The Fallen who had made it past Mallory had now turned and was throwing himself at Mallory’s exposed back, tearing at his wings. The corridor was too narrow for him to open them completely, meaning he couldn’t shake him off, and he was too busy with his guns, picking off the Fallen as they fought for space.
Alice stepped out of the shadows, and the corridor was ablaze with light. She grabbed the Fallen in front of her, pulling him away from Mallory, dodging the sharp sweep of his spiny wings and wrestling him down to the floor. She might have caught him by surprise, but it didn’t last long, and he fought back, hard.
Until he burned.
She was pulled off him, hauled to her feet by a dozen hands. A glance told her that Mallory and Vin had their hands more than full, and Castor and Pollux were just getting warmed up – spinning their makeshift quarterstaffs with ease, jabbing, sweeping, lunging. Zadkiel, too, had emerged from his shadows and was mercilessly cutting down anyone who tried to head back the way they had come. A Fallen lunged at him, aiming his fist at the Archangel’s face, but he dodged and responded with a punch of his own.
Faces crowded around her, backing her into the wall. A hand lashed out, and she ducked, springing back up and retaliating with a kick aimed squarely at the knee of the Fallen closest to her. He screamed as her foot connected, his knee popping back on itself. The others recoiled – not much, but enough.
Why weren’t they attacking?
They had her against the wall. Literally, against the wall. She had nowhere to go, but apart from that one lunge at her, they did nothing.
There was a sudden flash of red in the eyes around her; a laugh that sounded a little too familiar... and Alice decided not to wait to find out.
She closed her eyes, and let the fire out.
It raged across the stone, pouring onto the floor and wrapping around the legs of the Fallen; streaming from her fingers and sparking from her hair.
And still the Fallen stood, simply looking at her.
One of them took a step towards her and she froze. His clothes were alight, and the stench of burning hair and flesh made her gag. He stretched a hand towards her and she saw his lips move even as they blistered.
“Thank you.”
Behind her barricade of fire, Alice’s mouth dropped open.
He swayed, the flames taking hold, and at last, he dropped to his knees. Alice couldn’t take her eyes off him.
The kneeling Fallen suddenly jerked sideways, his body falling forwards. Startled, Alice looked into the gap the Fallen had left behind, and there was Mallory, one of his Colts still smoking in his hand. “Thank me later,” he shouted over the noise.
There was another shout, from the far end of the corridor.
“I need a weapon!” Zadkiel shouted. He had his sword in one hand, and what looked like a slender silver rod, about as long as his palm, in the other. He held it at arm’s length, and with a sharp twist of his wrist jerked it up and sideways. It snapped open, flipping over itself, and suddenly he was holding a knife. But he didn’t have the space to swing the sword any longer, and his reach with the knife was not long enough for comfort. Not that it stopped him. As Alice looked from him to Mallory, she saw the Fallen closest to him drop with a knife-wound to his neck.
Mallory stopped shooting. “Up!” was all he said.
And with that, both his guns were back in his belt, and he had spun on the spot, jumping and wrapping his hands around one of the struts just above his head and pulling himself up. He paused on the way up to kick another one of the Fallen smartly in the face, then crouched on the bar, his boots balancing on the metal rod. Opening his wings as far as he could in the narrow space and throwing out his hands, he glanced back down at Alice. She nodded at him, and watched as slowly, carefully, he drew himself upright. He wobbled, and for a second it looked as though he might topple back, but then he had his balance, and his guns were out again and he began to half-hop, half-run from one metal bar to the next, shooting down into the crowd of Fallen below, all the while drawing closer to Zadkiel, who was still holding his corner.
“Weapon!” shouted Mallory, and Zadkiel’s head snapped up to see one of Mallory’s guns spinning towards him. The Archangel reached up and snatched it out of the air; bringing it down and firing without pause.
The air smelled of dust and smoke and cordite, and the Fallen were... falling. Castor and Pollux held their ground behind a tangled pile of bodies, their eyes wide and their poles held at arm’s length. Vin’s hair was streaked with dust and he was slowing now, moving more deliberately through the Fallen who remained. There weren’t many. The angels had seen to that.
Mallory was still up on his perch, surveying everything below. He had dropped into a crouch on the metal bar, balancing on the balls of his feet as he scanned the floor for movement. Satisfied, he tucked his gun into the back of his belt and jumped down, landing in a neat crouch on the floor. “Are you hurt?” He straightened and crossed the floor towards Alice, stepping over an outstretched hand. It was still twitching.
“No, I’m not hurt.” Alice frowned, watching the hand on the floor behind him.
“You’re something, though. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing... I... what?” Alice was still staring at the dead Fallen’s fingers tick-ticking against one another. Mallory followed her gaze. He cocked his head on one side, blinked, whipped out his gun, and shot the hand through the middle of the palm. What was left of it stopped twitching.
“You were saying?” He turned back to Alice.
“I’m not sure that was strictly necessary.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realise you were going to be the voice of my conscience today.”
“Someone has to be!”
“Really? Because funnily enough, I seem to remember having to shoot one of them for you.”
“You didn’t have to.”
“No. You’re right. I didn’t.”
“Wanker.”
“Ingrate.”
“Are we done here?” Zadkiel was leaning against the wall, watching them. “And while we’re on the subject, have you two considered some kind of joint therapy?”
“We’re done.” Mallory gave Alice a look, and she pulled a face at him as he turned his back.
“Anyone injured? No?” Zadkiel waited, then shrugged. “Good work. Corridor’s secure. Pollux? You stay here and keep it that way. Just you.” He shot a glance at Alice. “Castor? Vhnori, Mallory. With me. Alice – you too.”
“Where are we going?”
“To Michael.”
“And what about this?” She gestured back at the bodies on the floor. There were too many of them. Far too many. And one of them had thanked her as he died.
“You’re right. I don’t suppose you could...”
“Take care of it?”
“I could, of course, always tell Michael that you refused...” Zadkiel shrugged.
“Because Michael knows how much I enjoy being told what to do, is that it? It’s funny: you all like reminding me that I’m not one of you, until it suits you to say otherwise. And then you expect me to follow orders.”
“Now you listen to me.” Zadkiel dropped his voice to a low hiss. “This is a war. The war. There is no stopping; no getting out. You’re in this – just like the rest of us – to the end. So, frankly, I don’t give a shit if you do it because you’re following orders, or because you want to make it through the day alive, or because you like the look of my fucking haircut. Just get it done.”
Alice stared at him, and felt a flush creeping up her cheeks, but was determined to stand her ground.
“You didn’t say please.”
“Excuse me?”