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I feel myself getting antsy at the idea of sitting around, waiting. “And the Lilim virus?”

“It will continue to spread until the war begins. It would be in your best interest to stay out of the path of those infected, if possible. They fight for Hell but can make no distinction between enemy and ally before battle. They’re too young and are only focused on spreading the infection. Which makes it all the more important for you to keep a close eye on Michael.”

Azael chuckles darkly. “That won’t be much of a problem for her. He seemed to take a liking to my dear sister.”

My cheeks grow warm and I turn around quickly, hoping to disguise my embarrassment as anger by glaring at Azael.

“And who could blame him?” He goes on, hoping to get a rise out of me. “She’s so pretty.”

I will dice you into small little pieces to feed to your murder of crows,
I warn him.
They’ll eat their leader and you’ll be nothing more than their sh—

Gus purses his lips thoughtfully. “That could work in our advantage, actually.”

I flick my eyes over to where he stands. He taps his fingers pensively on the dark wood of the altar. “Excuse me?”

“If he trusts you, which would be rare because of your status as a demon, it will be easier for you to protect him. You may even, as you suggested earlier, sway his alliance. An angel as powerful as Michael would be a significant ally in the war against Heaven.”

“But,” Azael interrupts, “Lucifer hates him. I don’t think he would fight side by side with Michael if his life depended on it.”

“His life may very well depend on it. Or at least his success.” Gus’s stare is distant as he weighs the options in his mind. “Neither could claim absolute control while the other survives, but I don’t see that Michael, being as young as he is, would want to hold the power. He’s too inexperienced. And if he does want power, if he will fight Lucifer over it, then we can put him down. No need to squander a powerful specimen just because we fear he
may
do something destructive.”

“So what do you want me to do?” I ask, chewing at the inside of my cheek.

He pauses before answering cautiously. “Get close to him. Gain his trust, and when the time comes, you will either strike him down or, if you’ve done your job well enough, he will join Hell’s army and serve his brother, Lucifer.”

“And Az?” I raise an eyebrow and nod towards where he sits. He casually kicks his legs out and props his feet on top of the alter, dried mud falling off the bottom of his dark boots.

“Yeah, Gus, what about me? Do you want me to get close to him?” He bats his eyelashes dopily. “I could turn on the old charm, maybe woo him a bit. Dinner, some flowers? I draw the line at third base, though.”

Gus makes a strangled noise that sounds like a tight, incredulous laugh. “We’re trying to protect him and bring him to fight for Hell. We can’t have him killing himself. What a waste that would be!”

Offended, Azael scrunches his face and rips more forcefully at the unraveling edge of his seat cushion.

“I think you would be better served, Azael, observing the two unseen. And, if you can handle it, you will also be responsible for tracking the spread of the Lilim virus.”

“If I can handle it,” he scoffs. “I can’t help but feel that I’ve been demoted. I’m supposed to sit around and chaperone angel boy and Pen?”

“I don’t need Az watching me,” I protest. “Especially if he has something better to spend his time on. I am perfectly capable of handling myself. How hard can it be?”

Gus appraises me for a moment before agreeing. “Okay then, Az. You can spend your time tracking the Lilim with Lilith,” Gus adds. “Lilith and I don’t exactly… get along.”

I raise my eyebrows. “Why, did you two used to—”

“No, no. Nothing like that,” he chokes out, looking embarrassed. Azael laughs. “She’s more of an act-first, plan-later kind of demon. She doesn’t care about consequences or chain effects. Whereas I am the exact opposite. There’s a reason we divine before doing anything of significance. But Lilith doesn’t see the value.”

“So you want me to follow Lilith around and be your middleman? Oh, I’m sure she’ll just love that,” Azael says exasperatedly. “Should I still draw the line at third base?”

I roll my eyes.

“As long as you can track the virus, I could care less what you and Lilith do,” Gus says to the dusty surface of the alter.

