“Then it is too late.”
She pressed something into Alice’s hand, closing her palm around it, and then she began to move away, picking her way through the stones and onto the sand. Alice watched her. There was something about the way she moved... as though...
Alice looked at the object in her hand. It was a pebble. Smooth and round, it felt cool against her skin.
“Stop!” Alice screamed after the woman who was now almost at the edge of the water. She started forward, but found herself held by a pair of strong hands. “Stop!” she screamed again, pulling with all her strength against Mallory. It wasn’t enough, and if the woman heard her, she didn’t respond.
The woman kept walking. Her head held high as the hem of her dress floated up to her shins, to her knees, and then the stones in her pockets weighed it down.
Weighed
Still she walked.
Alice was burning, and Mallory’s hands were holding her back.
The waves closed over the woman’s head.
The fire died, and Alice felt Mallory relax his grip.
“Sometimes, you just have to let them go,” said Mallory. He sat on the sand, wincing as the blisters on his skin faded. It was a good job he healed fast. His jacket was not so lucky; he had dropped it in a sticky, bubbling heap on the beach.
“She said they were waiting for the angels.”
“I know.”
“And no-one came.”
“I know.”
“He took their memories.”
“Alice, I
“How could he be so cruel?”
“Cruel? You could call it that. And maybe we seem that way to you. But real cruelty would be letting them remember that the angels did nothing to stop it.”
“Like her?”
“Like her. There always has to be someone, Alice. Someone always has to be the witness. And the cruellest thing of all would have been stopping her from walking into that water.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
At the Green Chapel
“YEAH, YOU’RE NOT going to want to go in the school.” Castor’s face was grim. “I stuck my head in, and to be honest I really wish I hadn’t. Everything bad about this place is coming from there.”
“You know what happened?” Mallory was eyeing Xaphan.
“It doesn’t take a huge leap of the imagination.” Castor shook his head sadly and gestured to their prisoners, now tied to one another. “Where do you think we got the rope?”
ALICE HAD SAT for a while, staring at the sea, and then allowed Mallory and Vin to lead her to a small lane leading out and away from the coast, into the woods by the little town, the same direction the others had gone. It was just as quiet there, although the silence had none of the oppressiveness of the town: instead, it was calm and peaceful. The trees formed a thick green canopy overhead, shutting out the rapidly darkening sky, but just as Alice was beginning to wonder how they would find their way through the forest in the dark, they turned a corner and she stopped.
The lane they had been following turned into a rough track, which petered out at a low wall ahead. Behind the wall was a chapel, lit by flaming torches fixed to posts in the ground and surrounding it with a ring of fire. It was a strange, squat little building with a lopsided tiled roof, and its stone walls almost completely hidden by green leaves. Ferns, moss and creepers smothered the surface, making the walls look alive with shadows shifting in the flickering light. Tiny white flowers twined through the green, like stars. Even from where she stood, Alice could smell them: a sweet, slightly earthy scent that carried on the air. Tall stems of purple verbena waved gently along the wall, rooted between the stones. “Pretty,” she said, running her fingers down one of the stems. Mallory pinched the top off one nearby and handed it to her.
“Look familiar?”
“We used to have it in the garden. I remember my mother planting great big drifts of it against the fence.”
“Devil’s bane,” he said, plucking another of the flowerheads and crushing it between his fingers before rapping on the door of the little chapel. The wood was old and cracked, worn almost grey over the years, studded with rusted iron nails. There were footsteps on the other side, and it creaked open to reveal Castor, backlit by a hundred candles or more. Inside, it smelled of the sea, of moss and the forest; of green and of blue and of safety. The air was cool, but the stone walls felt warm when she touched them. Beside the door was a tiny figure carved into the wall: it had outspread wings and wild, curling hair, and even though the carving was rough and old and half worn away, Alice knew who it was at once. She glanced over her shoulder at Mallory, who nodded. “Raphael. There used to be an abbey here, known for its healing. This was his chapel.” He ran his fingers down the face of the carving. “It fell into disrepair when the priory over on Mont Saint-Michel grew. That’s Michael for you...” He made a disapproving sound. “This is all that’s left now.”
“That makes you sad.”
“Not... sad. It’s better like this, I think, but like I say, that’s Michael. Always wanting more.” He shrugged, then turned towards Pollux, who was sitting in one of the pews, close to the door.
Vin followed them in, and Castor closed the door behind him, shutting them in. As soon as it closed, Alice felt a weight lift from her. Everything about this place was Raphael, and she was glad the others had found it. What she was less glad about was the two figures sitting side by side in a pew at the far end of the chapel. After her earlier conversation on the beach, the last thing she wanted was to be stuck in another box with any of the Fallen. The van had been bad enough, but that was before...
Before anyone could stop her, she leapt at Xaphan; slapping him hard across the face with a burning hand. Her fingers left a livid red mark where the skin had scorched. He looked up at her from beneath lowered eyelids, daring her to try again, to push a little harder. She stopped, her hand still raised, then took the little flower Mallory had handed her and tucked it into the pocket of Xaphan’s jacket. He scowled at it and gagged.
And all the time, Florence just stared at the floor. She refused to meet Alice’s eyes or to even acknowledge that Xaphan was in pain.
“She’s given up. Just as well.” Vin was sitting in the pew in front of them, turned sideways to keep an eye on Florence, his arm draped along the back of the bench. “She knows it’s over. Isn’t that right, Florence?” She simply turned her head away. “Having second thoughts about your boyfriend, are you? Bit late for that.”
“Vin, stop it,” Alice said.
“You’re right. She’s not worth it. Not now.” He turned his back on Florence.
Across the chapel, Mallory looked up from his conversation with Pollux. Edging past Vin, he stepped into the pew beside Florence.
“Have you got something you want to say?” Mallory loomed over her, opening his wings and looking every inch a Descended angel. Florence shook her head, her eyes still fixed on the floor.
“Florence. You may not get another chance. Michael isn’t known for his listening skills. Or his mercy.”
She shook her head again, but shifted in her seat.
“I’m going to ask you one more –”
“Blade!” Vin knocked Mallory sideways. There was a flash of silver, and Alice’s view was suddenly full of feathers. Florence screamed from somewhere beneath them, and the next thing Alice knew, she was watching her
