No Shadows Fall (32 page)

Semjaza dealt a forceful blow to his head that made Gabriel’s ears ring, and he stepped back, shaking his head to clear it. Semjaza, laughing in triumph, leapt close and as he raised his sword to strike, Gabriel thrust, the point of his sword sliding between the plates of Semjaza’s chest armor, carving through the chain and gambeson beneath, to plunge into the body of the angel. As Gabriel felt the quivering thrum of Semjaza’s Grace and heartbeat down the blade, as he watched the thick, red blood pool and trickle down the fuller, the blood groove of his sword, he heard Semjaza’s shriek of loss and fury and then felt a searing pain in his side.

As Gabriel pulled his sword out of Semjaza’s body, Semjaza dropping to his knees, blood dripping from his body and his mouth, Gabriel turned to see Azazel holding a broad-bladed spear. The spear was still embedded in Gabriel’s side, and Gabriel gritted his teeth, drawing on the power loaned him by his Brotherhood, and pulled it out.

He seemed to hear an inrushing of air, a sucking sort of noise as his Grace fluttered like a wounded bird. Gaping at Azazel, Gabriel dropped to one knee, pressed his hand against his side, and dropped his sword. He closed his eyes for a long moment, drew his dagger with his free hand, and threw it.

It spun end over end to bury in Azazel’s chest, right in his heart. Azazel stared stupidly at the dagger hilt protruding from his chest and then toppled over, dead.

Semjaza cried out, a sound of unspeakable loss, his voice full of pain from the mortal injury that Gabriel had given him as well as the loss of his oldest friend.

“No! Azazel… no!”

“Oh fuck yes,” Gabriel gritted out. He felt lightheaded, tasted blood on his tongue and his lips, and could feel the warmth of it on his hand where it pressed against his wound.

There was a commotion not far away, but he couldn’t be sure what it was he was hearing. Gabriel panted, trying to stay upright, even as blood trickled through his fingers to stain the ground.

Michael was howling, a sound like that of a wounded animal, screaming Gabriel’s name over and over. Gabriel wanted to reassure Michael, let him know that he was okay, but he couldn’t move. The pain in his side was slowly spreading, and Gabriel squeezed his eyes shut, fumbled with the fastenings of his helmet with his sword hand, and tugged it off, throwing it and the coif beneath to one side.

“Gabriel!” Michael’s voice sounded so far away, Gabriel thought sluggishly. And then, before his weary gaze, a funnel of black energy opened up in front of him. Red flames could be seen within, and there was a smug, familiar voice.

“Mine now,” purred Lucifer Morningstar as he reached a hand through the funnel, grabbed the dying Semjaza, and pulled him away. Even as Semjaza batted helplessly at the hand that gripped him, Lucifer laughed, and the sound echoed throughout the stone circle as he pulled Semjaza into Hell.

The funnel snapped shut, and Gabriel, blinking back sweat, toppled onto his side and passed out.

T
HERE
WERE
moments when Gabriel became conscious, swimming toward the surface of awareness like a fish swimming toward the surface of sun-touched water in a pond. Those moments stood out in stark relief against the comforting darkness of unconsciousness.

He was in a room somewhere light and airy, and Raphael was there. Michael was too, and Michael was weeping, clutching Gabriel’s hand. Gabriel seemed to feel a breeze upon his skin and an ache in his side. He also felt dizzy, and inevitably the dizziness would give way to unconsciousness, which Gabriel gladly gave himself over to.

He was not sure if he dreamed, because he was not sure if the state he was in could be called sleep. It was rare for angels to sleep; those that did so slept because they had used a great deal of their power for external tasks over long periods. Gabriel was aware that he didn’t feel weighted down with the extra power of nine other Archangels, and he was grateful for that. He felt awful enough as it was.

Finally, after what seemed like eons, he opened his eyes, feeling alert and aware, if stiff and sore. He blinked, licking his lips and looking around him, taking in his surroundings. He was in a circular room, a room that seemed both familiar and foreign at the same time, and Gabriel’s brow furrowed as he puzzled over it, wondering where he was.

He lay on his back on a comfortable bed, his head resting on a down-filled pillow, simple linen sheets and wool blankets covering his body. His side was sore, and he frowned as he ran a hand down his torso, feeling the bandages that swathed most of his chest and stomach. He was, he realized, thirsty and a little hungry, and with a grunt, he began to push himself up.

