Rebellion

balance in an attempt not to slam into Zadkiel’s back as he stood in the middle of the corridor. It wasn’t a dignified stop, but at least it was a stop.

“The south corridor,” said Zadkiel.

To the right was a narrow doorway, an archway cut directly through the stone of the wall and edged with carvings of fruit. Through it was, as promised, another corridor, and he stepped through into it, gesturing for them to follow him. The passage was windowless and perhaps thirty yards end to end; the ceiling towered above them, tapering to a pointed vault high above their heads. Iron struts spanned the space, bracing the old walls against each other. There were candles in sconces bolted to the walls, and three large iron candelabra dangling from the ceiling on chains.

“That’s a lot of candles. Who the hell lights all these?” Alice asked, a little too flippantly.

Zadkiel simply said: “You did.”

“I what?”

“You did. When you came around the corner.” He tapped the sigil on his arm, and she glanced down at her own. “Michael’s choir,” he said, “are rarely without light when they want it.”

“But I didn’t...”

“Let it go, Alice. There’s no time.” He peered past her, down the corridor, and she turned around. There were two angels coming towards them, the corridor barely wide enough for them to walk side by side: Castor and Pollux. Pollux was limping; a long, jagged cut crossed Castor’s face, from one side of his jaw to the eyebrow on the other side. Both of them looked like they had been beaten to within an inch of their lives.

“I’ve got this,” said Mallory, handing his guns to Vin, who took them without a word. Mallory went first to Castor, taking his hands gently in his, closing his eyes and tipping his head back. The slash across Castor’s face began to knit together and the skin across Mallory’s cheek tore itself apart with surprising violence, lengthening across his nose and down to his jaw. He sagged, but shook his head as though he was trying to shake the pain off...

The candles on the walls flared higher.

Mallory stepped back from Castor and turned to Pollux. He held out his hand to the other Descended, and although his back was to Alice and she could no longer see his face, his hand shook. One of the fingers was twisted; the palm slashed almost to the bone in several places.

“Mallory...” she said, about to go to him, but Vin put his arm out to stop her.

“Leave him. It’s what he does.”

“But both of them? It’s too much...”

“No.” Mallory’s voice was hoarse, but determined. “Pollux needs help. And we need Pollux.” He was about to say something else, but he bit off his own words as he took Pollux’s hand and a shudder ran through his whole body. With a loud snapping sound, a handful of the long feathers on his wings bent and tore – and that was enough for Mallory, who let out a howl of pain. He dropped Pollux’s hand, and slumped sideways against the wall.

Alice strained forward again – still held back by Vin. “You really think that’s a good idea? Remember what happened last time...” He pointed at her blazing hands as echoes of Mallory’s pain coursed through her, burning away so fast that she barely even felt it. She was grateful; she remembered the last time she had been there when Mallory healed someone. It had been Vin, left for dead by Purson; and she had felt every broken bone, every cut and every tear. Now... now it poured through her like oil and was gone: burned away almost before she knew it had reached her.

But the fire was still there. The fire was always there.

“Mallory?”

He was still slumped against the wall, his head carefully turned away from her and lowered towards his chest.

“Mallory!”

His head rose a little, and he raised one of his hands. It was slow, and his movements were clumsy, but growing more sure with every second that passed. He pulled out his hip flask, and with shaking hands, he unscrewed the cap and emptied the whole thing down his throat. When he turned around, he was himself again, with only the faintest suggestion of a new scar on the edge of his jaw. He spotted Alice staring at him. “They don’t go as easily as they used to. Makes me look rugged, right?” he whispered, patting her arm as he reached past and took his guns back from Vin.

“Alright. So that was fun.” He turned back to face the far end of the corridor, a gun in each hand. “Now, let’s find me something to shoot.”

“So, what exactly is the plan here?” Alice asked. “We’re supposed to be stopping them coming in, right?”

“Not exactly,” said Zadkiel. “We want them in.”

“We what?”

“Anyone coming into the priory from this side has to pass through this corridor.”

“Which is why you want to stop them getting into it.”

“No. It’s why we want them in here. It’s a natural bottle-neck. The trick is...”

“...to stop them getting out again.” It made sense. In the corridor, it would only take a few of them to hold it against however many Fallen tried to force their way through. Just as well, because there were six of them. Only six. And they were fish in a barrel.

“So are they, Alice. So are they.”

Alice considered telling Zadkiel that this was not nearly as reassuring as he seemed to think – and to stay out of her head – but she thought better of it. Mostly because the others all looked like they had a plan. And she didn’t.

Behind her, Castor and Pollux had taken up a position on either side of the doorway, barring the exit. Each was holding a long metal pole as tall as he was, taken from a pile of spare roof struts in the corner. “Well, you two look utterly terrifying.”

“And I thought you liked me in uniform,” Castor shot back, making her laugh. “Are you ready?”

“No. Yes. Maybe. Ask me later.”

“It’s no different, you know. No different from the warehouse. No different from any other time.”

“Yes, Castor. It is.” She turned to face forward again.

Mallory was in front of her, cricking his neck from side to side. Just ahead of him was Vin, sleeves rolled up, his weight on his back foot. They were ready. Zadkiel paced across the doorway at the far end, calling back to them.

“Pollux, you two are our last line. Do not let anyone past you. Whatever you have to do, do it.”

“Not a problem.” Pollux shuffled his feet, widening his stance. Alice didn’t think it was going to be a problem: between them, there might as well not have been a doorway at that end.

“Mallory, Vin – I’m going to let as many through as we can get. And then I’m going to shut the door behind them.”

“What door?” Vin piped up.

“This door.” Zadkiel held up his sword.

“Gotcha.”

“Alice?” Zadkiel’s voice was softer, but no less determined. “You take out what you can.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s it. That and not getting killed. I don’t think Michael would thank me.”

“Screw Michael. Worry about how I’d feel.”

“You can do this, Alice.”

“I know,” she said, and held up her hands. Flames streamed from the wall sconces closest to her into her open palms; fire wound through her hair. “You didn’t say his name,” she whispered, seeing Zadkiel start at the flames.

“What did you say?” His voice was too low for anyone else to hear, but he was looking over her shoulder at Castor.