footsteps. Mallory held a finger to his lips and closed his eyes, trying to work out where they were coming from.
They were slow and light. Too light to be either Castor or Pollux, and unlikely to be Xaphan or Florence. “Not angel,” Vin whispered across to her, shaking his head. “Not Fallen, either.”