Gabriel (35 page)

Gabriel bowed his head, bringing his forehead to mine. Finally releasing my hand, he clutched my waist instead. I could comprehend darkness—I was beginning to know it well now—but mine was borne from within me and I owned it. Gabriel's acts of darkness, although they had come by his hand, belonged to me, too. But he would be the one that would pay the price for them.

The cracks were already starting to show, and they had been since he arrived back from his trip. I just hadn't paid enough attention to them. He was living for me, the me whom he had loved all these years, but his love for that person would be the death of him.

“Oh, Gabriel, what have you done?” I stepped back, looking everywhere but at him. The ash was not from the stove. It was Hanora's remains.

Nausea twisted my stomach. “I can't be here.” I closed my eyes, thinking of the kitchen in the Henley house; Gabriel reached for my arm as I did.

We arrived back in a blink of an eye.

Ruadhan appeared immediately, his brow creasing as he tried to get my attention. “There's someone here to see you, love,” he said, and heavy footsteps slowly approached from behind him. As the floorboards contracted, springing up with each step, finally a figure took up a stance next to Ruadhan.

Malachi.

“What are you doing here?” Gabriel challenged quickly, moving in front of me protectively.

“Nice to see you again, too, Gabriel,” Malachi replied with a smooth voice. He proceeded to unbutton his cashmere coat, taking his time and regarding me with that same unreadable expression as I peered around Gabriel's side. “I require an audience with Lailah,” he continued, gesturing for me to come forward.

“Shhhh,” Gabriel warned, bringing his finger to his lips at the use of my real name.

I moved toward the back of the kitchen, opening up the doors onto the garden. “We can talk outside.”

Gabriel shot me an unhappy glance; he clearly didn't want me here anymore and certainly not alone with a fallen Angel. I was almost relieved. I needed space from Gabriel. I needed to think.

“Gabriel, Iona needs you. Go to her,” I said. “I'm sure Malachi will only stay for a few minutes.”

“I checked him at the door,” Ruadhan said, gesturing to Malachi. “He's not carrying anything he shouldn't be.”

Iona's whining echoed through the hallway, and Gabriel reacted as he heard her, too.

“She has been asking after you since you left,” Ruadhan further pushed, and I wondered if he knew why Malachi was here. Maybe Ruadhan hoped that Malachi would tell me something that would encourage me to fight, to become the savior he hoped for. “I'll be right here,” Ruadhan said finally and reluctantly Gabriel conceded.

“You have five minutes,” Gabriel said firmly, and Malachi replied with the smallest of smiles.

Once Gabriel had left the kitchen, Ruadhan stood next to the counter. “I'll just be here, love.”

“No. Please, Ruadhan, I'm not a child.”

Ruadhan took a moment, but then nodded, exiting the kitchen.

Malachi followed me onto the patio, shutting the door behind him. He lined himself up with my body but maintained a distance. His gaze swept from left to right, assessing the surroundings. Finally, he eyed me before he began, “You seem on edge. Something to do with murdering your own father?”

I was on edge all right; I had just learned that Hanora had met her end by Gabriel's hand. “That
man
was not my father, not really.” I took a deep breath. “He was working for the Purebloods. So, now you tell me, who are you working for?”

“A good question, child, and not a straightforward one to answer. Let's just say, ordinarily, I work for the highest bidder. But I am no different from your Angel; in a way, he has been working for the Purebloods as well.” Malachi's response was easy and unemotional.

“That's a lie,” I stated angrily.

“Well, maybe Gabriel is unaware, but he has been, in a way. We all have. Who do you think has ended up in possession of the crystals he's been parting with to fund this lifestyle?”

My forehead creased.

He continued, “The Purebloods have been using those very crystals to command the rifts.”

“Those crystals are useless,” I said. “Gabriel told me they are virtually void of light, Malachi. And the Purebloods exist in the third dimension. They come through via dark rifts. I saw one form myself.”

