Chapter 9

The demons under the mountain were evacuating. All around me the city was abuzz with activity, demons rushing around, quickly gathering what few belongings they had and making their way toward the top of the cavern. Missolis had barely given the order, but the evacuation was already all but complete.

I stood with Malachi at the end of one of the bridges connecting the central spire to the rest of the mountain, watching the demons move like… well, demons.

"This isn't the first time they've had to do this, is it?" I asked.

"This city has never had to be evacuated before," he said, "but we've practiced, and this isn't the first time they've had to pull up stakes in a hurry. They know what to do and how to do it."

"I guess I'm more surprised they're all so willing to risk their lives on this. Missolis called it a Fool's Errand and I'm inclined to agree."

"It's no revelation that demons don't like Hell." He grabbed my shoulder and twisted me toward him a little forcefully. "I need to work on your visage."

I pulled myself out of his grasp. "Okay, look," I snapped. "I get that you're a demon and I'm an angel, but there's something else going on here and if we're going on a dangerous mission together, I need to know. What's your problem with me?"

Malachi's expression tightened. "The fact that you're an angel has nothing to do with the way I feel," he said.

"Okay, then what is it?"

Malachi seemed reluctant to answer. A group of demons walked past us, halting our conversation, but when they had passed, he spoke. "It's too convenient."

"What is?"

"You. All of this. Your arrival in Hell, the fact that we—of all the demons in Hell—found you, and that your captors put up basically no fight to stop us from taking you."

"They looked like braindead minions to me, and I'd managed to get them arguing before your rescue party turned up, so they weren't really prepared for your attack. How did you even know I was out there?"

"We didn't. We don't send patrols out as far as the Pit—too much risk of being followed back—but your group wasn't taking their usual path, and it was obvious their cargo wasn't of the normal sort. Now, what reason would those demons have to dangle such a prize in front of our noses if not to trap us?"

"I'm not a honeypot if that's what you're getting at. And I don't know why the demons conveniently decided to veer your way. Maybe they didn't want to risk another of Abaddon's groups stealing me off them…" I sighed and rubbed my eyes, exasperated. "I get it, ok. If I were in your shoes, umm, hooves I mean, I'd be suspicious too. By the sounds of it, Abaddon needs me if he plans to get to Lucifer, so why would he risk losing me?"

"Maybe he thinks he can kill two stones with one bird."

"Wow, you've been down here a long time, huh?" The unimpressed look Malachi returned told me he had, in fact, been down here a really long time, and that I was not making any of this any better. "Look, Malachi, I'm not the savior Missolis hoped for, but I'm also not part of some grand master plan to trap you all. I want to help, I really do."

His expression softened slightly. "You told me that you had made promises to lost souls. I'm afraid I don't understand what you meant."

"I left so many people behind… angels died to get me back to Heaven, and I wound up here instead—another victim of Lucifer's manipulative games. If I had chosen to lay down my arms and die in the Pit, or decided I didn't want to risk going to Abaddon's Citadel, then those sacrifices would have been in vain. As long as I keep pushing, there's hope."

"That's all this is, then. Lucifer's release is your fault, and you are simply trying to remove the guilt? You are truly one of us, Sarakiel, whether you see it or not."

"None of what happened was my fault," I snapped. "I'm just trying to do the right thing, here. It's not like I demanded your leader uproot everyone and charge head-first into danger. She decided that by herself."

Malachi shook his head. "I refuse to believe you've simply infected everyone with hope, and that's why we're doing this."

"Is that really the problem?" I asked. "Or are you just bitter than you're not infected with that same hope?"

Malachi's jaw tightened. "I don't need hope."

"That's not true. Everyone needs hope, otherwise what's the point in existing? Survival can't be the only goal—there has to be something more."

"When the angels find out we've made it through to Earth, they'll come looking for us and they'll eradicate us. Instead of warring against each other, they'll war against us. By leaving, we're only swapping one set of oppressors for another."

I shook my head. "I'll vouch for you."

Malachi scoffed. "You? What weight do your words carry? By your own admittance you abandoned them when they needed you most, freed Lucifer, and then—if we do manage to get out of here—you'll turn up with an army's worth of demons at your back. No doubt they hate you as much as you hate yourself."

His words stung. I'd been so determined all this time to get back, to make things right, that I hadn't considered that maybe they didn't want me to ‘make things right'. Maybe they were better off without me and my good intentions—the road to Hell was paved with them after all.

"How did you end up down here?" I asked.

"What does that have to do with anything? If you are trying to make me feel bad?—"

"No, I just want to understand you a bit better."

"I followed Lucifer," he said, "and was punished for it. There, does that make you feel better?"

"Why would that make me feel better? I feel like we have something in common now, though—both of us were fooled by him."

"I was not fooled by anyone. I followed him willingly."

"So, what made you join the rebels?" I pressed. Getting answers out of him was like bleeding a stone; he was replying but the tension could be felt for miles. Finally, it looked like I'd hit a nerve, and everything came pouring out.

"He left us here to rot. We gave up everything for him and we waited, dutifully, our beautiful forms twisted into these abominations you see before you. Abaddon was not my leader, I did not choose to follow him, yet he placed himself as King. He promised us a better life down here. Ultimately, we swapped God for Abaddon and were worse off for it."

