Dark Hope (23 page)

Michael’s voice was cold as stone. “I save my worship for God.”

Lucas’s eyes rolled with rage as he squared off to face Michael. He stretched his wings, the dark veins in his arms and chest surging and straining with his movement.

“Even when mankind turned upon itself, even when Cain took the life of his own brother, you begged for them and hid them away to shield them from the Lord’s rage! No, your love for humanity has been sickening to watch. So it didn’t surprise me that you might finally stumble, finally fall for one of your beloved creatures.” Foam flecked his lips and his hands clenched, opening and closing with impotent fury as he continued to spew his venom. “I should have known you had a darker motive.”

Michael’s forehead crumpled in confusion.

“The girl has nothing to do with this quarrel between us, Lucas. Let her be,” Michael said, a note of uncertainty creeping into his voice.

“Nothing to do with us!” Lucas sputtered, clearing the distance between us in two quick strides. “Nothing to do with us!” he repeated, disbelief mingling with his anger. “Deny it, then, deny it!”

He grabbed my hair and brusquely twisted my neck, baring it to Michael’s gaze as he dragged me toward his enemy.

“Deny you knew she bears the Mark,” he challenged as he threw me to the ground at Michael’s feet.

An uneasy quiet surrounded me. I could feel their gaze burning on my neck as they stared at the unwelcome stain that had tattooed itself onto my skin so many years ago.

I waited, breath held, body poised for flight, for Michael to speak.

Michael drew one deep, ragged breath. “Pick her up,” he ordered, a frightening coldness in his voice.

Lucas pulled me roughly upright and pushed me away. I stumbled, trying to steady myself, and then I looked up to meet Michael’s
gaze. Suddenly his eyes were hard. There was no understanding or comfort there, none of the concern for me I had seen only minutes before—just rejection. The shock was like a slap in the face, but I refused to be cowed, refused to break his gaze.

“You cannot have her,” Michael stated flatly, as if I wasn’t even there.

“You cannot subvert prophecy, Michael,” Lucas said, a mournful note touching his speech. “She is the one spoken of in the Book of Enoch.”

“You don’t know that for sure,” Michael said without emotion, holding my gaze.

Lucas snorted derisively. “If we barcoded her, it couldn’t be more obvious. Look at it. She is the Key, Michael.”

When Michael didn’t answer, Lucas turned his attention to me, catching my eye with a powerful thrust of his wings.

“Confused, sweetheart? Let me break it down for you.

“A long time ago, God swept the patriarch Enoch into Heaven, and for whatever reasons He had, God turned Enoch into an Angel. Once there, Enoch took it upon himself to document the world of Angels for mankind. He inscribed his book with the seven domains of the seven governing angels, their forty-nine Princes, and the entirety of the Host. Even the names of the Fallen Ones.”

“I know about the Book of Enoch,” I replied calmly, waiting for Michael to give some sign, waiting for Lucas to get to his point so I could somehow, finally, find a way out of here.

“Ah, but you don’t, my dear. You know
of
the Book, but you do not know
about
the Book, for it has been lost to mankind. Spirited back to the Angels, where their secrets belong. Many of your kind have tried to recover it—some even claim to have seen it—but no one truly knows what it contains.”

“But I know,” he whispered in my ear, making me jump. He had managed to sneak right behind me and was breathing his tale quietly for effect. He folded me in his arms. Instinctively, I tried to pull away from the heat and stench of him, but his arms tightened around me like bands, restraining me. Unable to move away, I closed my eyes, trying to imagine myself anywhere else but here. But I couldn’t escape the relentless progress of his words.

“And Michael knows. We know that Enoch was not just a patriarch—he was a prophet.” His whisper was tantalizing, seductive, almost soothing as he spun the tale.

“We know one day, the Fallen will rise up. Their army will overpower the Host of Heaven, and finally, they will reclaim what once was theirs. Enoch foretold it, and we have seen it inscribed in his Book. It will happen. It is inevitable. Nothing can stop it. Nothing.

