Covenant (28 page)

Thirty-two

Traveling through that meager portion of Hell, I realized something sorrowful. With the odds against them the demons had worked to capture whatever light was left to them in a world of endless darkness.
—A
NGELA
M
ATHERS

The Kirin continued on until Angela thought her entire life was nothing but dust, hunger, thirst, and pain. Her body ached and throbbed in the saddle, and her leg muscles screamed with stiffness. Yet Kim galloped ahead without any signs of weariness, riding his Kirin like he owned it. Well, his foster father
was
a demon. Kim had probably experienced many things Angela would never know or completely understand. Just like how she didn't know or completely understand Kim himself.

He was risking his life to take Angela to Lucifel and put her on Lucifel's Throne. That demanded some kind of gratefulness on her part.

Even so, she couldn't help worrying about him. Angela had slapped Kim across the face, but in reality she'd been slapping her old self reflected back at her. They were too much alike. He was making the same mistakes she had made in her past, and might even be throwing his life away for a dream she couldn't share.

Under better circumstances, maybe they could have lived happily side by side. But this was a different world, and no matter what Kim believed, peace wouldn't come for either of them just because Angela sat on a Throne she never wanted.

He was too much of a dreamer.

Angela tried to breathe away the tightness in her chest. There was no denying it. The connection between their souls was there. She felt for Kim, and perhaps in some way loved him. So the next thought struck her with horror: what if that connection went wrong and her ascent in any particular direction meant Kim's fall?

Fears she couldn't fight any longer attacked her mind from every direction, and as they did, Angela's soul threatened to bleed away. She tugged on her Kirin's reins in terror, desperately trying to spring ahead while more ghostly riders caught up to them again. The idea of finding Nina among those ghostly riders was like a knife to the heart, but Angela couldn't help glancing at the riders who swerved in closer. At times, she clutched at her pendant so fiercely it cut into her palm. With her awful luck, the pendant would break off and disappear beneath thousands of thundering Kirin paws.

Finally, an enormous stone bridge tipped by spires and lights loomed ahead of them. It spanned in an immense arc reaching from one corner of the city to the other. Angela held her breath and waited for a trap, but their Kirin galloped beneath the bridge without meeting any resistance. No demons walked across it. No guards stood watch. Perhaps the army pursuing her was enough.

Angela swallowed nervously as the bridge's black shadow passed swiftly over them and dropped back into the distance.

She tried to steal more glances at their surroundings, but they were clearly speeding into the lowest part of the city, and between their pace and the darkness, it was becoming harder to see. Kim continued to navigate without any difficulty, steering his Kirin and Angela's in the direction of a great tunnel marked by enormous pillars, directly at the forefront of Babylon. Now what little signs of civilization there had been dropped off dramatically. The Styx River flowed right through the tunnel's center, but he and Angela were able to gallop along a rocky bank bordering the river on its right.

Angela coughed. Every breath of this awful fog was like inhaling thousands of pins.

They continued, and familiar hieroglyphic writing covered the walls. The symbols grew more arcane and terrible looking with time. Pentagrams glowed everywhere in brilliant, pulsing red.

More pillars flanked Angela and Kim, and the ground sloped down steeply.

They halted beneath an obsidian arch, and Angela grunted as the saddle's pommel dug into her stomach. Kim turned his Kirin around, his pale face looking bloody in the dim light. Angela's Kirin did the same. She parted her lips, already feeling a question on them.

The army was gone.

Noise and cries of frustration echoed from far away near the tunnel's opening. But no ghost or demon appeared willing to cross the barrier between Angela and the beginning of what had to be Lucifel's Altar. Kim dropped from his Kirin and let go of the reins, and the beast snorted and pawed at the ground. Its lean flanks dripped with sweat. Cold blue light flickered along its body and streaks of blood stained the sides of its horn.

Angela's Kirin responded to its mate by stamping the ground impatiently. Angela slid off its back and dropped to the rocks, shouting as her sore feet met the ground.

Her hand burned.