“You are wrong, child. The third exists in a state of cold, dark matter. When the crystals are taken through the rift, that trace of light from Styclar-Plena reverses and the elements transition into hot, dark matter, allowing Zherneboh and his kind to use them to command and manipulate the rifts—the same way the Angel Descendants do from Styclar-Plena with theirs.” He raised his eyebrows. “A recent discovery, I believe, but I would suspect that some of the crystals Gabriel sold have one way or another ended up in Zherneboh's claws. So, we're not all that different.”

So that was how they had been commanding the rifts. I bet Orifiel hadn't counted on that when he had parted with them. I shook my head. “Gabriel doesn't know. If he did, then he would never have sold them.” Though the words left my lips with conviction, I couldn't be sure if that was true. He had said there was no doubt he wouldn't overcome, no risk that would be too great, to keep me safe. He would sell out this world, any world, anyone and anything because he believed my life was worth more. I could not and would never agree with that. “You need to tell him and tell any others doing the same.” I paused, thinking better of what I'd just said. “You work for the highest bidder.… I can't trust you or anything that comes out of your mouth. You may as well leave now.”

Stepping farther out onto the patio, Malachi placed his hands inside his coat pocket, scanning once again to the left and the right. I couldn't see his face, but it made no difference; I might as well have been looking at his back for all the information I could glean from his empty expression.

“Oh,” he said, “but my child, you
can
trust me, for you are priceless. If you don't take the right path, it matters not what anyone would pay me, because this world will not be left in which to spend it.”

“And what path is that exactly?” I asked, stepping forward purposefully.

He turned around, now wearing a more solemn expression, as though in some way he pitied me. “I understand it's difficult to choose. Things are seldom ever what they seem.… I was one of the first Angels, and I exist here now fallen. But there was a time when I was known as the Ethiccart.”

“What do you mean, the Ethiccart?” I asked.

“That was the job title Orifiel bestowed on me. When the crystal in Styclar-Plena failed, Orifiel brought through the light souls of mortals to fuel it. But it was never the same. I was, shall we say, able to remedy his
situation
.”

I didn't understand what he was implying. “Gabriel said the crystal was even more brilliant than it had been, and that there was no remedy needed.”

“You must disregard what Gabriel has told you. Through the crystal, he—like the rest—was told a story: the beginnings of Styclar-Plena, Orifiel's brave journey, and the miracle that followed. I know it very well because I was the one that programmed it.” He made sure I was looking straight into his eyes as he said, “But that story is a fairy tale, Lailah. Some elements are accurate; lies are easier to believe if they are based on some form of truth, after all.”

“Which is what?” I crossed my arms. “What is the truth? What did your job entail exactly?”

“That is something you will need to see for yourself, Lailah.”

I shook my head. “I'm not leaving this plane.”

Malachi's composed disposition fell away as he began to wave his hands in the air. “You will. You must. For you are the only being that will be able to see through the design I created; the
only being
that can do what must be done.”

“Maybe you should just tell me what
you think
that is and save me some time. And I'll be sure to add it to the list,” I said with sarcasm.

Malachi clamped his hands underneath my elbows. “Don't be so impudent, child,” he said with a sneer. “You need to finish what first began.”

I offered Malachi only a blank and bored expression. I wasn't in the mood for riddles.

“The day the darkness fell, it never really left, Lailah. It only became greater.”

Still I offered him no reaction.

“Bring the Arch Angels and the worlds they exist in to an end.” His tone was now urgent and his pitch heightened as he finished.

I shrugged off his hands. “So you would have me commit genocide against Styclar-Plena? Go after the Arch Angels, slay them all, and then what? Kill the very world that the Angel Descendants and all of Styclar-Plena's inhabitants call home? Leave them for dead, too? Does the third dimension, and the beings that exist there, not concern you far more than a world that exists in light? Would you not have me start there?” Surely the third was a bigger threat to Earth. His statement told me whose side he was on, and it wasn't Styclar's.

“The Angel Descendants and the beings that inhabit Styclar-Plena are innocent in all this. What you choose to do with them is up to you.” Malachi brought his finger up under my chin, tipping my face so that I was looking him square in the eyes. “But as I said: Bring the Arch Angels and the
worlds
they exist in to an end.”