“Sure. I’ll just track Lilith as she goes around the globe, injecting boring humans and turning them into not-quite-demons. Why would I want to miss that? It sounds riveting.” He lulls his head back, irritated, and pulls his feet from the altar, letting them crash to the ground with a bang. He sits forward on his elbows and stares at Gus. “And what good will tracking the Lilim actually do?”

“It should,” Gus replies, “serve as a calendar of sorts. The faster the virus spreads, the closer we are to war. If I can find a trend in how the infection is spread, I should be able to determine the approximate date Lucifer is destined to storm the gates of Heaven.” He sighs sadly. “Without a prophecy, or the ability to divine, it’s the best option we have. And if it works, it means a promotion is in both of your futures. Top tiered demons.”

I lean towards Gus and raise an eyebrow. “Level 1?”

“Level 1 Powers,” he confirms.

“Fine,” Azael sighs. “I’ll become Lilith’s BFF. Maybe she’ll appreciate my company. You two certainly don’t!”

I smile excitedly. “When do we start? How do I find him again? Isn’t he in Heaven? I can’t exactly follow him around up there…”

Gus puts up his hands to stop me. “Slow down. There’s nothing you can do tonight. Michael only visits Earth during the daylight hours. He returns to Heaven as soon as the sun begins to set.”

“And right when the demons crawl out of their holes in the ground,” Azael growls.

Gus looks measuredly at Azael and then back to me. He reaches deep into the pocket of his jeans and brings out a thin bracelet strung with tiny clear, round beads. He slides it across the altar and I pick it up, inspecting it in the candlelight.

“This is how you’ll find him. Vassago enchanted it with a tracking spell when we first locked Michael up. It was one of the precautions we never thought we’d need. But now, it should serve you well.”

“He’s enchanted a
bracelet?
” Azael’s voice is dripping in derision. “Because, what, you both thought it’d be the perfect accessory for Lucifer, should his baby brother fly the coop? Or was it Vassago’s idea?”

Vassago is an olive-colored, broadly muscled demon who can locate what has been lost or hidden. He’s the one who found Pandora’s box after her husband had thrown it into the sea. It’s hard to imagine his thick fingers crafting something so delicate, but if he cast the enchantment, I know it will work. I slip it carefully onto my wrist, twisting my hand so the beads sparkle in the light.

“Pretty,” Azael ridicules.

I shove my hand into my pocket and scowl at him.

“You,” Gus says, pointing at Azael, “will use this.” He reaches down into his boot and pulls out a tightly rolled up piece of yellow parchment. It’s center is secured with a thin rope. He unties it quickly and unrolls the paper, spreading it smoothly on the altar. A map of Earth is drawn in faded ink across the wrinkled parchment, each continent palely painted in.

Azael heaves himself up from the chair and goes to stand next to Gus. He looks over the map with mild curiosity. “And you just happen to be carrying this around with you?”

“You’d be surprised what I carry around with me,” Gus retorts. “Mark this map where there is a new attack, a new transmission. Just a small X will do. I have the complimenting map and the notes you make will appear on mine as well. Track the virus carefully, and I will be able to follow you along.”

“Sounds easy enough,” Azael says, rerolling the map and placing it in his own boot.

Gus nods decisively. “You know what you two have to do.”

“But how can Azael find me if I’m following Michael and he’s chasing the virus?”

Take a wild guess.
Azael hisses in my mind.

Oh, right
.

Do you think Gus will be mad if I draw obscene pictures on his map?

I put my hand up to my mouth to muffle my chuckle.

Gus looks between us, sensing our silent conversation. “Yes, you can find each other that way. Or, if that doesn’t work, your amulets tie you two together. If you hold it in your palm and concentrate on one another, you should be able to communicate from greater distances apart.”

I touch the chain of my necklace. “Makes sense.”

“Good.” Gus pockets his small notebook and walks down the listing steps of the altar and to the door. Azael and I follow behind him, Azael’s boots crunching loudly on the gritty dirt as I spin the bracelet carefully around my wrist.

