Covenant (17 page)

Twenty-one

Out of the deep and fathomless darkness, a light appeared. With it, Angela's mind returned little by little. She could barely breathe and her head ached so badly she couldn't think straight.

Was this reality? Was it a dream?

Angela was no longer certain, but oddly her body felt unfamiliar.

Something was wrong. Angela began to walk and her legs felt longer, her body stronger. Gradually, she passed angels of all kinds, their beautiful faces often looking at her in quiet admiration.

She walked down a hallway with a glass floor and pearlescent walls. The entire world glittered iridescent as a prism, and the angels matched the radiance surrounding them, glistening with their jewels, their flawless dress, their intricate hair.

She should have been afraid.

Who was she? Why was she seeing this? What had changed?

A strange and overwhelming sense of calm filled her, like her soul had been drugged and dragged to observe this show it might not understand.

Finally, it dawned on her. Angela was in someone else's body, and
he
was in absolute control of it, steering her through dark but glittering corridors, past a row of paintings in colors more vivid than any she'd experienced on Earth, and finally into a private chamber with a great window that took up an entire wall. Shimmering curtains were all that separated her from a city glowing like a galaxy. Outside, a sea of crystal spires and incredible light stretched before her, their immensity revolving in the midst of space, stars, and nebulas. They glared down from the sky so intensely, Angela felt like she could reach out and touch them.

The chamber itself was sparsely decorated. A round bed suspended from chains hung near the window, its insides spilling over with cushions and satiny sheets.

There was a dresser, and a vanity with a mirror. But there were few chairs, and only one or two other cushions for sitting. The entire room rested in shadows, while outside, the unnamed, glorious city spun like a gigantic wheel of fire. Angela—or rather, the angel she was trapped inside—walked slowly to the window and stared out of it. She shared his sense of awe, and a feeling that could only be described as longing.

Like she could spread these wings of hers and test their worth.

“Raziel,” a gentle voice whispered musically behind her.

So—she was Raziel. No, she was in his memories. A silent, helpless witness.

Raziel turned his body and Angela turned with him. Israfel stood in the middle of the room, more casual and genuine than she'd ever seen him before, his hair loose and tousled, back to that gorgeous bronze color Angela remembered so well from her childhood dreams. But his eyes were brighter, and he carried his fully unfurled wings high, like they emphasized his happiness. He was breathtaking even without the heavy makeup and jewels, his languid eyes rich with emotion.

How young he seemed.

“Raziel,” he said again, smiling. “You always come at the worst times. I was about to settle for the evening.” Israfel looked at the floor with shyness in his expression. “You probably shouldn't stay long. I will have many matters to attend to in the morning.”

Raziel strode for him, and Angela felt her hand reach out and touch Israfel's face.

He gasped, looking at her with a real fear.

Inside, her own heart seemed to race, and her entire self yearned for something inexpressible. Israfel pulled in close, so close, and Angela flashed back even within the dream to his mouth on hers that faraway night, the tenderness of his lips like the whisper of silk against her own. But Raziel turned aside at the last moment, and Angela was certain she could hear the tiniest sigh of pain leave Israfel.

He loved Raziel.

It was almost painfully obvious, even in the way Israfel breathed.

“Israfel,” she heard herself say, but in a masculine voice that sent a whole other range of emotions shooting through her: mostly bitterness at the curse Raziel had placed on her life. “I have something very important I must discuss with you. You might want to sit down. This could take awhile.”

Israfel pursed his lips together. But he obeyed and sat on a round cushion. “You have been gone for so long, returning nearly on the eve of my coronation anniversary,” Israfel whispered. “Tell me that this surprise will be a pleasant one.”

It sounded almost like a command.

“Israfel.” Raziel knelt down across from him, taking his slender hands into his own. “My Archangel.”

Crimson stripes blushed to life on Israfel's cheekbones.

Raziel sighed. “I have learned something of grave importance to you, and me, and Lucifel.”

Israfel's expression changed, transforming into something Angela recognized immediately. These were the first traces of the chilly superiority he'd exhibited when she'd met him on Earth. “Yes,” the angel said slowly. “What is it?”

Raziel hesitated, but only for a moment. “Listen to me carefully. I have learned from an undeniable source that . . .”

There was a silence.

Raziel was having trouble finding the right words.

“I—” He took a deep breath. “We are siblings, Israfel. You, and me, and Lucifel. The Father—he has known all along, choosing to tell us that this was not the case. But we have all been split from the same—”

Israfel shot up from his seat.

He stared at Raziel, his already large eyes enormous with anger and fear. His entire frame shivered, and he opened his mouth, and at first no sound came out. He was absolutely imperious, the same Israfel who'd let Angela's brother die, the same Israfel who'd made Stephanie's demon quiver with fright. She felt her soul quaver with terror. “What is this nonsense?” Israfel said dangerously.

“Israfel, listen to me—”

“Siblings.” Israfel shook his head, biting his lip. “No,” he whispered, “you lie. Lucifel has put you up to this.”

“She has done nothing of the sort,” Angela heard herself say too quickly.

Israfel took the retort as defensiveness. His eyebrows arched angrily. “You always take her side,” he hissed, his voice dripping with anguish. “Is that why you have come tonight? To gloat with her over my divided kingdom?”

“The Father's kingdom,” Raziel said.

“But under my heel,” Israfel snapped, “and everyone would do well to remember it.” His expression changed, and he breathed hard and fast. “You love her, don't you? Why not just tell me and be done with it.”

Angela reached out again.

Israfel flung her backward, a real electric shock jumping from him to her.

