Chapter 22

Azrael’s clothes and sword fell to the ground, making the angel behind him who’d dealt him the death blow visible.

It was the first one I’d shot with an amrit dart. I’d never stabbed her in the heart, too distracted by the other angels attacking me to make sure she wouldn’t be a threat again.

Her teeth bared, she held her sword still raised from the strike, her eyes no longer as glazed over as before. The effects of the amrit were wearing off.

“Traitors,” she hissed, kicking at the empty clothes at her feet and then flicking her gaze to me.

Something inside me seethed and roiled, a reckoning gathering force like an incoming storm. With a scream of grief-battered rage, I picked up my sword and ran at her.

Her expression fierce, she readied herself for my attack, but just before I reached her, I went down on my knees and slid right under her strike, coming up behind her and ramming the pommel of my sword into her back as I swept her legs out from under her.

She crumpled with a yell, her reaction time still a bit slowed by the fading effects of the amrit. Just as she started to scramble to her feet again, I swung my sword in a powerful arc and let the blade glide cleanly through her neck.

Her life ended in a shower of sparks.

Breath heavy, I turned to Azazel.

The entire thing had happened in the span of a few heartbeats, with only a moment’s time between Azrael telling Azazel to go and then me dispatching the angel who’d killed him. And Azazel still stood rooted to the spot, his usual composure completely broken, his shell-shocked gaze on the heap of clothes where Azrael had stood, the only thing left of his father.

“Azazel,” I said and grabbed his arm.

His lashes half lowered over his remaining eye, muscles twitching in his face. When he spoke, his voice was as rough as gravel. “He’s gone.”

A horrible ache twisted my chest. To see the man he’d despised for thousands of years for abandoning his family be murdered right in front of him just as he’d glimpsed a glimmer of hope for a heretofore impossible reconciliation, to irrevocably lose all chance at mending old wounds, at rebuilding bridges, in the very same moment he might have dared wish for it…my soul bled at what this meant for him.

How he’d carry this hurt for the rest of his life.

“I know,” I said, emotion choking me. Throwing my arms around him, I hugged him tight, trembling against him. “I know. But you need to go now. If you linger, the help he gave you, that chance he bought you with his life will have been for nothing. You need to leave.”

Drawing back a little, I nudged him toward the gate, or rather, I tried to, though I had no success in moving him until he jolted himself out of his shock-induced stupor. Inhaling a shuddering breath, he blinked rapidly, his jaw clenching tight, and then he briskly turned and strode for the gate.

Before stepping through, he hauled me close for a moment, crushing me to him in a hug that spoke of all the things he couldn’t voice right now. All those things we didn’t have time for.

He released me, and then, just like that, he was gone, vanished through the glowing gate.

I stood alone in the courtyard, the silence and the emptiness pressing down on me with the weight of a thousand tons. My heart felt bruised, beaten, and bloodied, and the waning adrenaline made me shake violently.

All I wanted was to sink down on the ground and collapse into a puddle of hurt.

But I had to leave. I couldn’t stay here. I was still on the clock.

My mind, overwhelmed and reeling from all that had happened, zeroed in on the task that remained, eager to latch on to a concrete thing I could do.

The mission wasn’t finished. I still had to go back to my meeting place with Naamah, and then we’d have to return to my suite in Derdekea’s territory.

There, an achievable task. Something to do. Something to keep my mind from processing what would likely haunt me in my quiet moments.

Without even a last glance at the mess of blood and rumpled clothing in the courtyard, I launched into the air. I pushed myself to fly as fast as I could, not just in order to get back quicker, but rather because at this speed, I was less likely to be seen at all in the sky.

About five minutes later, I landed on the outcropping where I’d left Naamah. I marched right for the copse of trees, calling out for her.

“Zoe.” Naamah came out from behind the cover of a bush and enveloped me in a hug.

I choked back the surge of emotion threatening to drive hot tears into my eyes, willing my muscles not to tremble.

