All Who Wander Are Lost (An Icarus Fell Novel) (26 page)

“
Poe!”

She heard Trevor’s
voice disappear beneath her as the beast shot them into the roiling
sky. Hot wind rustled her hair around her ears and cheeks, stole the
breath out of her nose.

Flying, really
flying.

The demon clutched
at her legs with its taloned feet. She twisted, avoiding their
grasp, but a claw raked her leg, drawing blood. The panic in her
chest flooded into her head, clouding her thoughts and blurring her
vision as her free hand drew back, clenched into a fist. She looked
down at her own hand, dimly wondered how it acted of its own accord,
and watched in shock as it shot forward and penetrated the demon’s
chest.

The beast thrashed
and contorted, spun in circles attempting to throw her off. Poe’s
fingers dug deep into the thing’s chest until they found a
hard, pulsing lump, then they squeezed.

The demon screamed,
its cry high-pitched with rage and pain. It twisted again. Spun
again. Thrashed. Clawed.

And then they fell
from the sky.

†‡†

The force of the
wind created by the creature’s wings drove Trevor back a step.
He threw his arm over his eyes to keep the dust it stirred up from
blinding him but saw over the top of his forearm as the demon shot
into the sky, Poe dangling in front of it.

“
Poe!”

They climbed toward
the clouds at an unbelievable rate, quickly becoming a black dot
against the gray sky. He squinted and strained to see, but they
disappeared. Trevor faced the crowd of souls and found they’d
crept up behind him, pressing at his back.

“
What
happened?” he said to the closest of the slack faced things.
It acted as if it didn’t hear him. “Where did they go?”

All of the
gray-skinned faces were tilted skyward, mouths open. They encircled
him, all of them trying to fit into the place where the demon leaped
into the sky with their angel, their salvation, dangling from its
throat. After a few seconds, one a few rows deep from Trevor began
the chant again.

“
P.”

“
Oh,”
a second on his other side responded.

Then, without
warning or apparent reason, the entire group of thousands turned and
ran as fast as their shackles allowed. Trevor pivoted in a tight
circle, searching the plain around them.

Nothing.

The cloud of dust
kicked up by the souls’ shuffling feet obscured the horizon,
but through it he saw no others crossing the plain, nothing climbing
from the misty-bottomed cavern. One other alternative dawned on him
and he raised his eyes to the sky.

Immediately he
picked out the black dot against the clouds, growing larger, coming
closer, moving fast. Trevor took a step back, eyes steady on the
falling object, then moved carefully toward the edge of the
crevasse.

“
Poe,”
he said.

Crazily, he thought
about catching her, or at least breaking her fall, but the thought
vanished quickly. The dot falling through the sky looked to be
moving at the speed of a missile. Trevor glanced down to see where
he’d stopped at the lip of the chasm, peered over the edge.
The mist swirled faster than before, more violently, like a school
of sharks circling, preparing for a frenzy.

When he looked up
again, the dot was plainly the two figures he’d seen launch
into the sky a minute before. A sound accompanied their
fall—high-pitched, pained. The scream made the flesh on the
back of his neck want to crawl up under his hairline.

“
Poe!”

The demon and the
angel plummeted past him in slow motion, twisting and spinning. He
saw rage contorting Poe’s features from the pleasant-looking
face he’d grown used to into someone unrecognizable. At the
same time, he discerned the pain on the demon’s face. A thick,
black ichor smeared all the way past the guardian angel’s
elbow from her hand planted in the creature’s chest.

He watched them
hurtle beyond the brink of the chasm, then fell to his knees, leaned
over the edge, as time returned to its normal pace and the two
combatants disappeared into the writhing fog. The demon’s
scream followed them and, seconds later, died away with them.

“
Poe!”

Trevor fought the
objectionable urge to jump in after them, realizing its futility.

But without Poe,
how will I find Ric? How will I get home?

He stared into the
smog for a minute, two, searching for some movement other than the
eddy of the vapor itself, imagining Poe pulling herself out of the
mist on the gossamer wings of angels of legend. She didn’t. He
saw no movement to stir hope in him. Eventually, he gave up, leaned
back and surveyed the plain.

The dust cloud had
settled and, in the distance, he saw the tiny figures of damned
souls chained together marching to who-knew-where. Or maybe they
were going exactly nowhere, spending their after-lives marching
without rest or respite, without hope.