Angela dropped the blue dagger she'd been grasping and it collapsed into a puddle on the stone. Blue liquid trickled through the dirt in rivulets. She cradled her hand, covering the throbbing Grail with the other, wincing at the pain. Her mind flashed to Camdon's relieved face after she struck his ghost with the blade, and a scream threatened to work its way out of her. But it wouldn't bring him back, and there was no point in letting Kim see how awful she felt. Angela leaned against the rocks, trying just to breathe and stand. Her head pounded, her heart ached, her entire body sighed painfully.

Angela's Kirin cantered nervously, pawing at the ground. Suddenly, it gave a fierce cry and raced back toward the army, far away from Lucifel. Its paws thundered against the earth, kicking up dust. Soon, it disappeared with its fearsome mate in a haze of fog.

Angela licked her dry, cracked lips. Her chest felt hollow. She was about to find Sophia—or so she hoped—but too much still stood in her way. For Sophia's sake, she couldn't allow it.

She and Kim stared at each other.

Why did he have to look at Angela like she was so cruel? Kim was the person in the wrong. Not her.

“I won't sit on Lucifel's Throne,” Angela said after a long pause. She stumbled, still trying to catch her breath and get used to the ground staying firm beneath her feet again. “I won't, Kim. You can't persuade me or change my mind. So I'll let you choose. Help me rescue Sophia and get out of here. Or . . .”

“Or?” he whispered, his gaze piercing through her.

Angela shook her head. “You know I won't kill you. I can't. I'm not like . . .”

“Me?” he finished for her again. Kim's starkly handsome face actually looked gaunt in the terrible light. He rubbed his forehead, his temples. “Angela,” he said, pacing in anguish. “You don't understand. This is your chance to change things.”

A deep groan shuddered through the earth. Pebbles dribbled from the ceiling.

Kim stopped and they looked at each other again. “There isn't much time,” he said. “A month or two—maybe less. If you kill Lucifel and open Sophia, we can start here. Change things from below, and work up. Python promised me he would help you, Angela. He is on our side. He doesn't believe in Lucifel's role as a god anymore either. I once did—when I was young and foolish. But I can't be led like a child anymore. Things need to change.”

“A new revolution?” Angela said. “That sounds too much like a repeat of Lucifel's destiny. I don't see how it will change anything. Besides—I don't know how to open Sophia.”

“Lucifel does,” Kim whispered. “Why else do you think she wants you down here?”

“You don't know that for sure,” Angela shot back. Pain cut through her soul like a rusty saw.

What
would
it mean for Sophia to be opened? Angela never considered that enough
.

“That poem I left for you,” Kim said. “It's the truth, Angela. You will be the Ruin. The Ruin of one universe and the beginning of another. It's only humanity's fault that it can't understand the necessity of change.”

“Raziel chose a human as the Archon for precisely that reason,” Angela shouted. “Because we look at things differently than angels or demons! Sophia is not a ‘thing,' Kim. She has feelings. She should have a say in her own fate.” Angela caught her breath. Words should have been helping her, but they only made everything feel more hopeless. “In that poem, the Archon is also known by the word ‘Covenant.' Isn't a covenant a promise between friends? Well, Raziel made a promise to the Jinn, to everyone. He died for that promise.
I intend to keep it
. And I intend to keep my promise to Sophia. It's the bonds between people that change everything. Not war and bloodshed. Not petty rivalries where a throne passes from one damaged soul to the next.”

Kim shook his head. He wasn't quite putting faith in her words, obviously struggling with the validity of her argument.

“I won't let you free Lucifel, Kim,” Angela said with finality. “Let her stay caged. That's the punishment she deserves, after all.”

“For what?” he shouted back at her now. “For believing in a different world?”

“No,” Angela said. “For turning her back on it. But I'm not like her. I'm not running away anymore, or chasing after dreams. Angels or no angels. Raziel told me once that I was living for someone else. I have to believe him.”

Kim paused. He looked at Angela with surprise.

“You love her, don't you?” he whispered with real pain in his voice. His eyes widened.

