Rebellion

“And that’s a good choice. A kind choice. But it’s not the right one.” He met her gaze and held it, and he looked sad. Sadder than she’d seen him.

“You know something, don’t you? Something’s going to happen...”

“I have my suspicions. That’s all they are, though: suspicions. I think Michael’s planning on doing something with Lucifer – something monumentally stupid – but I don’t know for sure. I don’t know, and I don’t like it.”

“So what do we do?”

“Well, the first thing we should do is nothing. We’ve got more important things to worry about than a half- born – no offence, but you see what I mean.”

“I suppose.”

“Do you know what’s happening? Out there?” Mallory sat forward.

“War.”

“Wh... Yes, actually.” Mallory looked taken aback. “That’s exactly what’s happening. We’ve got riots... everywhere. And I do mean everywhere. The things I’ve seen, Alice. Cults to the Fallen, cults to angels. Angels! Riots, murder... There are people walling themselves into their houses. They’d rather starve to death than face... this.” He waved a hand at the door. “And it’s only going to get worse. They’re in control now. It’s their game board.”

“Only the beginning...” Alice whispered, and Mallory frowned at her. She cleared her head. “Xaphan. He said that to me. In the street.”

“Oh, he knows something. Which is why he’s coming with us to see Michael.”

“But what if he does something?”

“He wouldn’t be Xaph if he didn’t try.” He lowered his voice, keeping one eye on Vin across the room. “If there’s anyone we need to watch right now, it’s Florence. The Fallen have lost hell: there’s nowhere for them to run to. They’re stranded, and they die a lot more easily than they’d like. But Florence... she’s not branded. That tricky little gift of hers is still active and she’s used it against us before. All of us,” he added, seeing Alice’s discomfort.

She didn’t like the way he was talking. Everything sounded far too serious again, far too bleak. Far too dark. Even Vin, who was normally the most light-hearted of them all, seemed like someone else. “Things really have changed, haven’t they?” she asked Mallory.

He half-smiled at her. “Only on the outside. Vin’s still Vin. He’s just learning that everything has consequences.”

“Like you did?”

“Me? Oh, you know me. The consequences are always the best part.” He spun his gun around the palm of his hand.

Standing up, he stretched and raised his voice again. “What we need to do now is work out how we’re going to get to Mont Saint-Michel without Michael handing our arses to us on a plate first. I can’t imagine he’ll be pleased to see us; particularly not if he’s planning what I think he is. And if he’s got his pit-bull with him...”

“Zadkiel?”

“Zadkiel. I doubt we’re among his favourites, either, and that’s doubly true of Vin and Florence.”

“He didn’t seem that bad to me...” Alice began, but tailed off. He had made a street full of people forget what they had seen. He had hidden an army of angels using nothing more than his will. He might not have seemed bad, exactly, but she didn’t want to see him when he lost his temper.

“Zadkiel won’t be a problem,” said Castor from the doorway. “Leave him to me.”

“Are you sure?” asked Mallory, fixing Castor with a steely gaze.

Castor cracked a cryptic smile. “I know where he’ll be looking.”

“Then that’s settled. We go, we hope Michael’s in a mood to listen, we cross our fingers and pray we come back out in the same number of pieces we went in.”

“And if Michael’s not in a mood to listen...?” asked Alice. She knew what was coming.

“Then you have to convince him, Alice. You’re the only one who’ll stand a chance. The last thing we need right now is him thinking we’re part of the problem.”

For a moment, Alice felt like she was looking down on them from somewhere above herself. She could see herself on the sofa, Mallory standing beside her, Vin still sitting glumly beside the sink and Castor leaning in the doorway. Her stomach felt heavy, as though she had swallowed a handful of stones, and everything was wrong.

“Are they going to be trouble?” Mallory meant Xaphan and Florence, and although he sounded calm enough, there was an edge to his voice that Alice didn’t like.

“Relax,” said Castor. “They’re waiting in the confessionals. I thought it might be an idea to separate them while we secured them properly. Pollux is handling it.”

“It might help with her, but the only thing that’s going to help with Xaph is if we separate his head from his neck.”

“I’m surprised you haven’t.”

“So am I.” Mallory sighed. “But, you know. Big picture. Besides, I don’t think it’s me he’s got to worry about.” He jerked his thumb towards Alice, who did her best to look offended. “I think I should probably go and give Pollux a hand. Not that I have any idea why I’m going along with this...”

“I want to speak to Florence before we go. Alone.” Alice said. She saw both Vin and Mallory tense, and held up her hands. “I’ll be nice. I promise.”

“You’d better be. And Alice? That temper of yours. Put a lid on it, you hear me?”

“Is that an order, Mallory?”

“You bet your life it is. If we’re going to get into this insanity, we’re going to do it right.”

ACROSS THE CHURCH from the sacristy, a row of wooden booths stood against the wall. Built from dark, stained wood, they resembled glorified cupboards with ornate patterns cut into the doors and brass grilles fitted in their sides. Each booth was divided in two by a screen, with a small seat built into each side.

Xaphan was sitting in the first booth, where Pollux was locking what looked alarmingly like a collar around his neck – and attached to it was a chain. The chain trailed along the ground outside the booth before finally tracking back up to Pollux’s hand, where it finished; wrapped around his fist. At regular intervals, the links of the chain were punctuated by what looked like large metal beads.

Xaphan must have heard her; as she passed, he tipped his head forward and looked at her, holding up his wrists to Pollux.

“Don’t look so sour, Alice. Haven’t you always wanted to see me in chains?” he said, licking his lips. Alice stopped, trying to think of a smart answer – and he lunged forward, trying to loop his chain around her neck. She darted back as Xaphan was jerked back into his seat: yet another chain fastened the collar to the back of the booth.

“No you don’t. Not again.” Her throat throbbed at the sudden movement, but it was worth it. She could see the frustration in his eyes, and that was all she could see. No Lucifer. Not this time.

He raised his chained hands and slid a finger underneath the collar, rubbing at the skin of his neck.

“Oh, did that hurt?” asked Alice. He glared at her, but said nothing. “Good.” She turned and walked away, leaving him with his guard.

There were two other booths in the row, their backs to the wall of the church. The middle one was empty, but Florence had been restrained in the furthest. Pollux had secured her first, presumably thinking she was less likely to misbehave... particularly once she was separated from Xaphan. From this angle, the screen dividing the two halves of the confessional hid everything but her feet.

Alice took a deep breath. The air tasted of dust, of incense and ever so slightly of damp. And then she stepped into the other side of the booth and sat down.

Through the screen, she saw Florence twitch.

“Why d’you do it?” Alice asked.

“Alice...”

“It’s a simple question. And don’t pretend you weren’t expecting it.”

“Because.”

“Because what, exactly?”