I blinked rapidly, hearing him properly this time.

Worlds.

Plural.

 

TWENTY-NINE

M
ALACHI CERTAINLY HAD MY
attention now, but a piercing scream coming from the motor home instantly took me away from the questions rushing to my lips.

Malachi touched his hand to my shoulder, knowing he no longer had my attention. “You need to leave,” he said. “But, please, find me again.…”

Malachi's accusations of the Arch Angels, of the dimensions, were ineffable. My assumption had been wrong; he was in fact on humanity's side. The vision of the dove transitioning into a raven, when Zherneboh had reached into my mind, came back to me. I believed what Malachi said. But if the Purebloods had once been Arch Angels, and it was not the fallen Angels that had slipped through the rifts and become them, then where were the many fallen Angels now? And how had some of the Arch Angels become Pureblood Vampires? He was right; I needed to know what he knew.

The screams broke through my reverie, and I ran toward them, through the open door of the motor home. Riley and Claire were crowding the hallway. I pushed past them to find Brooke being dragged across the bedroom by Phelan, who had silver chains wrapped around his arms, pressing against her bare skin. She was dressed only in her underwear, and behind her, on the bed, was Fergal, shirtless and wearing only baggy tracksuit bottoms.

He wasn't trying to help Brooke; instead, his chin tipped down as he refastened his cross around his neck.

I tackled Phelan from behind, pulling him away from Brooke; she fell to the floor with a thud. She hissed and bared her fangs, blood smeared around her mouth.

Then I knew why Fergal wasn't trying to help. She'd attacked him.

Brooke whimpered as her skin, now free of the silver, smoldered, and her expression was a mixture of pain and rage.

“Don't touch her!” I shouted at Phelan, who was already lunging back toward her, this time pulling something sharp from the back pocket of his jeans.

“Brooke, leave, now!” I pried her from the carpet, and she turned to Fergal, who was dabbing his neck with his discarded T-shirt.

“Brooke?” Fergal repeated.

Phelan's chest rose as he took a deep breath. I didn't have to tell him my real name; he'd already worked out that I was Lailah. He'd had his suspicions about me all along, and he'd made no secret of his skepticism about Brooke being “the girl.” I witnessed the very moment he had worked it out, as the guest at the party had whispered ‘voice of an Angel' while I sang. But, that fact was only just this moment dawning on Fergal.

Why hadn't Phelan enlightened him?

Sobbing, Brooke stared up at me. “I'm sorry, Lailah. I was going to tell you.… I, I was…” Shaking me off, she made for the door behind me. I followed and watched her careen into Jonah, who suddenly appeared in the doorway of the motor home.

Cameron, Riley, Claire, and Dylan scattered across the living room, pulling out weapons concealed within their clothing.

I addressed the room. “It's okay, just calm down. Everything's fine.”

Brooke was clutching Jonah's waist and crying into his chest. He nudged her away to assess her injures. Scooping her into his arms and stepping through the doorway, he flashed me a quick glance, one that commanded me to follow.

I was only too happy to abide, sensing that our little treaty here was now over, but Fergal's sweet voice made me stop.

“So
you're
Lailah, like?” he said, and despite the fact that a Vampire had just attacked him—and one that was fast becoming his girlfriend, no less—he stretched the widest smile I had seen from him yet.

“I guess so,” I answered.

“You're gonna leave now, aren't you?” he asked as Phelan emerged, gesturing for the group to remain still.

“Yes. I'm not sure what just happened in there, but believe me, she wouldn't have meant you any harm. She's quite taken with you,” I finished in a whisper.

“Yeah, I know, like,” Fergal said, cricking his neck where he was still pressing his T-shirt to his pierced skin. He strolled over to me and squeezed the tops of my arms, his close proximity somehow making me calm. “I need you to come with me,” he said quietly.

Over Fergal's shoulder, Phelan's eyes rolled to the floor and then settled back on me. He shook his head with a lack of understanding. The room was silent; only Riley had moved, repositioning himself next to Claire.