“Who?” Angela shouted.

“Sophia.”

Lightning could have struck Angela. Pain, and fire, and a clear light passed through her all at once. She paused, her heart galloping faster than a Kirin. “There are all different kinds of love,” she said after a while. “You can't equate my friendship with Sophia to what we—”

“If you say so,” he said, smiling sadly. He ran his fingers through his long black bangs.

Angela breathed hard, grasping for her necklace. The tiny pendant rested against her skin like a cold star. Her loyalty to Sophia wasn't at all like the feelings she had for Kim or Israfel. It was something completely different, even if she couldn't quite explain how. There was also no use in trying.

“It's beyond the point,” Angela said at last. She hung her head. The temptation to sleep and block out the world forever was clawing at her, and she couldn't let it win. “I can't let you get farther than this, Kim. Not if you won't change your mind, and I know you won't.”

“It doesn't matter,” Kim said sadly. He turned aside. “You don't really have a choice.”

“Why not?”

Python's face appeared parallel with Angela's. He gripped her firmly from behind, his warm hands locked tightly around her wrists. The demon's voice was keen as a knife. “Because”—Python whispered in her ear—“great minds think alike.”

Thirty-three

I resolved on returning Heaven to its former glory. Certainly, the memories that lived within me were also my mission.
—I
SRAFEL

Israfel could feel the blood drain out of his body slowly. Life escaped from him second by second. It would be a long while until he actually died, but these humans had time on their side. He gasped for air, trying to ignore the burning cuts of their knives on his wings. By now they probably resembled Raziel's when the angel fell to his death.

Israfel wanted to tell Raziel they would be together soon, but there were no words left inside of him.

Besides, Raziel was protecting the Archon. How could he possibly hear?

Instead, Israfel dreamed. His mind flashed to those moments of his life when he had gazed at the Father, seeing his Creator for the first time. Why had there always seemed to be a secret behind those burning eyes? Why had the Father always looked at Israfel with that terrible longing mixed with fear? Israfel had time enough back then to try and figure it out. With Raziel dead and Lucifel gone, the Father had caged his remaining child Israfel in Ialdaboth and done what he had pleased to Israfel so often, all sense of freedom had vanished.

The testament to that horror lingered within him.

Israfel wrapped his arms around his stomach, trying to protect the last treasure left to salvage everything. He had thought Angela had been crying out for him. Perhaps he had been wrong all along and the voice Israfel heard had been his own. Something in Angela's mysterious soul had merely been reflecting back part of his.

What tied them together? Why was it so hard for him to give up?

You are special, Israfel,
Raziel's gentle voice said from his memories. The Supernal angel reappeared before Israfel's mind, still dressed in his beautiful blue coat studded with gems. Raziel's handsome face overflowed with compassion.
Lucifel may not understand you. But I do. There is always more to people, Israfel. So there is more to you—even if all of Heaven believes that they know you inside and out. Don't be afraid to live as that part of yourself. Don't be afraid of who you were meant to be.

But Israfel
was
afraid. He'd wanted to be normal and whole like Raziel and Lucifel from the start. Instead, he was something in between. Neither truly male or female, he'd been cruelly destined to live in a world defined by others' perceptions and his own desires. “He” and “she'” had become words both defining and imprisoning him, and when Israfel referred to himself as one term, the opposite half of his identity suffered. That suffering eventually taught him to live like a chameleon, favoring the identity most helpful in any circumstance. Finally, and most sadly of all, it ended with becoming what he hoped Raziel loved most.

You are wonderful,
Raziel's voice said, echoing gently within Israfel.
Lucifel and I cannot match you. Only in you is the reflection of the Father seen most clearly.

If that was true, why did Israfel think of himself with horror? All the jewels, makeup, clothing, and fawning angels in the world hadn't been enough to make up for the reality of how he saw himself. The mirror had always been his greatest enemy. The smiles and desires of others had been his greatest pain. There had been so few exceptions to that rule—but there were still some. Israfel thought of his guardian Thrones Rakir and Nunkir, and their fanatically loyal love. He thought of Tress Cassel's compassion in the face of danger. He thought of Angela Mathers, who had given her heart to Israfel with so much trust.

