Rebellion

remnants of the burned feathers had blackened and matted to the bones, and they made an awful cracking sound as they jerked open. “I could crush you, boy.”

“Crush me?” Rimmon darted forward, and before Forfax could respond, had snatched the cane and driven it into the back of the other Fallen’s knees, dropping him to the floor. Rimmon pressed the cane across Forfax’s throat as he knelt. “Like this?” Rimmon leaned over his shoulder and breathed the words into Forfax’s ear. The temperature of the room dropped several degrees, enough for their breath to mist in front of them, and Forfax nodded his defeat. Satisfied, Rimmon shoved him forwards. “The Twelve,” he said, sneering. “The best he has. Look at you – it’s no wonder he spent all that time losing the war. You, Azazel, Purson, Murmur... all as bad as each other. I’d have left you all in hell to die.”

“While I hate to correct you, in Azazel’s case, you did.”

“Maybe we should have left you there too. You might have been more useful.”

Outside the broom cupboard, in the warehouse, the barking reached fever pitch. There was a single scream, abruptly cut off, and then silence.

Except for the footsteps; the sound of hard-soled shoes on concrete.

Rimmon and Forfax glanced at each other, frozen.

The footsteps came closer. Careful, measured steps; never hurrying, never stumbling.

And around the corner walked Lucifer, red eyes blazing.

“What’s this? Fighting? Come, come. We can’t have that, can we? Not now. Not now we’re so close.” He gestured to the cane and held his hand out to Rimmon, who passed it to him. Lucifer took it and turned it round in his hands, running his fingers over the ornate pommel: a clear crystal roughly the size of a man’s fist, cut with hundreds of facets that sparkled in the light. He held it up as though considering it – and then brought it smashing down into the side of Forfax’s face.

The force of the blow knocked the Fallen sideways, throwing him into the side of the desk with a meaty thunk. Before he had even hit the floor, Lucifer was already swinging again – this time at Rimmon, who took a blow to his solar plexus. He doubled over, his arms wrapped around his torso.

Lucifer stood in the doorway, surveying the damage, then dropped the cane, letting it clatter to the ground. He straightened the jacket of his suit, smoothing the sleeves and picking off an imaginary speck of fluff, and sighed. “This squabbling. This bickering. This petty, petty behaviour.” He ran a hand through his blond hair. “It is simply... unacceptable!” He bellowed the last word, his voice echoing around the building and making both Forfax and Rimmon flinch. Somewhere in the warehouse, they heard pigeons taking off, startled by the noise.

“Now, if it’s not too much trouble... we’re ready.” He adjusted his cuffs. “Make the call.” And with that, he turned on his heel and was gone, leaving only a chill in the air and the echo of calm footsteps in his wake.

CHAPTER TWENTY No Man’s Land

“WELL, THAT HAPPENED,” said Alice, peering down out of the doorway. The muddy sand really was a long way down from where she stood. She’d had no say in the matter, either: Zadkiel had simply marched up to her and grabbed her... and then the ground had dropped away beneath her feet, and then she was in the little room beyond the door. It was wide, with a low ceiling; she could see Mallory ducking his head slightly to avoid banging into the arches. There was no furniture: nothing but stone walls and a cobbled floor. The only light came in through the open doorway; the one through which they had just flown. Even thinking about it made Alice’s stomach churn.

“You ever touch me again without asking, you’re going to lose something.” She shook a warning finger at him, but Zadkiel merely blinked at her.

“You do know who I am, don’t you?”

“Seriously? You think the ‘don’t you know who I am?’ speech works on me?”

“You’re angry.”

“Like I said: touch me again...”

Mallory interrupted her. “Alice? Let’s be nice, shall we?” He raised a hand to guide her away from Zadkiel.

“Touching. No touching!” she snapped. Mallory backed off, holding up his hands.

Vin leaned a little closer towards Zadkiel. “She has some... boundary issues.”

“Boundary. Issues.” Zadkiel’s voice was like a steel door slamming shut.

“Mostly, she’s worried about setting us on fire and plummeting to her death. It’s best not to startle her. What with the fire, and the burning, and everything.”

“I see.” Zadkiel glanced over at Alice, shook his head, and muttered something under his breath, before turning back to Vin. “Is she always this difficult?”

Alice watched Vin open his mouth, and pointed at him. “Don’t you dare answer that.”

As if this was more than response enough, Vin gave Zadkiel a shrug, holding his hands out helplessly.

Zadkiel nodded. “I stand by my earlier statement. Utterly insane.” He opened another wooden door on the far side of the room – a smaller and more regularly-proportioned version of the one they had come in by – and sunlight streamed across the floor. “You’ll fit right in.”

ALICE BLINKED AS they emerged into the bright light again. They were in a narrow street, overlooking a small garden filled with trees, and the scent of sun-warmed pine filled the air. But it was the view which took Alice’s breath away.

In front of her, past the trees and the stone walls draped in roses and herbs, the island dropped away. They were, at a rough guess, halfway up the side of the island, and she was looking clear over the roofs of the houses that crowded the base. There was nothing ahead of her but the sea and the sand. Birds wheeled overhead, tiny black specks against the blue of the sky.

“Think again,” whispered Zadkiel, pointing up. Alice looked from him to the sky and back to him.

“You’re kidding.”

“Look.”

She did – and as she did, one of the little winged shapes banked sharply into the sun and there was a flash; the glint of bright light on metal.

Angels.

“And no-one can see them? I mean, they’re not... you’re not hiding them?” she asked, still craning her neck back. Zadkiel glanced up.

“If I did that all the time, I’d never be able to do anything else. Besides, you’d be surprised. I think humans... people... think they’re gannets.”

“Gannets.”

“I did say you’d be surprised.”

“What if someone did see? And realised. What then?”

“Well, firstly there’s context. You’re standing in a place of miracles. Stranger things have happened here.”

“And secondly?”

“Secondly, who’s going to believe some tourist on a coach trip when he comes back from a leisurely lunch and says he saw an angel?”

“Point taken.” Although, Alice thought, here of all places would be the place she’d believe it. “But why?” The question fell out before she could stop it, and Zadkiel, who had been about to lead them away, stopped in his tracks.

“Why do we hide? You know that. We’re not here to be seen. We’re not here to be acknowledged. We’re here to make sure you – they – get a fair chance at doing the right thing. The chance they deserve.”

“The Fallen don’t hide.”