“Gabriel!”

Gabriel turned his head at the sound of his name and took in the face of his lover. Michael’s face was pale, his cheeks tearstained, and his eyes red from weeping. He looked as if he had not eaten, slept, or washed in a month.

“Michael, hey.” Gabriel smiled.

“Oh, Gabriel.” Michael rushed to his side and wrapped his arms around Gabriel’s shoulders, hugging him.

Gabriel let out a noise of surprise, hugging Michael back, even more surprised as he felt something that could only be tears. “Hey, hey, hey,” he said gently, “I’m okay, Mishka. I promise. I mean, I’m hungry and I could really murder some water right now, but otherwise, I’m fine, yeah?”

Michael nodded against Gabriel’s shoulder, though he didn’t relax his embrace. “Forgive me,” he said after a moment. “I cannot seem to release you.”

“It’s okay.” Gabriel rubbed Michael’s back.

“I feared you were dead,” Michael whispered. “When I saw Azazel stab you with that spear… I felt as if you had been stolen from me.”

Gabriel made a small noise. “Oh, Mishka.
Solnyshko
, I’m sorry.”

“It is not your fault.” Michael sniffled and sat back. He ignored the tears on his cheeks, his expression extremely relieved. “I am glad you are alive.”

“Aye, me too. How’s everyone else?” Gabriel gently ran a hand over Michael’s hair, and Michael moved close, resting his hands on Gabriel’s shoulders.

“They are well. Azazel is dead, thanks to you. Semjaza was dying, also thanks to you, when Lucifer reached out and pulled him into Hell. We will not see him again.”

“Thank God,” Gabriel said vehemently. He canted his head to one side. “And how are you?”

“That is of no importance.” Michael smiled a watery little smile. “I am glad you have returned to me.”

“I ain’t gone nowhere,” Gabriel said, perplexed.

“You were unconscious for two weeks,” Michael said. “Raphael was not certain that he could save you. Azazel’s spear grazed your Grace.”

Gabriel felt a cold chill travel down his spine at that. He realized how close he’d come to dying.

“Shit,” he breathed.

Michael didn’t scold him for his language. Instead, he nodded and pulled Gabriel into a hug once more. “Do not do that again, Gabriel. Please.”

Gabriel returned the hug. “I won’t. Promise.”

Michael kissed his cheek. “Thank you,” he whispered.

“Ah, you’re awake.”

Gabriel pulled back from Michael to see Raphael standing by the bed. The Archangel of Healing was smiling, his expression one of enormous relief.

“It’s good to be awake,” Gabriel said with a grin. “I also want something to eat and drink.”

“Israfel is preparing food for you,” Raphael said. “Now, if Michael will move aside for a moment, I will examine you and see how your wounds are healing.”

Michael did, moving to sit beside Gabriel on the bed.

“Where are we?” Gabriel asked as Raphael began his examination.

“Eden,” Raphael said. “It’s the only place on Earth that’s really equipped to deal with Archangels who are injured to the extent you are.”

“Oh.” Gabriel didn’t know what else to say to that. Instead, he looked at Michael and reached out, taking his lover’s hand in his own. Michael gave him a small, shy smile, and Gabriel smiled back.

“Well,” Raphael said, completing his examination, “you’ll live to fight another day. Though next time, we’ll have to make sure the mindless lackeys of the enemy aren’t armed.”

Gabriel burst out laughing. “Aye, that’s a good point.”

“While we are discussing these things,” Michael began, “you, Gabriel, are grounded.”

“I beg your pardon?” Gabriel was so astonished that he blinked owlishly at Michael.

“Yes. Six weeks, I believe.”

“Why, pray? This wasn’t my fault!”

“And now I’m going to leave you two to argue this,” Raphael said. “I’ll be back with Iss and your food in a few minutes, Gabe. Try not to wear him out, Mike.”

Michael nodded at Raphael and turned back to Gabriel. “You were reckless. You did not think to have Shateiel disarm Azazel nor remove him from the fight. That mistake nearly cost you your life. Therefore, you are grounded.”

Gabriel pouted. “Michael….”