I still shook like a leaf in her arms, so much weight of responsibility falling off my shoulders now that I knew he was safe, it was done, it was over.

She withdrew and held me by my shoulders, giving me a concerned look. “Did he make it?”

I nodded, my throat tight, my mind veering back to how he almost hadn’t made it, to how close we’d come to failure.

And to who had evened the odds, paying for it with his life.

“Azrael,” I croaked. “He’s dead.”

She winced as if zapped by a bolt of electricity. Her face blanched. “What?”

“He helped us.” My throat drew tighter with every word. “We were at the gate, and Azazel was about to go through, but a squad of angels discovered us. We fought. They overwhelmed us. One had me at sword-point and threatened my life, and Azazel surrendered to save me. I thought it was all over, but then—Azrael showed up. He killed all the angels and told Azazel to go through the gate. He said he knew apologies wouldn’t heal what he’d destroyed, but that you guys deserved them nonetheless, and he wanted to let you know he was sorry. H-he wanted to meet with Azazel and Azmodea later and talk to them, but then—there was this one angel left who I’d thought was incapacitated, but she recovered and…killed him.”

Naamah’s hands fell from my shoulders. Her lips parted, her eyes, unfocused, darting everywhere but at me. In all my time of knowing her, I’d never seen her so shaken. She drew in a raspy breath, her hands trembling as she pushed her hair behind her ears. After a moment, she gave a tight nod and cleared her throat.

“Okay,” she said, her voice hoarse. “It’s good that Azazel made it. And you, too. That’s good. You did well. I knew you could do it. Very good.” She nodded again, her lips pressed together tightly.

My heart squeezed to the point of pain. “Naamah…” I ventured softly.

No matter the hurt-filled history between her and Azrael, it had clearly affected her to learn of his death.

She sent me a brittle smile. “Yes, you’re right. We need to get going. We shouldn’t linger here. Come on.” Half turning, she paused and looked back at me, her brows drawing together. “You’ll need to wash up first. We can’t go back with you looking like you just bathed in the blood of your enemies. There’s a creek over here.”

And with that, she pivoted and walked ahead, farther into the copse of trees.

I decided not to press her on the matter of Azrael’s death. I still felt raw when I thought of it, and I’d only known him for a few years as my mentor. I could only imagine what it was like for her. It was one thing to feel resentment for someone you’d once been close to but could still see, knowing they were still around, and a whole other thing to find out they were gone in the most irrevocable way.

I’d been through this with my dad. I could vividly remember what it had felt like to learn of his death, to have this sudden realization that he was truly forever lost to me. At that point, we hadn’t spoken in years, hadn’t seen each other in so long, and I’d held such a deep grudge against him, but even so, that distance, that separation, it had been on my terms, something I’d controlled, and beneath it, there’d always been a subtle understanding of there being the chance to change that status. Because as long as my dad was alive, I could—theoretically—decide to talk to him, to reconcile.

With his death, that hypothetical chance had vanished, and it had left me reeling.

I could very well imagine that Naamah felt something similar now.

I followed her to the small stream and proceeded to wash off the blood and grime until Naamah nodded in satisfaction.

“Here,” she said and waved her hand in front of me.

A tingle of magic coursed over me, and as the wind blew strands of my hair around me, I saw that my usual dark color had returned. Naamah had taken her glamour off me.

“Thank you.”

“You truly did amazing, Zoe,” she said softly. “I know you often don’t believe in yourself, but you successfully pulled off a difficult and dangerous act that would have been challenging for seasoned angels. I’m proud of you. And I thank you for saving my son.”

Heat burned my eyes, my throat clogging. “I’d do anything for him.”

Her smile was gentle as she pulled me in for a hug. “Let’s go back.”

* * *

We’d landedin Derdekea’s compound without issue, chatting loudly and very excitedly about the new cave we’d supposedly explored, and after Naamah had taken her leave, I’d reacted convincingly shocked to the news of the uproar at Raphael’s estate.

