“You heard me, Zadkiel. Castor. You didn’t say his name.”
“Now you listen to me...” His hand was on her arm, and he was gripping it tightly. She glared at it, and flames skipped across his fingers. He let go. “Stay out of things you don’t understand.”
“Things I don’t understand? You know what I understand?
“This conversation’s over.” He turned his head away from the heat of the fire, but she could still hear him muttering, “Just like Michael,” under his breath.
He reached the doorway, and his hand went up in warning. “Here they come.”
Zadkiel flattened himself back against the wall beside the doorway, and Alice watched as, in spite of the blazing candles and the fire, the shadows around him softened and thickened, wrapping themselves around him, and he was gone.
Except he wasn’t. She could still feel him standing there.
There were footsteps coming from the other end of the corridor. Just one set; slow and cautious. A moment later, a head poked around the doorway. One of the Fallen.
He stepped into the opening, peering ahead of him, and Alice realised that he couldn’t see them – not clearly, at any rate. He kept screwing his eyes closed and twisting his head this way and that... as though he was sure there was someone waiting for him, someone he couldn’t quite make out. Whatever Zadkiel had done to hide himself, it appeared to have covered all of them... at least a little.
The Fallen stopped and sniffed the air, baring his teeth. Like all the Fallen Alice had met, he looked like he had too many, and they were just that little bit too sharp. She watched him sniffing – still turning his head from side to side – and realised she was holding her breath. She let it out... just as the Fallen’s wings snapped open. The blackened spines rattled against one another as he moved, stepping carefully, one slow step at a time, into the corridor.
“Smells like angel...” he hissed, and there was suddenly a crowd of them behind him. Watching. Waiting.
He had almost reached Vin, crouched low.
“They’re close.” The Fallen turned and beckoned to the others behind him, just as Vin exploded up from the floor, grabbing him around the neck and flipping him over, throwing him to the ground.
“You’ve got no idea, mate,” he said, stepping over the dropped Fallen, who was screaming as grey mist wound around his throat, turning his flesh to stone.
Vin shifted from foot to foot, staring down the other Fallen, who had frozen where they stood. “You going to stand there all day, are you?” he jeered, and as one, they took the bait.
The threw themselves into the narrow space with such force that several of them tripped and were almost trampled underfoot, and with a stab of panic Alice saw just how many of them were out there. They streamed through the doorway; charging straight for Vin, who ducked and wove and spun with such speed that Alice could barely follow him. Very few of the first Fallen through got past him; they dropped to the floor with cries and stony
And the ones who managed to get past – the lucky ones – ran head-first into Mallory, who strode out of nowhere, both guns in his hands and a smile on his face. “Hello, boys,” he said, and then he started shooting.
The sound of the gunshots reverberated along the corridor, deafening Alice. She clamped her hands over her ears and squealed, before remembering that she was supposed to be doing something. The corridor, which had felt so empty only heartbeats before, was suddenly crowded; rammed with bodies in motion. And cold.
The warmth she could do something about, at least.
One of them had got past Mallory. He hadn’t seen her yet, and she understood what Zadkiel had done. They would stay hidden until the Fallen reached them. It was layer upon layer of ambush. There was no mercy, and no retreat.
The Fallen who had made it past Mallory had now turned and was throwing himself at Mallory’s exposed back, tearing at his wings. The corridor was too narrow for him to open them completely, meaning he couldn’t shake him off, and he was too busy with his guns, picking off the Fallen as they fought for space.
Alice stepped out of the shadows, and the corridor was ablaze with light. She grabbed the Fallen in front of her, pulling him away from Mallory, dodging the sharp sweep of his spiny wings and wrestling him down to the floor. She might have caught him by surprise, but it didn’t last long, and he fought back, hard.
Until he burned.
She was pulled off him, hauled to her feet by a dozen hands. A glance told her that Mallory and Vin had their hands more than full, and Castor and Pollux were just getting warmed up – spinning their makeshift quarterstaffs with ease, jabbing, sweeping, lunging. Zadkiel, too, had emerged from his shadows and was mercilessly cutting down anyone who tried to head back the way they had come. A Fallen lunged at him, aiming his fist at the Archangel’s face, but he dodged and responded with a punch of his own.
Faces crowded around her, backing her into the wall. A hand lashed out, and she ducked, springing back up and retaliating with a kick aimed squarely at the knee of the Fallen closest to her. He screamed as her foot connected, his knee popping back on itself. The others recoiled – not much, but enough.
Why weren’t they attacking?
They had her against the wall. Literally, against the wall. She had nowhere to go, but apart from that one lunge at her, they did nothing.
There was a sudden flash of red in the eyes around her; a laugh that sounded a little too familiar... and Alice decided not to wait to find out.
She closed her eyes, and let the fire out.
It raged across the stone, pouring onto the floor and wrapping around the legs of the Fallen; streaming from her fingers and sparking from her hair.
And still the Fallen stood, simply looking at her.
One of them took a step towards her and she froze. His clothes were alight, and the stench of burning hair and flesh made her gag. He stretched a hand towards her and she saw his lips move even as they blistered.
“Thank you.”
Behind her barricade of fire, Alice’s mouth dropped open.
He swayed, the flames taking hold, and at last, he dropped to his knees. Alice couldn’t take her eyes off him.
The kneeling Fallen suddenly jerked sideways, his body falling forwards. Startled, Alice looked into the gap the Fallen had left behind, and there was Mallory, one of his Colts still smoking in his hand. “Thank me later,” he shouted over the noise.
There was another shout, from the far end of the corridor.
“I need a weapon!” Zadkiel shouted. He had his sword in one hand, and what looked like a slender silver rod, about as long as his palm, in the other. He held it at arm’s length, and with a sharp twist of his wrist jerked it up and sideways. It snapped open, flipping over itself, and suddenly he was holding a knife. But he didn’t have the space to swing the sword any longer, and his reach with the knife was not long enough for comfort. Not that it stopped him. As Alice looked from him to Mallory, she saw the Fallen closest to him drop with a knife-wound to his neck.
Mallory stopped shooting. “Up!” was all he said.
And with that, both his guns were back in his belt, and he had spun on the spot, jumping and wrapping his hands around one of the struts just above his head and pulling himself up. He paused on the way up to kick another one of the Fallen smartly in the face, then crouched on the bar, his boots balancing on the metal rod. Opening his wings as far as he could in the narrow space and throwing out his hands, he glanced back down at Alice. She nodded at him, and watched as slowly, carefully, he drew himself upright. He wobbled, and for a second it looked as though he might topple back, but then he had his balance, and his guns were out again and he began to half-hop, half-run from one metal bar to the next, shooting down into the crowd of Fallen below, all the while drawing closer to Zadkiel, who was still holding his corner.
“Weapon!” shouted Mallory, and Zadkiel’s head snapped up to see one of Mallory’s guns spinning towards him. The Archangel reached up and snatched it out of the air; bringing it down and firing without pause.