Had he betrayed that trust?

He would certainly betray it by dying. The Archon's purpose lay with him, and he was about to leave her alone again.

Never before had such weakness swept through him. Not even when Lucifel knelt above him, cried out triumphantly, and infected Israfel with her own shadow.

You can't always be so selfish, Israfel,
Raziel said, laughing. They were playing together in his memories as chicks. Israfel had flipped their game angrily when it became clear he was losing. It felt much better simply not to play. But Raziel put the pieces back, offering for Israfel to start their game again. He smiled gently.
Sometimes, you need to lose a little before you can learn how to win.

How much Israfel would give for those innocent days again.

No—he would see that those innocent days returned. But if he let go of everything here—

Israfel thought all his strength had vanished. He was wrong. Determination scorched through him in a blazing rush. He pushed with his hands and unfurled his wounded wings. They snapped open, thrusting aside some of the humans who had fallen on him. The priests tumbled back in surprise, some of them screaming in terror.

Lizbeth turned and looked at Israfel with horror in her eyes.

Raziel was right. Israfel could be selfish. But there was a time and place for everything, and right now he needed to remember his own pride as a warrior. Israfel had no astral energy left, but now that he'd been losing for so long he knew exactly how to win. Some of the humans advanced on him, shouting exorcisms in the Tongue of Souls.

The pain of the prayers slammed into him like a boulder. Israfel staggered but spread his bleeding wings wide.

He caught the first human by the collar and threw him into the wall. The man cracked into the stone and slumped to the floor, unconscious.

Another human ran at Israfel, swinging wildly at him with a knife.

Israfel grabbed him by the arm, twisted it, and turned the knife on him.

The priest screamed, clutching at his arm. He struggled, but Israfel held him firmly with the knife at his throat.

“
Stop,
” he said, in the tone he'd used often as Archangel of Heaven.

No one expected the commanding tone in his voice. Everyone obeyed, staring in terror at Israfel as he held his prisoner close. They knew what he was threatening and were terribly sure he would follow through on it. Perhaps they'd planned for casualties, but they could no longer go through with their cruelty. Father Schrader took the opportunity to break free of his own captors and rush in front of Israfel. He made it clear by his stance that everyone would have to tear him apart before touching Israfel again.

“There is no need to sacrifice yourself, priest,” Israfel said to him.

“You're too weak,” Father Schrader said, shivering with fear anyway. “It's a miracle you can even stand.”

Israfel wobbled but held his ground. “In my world, weakness usually means death,” he gasped. “This isn't anything I haven't dealt with before.”

But it was. Israfel had never nearly given into despair.

He thought of Angela Mathers's attempts at suicide, and his heart warmed and ached. He knew how she felt, but both of them had to be stronger. Perhaps Mikel's efforts to force Israfel into feeling compassion had been misguided. He'd always felt compassion. He merely refused to let others know. As the Father's prisoner, abused night and day, he had learned not to show a single emotion besides sorrow. But the Father was now dead. Israfel had destroyed him, and with Raziel already dead and the bond of the Supernal angels weakened, the universe was falling apart.

Israfel alone could stop the tragedy. Raziel and Lucifel's children had been special—the offspring of two Supernals. But the chick within Israfel mixed his blood with the Father's, and thus went above and beyond any other creature. Once it was born, with Angela's help unsealing the power within Raziel's Book, the dying universe could be resurrected and a new angelic trinity could rule. The most horrific period of Israfel's life had also given the universe its only hope for a brighter future. Nothing could destroy that hope. He wouldn't allow it.

“Father Schrader,” Lizbeth shouted. Fearful tears wet her face. “Step aside! You know we don't have a choice—”

“
There is always a choice,
” the old priest thundered.

Everyone fell silent.

