Home. It smelled like home. Even though she had never been here before, it smelled like home.
There was a bark of command and the rows of angels spun to face Zadkiel and raised their swords in salute. He waved them away, looking embarrassed. “I hate that,” he said, and then a very complicated expression crossed his face: something between happiness and relief and disappointment... and nudging against despair. And there was that aching pain behind her ribs again, just like the one she’d felt earlier, but stronger now. So much stronger.
There, on the far side of the square and half-hidden by the wings of Michael’s angels, was Castor, leaning back against the wall and watching the drill.
“Oh,” said Alice. She remembered Xaphan’s sneer, back in the church.
Mallory was right behind her. “You don’t want to get in the middle of that.”
“Castor. And...”
“Castor and Zadkiel. Messy. Painful.”
“Oh,” she said again.
“Want to know the best bit?”
“I thought you said I should stay out of it...”
“No, no. Let me finish.”
“Fine.”
“The best bit? Is that of all the angels you shouldn’t put in a room together, we’ve come here with three. And the fourth is inside this very fortress. And hates us.”
“Gabriel?”
“Gabriel.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah.” Mallory unscrewed his hip flask, and took a long swig before holding it out to Alice. “You sure you don’t want any?”
“ALICE!” A FAMILIAR voice boomed across the square, and Alice saw a figure weaving between the others, trailing sparks behind him. He was smiling. And waving enthusiastically.
A’albiel.
Apart from Mallory and Vin, he was one of the few angels who Alice both liked and trusted. It was entirely possible he was the only one besides Mallory and Vin. It was A’albiel who had rescued her from Xaphan’s first attack, when she was alone and vulnerable and had less than zero control over her gift. It was A’albiel who had helped uncover Gwyn’s betrayal in hell; who had made Michael see sense.
And he was here.
He marched over to them, the flames streaming across his wings dying down, the feathers folding in on themselves and away.
“I heard rumours,” he said. “I heard rumours, but I did not believe they could be true.”
“Were they good rumours?” Alice asked, smiling at him. This appeared to puzzle him, and he frowned. She shook her head. “Never mind.”
“Is it true?”
Mallory tucked his flask away again and straightened up. “You’re going to have to tell us what the rumours are if you want us to answer that one, Al.”
“Indeed.” Al nodded. “They say you come to see Michael...”
“No shit.”
“If I might? They say you come to see Michael, and to bring him a prisoner. One of the Twelve.”
“And his girlfriend,” Mallory snorted. A’albiel looked blank again, so Alice stepped in.
“Xaphan, Al. It’s Xaphan. And Florence.”
“The half-born?”
“Try not to make it sound like a dirty word, would you?”
“My apologies. I meant no disrespect, Alice.”
“None taken.”
“But you have Xaph?” He glanced from Alice to Mallory and back again. “This seems...”
“Unlikely. Thanks for the vote of confidence,” Mallory shrugged. “I know, alright? But apparently, Michael has something they want.”
“What can Michael have that the Fallen would want?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Power? An army of angels? A great big fuck-off castle?” Mallory kicked at the wall. “It’s the brother. The girl’s brother. She’s a trade.”
“She handed herself in?”
“Something like that. Our... paths crossed back in Camden.”
“The riots.”
“The riots. And as you can imagine, Xaphan was having a fine time dressing up as a copper and beating the shit out of people.”
“It wouldn’t be the first time.”
“No. But it’ll certainly be the last.”
“Curious.”
“How so?”
“That Xaphan would allow himself to be captured – whatever the reason. Now, of all times.”
“You’re going to have to fill in the backstory, Al. We’ve been a little busy...”
“Michael believes he has found a way to bind Lucifer together, body and soul. And if he can bind him...”
“He can destroy him.”
Alice interrupted. “Destroy Lucifer? Is that even possible?”
“Michael appears to believe it is,” said A’albiel. “But only if he is the sum of his parts. Otherwise, you can destroy the body...” He shrugged.
Mallory rubbed his chin. “I was afraid he’d try something like that. It’s unheard of. I mean... restoration. It would change everything. Everything. Do they know?”
“The Fallen? I can only imagine that they do.”
“It would explain a lot, wouldn’t it?” Mallory looked thoughtful. “And Michael’s sure? How?”
“The library here. He believes there is a text that holds the key. Gabriel is redeeming himself by searching for it.”
“I almost feel sorry for him...” Mallory muttered, then turned to Alice. “I don’t suppose it’s too much to hope that you missed the mention of the word ‘library’ there, is it?”
“Yes. And now you’ve said it again, you have my full attention.” She batted her eyelashes at him.
“Bloody librarians. You’re all the same.”
“Thank you. Continue?”
“Michael’s library holds... everything. Everything we’ve ever learned about the Fallen.”
“Wait... so, if there’s a book that tells you how to destroy Lucifer, why hasn’t Michael just done it already?”
“Because of the risk.” Zadkiel’s voice made Alice jump: she had had no idea he had joined them. “To destroy Lucifer, you must first restore him.”
“Put him back together, you mean?”
“No. I mean restore him. He can only be destroyed as an Archangel.”
“Ah.”
“You see. We’ve never had to consider it before: the war... all this, has always been about the balance. As long as we could always keep the balance, Lucifer was irrelevant.”
“Irrelevant? That’s one word for it.”
“What would you understand? What are you? Human. Human with angel blood running in your veins, perhaps, but human nonetheless.”
“Your boss seems to think differently,” Alice said, surprised at how smug it sounded when she said it aloud. One of Zadkiel’s eyebrows shot up, as did Mallory’s.
“Michael has never been as” – Zadkiel paused, considering his choice of word – “desperate as I’ve seen him lately.”
“Desperate?” Mallory stepped in. There was a strange emphasis on the word. Zadkiel shook his head.
“He doesn’t like losing.”
“You mean he’s not willing to lose.”
“Whatever the cost. In his mind, the end justifies the means – whatever those might be.”
Mallory didn’t appear to have an answer to that. Instead, he closed his eyes as though in pain, and hung his head. Vin, too, stared at the paving beneath his feet, and even Al looked dejected.
When Mallory spoke again, his voice was hoarse, like he was trying to hold something back. “I’m sorry, Alice. I shouldn’t have brought you here. It was a mistake.”
“Bollocks. You didn’t bring me. I came.”
“You don’t understand. What Michael’s planning – if he succeeds... Archangel against Archangel. It’s unthinkable.”