Rebellion

“Shit,” said Alice.

A Descended. Not even an Earthbound, but an actual Descended, an honest-to- goodness actual, full-fat, proper angel. Out in the open. And, judging by the entrance, one of Gabriel’s.

He rolled his shoulders and faint white sparks jumped across his wings. He smoothed down the front of his t-shirt, apparently oblivious to the eyes on him.

Alice had noticed his clothes straight away: if he’d been in armour, she would have been really worried. But a t-shirt and jeans? That was slightly more encouraging. As were the bare feet.

And then she remembered that was exactly how the first angel from Michael’s choir she had met – A’albiel – had been dressed when he almost tore the head off one of the Fallen in a car park. So maybe it wasn’t so good. But still, it was only one Descended, right? It wasn’t like there was an army of them, or...

Something moving at the far edge of the crowd caught her eye. For a single, sickening moment, it had almost looked like a wing. But it couldn’t have been, could it?

Another flash of white – this time down the street to her right – and the queasy sensation crawled into her throat.

Behind the crowd, there were three angels, standing to attention. And they were in armour.

“Shit,” she said, with a little more force this time, scrambling down from the top of the bin. The crush of bodies in front of her seemed to have miraculously thinned – at least, enough for Alice to see what was happening. The Descended in the t-shirt was still standing there, head bowed and wings outstretched. No-one made a sound: it felt like the whole crowd, so intent on tearing itself apart only moments before, was holding its collective breath.

And then he raised his head and looked around. Bright blue eyes like searchlights skimmed the faces surrounding him – and magically, people began to find their voices. Some whimpered, some muttered prayers under their breaths. One or two laughed. More cried.

He looked straight through them all.

His gaze settled on her, and even through the now all-encompassing terror that surrounded her, Alice felt his surprise. He blinked at her, then nodded, and his eyes moved on. She heaved a sigh of relief: she didn’t think she was exactly flavour of the month with Gabriel’s choir at the moment... she couldn’t be sure, but she got the feeling that they probably wouldn’t look very kindly on her involvement in their general and Archangel becoming Earthbound, or his second-in-command being thrown to the Fallen... Of course, she could be wrong. But she doubted it.

At the moment, however, he didn’t seem to be particularly interested in her; his ice-blue eyes kept on looking. For what? she thought, staring at the people around her.

More than once, Alice had wondered what would happen if the angels were to appear like this, to a crowd. She knew Descendeds popped up every now and again – but only to individuals and never so openly. She would also put good money on there being more than one Earthbound hidden in amongst the rioters... but, knowing most of the Earthbounds she’d met, she’d also put good odds on them being the ones throwing the bricks.

The spell was broken by a single scream. It rang out through the silence, then swelled as the rioters snapped out of their trance. Away from the angel, right at the front of the crowd, a police officer had taken advantage of the distraction, breaking the line and stepping forward. He was now standing over a prone man, whose hands flapped ineffectually at the blows raining down on him. Again and again the policeman brought the baton down, blood spattering the tarmac as the crowd swelled and turned in on itself, jostling to look, or to intervene, or to attack.

A burning bottle smashed in front of the police line, and they charged.

When the two lines of bodies met, there was an awful crunching sound that almost rivalled the shrieks and howls on both sides.

Alice could no longer see the man on the floor; he had been lost beneath trampling feet. She had to fight against the movement of the bodies around her just to stay in one place. Everyone in the crush turned against one another as they tried to reach the front of the mob, or to get away from the nightmare in their midst: the cold- eyed angel who dripped lightning from his fingers and was currently glaring at the Fallen he had plucked from the mayhem and pinned to the ground. Both of them appeared completely oblivious to the rising panic around them.

Remarkably, it looked as though the police charge was having some effect, although that could be the tear- gas, Alice thought, her eyes smarting. Ahead, another police line was forming, this one admittedly a little less solid than the last. She looked back over her shoulder and counted the angels. Five of them now. Five Descendeds. More than enough.

Trapped between the line of police shields and the angels – with who knew how many Fallen in the middle – Alice was rapidly running out of options.

CHAPTER NINE Like Bringing a Spoon to a Knife Fight

TOBY DIDN’T UNDERSTAND what was happening. He was so far from even beginning to understand what was happening that he’d more or less given up. There had been a blinding flash of light and a tearing sound... and then silence. Silence and then – where he stood, at least – screaming. He couldn’t see much: all around him, people shoved and crowded him, but it seemed like something big was happening and the riot stilled for a moment before erupting again.

Acrid smoke billowed across the street. It tasted of petrol and oil and soot. Toby held his arm across his face, trying to breathe through his sleeve. The sky overhead was getting darker and darker – still glowing that infernal shade of orange – and it could almost have been night.

He stumbled forward, then backward, turning this way and that until he no longer knew which way he was going; all he knew was that he couldn’t leave Alice out here, in the middle of this.

Head down, he did his best to push past a group of teenage girls leaning against the side of a wrecked police van, looking for all the world like they were watching a carnival – apart from their hoods and the bottles of vodka, which they were swigging from and then hurling over the heads of the people in front. They laughed as one connected with the back of a man’s head.

Finally getting past them, Toby found his way blocked. Eyes watering from the ever-thickening smoke and gas, he blinked, and looked up.

In front of him – and at least a head taller than him – was a man with short hair and hooded eyes, his forehead heavily creased. His arms were folded across his chest. And he was wearing armour.

Toby was about to tell him that he was taking this ‘riot’ business a little seriously when the man raised an eyebrow at him, nodded slightly and stepped aside to let him pass. Gratefully, Toby edged past, and it was only when he turned around to shout his thanks that he saw the wings.

They were huge, and the feathers were white. They weren’t just white – they glowed.

Toby’s mouth dropped open. His feet wouldn’t move. His eyes widened as his mind tried to catch up with what he was seeing.

An angel.

Which was impossible. Right?

The angel must have sensed him staring, because he suddenly cocked his head to one side and turned round. There was a tattoo on his forearm: an unrecognisable squiggle, but just like his wings, it glowed.

And this time, as the angel met Toby’s eyes, he looked almost amused. He opened his mouth as if to speak, but a sudden scream cut through the chaos around them, and he was gone, leaving Toby standing in the middle of the crowd.

Toby had the distinct feeling that he had just seen something; that something had just happened... but he couldn’t quite seem to remember what it was. There was a hole there. He couldn’t have forgotten, surely.

But the more he thought about it, the more unimportant it seemed. What mattered was finding Alice.