The old priest stared his companions down, shame and disgust all over his face. “You fools. Look at what you've become. This city is a horror. It is falling apart and yet you attack one of the few creatures left to save it. Angel blood?” He glared at a shamefaced Lizbeth and nearly spat at her. “Foolishness! It will only forestall the inevitable. You would rush around as murderers and thieves, the worst kind of sinners, and all because you're assuming the Archon has decided to let humanity suffer. Why not hope? Why not trust in a brighter dream for Luz and for Earth? Must we all be slaves to that awful prophecy of Ruin?”

Some of the priests dropped their knives. A few knelt in shame and anguish.

“Yes,” he continued, “pray. But don't be surprised if we deserve our fate. You have no one to blame but yourselves for this angel's judgment. I should have known that some of you would become infected with despair and infect the others along with you. And you, Lizbeth—” Father Schrader shook his head in disbelief. “You should have been Angela Mathers's friend, not her spy.”

Lizbeth cried silently. She shivered, unable to look at Israfel, and shut her eyes. “Please, let him go,” she whispered, indicating the priest he held captive.

There was no sign of the angel Mikel behind her eyes.

Israfel let go of the priest. His prisoner scampered across the floor, nearly throwing himself into the arms of the others.

“What will you do now?” Father Schrader said to Israfel.

Lizbeth knelt down and cried. “How ashamed I am,” she choked out. “God, forgive me . . . what have I done?”

Israfel stared at her. He looked back to Father Schrader. “I will enter the door.”

He turned and headed for it, limping slightly. He held his wings high and proud.

“You—you won't kill us?” Lizbeth said, looking up at him with a pale face.

Israfel paused. “No,” he said quietly. His wings shivered. Blood dripped to his toes.

“But—”

Israfel pressed against the door, trying to gather his strength. He felt sicker, and the world less stable. His head pounded, nearly blinding him. Of course they deserved to die. But the more he remembered Raziel's smiling face, the less he felt he could judge as he'd judged before. How could Israfel have forgotten those long-ago words he and Raziel exchanged? Was it always true that it took moments like these to remember more clearly?

Father Schrader stepped closer. He offered his arm to Israfel to steady him, but Israfel waved him away. “No,” he said. “I will be fine once I leave Earth. Then I'll quickly regain my strength. You must understand—this is the lowest Realm, and it drains us.”

“You're ill, aren't you?” Father Schrader whispered.

Israfel looked at him keenly. For a human, the priest was extremely perceptive. “My sister is a virus,” he said in a low tone. “Hopefully, I'll rid this universe and myself of the infection soon enough.”

Father Schrader looked confused, but then his eyes widened and he nodded in realization. “Thank you for your mercy,” he said, kneeling down in front of Israfel. “Please find the Archon. She is human, but she represents the best and the worst of what we are, and that is not Her fault. And if you decide to punish us, punish me alone. I am the representative for these children.”

Israfel looked at the others. “Perhaps it is punishment enough for them to know that they can never be what you are.”

Lizbeth bowed her head in shame.

“You are special,” Israfel added.

Father Schrader nodded and lowered his head. He stole one more glance at Israfel from his low vantage point and sighed softly in surprise. He stared at Israfel as if mesmerized and was about to say something. But another glance from Israfel kept him quiet, and the secret remained between them. No one else needed to know what the priest had realized—Israfel's beauty reflected ineffable desires.

“Cover your eyes until I shut the door behind me,” Israfel said firmly.

Everyone obeyed, and he set his hand on the knob.

The iron snake came to life but twisted in pain beneath Israfel's hand, as if his touch burned it. It hissed and spit maniacally.

Israfel yanked the snake hard, opening the door.

He took the first few steps and strength flowed through his body in waves. Quickly, he shut the door behind him.

The light of Earth disappeared, and the door vanished with a gentle sucking sound. Israfel began to descend the dark stairs carefully. The winding journey to the bottom would be tedious, but every moment that passed, his power would also return stronger and stronger. Soon, he'd be traveling, incredibly fast. He was a Supernal angel after all, and in the loftier Realms, miles were seconds.

Already, he anticipated the terror in Lucifel's eyes.