End of Days (Penryn and the End of Day #3) (17 page)

I’m suddenly not so excited about getting a trial.

My guards shove me. I stumble forward and climb down from the stage. They push me until I’m in the middle of what used to be the golf course.

I rotate around, realizing that I am at the center of a large circle of angels. The circle quickly becomes a dome as angel bodies fill in the space all around and above me.

The sun becomes blotted out by layers of bodies and wings. I’m in a living dome with no way out.

A breach opens up in the wall of bodies. Through it, the hellions get tossed my way. They flap around, trying to find a way out, but there are no gaps in the dome.

Everyone is chanting. ‘Trial! Trial! Trial!’

Somehow I don’t think their idea of a trial and my idea of a trial are the same.

The last hellion cage that gets poured into the domed arena is Beliel’s. As he spills onto the ground, he looks up at Uriel, snarling.

For a second, he looks angry and betrayed. Fear peeks through before he puts on his sneer again. His declaration of always being alone and unwanted seems to be proven over and over again. For an instant, I forget what a horrible being he is and I feel a flash of sympathy for him.

He walks into the center of the dome, at first stumbling and unsure, then with more confidence and even outright defiance. The angels cheer like he’s their favorite football player in a championship game. I suspect hardly any of them even know who he is. I know who he is and what happened to him, and I barely even recognize him.

The hellions are scrambling in a mad panic. They bounce from one edge of the dome to the other, frantically trying to find a gap between bodies.

‘What kind of a trial is this?’ I ask, suspecting the answer.

‘A warrior’s trial,’ says Uriel as he flies above me. ‘It’s more than you deserve. The rule is simple. The last one alive goes free.’

The crowd cheers again, roaring their approval.

‘Try to make this entertaining,’ says Uriel. ‘Because if it’s not, the crowd will decide whether the last one standing lives or dies.’

The angels chant, ‘Die! Die! Die!’

I guess that answers the question.

I have no idea if the hellions understand the rules, but they screech and try to attack the wall of warriors. The angels grab one and throw it down onto the ground where it lies dazed and shaking its head. The other angels roar at the hellions as they approach. The beasts pause in midair and back away.

‘Hellions,’ says Uriel. ‘One of you gets to live.’ He puts up an index finger for emphasis. ‘You must kill the others.’ He points to everyone else. He speaks slowly and loudly, as if speaking to a befuddled dog. ‘Kill!’ He points to me.

The hellions all look my way.

I step back without thinking. What am I supposed to do?

I back into the hard body of an angel who is part of the living arena. He bends down and growls into my ear. I look around frantically for an escape as the hellions begin flying toward me.

Amazingly, I see my sword lying on the ground between me and the oncoming hellions. I’m sure that was no accident. They want to see the Daughter of Man slaughter hellions with an angel sword.

I race for the sword as fast as I can. I grab it off the ground, roll to manage my momentum, and begin swinging my blade even as I jump to my feet again.

I slice just as the first hellion reaches me. It screeches as blood gushes out of its belly.

Without thinking, I swing at the second one that comes at me.

It’s so close I can smell its rotting-flesh breath. It swerves, and I miss by an inch.

I steady myself and take a solid stance. During the next couple of swings, I calm down and let the sword take over. This is easy for her. Pooky Bear has killed thousands of these things. Walk in the park.

Only the things aren’t behaving the way the sword is used to. The two from the Pit make their hyena noises, calling to the others. The others pause, listening, then they start circling me.

They hover, just out of reach of my blade. I spin around, trying to see them all, unsure of what’s happening.

In the meantime, Beliel is backing away – I can see him out of the corner of my eye. He grabs a hellion and snaps the neck as if it were a chicken.

He silently drops the body and grabs the next one nearest him. The others are all focused on me. All except the spotted hellions from the Pit. They look smarter, craftier, and they watch him with intelligent eyes.

Beliel isn’t trying to save me, I know that. He’s just killing off as many as he can while they have me as a distraction. Then, by the time they’re finished with me, he’ll only have a few to contend with.

That’s okay. I don’t need him to be my friend, so long as he’s killing off my enemies.

The spotted hellions make their hyena calls again, and the others fly to include Beliel in the circle. Then they tighten their flight pattern, corralling us.

Beliel and I are forced to back up until we’re as close to each other as we can stand. Obviously, neither of us likes it, but for now, the bigger threat to both of us is the hellions, and we have to make a choice to either stand alone or fight together.

We decide simultaneously and step back-to-back against our enemies. Together, we can now see all of the hellions coming at us.

I have to count on Beliel needing me to survive for as long as possible. We both know that if we succeed in killing off the hellions, it’ll be me against him, but for now, it’s us against them.

The hellions hesitate like none of them wants to go first. Then one dives in at us.

Beliel catches it.

Another dives in while Beliel is occupied snapping the neck of the first hellion.

I shift and slice through it.

Two more come at us.

Then four.

Then six.

I swing my blade as fast as I can and am surprised at how fast that is. Pooky Bear is working overtime. She’s almost a blur. She’s wielding me, not the other way around. My job is to keep a steady stance and point her in the right direction.

If even one of them gets past the sword, it’s game over.

That thought puts a little zest in my swing, slicing three of them in one completion of a figure eight. One across the throat, another across the chest, the third across the belly. The best part is that two of the injured are thrashing in midair, blocking the others from getting too close.

My back prickles with vulnerability, but I just have to trust that Beliel is holding up his end of the fight. Our biggest advantage right now is that the hellions are getting in each other’s way. There’s not enough room for all of them to rush us.