The three of us walk quickly down the path, through the graveyard, and back into the center of the clearing. Gus steps into the stone-circled fire pit and snaps his fingers. A small purple fire begins at his feet, slowly inching up his legs.

“One more thing before I go,” he says as the fire rises to his hips. His dark eyes slide from Azael to me and back again.

“Oh, Gus, you know I’m not one for long goodbyes. I get so emotional.” Azael wipes at his eyes sarcastically.

I’m about to join Az in teasing Gus, but I trap my lip between my teeth, silencing myself when I see his expression.

“This is serious.” His voice is deep and weighty.

Azael stands up taller, like a soldier at attention. “Yes, Hell is very serious business. That’s why no one ever smiles down there.”

I jab him in the ribs with my elbow, aiming for one of the ribs I broke earlier. He groans and doubles over, folding in half at his waist. Gus looks mildly entertained, but quickly regains his composure.

“If you should fail, don’t bother returning to Hell.” Gus looks at us both seriously again and the purple fire brightens to a warm blue as it reaches his shoulders. Before he has a chance to say anything else—and before Azael recovers from my blow—an abrupt flare of the flames engulf him and he disappears.

The flames fall back into the stones and fade into docile embers again.

“Very dramatic,” Azael says, hunching his shoulders again as he settles himself against a lopsided tombstone.

“He does love his theatrics,” I agree, sitting next to him. I bump him lightly with my shoulder. “So tomorrow?”

He kicks his boot on the ground, rattling the rolled parchment, and looks over at me. “Well, technically just later today.” He smirks and I stick my tongue out at him. “But fine, let’s call it tomorrow.”

I take a deep breath and raise my face to the sky. The clouds have cleared, opening to a crisp dark blue sky dotted with millions of shining, flickering stars. There are still hours left in the night, but my chest tightens in anticipation of the coming day.

When the sun rises, I’ll find Michael. But for now, I must rest.

Chapter 9

When I wake up, the sky is just turning a pale gray. I can see it through the holes in the cathedral ceiling. Last night, I slept stretched out on one of the thin, musty cushions that line the dark wooden pews.

I sit up stiffly, rolling my aching neck and stifling a yawn. I lean over my shoulder to the pew behind me and see Azael, still in a deep sleep. One of his legs is draped carelessly over the back row of his pew while his other has fallen to the floor, his bare foot a shock of white against the dark stone. His arm is thrown over his face, shielding his eyes, and his mouth hangs open.

Rolling off the creaking seat as quietly as I can, I make my way to the door of the chapel and out into the graveyard. I sit on one of the cool stone steps outside and watch as the orange light of the day slowly seeps across the sky.

The last heat of summer seems to have ebbed away overnight, leaving room for the brisk chill of autumn.
Summer isn’t the only thing leaving
, I think as I lean back against the outer wall of the chapel.

Today is the first time in decades Azael and I will go our separate ways. I’ve grown so accustomed to having him by my side every day that I can’t even remember what it’s like to be on my own.

Will I be different without my brother? Sometimes I feel that, when I am with Azael, a part of him is reflected in me. His dark humor rubs off on me, and I find myself more willing to joke along with him. We are two halves of one whole; neither of us is complete in the absence of the other. So what will it mean when I am forced to define myself?

It doesn’t really matter, I remind myself. I’m not on some coming-of-age adventure where I’ll come to some new understanding of the purpose of my life. It’s much too late to change the path I’m headed down. Besides, my goal is clear, as is the significance of my success. I’m to befriend Michael, protect him, and, if at all possible, bring him to the dark side. Even just thinking that, I feel like I should be twirling a mustache and stroking a menacing white cat that sits forebodingly in my lap.

As the sun breeches the tree tops, I stand up and walk back into the chapel, running my fingers through my knotted hair.

I go back to where Azael sleeps, following the grumble of him snoring. He’s rolled over to his stomach, his face smashed awkwardly into the foam cushion. I grab his shoulder and shake him awake.