“No, Gabriel, I am determined. You will not wheedle your way out of this.” Michael met the pout with one of his own. “I will be with you in any case. I do not wish to have you out of my sight for some time.”

Gabriel smiled and leaned in, kissing Michael’s pouty lower lip. “Okay, that I can live with. I love you,
solnyshko
.”

“And I love you also,
da bao
.”

Raphael returned then, with Israfel in tow. Israfel was pushing a glass and chrome tea-trolley, and there were covered dishes on top of the trolley that gave forth a series of rather enticing smells. Gabriel’s mouth began to water. He could smell roast beef and raspberries, and his stomach grumbled in protest.

“Hi!” Israfel’s effulgent greeting made Gabriel chuckle. “I made you food. I hope you like it. I wasn’t sure what you liked to eat, so I went with my imagination and what Raph said you needed, so there’s a roast beef salad with mandarin pieces, because the fruit trees are full of fantastic ripe fruit, and then I made a chocolate panna cotta with raspberry sauce. Plus fresh bread, though I had to steal the butter, but I hope I won’t get in trouble for that, ’cause you can’t really eat warm, fresh bread without butter; that’s like a culinary crime!”

Gabriel blinked as Israfel finished his long, rushed explanation. “Iss,” he said, holding his hands out toward the trolley, “if it tastes even half as good as it smells, it’ll be awesome.”

“Okay!” Israfel pushed the trolley up to the bedside, and Gabriel uncovered the dishes.

“Oh yeah,” Gabriel breathed. “Now that’s what I’m talking about.” Without another word, he dug into his food, almost inhaling it. “Fuck, that hits the spot. You’re a cooking genius, Iss. This is amazing.” He polished off the salad, reached for the tall glass of ice water, and took a long drink before starting on the panna cotta.

“Hunger’s the best sauce,” Israfel said, smiling widely, obviously delighted that Gabriel was enjoying his food.

“So,” Gabriel asked around mouthfuls, shooting Israfel a quick grin as he ate, “who else is here, then? And what part of Eden are we in?”

“Agrat and Shateiel are here,” Michael said, smiling fondly as Gabriel wolfed down his meal. “Raphael, Israfel, and myself. Remiel has taken Ishtahar and the boys to Ahijah’s village on the banks of Lake Titicaca; Samael accompanied them. Metatron has returned to Heaven, Haniel to Kolkata. Raziel and Uriel are meeting with Penemuel, Kokabiel, and Baraqiel. Tzadkiel, Sophiel, and Brieus are surveying the estate at Maryhill. We decided to turn it into a hospice and long-term care facility for injured soldiers and war veterans.”

Gabriel finished his dessert, restraining himself from licking the plate clean. “Aye, that’d be a good purpose for it. So I guess I’m stuck here ’til I’m better?”

“Yes. You are in the old tower that was ours back when Eden was inhabited. The Tower of the Archangels. We thought it best to use only those places that were ours to use back in those times.” Michael moved a little closer so that he was in constant contact with Gabriel, and Gabriel had absolutely no objections to that.

“Makes sense.” Gabriel leaned back against the pillows. “I’m a little weary,” he admitted.

“You should rest,” Michael said immediately.

“Stay with me?”

“Always.”

Gabriel smiled as he got comfortable, and Michael lay down beside him, pulling up the blankets. He was only peripherally aware of Raphael and Israfel leaving the room, too busy cuddling as close to Michael as he could.

“Do not pull your stitches,” Michael chided.

“Yes, dear.” Gabriel nuzzled Michael’s forehead as his lover rested his hand, palm down, on his chest, over his heart.

“
A
RE
YOU
sure they’re expecting us?” Uriel glowered at Raziel as they stood in front of the door to Penemuel’s apartment.

“Yes, I called ahead.” Raziel raised his hand to knock on the door, then paused and looked at Uriel. “Are you all right?”

Uriel looked confused at the question. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Because Gabriel was badly hurt, and the sounds of Michael’s anguish were terrifying?”

Uriel huffed. “Raph says he’ll be all right.”

“I know. And I trust Raph, so I’m not going to panic.” Raziel reached out and pulled Uriel into a hug, a little surprised that Uriel didn’t protest or tense up. “We won’t stay long,” he promised, rubbing Uriel’s back.