Rebellion

hundred feet below them both, Mallory had been expecting him to be ensconced in a Fallen angel’s body, but the sight still shocked him.

Blond hair and a smart suit, and what should have been cool blue eyes staring out of a narrow face.

Gwyn.

Mallory started shooting.

Not a single bullet found its mark: Lucifer simply waved them away like summer flies – annoying, but harmless. His eyes glittered as Mallory took a step back, still firing, and Lucifer took a step forward.

“Now, now, brother. Still using your fists and not your head, I see.”

Mallory had run out of bullets. He fumbled with the guns, dropping the empty magazines on the floor and groping for fresh ammunition from his pockets.

“It’s different, this time, isn’t it?” Lucifer said. “Now you don’t have the upper hand. Tell me: how does it feel, hmm?”

“How does it feel?” Mallory felt the click of the second magazine sliding into place. “It feels a little like this.” He brought his arm up, pulling the trigger as it came. The bullet spun out of the barrel, towards Lucifer... who caught it.

He held it up to his eye, peering at it. “How very metaphorical of you.” Without lowering his hand, he dropped the bullet. The ting of the metal bouncing on the stone echoed around the room. “Head, Mallory.” He tapped the side of his head, Gwyn’s head, and all Mallory could do was stare in horror. Alice’s face flashed through his mind, and he hoped she could make it to Michael. Michael was her only chance. Not Zak, and not Gabriel. Only Michael stood a chance against Lucifer now.

“Oh, one more thing!” Lucifer held up a finger. “I just want you to know, before I go, that this is all him.” He smiled, his grin splitting Gwyn’s face open, and then the red glow faded from his eyes, leaving Mallory alone with Gywn for the first time since hell.

“Gwyn.”

“Hello, Mallory.” Gwyn raised the barrel of the shotgun. “Goodbye, Mallory.” He pulled the trigger.

THE STAIRS SPIRALLED up and up and up, with barely room for Alice to turn along with them. The treads were so narrow that her heels hung off the edge of each step, her toes jammed up against the riser of the next. The only sound was that of her struggling for breath... and then gunfire. Mallory’s guns. Even with what must have been several storeys between them, the noise filled the stairwell. Then, as suddenly as it had begun, it stopped, followed by a single shot... and then a blast from something which sounded much, much bigger. Alice clamped her hands over her ears, her eyes wide.

Another blast, and another, and another.

Should she turn back?

What if Mallory...

Vin. Mallory. Jester. Castor. Pollux. Zadkiel. What had happened to them? Should she go back for them...?

MALLORY DUCKED, THE shot from Gwyn’s gun rattling overhead. There was that awful clunk again – the sound of a new cartridge entering the chamber – and another deafening blast. Mallory threw himself down and rolled.

The third blast hit him full in the chest, the buckshot ripping through him. He cried out as the metal bit into his flesh.

Gwyn was reloading.

Forcing himself to roll over, ignoring the pain in his chest, Mallory swung his arm around and opened fire – so desperate to make the most of the time that he didn’t even bother looking. He knew his target: all he could do was shoot and hope. There was a grunt as a bullet hit – the shoulder, Mallory thought.

He didn’t get another shot. There was another roar from the shotgun, and this time the blast hit him across his shoulders. A thousand needles jabbed into his spine as the shot tore through his wings. The next blast followed almost immediately behind it.

Mallory crawled along the floor; the world was blurring, fading out at the edges. There was another shot, but he could barely feel it this time; there was too much pain coursing through him already, and he had no hope of healing his wounds. He was too far gone.

A pair of black shoes, polished to a mirror shine, came into view, stopping an inch in front of his nose. It took all of his strength to roll himself onto his back and his broken wings. He looked up to see Gwyn leaning over him, his face upside-down and twisted into a cold smile. He blinked once or twice at Mallory, lying blood-spattered at his feet, then reached down, peeling Mallory’s fingers from around the grip of the gun clutched to his chest and kicking the other away. And then he smashed the butt of the gun down into Mallory’s face.

The world went dark.

THE SHOOTING HAD stopped. There had been a sound... a sound Alice knew could only have been Mallory. Barely able to breathe, she felt for him – felt for whatever it was he felt – and the wave of pain she found was so strong that it threatened to swallow her. She shut it out, knowing it would drown her. Even as she did so the fire burning at her wrists brightened. It was enough to light her way.

There were footsteps. Someone was coming after her. And it wasn’t Mallory.

Yet again, she ran.

The staircase turned and turned and turned, up and up and up, and suddenly, she was out in the open. She was on a small roof, surrounded by a low wall. A gust of wind threatened to sweep her feet out from under her as she looked for somewhere to go.

Other than the staircase she had just come up, there was nowhere.

The wind tore at her hair, blowing it in front of her face; into her eyes and her mouth... and the footsteps were getting louder. There were voices too: someone was most definitely coming up the stairs. They were chasing her.

Jester. Vin. Mallory.

Alice brushed her hair away from her face, holding it back against the wind. She took a deep breath, and fixed her eyes on the wall.

“One,” she whispered, “two...”

The footsteps were right behind her now. Another few turns of the spiral and they would be out on the roof.

“Three.” She let her hand drop and ran for the edge, her hair streaming behind her in the wind.

She heard them burst out of the staircase, heard them shout... but it was too late. She already had one foot on the wall.

Throwing her arms out wide, Alice jumped.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX Leap of Faith

THE RUSH OF air tore at her skin, at her hair, at her clothing. The rocks below raced to meet her with unbelievable speed, and however hard she tried, she could not close her eyes; they were pinned open by the wind, giving her no choice but to look at the ground as it came up to meet her.

Still, she thought, at least this way I get a good look at my landing spot...

The air shimmered around her as she fell. More than shimmered; for an instant, she could have sworn it glowed.

An instant was all she had. No sooner had she thought it than the rocks were there, and everything went black.