Rebellion

“Mallory?”

He didn’t seem to hear her; he was staring down the street towards a man leaning against a lamppost.

“Mallory! I could really do with not being here, if you get my drift.”

“Couldn’t we all?” he muttered, stubbing at the bottom of a broken bottle with his toe. But he had seen the fire burning in her eyes, and he turned and whistled at Pollux. The other angel nodded.

“Where to?”

“The office.” Alice ducked her head and wrapped her arms around her ribs, trying to keep herself from shaking. “It’s just over there.”

“I know where it is.” Mallory put a hand on her shoulder and steered her through the ragged crowd. There were still knots of people, scarves pulled over their faces, jeering and chanting, and one man peeled off to rush at them as they walked. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” muttered Mallory, raising his elbow and driving it sharply into the man’s face. Their would-be attacker stumbled back with a stunned expression, blood pouring from his nose. Alice’s face started to ache as Mallory shook his head in disbelief. “Some people.”

The windows of the funeral parlour hadn’t been quite so lucky this time around: one had been completely shattered, and a starburst of cracks glittered in the middle of the other. The door was, of course, open, and creaked as Mallory marched Alice through it. Pollux hung back, turning to face the street like a sentry and waiting for them.

Alice leaned against the desk, tipping her head back and swallowing deep breaths of quiet, calm air. Even with the window broken and the door hanging open, the office was serene compared with the world outside, as long as you ignored the glass all over the carpet. And the brick sitting in the middle of the sofa. And what looked like a firework sticking out of one of the flower vases. In here, away from everyone else, she could think. And she could burn it all away.

Spirals of fire sprang up around her wrists; wound through her hair and around her neck. It burned away the pain, the confusion and fear... everything from the crowd, everything from Lucifer, from Xaphan, from Zadkiel. All of them. As the fire died down, Alice was the only one left in her head, and everything she felt was hers alone. She felt better. She didn’t even feel guilty about the carpet. Not much, anyway.

Mallory was perched on the back of the sofa, waiting. “Outside. All that... you kept it in. I’m impressed.”

“I’ve had plenty of time to practice.”

“Oh, no. I’m not getting into that conversation.”

“Mallory...”

“I said no.” His voice was still quiet, but it was firm. His absence was not up for discussion. “Besides, you’ve got company.” He pointed to the door to Adriel’s office, which was slightly ajar, and that was where they found Vin, hunched over Adriel’s desk and completely absorbed in reading the ledger.

THE LEDGER UPON which Adriel now drummed his fingertips like a disappointed headmaster about to discipline a class. He looked from Alice’s smoke-stained face to Mallory’s boots to Vin’s fingers, blackened by ink where he had touched the pages. “Open it,” he said, tapping the closed cover. “Open it to any page.”

He pushed the book towards Vin, who looked nervous but did as he was told.

Adriel nodded at the book. “A name.”

“Err... Holland?”

“Thirteenth of July, nineteen twenty-three. Oak coffin. Another.”

Vin ran his finger down the page. “Samson.”

“Pauper burial, nineteen twenty-four. Shroud, no coffin. No family. Another.”

“I think I get the picture...”

“I said another!”

“Fine.” He rolled his eyes, and Alice saw Adriel’s jaw set in a grim line. “Smith.”

“Do you really think it’s wise to tease me, Vhnori? If you had taken the time to count them, as I have, you would know that there are five hundred and thirty-two Smiths in that volume alone. But you wouldn’t know this, because to you, that book is simply something to occupy your largely empty mind.” He snatched the ledger from the desk, holding it close. “Every one of these names is a life. A life now lost. Some of these souls had none to mourn them, none to remember them. None but me. It is my privilege to do so, just as it was my privilege to care for them in death. These names matter. These ledgers matter. I will not see them taken lightly.” He glowered at Vin, who stared at his shoes, looking suitably cowed.

“He didn’t mean any harm,” said Mallory, but Adriel shook his head and slid the book back onto its shelf.

“Perhaps not. But the result is the same, intentionally or no. The angels have grown careless; forgetful. They forget that humans are where the power lies. The Fallen have not been so foolish.”

“Never thought I’d hear anyone saying that. Least of all you.” Mallory did not sound surprised. Resigned, but not surprised.

Adriel opened his mouth to reply, but suddenly seemed to remember that Alice was in the room and closed it again. Instead, he looked her up and down and simply asked, “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine. I think.”

“I should have been more specific, perhaps: are you hurt?”

“No. No, I’m not hurt.” Her hand went to her throat. “Much. But...” Where should she start?

With Toby.

Adriel listened, his face a careful blank, as she told him what had happened. How she had been ambushed. How Castor had come to her rescue. How Toby had seen everything. Finally, he sighed and rubbed his hand across his forehead. “It could not be helped, Alice.”

“I’m sorry. I am.”

“One man is not the issue now, I fear. A street full of people, on the other hand, that is an issue, and one I imagine the Archangels will be most eager to discuss, Zadkiel or no Zadkiel. He does not take kindly to having his hand forced.”

“Ah. Yes. Them.” Alice had hoped that her meeting with Zadkiel might have covered that. With every word that came out of Adriel’s mouth, it was sounding less and less likely.

“Indeed. And I presume that now the Archangels know where to find you.”

“Yes.”

“They’ve always known,” Mallory snorted. “Michael’s not stupid, and even if he was, all he’s got to do is look inside her head to find out where she was. He’s just too fixated on Lucifer to give a shit about anything else right now. I don’t blame him, either: it’s the Fallen I’m bothered about for the time being. At least we can count on the Archangels being on our side some of the time.”

“Maybe. But what happened today...”

“What happened happened. We got sloppy. The Fallen punished us for it. It won’t happen again.”

“You sound very sure.” Adriel stared at Mallory with his black eyes.

“I am sure. It won’t happen again.”

Vin interrupted them. “Well. This has all been lovely. And educational. I feel like I’ve grown as a person. But I’m starving, and I get cranky when I’m hungry. You don’t want that. So can we, you know... go?”

“You’re like a child, aren’t you?” Mallory sounded more amused than he looked, and Vin shrugged.

“If that’s meant as a compliment, yes. Yes, I am.”

“You are. And it wasn’t.” He shook his head. “Adriel. A pleasure.”

“Likewise, Mallory. Likewise.” Adriel turned to Alice. “You will always be welcome here, Alice. You have a place here, a role to play. Know that.”

“You say it like I’m not going to see you again for a while.”

“Most people would find that a relief.”

“I’m not most people.” And before she could quite stop herself, Alice found that she was hugging him. Actually hugging Adriel, the Angel of Death. She mostly ignored Vin’s raised eyebrow, only paying attention enough to pull a face at him over Adriel’s shoulder. He pulled a face back, and Mallory muttered, “like a child,” under his breath.