“Get back,” he moaned. “Leave me alone. I wish to be alone.”

Israfel sank to his knees, no longer questioning the truth of her statement. Was it because he had always sensed it to be the truth? Angela felt sick with him, horrified at seeing the proud angel sliding into visible despair, shocked as he was shocked, because if Raziel told the truth, then Israfel was guilty of a crime he'd never intended to commit. He was in love—but with his own brother? It was sinful, unforgivable—and it was clear he couldn't help himself. Heaven's Archangel was a mess, a wreck, and in this single moment, on his way to becoming a living ghost.

“Leave me,” he whispered. He rounded on Raziel. “NOW.”

Angela caught him by the shoulders, kissing him on the forehead as he gritted his teeth, nearly resembling Troy in her worst moments. Angela was sure he'd zap her again, but Israfel slumped, allowing Raziel's kisses.

The last one met his lips.

He moaned softly, and Angela felt herself standing. Raziel was going to leave him here, in a puddle of misery. Angela wanted to shriek for Raziel to stop, to let her soul stay and comfort Israfel, because she could see it all too clearly. He had been on the precipice, hiding his suffering behind a carefully practiced smile. Now he was plummeting inside, falling off the invisible edge.

Raziel aimed for the door.

No. No. This was too painful.

But she and Raziel were gone, back into the same corridor, the deep silence washing over them with a peace that suggested nothing had taken place.

How could Raziel do this? How could he leave Israfel there, when Israfel's pain was so obvious and crushing?

There was a soft sound of rustling and breath.

Raziel turned and Lucifel stood beside him, like an ashen shadow among more shadows, her thin body leaning casually against the wall, her face lacking any kind of smile. Her crimson eyes bored into Angela so keenly, Angela feared Lucifel could see another soul behind her brother Raziel's shell. Lucifel lifted her hand, showing Raziel two fingers.

“Two days,” she said, her voice as ashen as her looks.

Lucifel resembled the embodiment of sickness, like she could die at any minute despite the hatred compelling her to live. Her skin was like Troy's, yet had an unhealthier cast to it, as if she'd been buried in a deeper darkness for years.

“And after that,” Lucifel continued, “things are going to change.”

She smiled in her terrible way.

“What are you talking about?” Raziel said worriedly.

Lucifel marched past him with her fearful stride, on into the darkness.

After that, Angela's mind shifted; she felt like a part of her heart had crumbled to pieces, and she screamed in hideous pain, watching from a dreadful place as Lucifel shrieked and moaned in agony, as an infant was torn from her by one set of hands while she lay on a white table in a beautiful room, blood streaming from her in torrents. Her rage was like a storm, and yet she could do nothing, so few were the sympathetic faces surrounding her.

Angela's mind shifted again, thrusting her into a montage of horror.

Israfel knelt down to stab Lucifel through the heart, crying out in victory.

Lucifel slaughtered people one by one with the crystalline blue Glaive.

Finally, Angela found herself on a stairway resembling the one she'd summoned to Luz, the very same Ladder the human souls in the Netherworld had used to climb high and far to safety. Its actual steps appeared to be made of both light and crystal, their size mind-boggling, their beauty almost indescribable.

The Ladder ended at a mass of glowing cloud, its outer rims swirling around an immense hole of nothingness. The spot resembled a dark blemish on the face of the universe.

A deep sickness wormed into the depths of her soul.

No. She had seen this before. She didn't want to again. Yet the more Angela screamed, the more Raziel's slender legs climbed the beautiful Ladder to the fringes of the heavens, taking her with him.

He sprinted toward the gaping mouth of nothingness.

He was tired, bloody. Panting and heaving for breath.

Feathers and crimson rained down from the sky, drifting in macabre clouds throughout the twilight. An immense war raged on around them. Angels fought, bled, plummeted, and died. Vicious-looking serpents with feathered plumes on their heads snapped at their broken bodies. Raziel continued to run faster and ascend farther. Now he was at the threshold of the void at the bridge's pinnacle. He stepped beyond it.

Angela screamed again, bombarded by flashes of light and the sensation of time and space warping around her. Still inside of Raziel, she knew they had entered whatever Realm hovered like a portal above the carnage below, and it appeared to her in these flashes of Raziel's memory as a grim and empty nightmare. There were dark walls, hieroglyphic writing emanating cold blue light, and a gaping sense of lifelessness. Still he continued, and at last he stopped.

There was another flash of light.

Raziel argued with someone, then begged and pleaded.

“Tell them the truth,” he demanded, his great wings snapping in emphasis. “End this horror that you started.”

Angela looked up with Raziel's eyes.

The face staring into hers froze her spirit with terror.

This was Angela's face, Angela's eyes. Oh, but also so much different.

This person was neither male nor female, yet somehow the creature still combined all the beauty of both—just like Israfel's unspeakable perfection. It had Raziel's sharp features—also Angela's. And it had the dark aura of Lucifel herself. Numerous wings extended from its back, every feather a shade of red, bronze, and gray. Bluish veins striped its skin with tigerlike beauty, creating a dreadful but lovely pattern against chalk-pale skin. Black hair fell from the creature's head in a curtain of pin-straight ebony, but those eyes—those eyes—

Its eyes were as green as the Grail, so piercing that they seemed to reach down into Angela's very soul and shred it apart with a glance. Raziel continued to speak, and this creature that resembled all the Supernal angels combined merely stared at him like the embodiment of terror.

She felt Raziel's mouth stop moving.

The godlike creature in front of Angela lifted its hand.

Light and fire tore through her, through Raziel. They twisted in mad horror. Raziel began to run, forcing her to run with him.