Word had already spread, of course, and it was all anyone could talk about. Nothing like this had ever happened before. The wildest rumors made the rounds, from someone pulling off an elaborate prank that went way off the rails to there being an insurgency led by supporters of the long-extinguished group of angels that had killed Lilith.

Not a single peep about a demon escaping, which wasn’t surprising since only a few had known about there being a demon in the first place. It wasn’t until Ithuriel herself came to speak to me that someone mentioned that affair.

Ithuriel questioned me about where I’d been during the escape, and I told her the story of me and Naamah going for a flight, which I’d practiced repeatedly. Naamah and I had gone over this a few times, making sure the details of what we’d say would match up.

And while tension and frustration radiated off Ithuriel in palpable waves, she seemed to believe me. I didn’t want to imagine the pressure she was under to figure out who had helped the demon escape—obviously, it had to have been someone who was privy to the whole thing. Someone from the team had either directly freed the captive or at least leaked vital information to someone on the outside who’d then gone in and managed the prison break.

What worked in my favor here was the fact that no one in their right mind seemed to think I could actually do this. What I’d told Derdekea in her office in order to get on the team was at least partly true—my most recent improvement in fighting skills notwithstanding, people gave me one look and pegged me as weak, clumsy, and all around too good-natured to be capable of a crime like this.

Istill had trouble believing I’d done it at all.

When Ithuriel finally left, visibly fuming that she wasn’t one step closer to figuring out how the demon had gotten free, I sank down on the bed in my suite and exhaled the sighiest sigh that had ever sighed. Falling back onto the mattress, I closed my eyes and rubbed my face.

Exhaustion weighed me down, as if someone had replaced all my muscles with lead. The adrenaline had long since waned and left my system, and all that remained was sizzling anxiety, some nausea buzzing in my stomach, and emptiness hollowing out my chest.

I should be happy about getting Azazel out of here, and I was, but underneath that, a deep, aching sadness washed over me. To not have him with me, after I’d just remembered him after all these years…it pulled at my heart. Who knew how long it would take for me to find my mom? How long until I’d see him again, would be able to fall into his arms again?

And now I’d have to walk around Heaven with this huge fucking secret weighing on me, would have to lie to everyone around me—excluding Naamah—for an indefinite time, never quite sure whether the authorities might not still catch on to me before I was ready to turn myself in.

I shivered and rolled into a ball.

God, I wanted to sleep for ages.

I didn’t actually physically need that kind of rest, true, but apparently the yearning for a prolonged mental shutdown in order to return myself to factory settings was a human trait I still held on to. At the very least, it would give me some respite from this strange mix of emotions plaguing me.

I’d only rest for a little bit, I decided, and then I’d start the search for my mom’s soul. In Hell, they had directories for the souls that were brought down, so maybe they had a similar system up here? Though, even if they did, it might take me ages to wade through the paperwork.

Because paper it would be—from all I’d seen so far, angels weren’t big on switching to new tech to improve logistics.

I drifted off to sleep on thoughts of rifling through dusty books and searching records for my mom’s name. Blessed oblivion took me, drawing me into a deep, dreamless sleep…

I didn’t know how long I’d been out, but it felt like I’d spent weeks cradled in sweet darkness when I was jolted awake as someone grabbed me, my mind scrambling to turn on completely.

Before I could even catch my breath, I was hauled off my bed, my arms wrenched behind my back, cold metal enveloping my wrists.

“Wha—” I choked out, my gaze darting around in burgeoning panic at the group of angels who filled the room.

Derdekea, Ithuriel, and two others I didn’t recognize, one of them locking the manacles she’d just slapped on my wrists.

“Chaya,” Derdekea said with ice frosting her voice, “you are hereby under arrest for treason.”

My mouth fell open, fear stealing my breath. No. This couldn’t be happening. It was too soon. I hadn’t found my mom yet. I’d just gotten back—how had they caught on to me?

“There must be a mistake,” I said, my voice reed-thin. “I didn’t do anything.”