I hadn't realized until then, but his hands had been balled into fists the whole time he spoke. Malachi lowered his head, looked at his hooves, then turned his eyes up at me. "I joined the rebels because I was sick of unfulfilled promises."

I laid a gentle hand on his shoulder. "You saved my life. Because of you, I have a chance to fulfill the promises I made. I owe you, Malachi… I owe all of you, and I swear on my own Light, I'll do everything in my power to protect you and the rest of your people when we get to Earth."

He didn't seem instantly moved by what I had just said, and I couldn't blame him, but he did visibly loosen. "You believe your own words, that much is true. Whether you can accomplish this monumental task remains to be seen, but I make you a promise of my own: if you betray my people, I will kill you myself."

He reached his hand toward my face. I recoiled, expecting to feel his hands wrap around my throat, but instead he caressed my cheeks. "This will not hurt," he said, as his hands began to feel warm against my skin.

"I didn't think demons cared about their appearance," I said.

"Some do, but it comes in handy when you are part of a resistance group." The heat stopped and he retracted his hand. "That's it."

"That's it?"

"I would give you a mirror to look at yourself with, but we really should make our way to the surface."

"Wait, at least tell me what you've done to me." I looked at my hands. "Why are my hands red? How did you change the color of my marks?"

"I changed your skin tone and the color of your eyes. I gave you sharpened canines, and I elongated your ears. I also scarred up your face a little. No one should be able to recognize you as an angel from a distance, but you won't be able to hide your resonance."

"Resonance?"

"Your grace, your Light. If a demon gets too close to you, they'll sense it immediately."

"There should be no reason for me to get close to anyone who isn't one of you."

Malachi nodded. "In that case, we're done here." He started to walk off but stopped, "Don't let us down."

"I won't."

I walked behind him all the way to the top of the cavern, where Missolis and her lieutenants were gathered. They were watching everyone leave, filtering through the invisible portal that led out into the wastes of Hell.

Once everyone was out, Missolis and the rest of us followed. I was instantly shocked to see the variety of wings in front of me. None of them had appeared to have wings as they made their way out of the cavern, but here was a totally different story.

Many of them had scaly wings, bat-like wings, and wings that looked like their plumage was falling out. There were a few whose wings looked like they were made of a kind of semi-translucent, jelly-like membrane, and very likely wouldn't be able to support the weight of the demon attached to them in the air.

Some of the demons assembled, though, didn't have wings at all. A few, tragically, looked like they'd had their wings cut long ago.

Those demons who couldn't fly on their own were pairing up with larger, winged demons who would be able to carry them across the wastes. I had kept my wings out of sight since we had arrived, partly for fear of knocking something over with them in the tight corridors below, but mostly because I didn't need another reason to attract attention.

Malachi hadn't mentioned altering their appearance, but he couldn't have left them as they were I thought. Revealing and extending my wings, I was somehow still surprised to see that they weren't fluffy and white.

Not anymore.

When I caught a glimpse of the leathery, claw-tipped wings attached to my shoulders, I almost yelped. "You didn't tell me you had changed my wings, too!" I said to Malachi.

"Didn't I?" he asked, a slight grin on his face. "I couldn't exactly leave them as they were."

I curled my wings around my body for a closer look. It was going to take some getting used to, but after a moment I had to admit, "they're actually kind of… badass."

"Badass?" asked Missolis who joined me and Malachi at the mouth of the cavern.

"It's a human word," I said. "I guess it means?—"

"I know what badass means. I'm just surprised to hear an angel use that expression. Are we ready to head out?"

"Your people look like they are."

Missolis glanced around at the demons assembling at the lip of the mountain. They had paired up, they were stretching their wings, and were embracing each other and wishing each other luck. She turned her attention back to me. "We're ready, and our spotters already have eyes on the line of pilgrims heading toward the Citadel."

"Really? That quick?"

"I told you, there's new pilgrims every day, and their long convoys can be easily spotted. We should be able to catch up with them and blend in with them soon enough. Etari and Malachi will stay with you to make sure you don't get too close to anyone you shouldn't."

I nodded. "Bodyguards. I'll take it."

"Alright, let's get to it," she said, rolling her shoulders, and, where previously she'd only had a single wing, a second wing now grew and stretched. She arched her back, cracked her neck, and turned away from me.

"You glamored one of your wings?" I asked. "Why?"

Missolis' eyes brightened. "Never underestimate the element of surprise." She walked over to the edge of the mountain, looked up at the sky, and roared. "Demons! With me!"

Where Missolis went, the rest of the demons followed. She hurled herself off the edge of the cliff, using her wings to then soar into the air after a moment spent plunging into the valley beyond. It wasn't long before they had all taken the dive, including those who had paired up with non-fliers.

Malachi gave me a deep look, nodded at Etari, and then took off where he stood. I followed him, with Etari at my back, joining the airborne company of demons and hugging the terrain to avoid being spotted by the enemy before we could join the pilgrims.

It was an insane plan which had no right to work as easily as Missolis had laid it out. The nagging feeling that we were heading towards disaster only got stronger once I saw Abaddon's dark Citadel looming on the horizon… but we had to make it work.

Everything depended on it.