Every bottle behind the bar was broken. Some of the remains of the bottles lay on their shelves, spilling a liquid rainbow which pooled on the floor and glittered with broken glass.
But worse than the broken glass, worse than the podium, worse than the knowledge that Rimmon was in here and that Mallory wouldn’t leave until he’d found him... worse than all that were the bodies.
Some of them still held shattered glasses, smashed as they fell. Some of them had been trying to run – or at least, to get away. One or two looked as though they had been trying to shield themselves, or possibly each other. Much good had it done them. A man in what had been a black suit lay face-down not three feet from Alice. The back of his head was charred and sticky. He had one arm outstretched; his fingers clasping a wallet. It was still smoking.
The Fallen had not done this.
Michael had done this.
These were not the Fallen. These were people. Michael hadn’t come for Lucifer; he had come for them. He was sending a message to Lucifer the only way he knew how; the only way he thought Lucifer would understand. With a trail of bodies.
Alice didn’t see Rimmon step out of the shadows, she didn’t see Mallory grab his gun. The first she knew was the bullet that zipped past her ear, making her dive for cover behind the bar
“You aiming for me, or her, Mal?” asked Rimmon, lurking across the room. “I only ask because from here, it was kind of hard to tell.”
“You’re going to have to speak up, Rimmon. I can barely hear you all the way back there.” Mallory waved his gun at the Fallen. “It’s funny, you were so keen to get in my face earlier. Now...” He shrugged.
Rimmon snorted, but he didn’t get any closer. “Why should I bother myself with you? We’ve won... and there’s nothing you can do about it.”
“I’m not sure the pissed-off Archangel knocking around the building’s going to agree with you on that one.”
“Michael? Are you kidding? He’s the one who let all this happen! He could have stopped us at any point, but he didn’t. You know why? Because he’s so damn set on getting his hands on Lucifer. He doesn’t care about the rest of it. He never has, and he never will. The sooner you wake up to that, the better.” Rimmon laughed. “Mind you, you’ve never been the brightest of the bunch, have you? Look at you, standing there. You’re a blunt instrument.”
“Really? Want to see how blunt I can be?” Mallory squeezed the trigger of his gun, unloading the entire magazine at Rimmon’s chest.
With each impact, Rimmon staggered back... and finally, finally, he fell.
Mallory didn’t move. Arm still raised, he stood.
Rimmon lay flat on his back on the dancefloor... and then he started to laugh. Louder and louder he laughed, until the whole place echoed with the sound. He hauled himself to his feet – still laughing – and tugged at the front of his jacket. It fell open.
Underneath was a solid black vest, its front studded with flattened bullets.
“Same old Mallory,” he said, tapping the bulletproof vest with a smirk, and pulling a gun of his own from his pocket.
Alice ducked again – wondering where the hell Vin and Castor had gone – and listened to the burst of gunfire. She found herself counting the shots... and hoping Mallory at least had enough sense to duck. Or move. Or do something sensible. The room was swimming in alcohoclass="underline" one misplaced spark from her and the whole place could go up, taking them all with it. Without knowing where he was, she didn’t dare risk trying to help, so instead she hid helplessly behind the bar and counted the shots.
They stopped, and she scrambled to her feet. Rimmon was still holding his arm out, the gun now swinging from his fingers and his mouth open as though he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing.
Mallory was in exactly the same spot. He hadn’t moved, and at first, Alice thought that the bullets must have missed. But they hadn’t. His clothing was punctuated by neat bullet holes, almost lost amid the buckshot holes, and a trickle of blood ran down the left side of his chest.
“You’re going to have to try a lot harder than that, Rimmon,” he said, and from where Alice was standing, it almost looked like he smiled. Rimmon turned to run... but Mallory was there first, making it across the room in the blink of an eye.
He had left his gun on the bar.
In his hand, he had a metal rod.
“VHNORI? ARE YOU alright?” Castor caught Vin’s arm as he stumbled. Something was wrong. Castor’s mind itched as the other Earthbound gasped for breath, and Vin slumped against the wall, his face twisting in pain.
“You need to fetch them. Fetch Alice. Fetch Mallory. There’s no more time. Get them out.” He stared straight into Castor’s eyes... and Castor flinched.
Vin’s eyes were completely black.
ONE BY ONE, the chains fell away from the ice. Each made a sound like a funeral bell as it hit the floor.
A single crack split the surface of the block, running from top to bottom... and deep inside the ice, Lucifer’s eyes opened.
“MALLORY!” ALICE WAS screaming at him, but he didn’t hear her; he couldn’t hear her. All he could hear was the sound of blood rushing as he brought the rod he’d picked up from the bar down on Rimmon’s prone form. The metal was glowing bright red, and it hurt to hold it – Alice’s doing – but he held on all the same, the skin of his palm blistering. There was fire nearby – he could feel that too – but nothing else mattered. Only this.
“Mallory!”
TOBY WAS STILL weeping when he heard another set of footsteps.
It was Alice. It had to be. She’d come back for him.
“Afraid not,” said a voice he did not know, but it was not kind, and at that moment, he despaired. Whatever hope he had left abandoned him.
“They left you, didn’t they? Left you behind. Abandoned you when you needed them the most. Even her. Especially her.” There was a sigh. “See, that’s the thing about angels. Can’t trust them. The second you do, that’s when they’ll always, always let you down. Never rely on them. That was your mistake. That’s what got you into this mess in the first place.” He paused, and Toby could hear him smiling. “Now... you and I. We should have a little chat, don’t you think?”
CASTOR BURST THROUGH the door and saw them through the fire. Alice was burning, shouting Mallory’s name as he leaned over the figure on the floor, and Castor knew instantly what was happening. Without thinking, he aimed the gun that Mallory had given him and he pulled the trigger.
The shot caught Mallory’s shoulder, punching a hole through muscle and bone... and he dropped the rod. He hesitated, and it was all Alice needed. She slipped in front of Mallory, the fire dying as she moved, and placed herself between him and Rimmon.
“Stop,” she said. “Stop now.”
“No.”
She could see him shaking with anger, and there was something dark in his eyes.
“This is what they want. It’s all part of the game to them.”
“I don’t care.”
“But I do.” She put a hand on his shoulder. “This isn’t you.”
“You have no idea who I am, Alice.” Mallory’s shaking subsided. He was coming back to himself.
“Sure I do,” she said gently.
Castor tucked the gun away. “Mallory!” he called. “It’s Vin...” He hurried back out through the door, and Mallory charged after him.
Alice stood over Rimmon, who had curled himself into a ball under the ferocity of Mallory’s attack.
“You should have let him kill me...” His voice was thick with blood, and it sounded altogether too like Toby’s.