Since I have a weapon and Beliel does not, I take more than half our circle. I swing from side to side, taking on as many hellions as I can. But I can’t cover my back. If Beliel goes down, I’ll be following him soon thereafter.

He holds his own, though, even without a weapon. His strength is fierce, his fury fiercer as he snaps, kicks, and punches at the hellions.

Beliel and I kill off the last two local hellions while the two from the Pit hover and watch. We deliver our final blows at the same time – I slice through one, and he snaps the neck of the other.

Beliel then backs off, stepping away from me, leaving a clear opening for the remaining two hellions from the Pit.

But there are only two of them left, and although they’re clever, they can’t surround me. They don’t even try. Instead, they fly to Beliel – slow and unthreatening. They chirp at him. They point their monkey fingers at me, look at Beliel, and nod.

They’re offering to ally with him to take me out.

I take a couple of steps back with my sword raised. I want as much time as possible to react to whatever is about to go down.

Beliel may have been my fighting partner for a few minutes, but these hellions freed him from our chains on Angel Island.

He nods to the hellions. There’s no glee in it, just a grim determination to survive. At least I can take some pride in knowing that he assessed me as the greater threat over these Pit hellions.

The two bat-faced uglies circle around – one above me and one to the side – while Beliel walks forward to stand just out of reach. Perfect position to charge me head-on as soon as I’m distracted.

If both the hellions had stayed at my level, I could have swung in a circle and kept all three of them at bay. But with one above, I can only cover two directions and be vulnerable to the third.

Before I can work out a strategy, teeth and claws come at me from above and to my right. Beliel holds back, forcing my move.

I swing my blade up first at the one diving on me, then circle it around for the one attacking me from my side. At the same time, I’m sure that Beliel will leap on me.

But he doesn’t.

He feints as if he’s going to dive on me, but he holds back.

At the same time, the hellions pull back just as they get into my cutting range. I still manage to slice one across the torso and the other across the face, but neither is a killing blow.

Beliel chuckles as I go back to my ready stance. They all had tried to double-cross each other.

If they all had dived on me, I would be dead. But if one had betrayed the others by feinting an attack, then I would have probably killed one and maybe injured the other. The one who betrayed the others would have had the best chance of being the only survivor.

But now they all know that no one can be trusted. Their alliance is over.

The two Pit hellions fly up in opposite directions as far as the angel dome will let them. They’ve figured out that if they stay up there, Beliel and I will have to fight it out on the ground. One of us will die, and the other will be tired and easier to kill.

Beliel curls his lip in distaste. ‘Outmaneuvered by hellions and threatened by a scrawny Daughter of Man. Insult upon insult.’

We get ready to face off, Beliel and I.

31

‘Stop!’

Everyone turns to see who shouted that command. The tone is almost irresistible.

I keep one eye on Beliel while trying to see what’s going on. Blood drips down into my eye, and I have to blink several times before I see what everyone else sees.

There’s now a gap in the dome letting the light in. A pair of large snowy wings glides through, blocking out the sun.

Raffe’s perfect form comes into view.

He is both the Raffe I know and a terrifying stranger. He looks like a pissed-off demigod. I’ve only glimpsed him once in this perfect angel form.

His wings are magnificent as they sweep the air behind him – white against blue.

The angels all stare at Raffe. They hover, silent and still except for the slow beating of wings. A whisper echoes through the winged crowd:
Archangel Raphael
.

‘I hear there’s an unsanctioned election going on,’ says Raffe.

‘There’s nothing unsanctioned about it,’ says Uriel. ‘And if you had been here, you’d know that. In fact, you are one of the candidates.’

‘Really? And how am I doing?’

A couple of angels yell out in support of Raffe.

‘You’ve been away too long, Raphael.’ Uriel raises his voice to address the rest of the angels. ‘He’s too out of touch to lead the greatest battle in history. Does he even know that the legendary apocalypse is about to begin?’

‘You mean the one you artificially created out of your lies and parlor tricks?’ Raffe addresses the angels too. ‘He’s been lying to you all. Fabricating monsters and manufacturing events to pressure you into a quick and dirty election.’

‘He’s the one lying,’ says Uriel. ‘I can prove that I was meant to be the chosen archangel.’ He raises his arms to the crowd. ‘God spoke to me.’

The crowd bursts into a low roar as everyone begins talking at once.

‘That’s right,’ says Uriel. ‘I am already the Messenger in His eyes. God spoke to me and told me He has chosen me to lead the great apocalypse. I waited to tell you because I know that it’s shocking. But I have no choice now that Raphael has come back, trying to challenge God’s will.

‘How many signs do we need before you’re convinced that the End of Days is happening without us? How much of it are you willing to miss because we don’t have an elected Messenger to lead you into battle? Do not allow Raphael to keep you from the glory that is rightfully yours!’

The angels closest to Uriel open their mouths wide and begin what I can only call singing. But it’s not a song with words, just a melody. It’s a gorgeous, holy sound that’s so unexpected from these bloodthirsty warriors.

The beautiful sound ripples through parts of the crowd as a dozen heavenly voices join the chorus throughout the dome. Then a group of angels shifts out of the way, letting in a beam of sunlight.

The light hits a spot just beside Uriel. He subtly shifts into it so that he glows. His face splits into a genuine grin. If nothing else, Uriel is certainly a good showman.

Then he lowers his arms and bows humbly. There’s something about the ray of light shining off his head and shoulders, the way he bows, the way he quietly holds himself that implies that he’s communing with God. It makes me hold my breath. Everyone else must feel it too, because there’s a hushed expectancy.