“For millennia we have waited, watching and yearning for our chance.” His muscles were taut like bowstrings, and I could feel him quivering with anticipation. He tightened his grip upon me with one arm. I felt him reach up and part my hair reverently, breathing in its fragrance as he buried his head in it. I could feel Michael watching him do it.

“All we needed, Hope, was the Key to open Heaven’s Gate, which had been so cruelly shut upon our faces.”

His hand slid down my neck, and I felt the hot trail of his fingertip as it traced the design etched into my skin.

“All we needed, all this time, was you.”

Shock and despair rippled through me and I felt my knees weaken, but there was nowhere to go, nowhere to fall, trapped as I was by his steely arm.

I looked desperately into Michael’s eyes.

“Is it true?” I whispered, my heart begging him to deny it.

He hung his head, his golden hair hiding his eyes from mine. As Michael’s wings sagged uselessly at his side, Lucas dumped me on the floor in front of him, and I wept.

ten

A
train whistle sounded, snapping me out of my grief and back to the dank cellar. I lifted my eyes and squinted through the cratered ceiling into the sky, trying to find a glimpse of light, but dawn was too far off to break the darkness.

Michael stood like a statue, watching me, waiting.

When he spoke, at first I thought my ears had deceived me. But then he repeated himself, so quietly that I could have mistaken his words for the steady hum of the diesel engines idling in the train yard just beyond the factory’s walls.

“You don’t know what to do with her.” He tried to say it in a matter-of-fact way, but a tone of triumph crept into his voice. He lifted his head, waiting for Lucas to respond.

Lucas flapped his wings impatiently. “It doesn’t matter. We will figure that out soon enough. The most important thing is to keep her out of your hands.”

I pushed myself up from the dank floor and stood to face him.

“Why?” I demanded. “If what you say is true, it doesn’t matter
where I am or who is with me. The Prophecy will be fulfilled. You yourself said it can’t be avoided.”

Lucas pressed his lips together in a thin, bloodless smile. “God has been known to change his mind. He stayed Abraham’s hand at the altar. It might amuse him to allow one of his misguided henchmen to intervene again. I can’t take that chance.”

“I don’t understand. What does that mean?” I demanded, my voice rising as hysteria crept in.

“Do you want to tell her, Michael, or shall I?” Lucas said smugly, gripping my arm tighter.

Michael crossed his arms in front of his massive chest, stone-faced.

“Very well,” Lucas said. “Hope’s a smart girl. Perhaps she can figure it out on her own.” Lucas’s wings unfurled, and suddenly, he was in front of me, looking me straight in the eye. “Hope, who is Michael?”

I felt as if my very life depended upon my answer. I looked plaintively over Lucas’s shoulder to Michael, but he looked away. I dragged my gaze back to Lucas, willing myself not to flinch.

“God’s warrior,” I whispered.

“Very good,” Lucas purred. “And as God’s warrior, what is he sworn to do?”

“Protect the innocent,” I said hesitantly, the words sounding strange on my lips. “Battle Satan and the Fallen Ones.”

“Right you are,” Lucas said, encouragingly, continuing to circle. “So think, Hope—and think very, very hard, for your life may depend upon your understanding. If Michael found the person who was the key to Heaven’s defeat—the one by whose hand the Fallen would rise
—what would Michael do
?”

The ground seemed to shift beneath my feet as I realized the answer to his question.

“Say it, Hope,” Lucas exhaled in my ear, cherishing each word as he said it, relishing my disillusionment. “What would—what
must
—Michael do?”

A sob caught in my throat. I reached up to my cheeks. They were bathed in tears.

“Say it!” Lucas bellowed, the rusted hulks of machines echoing back his command.

I gasped for air between sobs, forcing the words from my lips.

“He has to kill me,” I said, choking on the words as I said them.

“Louder!” Lucas shouted with glee. “I want to hear your world falling apart. I want to hear your heart breaking! Say it again!”