Ithuriel glared at me, but it was Derdekea who spoke. “We have reason to believe that you assisted the demon prisoner in his escape.”

I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. I was choking on air, my throat too tight, my mouth too dry to form words.

Derdekea curled her lip at me and nodded at the angel at my back. “Take her away.”

They dragged me out of my suite, and I struggled to keep up and stumble along. Down the hallways we went, past lines of whispering angels standing aside and watching. The walls passed in a blur, my mind in an uproar, my thoughts scattered by fear and shock.

How had they found out? Had someone seen and recognized me after all? Had they not believed Naamah when she’d confirmed my alibi?

Oh, my God, what if they suspected Naamah as well? What if they’d arrested her, too?

My blood iced over. She’d been so sure that they wouldn’t be able to trace anything back to her, that she’d be beyond reproach as long as there was no concrete evidence tying her to this crime.

A full-body tremble took hold of me as they hauled me out of the main mansion and toward one of Derdekea’s soul stables. Naamah couldn’t be implicated. If they suspected her, I had to cover for her. I had to convince them that I’d worked alone, that no one had helped me with this.

Naamah and I had planned for the moment when I’d eventually surrender myself, how the fact that Naamah had given me an alibi when she supposedly wasn’t involved could be explained. I’d have to play that part now and hope they’d believe Naamah when she played hers.

I had a horrible sense of upturned déjà vu when they shoved me inside an empty room in the soul stable, much like they’d done with Azazel. And, further echoing his treatment, they secured my manacles to a chain in the ground, though at least the way I was restrained didn’t put me in an uncomfortable position, but rather left me to sit on the floor, with a bit of give to the chain.

Unlike Azazel, though, I wouldn’t face torture here. Ithuriel had mentioned it offhand, and Naamah had confirmed it when I’d talked with her about the plan. Heaven’s laws didn’t allow for the torture of angels, not even for the worst offenses. Angel-on-angel crime wasn’t a big thing—hence the lack of proper dungeons or prisons—and there really was only one way the authorities dealt with those who committed more heinous crimes: exile from Heaven.

From the point of view of angels, that was the worst punishment, more severe even than death. With an execution, the suffering ended swiftly, whereas if an angel was cast from Heaven, their wings burned off and the divine spark excised from their soul, they’d have to live with that loss for eternity. And in the eyes of angels, nothing was more punishing than having to live banished from God’s presence and his divine warmth.

So, as far as small mercies went, at least I wouldn’t have to go through an interrogation involving torture, which was a good thing, and not just because being hurt sucked in general. More importantly, I wouldn’t run the risk of giving up all the intel about the mission and Naamah’s complicity. If I faced torture, I most certainly wouldn’t last. Knowing myself, I’d break during the first session and sing like a canary.

But with Heaven’s laws being as strict as they were, I could only be interrogated without coercion through pain or terror, giving me a good chance to keep the sensitive intel to myself.

With one last withering look at me, Ithuriel and her posse exited and closed the door, leaving me alone to stew in my panicked thoughts.

I had to find out if they’d arrested Naamah as well. Whatever happened, I couldn’t let her go down with me. Not just because I liked her and didn’t want her to suffer, but also because so much rested on her not being implicated. She’d been right when she’d said that if the authorities found out she was involved, it could have devastating consequences on the status quo of the truce and, by extension, the fate of the entire world.

Memories of the almost apocalypse flashed before my inner eye, making me wince. I could still hear the screams of the people being burned alive, fleeing from hellhounds, being butchered by demons. I saw buildings crumble and the sky awash in unnatural black clouds, felt the zing of unimaginable power as angels and demons battled it out in the air and on the ground.

I shivered, bile creeping up my throat.

No matter what, I’d have to prevent that from happening again.

Lucifer had already lost Lilith, one of the few people keeping him halfway sane. If Naamah should come to harm now, nothing in all the realms would keep him from razing Earth in retaliation.

The door opened, and I jerked.

Even before he entered, his power punched the air in such a way that I immediately knew I was coming face-to-face with an archangel.