“Escaped? How did they manage that?”
“I don’t know.” Zadkiel raised his voice a little, enough for Alice to hear, at least. She pointed out of the window.
“Uhh... that tour bus. Down there. On the causeway. I don’t suppose that has anything to do with what you’re all panicking about, does it?”
“Tour bus?” Michael’s frown finally tipped over into a scowl. “What?”
“There. In the car park. There’s a bus. It wasn’t there earlier...”
“They came on a coach?” Michael’s voice was a mixture of bemusement and contempt, while Zadkiel shook his head.
“You’re not serious?”
“Look.” Alice pointed again. There it was, sitting in the car park at the end of the causeway. A bright red coach, the kind that took tourists on week-long holidays. Exactly the kind of coach Alice would have expected to see here. Which is why, apparently, no-one had noticed it. Until now.
“The sentries?” Michael snapped at Zadkiel.
“Gone.”
“Gone where?”
“If I knew, I’d tell you.” He ran a hand back through his hair, pacing. “They’ve yet to breach the priory itself. Phillip made it in through the gate, but they were right behind him. I say we concentrate on the most vulnerable points. Move to defend the scriptorium and the south corridor. If they get through there, we’re in trouble.”
“Agreed.” Michael was still staring out of the window. “Take the corridor. I’ll take the scriptorium.”
Zadkiel thought for a moment, then glanced at Mallory. “You’re with me. Think you can handle it?”
“Can I handle it...” Mallory snorted. Beside the door, Vin was already rolling his shoulders and flexing his fingers. Alice knew what that meant.
“What about me?” she asked. No-one answered.
The voice which finally came from the corner of the room was chilly. It was Gabriel. “And the prisoners?” he asked, almost offhand.
“Gone too.” Zadkiel answered.
“Time to find out what Lucifer’s up to,” said Michael, fire flaring up around him. “Kill them all.” And with that, he vanished.
Only after he had gone did Alice notice that Gabriel had disappeared with him. Now, it was her, Mallory, Vin and Zadkiel. They seemed to know what they were doing and had already started towards the door.
“What about me?” she asked again. All three of them stopped and stared at her.
“You’re with us, of course,” said Zadkiel.
“With you. But you’re going to the... the south corridor.”
“That’s right. Are you always this slow?”
“I don’t follow.”
“Today, you do.” He ran through the doorway, down the stairs.
Mallory drew out one of his guns, turning it over in his hands.
“Time to let off a little steam, Alice.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You remember how when Florence pitched up, you wanted to kill her?”
“Yes.” Alice gritted her teeth.
“Now’s your chance.” There was a loud ‘click’ from his gun as he flicked the safety off. “How fast can you run?”
AS IT HAPPENED, Alice could run faster than she thought. She ran down the stairs... all of them. She ran through the little cloister they had seen earlier – now deserted – and in through another door. Her feet hammered on the floor, almost in step with Mallory’s as they ran towards the south corridor of the priory. Wherever that might be. She assumed Mallory and Vin knew better than she did where they were going.
“And we’re running why?” she shouted at Mallory as he edged ahead of her. Vin was way ahead of them both, trailing just behind Zadkiel.
“We’ve been given an order, Alice. This is what we do.” Mallory shot a look back at her over his shoulder. “You wanted to run with the angels, right?”
“I didn’t think it would be quite so literal...” she muttered, starting to feel out of breath. Mallory didn’t seem to be having the same problem.
They rounded a corner, where the others had stopped. Alice forced herself to a halt – almost losing her balance in an attempt not to slam into Zadkiel’s back as he stood in the middle of the corridor. It wasn’t a dignified stop, but at least it was a stop.
“The south corridor,” said Zadkiel.
To the right was a narrow doorway, an archway cut directly through the stone of the wall and edged with carvings of fruit. Through it was, as promised, another corridor, and he stepped through into it, gesturing for them to follow him. The passage was windowless and perhaps thirty yards end to end; the ceiling towered above them, tapering to a pointed vault high above their heads. Iron struts spanned the space, bracing the old walls against each other. There were candles in sconces bolted to the walls, and three large iron candelabra dangling from the ceiling on chains.
“That’s a lot of candles. Who the hell lights all these?” Alice asked, a little too flippantly.
Zadkiel simply said: “You did.”
“I what?”
“You did. When you came around the corner.” He tapped the sigil on his arm, and she glanced down at her own. “Michael’s choir,” he said, “are rarely without light when they want it.”
“But I didn’t...”
“Let it go, Alice. There’s no time.” He peered past her, down the corridor, and she turned around. There were two angels coming towards them, the corridor barely wide enough for them to walk side by side: Castor and Pollux. Pollux was limping; a long, jagged cut crossed Castor’s face, from one side of his jaw to the eyebrow on the other side. Both of them looked like they had been beaten to within an inch of their lives.
“I’ve got this,” said Mallory, handing his guns to Vin, who took them without a word. Mallory went first to Castor, taking his hands gently in his, closing his eyes and tipping his head back. The slash across Castor’s face began to knit together and the skin across Mallory’s cheek tore itself apart with surprising violence, lengthening across his nose and down to his jaw. He sagged, but shook his head as though he was trying to shake the pain off...
The candles on the walls flared higher.
Mallory stepped back from Castor and turned to Pollux. He held out his hand to the other Descended, and although his back was to Alice and she could no longer see his face, his hand shook. One of the fingers was twisted; the palm slashed almost to the bone in several places.
“Mallory...” she said, about to go to him, but Vin put his arm out to stop her.
“Leave him. It’s what he does.”
“But both of them? It’s too much...”
“No.” Mallory’s voice was hoarse, but determined. “Pollux needs help. And we need Pollux.” He was about to say something else, but he bit off his own words as he took Pollux’s hand and a shudder ran through his whole body. With a loud snapping sound, a handful of the long feathers on his wings bent and tore – and that was enough for Mallory, who let out a howl of pain. He dropped Pollux’s hand, and slumped sideways against the wall.
Alice strained forward again – still held back by Vin. “You really think that’s a good idea? Remember what happened last time...” He pointed at her blazing hands as echoes of Mallory’s pain coursed through her, burning away so fast that she barely even felt it. She was grateful; she remembered the last time she had been there when Mallory healed someone. It had been Vin, left for dead by Purson; and she had felt every broken bone, every cut and every tear. Now... now it poured through her like oil and was gone: burned away almost before she knew it had reached her.
But the fire was still there. The fire was always there.
“Mallory?”