I wanted to shriek my denials, tear out his eyes for having made mine see the truth. But most of all, I wanted to deny him the sight of my pain. Slowly I steeled myself, swallowing the sobs before they could escape my throat. Taking a deep breath to steady myself, I squared my shoulders and gathered my courage. Lucas, sensing my intention, stepped back and gave me space. I walked across the earthen floor to the place where Michael stood. The Archangel couldn’t meet my eyes as I approached. Mustering my last ounce of strength, I raised my hand and struck him across the face as hard as I could. The red outline of my palm sat accusingly on his cheek until the flush of anger rose and spread across his entire face. His eyes flashed, his nostrils flared, and his jaw strained, but he said nothing.

“Michael has to kill me,” I said derisively, my voice no longer shaking.

Lucas’s slow, deliberate clapping echoed into the night. “Quite a show. I don’t think I could have planned it better if I had tried.” Then he gave an exaggerated yawn. “But I’m afraid I am out of time. It’s time for you and me to go, Hope.”

Michael’s blue eyes bored into us both. “I told you, you can’t have her,” he said, the vein in his forehead throbbing.

Lucas feigned surprise. “Why of course, what was I thinking?” He turned to me with undue courtesy. “We’ll ask Hope what she would like to do. Hope, do you want to go with me, or with Michael?”

“I want to go home,” I said. “Alone.”

Lucas’s laughter pealed like bells. “Don’t be ridiculous, child. That is something neither one of us will allow. Now make your choice. Come with me and take your chances, or go with Michael to certain death.”

A train rushed by, the rhythm of its wheels on the track sounding so ordinary that I could almost forget what I was being asked to do.

“He’s lying,” Michael said under his breath so that only I could hear. “I won’t hurt you, Hope.”

“I don’t have all night, Hope,” Lucas called impatiently from the darkness to which he’d retreated. “Make your choice.”

I turned to look at Michael. I wanted to believe him, but how could I? Michael’s eyes mirrored back my own fear and regret.

I opened my mouth to speak, but he simply shook his head and stepped around me, ignoring whatever I was about to say.

“The choice is not hers to make,” Michael said as he stretched his arm to the heavens. A flaming sword materialized in his grip. Tongues of fire licked about the corded muscles of his arm, but they did not burn him. He swung the sword down in a brilliant arc that lit the entire basement.

“Step aside, Hope,” he muttered, his eyes locking in on Lucas.

I scuttled back into the shadows, away from the fiery spectacle. Lucas had drawn his own sword, which burned with a cooler, silvery heat. He waved his other hand in silent dismissal and suddenly the mass of black shadows that had hovered around us vanished into
the night. Only Michael and Lucas remained, circling one another with swords sparking like lions waiting for the strike.

Lucas’s lip curled up as he tossed his sword from hand to hand. “Both the Key and the chance to do you in with my own hand? This evening has turned out to be quite promising.”

Michael’s nostrils flared as he bit back his response, never taking his eyes off of Lucas.

Lucas lunged, trying to catch Michael by surprise, but Michael was ready, parrying the blow easily and moving with the grace of a dancer, not even seeming to feel the clash of metal on metal. Lucas heaved again, a great downward fall like an axe, but Michael caught him, crossing swords and hurling Lucas away in a shower of sparks. Lucas tumbled in the dirt like a rag doll and then scrambled to his feet.

Michael took the offensive, striking before Lucas had steadied himself. Lucas barely managed to raise his blade, a brilliant blaze igniting the sky as flame fell upon flame. I knew this was my chance to run, but something kept me riveted in place, forcing me to watch.

“He’ll lie to you,” Lucas panted at me as he broke away from Michael. He was dragging his sword behind him, the tongues of fire licking his wrist and entwining themselves around his rippling arm.

“He’ll tell you he won’t hurt you,” Lucas said. “He’ll tell you he didn’t even know.”

Michael lunged after him and Lucas stumbled backward, desperately trying to outrun the reach of Michael’s sword until there was nowhere else left for Lucas to go.

Lucas’s eyes were wild as he shouted his last words to me. “Don’t believe a word he says, Hope. He loves mankind. He may even love
you. But he loves God more. He’ll never allow you to live, even if it breaks his own heart!”