In that moment, he
thought he knew exactly how lost and alone they felt.

“
What
do I do now?”

He felt the subtle
change in temperature at his back before he smelled the pleasant
odor of fresh baking. The words followed closely behind.

“
I’ll
take care of you.”

The unfamiliar
voice held undertones of lyricism and harmonies, but the smell of
fresh apple pie told who stood behind him.

“
Michael,”
Trevor exclaimed jumping to his feet. “Poe is--”

He spun around to
greet the archangel, not knowing whether seeing God’s right
hand in Hell was a good thing or not, but anything seemed better
than the alternative. When he saw the black clothing and dark locks
of the man standing before him, the hopeful smile disappeared.

“
You...you’re
not Michael.”

The man shook his
head deliberately.

“
No,
I am not.”

“
Then
who--?”

A thought
interrupted Trevor’s words: he stood in Hell, confronted by a
man in black. He didn’t appear to have horns or pointed tail,
but he’d already discovered most things here weren’t
what they seemed.

“
Are
you...?”

“
No,
I am not him, either.”

The man took two
strides forward and placed his hand on Trevor’s shoulder
sending a jolt down his chest. With the gaping canyon at his back,
the teen had no choice but to let him.

“
My
name is Azrael.”

Trevor swallowed
hard.

Bruce
Blake-All Who Wander Are Lost

Despite
the footsteps I’d heard, Marty and Todd stood only a few paces
behind the murderous priest. They looked like overweight dancers
from the set of Michael Jackson’s
Thriller
video,
with decaying flesh hanging from their cheeks and pus oozing out of
more places than my stomach could bear counting.

“
Hey
guys, looking good.”

I went to stand but
Father Dominic planted his foot squarely in my gut. Air whooshed out
of my chest and I crumpled to the ground gasping for breath. Marty
made his angry face and took a couple of steps forward like he
wanted to add his size twelve to my midsection but the priest
extended an arm to hold him back. I’d rarely felt thankful for
anything that bastard did, but I extended him the courtesy this
time, though I wouldn’t have told him so, even if I possessed
the ability to speak.

“
Leave
him,” Father Dominic grated. “I had you bring him so I
could make him pay for what he’s done.”

To put an
exclamation point on his words, he kicked me again. The sliver of
thankfulness I’d felt melted back into the pool of hatred I
carried in my belly for the man. I promised to get back at him by
groaning and drooling on myself.

Marty backed off a
step and the three of them stood staring at me like I was some
sideshow attraction at the local freak show. Slowly, I unfolded
myself from the fetal position the priest’s kicks put me in
and clawed my way to kneeling while remaining wary of Father
Dominic’s feet. This wasn’t the first time he’d
kicked me—that distinction dated back to my childhood and had
been renewed a few months ago—but I was determined to see it
afforded a good chance of being the last.

While I was
distracted watching for kicks, he reached out, grabbed the front of
my shirt with both grubby hands, and hauled me to my feet. He stood
a few inches shorter than me but still lifted me high enough the
toes of my shoes scraped the ground.

“
It
seems like you’re still upset with me, Father.”

In answer, he shook
me and showed his teeth.

“
It’s
not my fault. I didn’t make you kill anyone.”

“
If
you’d taken my soul like you were supposed to, none of this
would have happened.”

His statement was a
finger-poke to an open wound. If I’d done my stupid job, he
wouldn’t be here, Beth, Tony and the others wouldn’t
have been here, and neither would I.

Neither would
Trevor.

The priest glanced
over his shoulder at his two disheveled minions lurking behind him.

“
Go
find something else to do. Leave Icarus to me.”

“
Ric.
I really prefer you call me Ric.”

He shook me hard,
rattling my back teeth together and leaving me a little dazed. As my
eyeballs settled themselves back into place, I watched Marty and
Todd slouching away. I raised my hand and waved bye-bye, but they
weren’t looking.

Father Dominic
lowered my feet back to the ground and pulled my face close to his,
then opened his mouth to speak. His breath smelled like Hell. I
clenched my teeth and pulled my face back in readiness for his
tirade, or perhaps a head butt to the face.

“
Take
me back.”

I blinked twice
rapidly and shook my head to clear it. Instead of swearing, cursing,
calling me names or verbally degrading me, I thought I’d heard
him say ‘take me back.’

“
What?”