Rebellion

anyone to see, and if there was, did they care? If the world really was falling apart around them, would anyone notice the death of a single angel?

The news that Zadkiel was dead, that Gabriel was with the Fallen... she had heard it, and she had understood it – but she couldn’t make herself feel it. Michael’s anger had gone beyond mere rage: it was grief, she knew... and something else.

Fear.

She had felt that, alright. A stab of it, deep inside her, as he had left the room. Right after he had mentioned Lucifer.

They were going to restore Lucifer. The Fallen wouldn’t just be the Fallen any longer. They would be an army, led by two Archangels and reinforced by an entire choir, and the current Angel of Death.

And they had Mallory and Vin.

The day was just getting better and better.

She hurried down the stairs fast enough to make herself dizzy. The stone walls no longer felt cold to the touch: now, they were warm, even on the inside, thanks to the flames outside. Michael had a temper... not that that was news to Alice. A temper, combined with grief, was about the most mindlessly destructive force there was. Alice didn’t need anyone to tell her that: she’d been there. She just hoped that in this case, there was someone around to pick up the pieces.

She turned the corner at the bottom of the stairs and stepped out of the doorway into the cloister. There, angels were lining up – as she had expected. What she’d seen earlier was a drill. This was the real thing. This was, as Michael had already said, absolute war. Their armour caught the light of the fire above them, glowing deep red in the fading light. Alice glanced up: she hadn’t noticed, but it was almost dusk, and the deepening blue sky was slashed across with red and pink.

She thought back to her first sight of the priory, from the shore of the village they called Medea. The sunset had made the roofs look like they were burning then... now, they were.

A dark figure at the far side of the cloister caught her eye; not in armour, like the others. An Earthbound, with sandy hair, ruffled and streaked with dirt. He was dressed in black – including what looked to Alice like a stab-proof vest. A police vest. Castor.

He barely acknowledged her as she crossed the cloister to him, weaving between angels and ducking beneath outstretched wings as they opened. His face was empty, his eyes dull and red-rimmed.

“Castor...?”

There was no reaction.

“Castor, I’m sorry.” Alice put a hand on his arm and he flinched, but then his eyes seemed to come into focus and he looked at her, recognising her at last.

“He’s dead. Zadkiel is dead,” was all he said, and his voice was little more than a rasp.

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“He’s gone. I lost him, Alice. I lost him.” It almost looked as though he was going to say something else, but he changed his mind and covered his eyes with his fingers. Alice rested her hand on his arm, wishing there was more she could say, but there was nothing. Behind them, the angels clattered to attention – all swords and plate and feather – and none of them thought to look in the corner. Not one of them saw Castor weep for his Archangel.

A bell rang somewhere nearby, tolling across the cloisters, and the angels fell silent. Alice looked round just as Michael swept into the cloister, his wings folded behind his back. He cocked his head on one side, listening as the last echoes of the bell died away, and then he folded his arms across his chest, armour blazing not with the light of the sunset, but with flame.

“Tonight, the Angelus has rung without Gabriel. You will know by now that he has betrayed us. He has abandoned us; he has turned on us. He has murdered our brother and opened our gates to the damned.”

There was a quiet murmur from the crowd of assembled angels.

“He has broken our trust, and taken what was not his to take. Tonight, we take it back.”

A cheer.

Alice could have sworn she saw the corner of Michael’s mouth twitch... and at that moment, she realised there was suddenly nothing under her hand. Castor had moved. In fact, Castor was now out in the middle of the cloister, striding towards Michael. “Oh, bollocks,” muttered Alice, scrambling after him.

“What about Zak, Michael?” he shouted. “What about vengeance?”

“Vengeance?” Michael asked, raising his voice. Every single pair of eyes was now very definitely on Castor, and Michael’s face broke into a broad smile. “Vengeance was always what Gabriel did best, wasn’t it? I think it’s time we showed him what vengeance really means.”

Another cheer, and this time the angels began to step out of their lines. They were forming a crowd, with Castor and Michael as the centre.

“We take them. We take them now!” Michael shouted, raising his sword towards the sky. The angels roared in response and Alice stared open-mouthed at them as they bayed not for Lucifer’s blood, not for the Fallen, but for Gabriel’s. Gabriel, who until hours before had been one of their own.

“Not your bad guy anymore,” she whispered, remembering what Mallory had told her the first time he’d mentioned Gabriel.

“Alice, when the lights go out and the world stops, at the end of time, and there’s nothing left but dust and ash and embers... Gabriel will still be standing there with blood on his hands.”

“He sounds like a piece of work. You’re sure he’s one of the good guys?”

“He is. He’s just a bad one.”

“Can’t say I’ve ever seen much of a difference between the bad good guys and the good bad ones.”

“Oh, there is one. Namely that he’s ours.”

The memory didn’t exactly make her comfortable.

THE SOUND OF wings filled the cloister; the rustle of feathers as angels took flight. It was either an extraordinary thing to see, or a ridiculous one. Alice was too tired to be sure. She felt like she had stumbled into the middle of something; something too big for her. Finally, she was ready to call it quits and to go home – because this... this, she knew, would break her.

“Doubt? You?” The voice was an inch from her right ear. She froze.

The air smelled of woodsmoke, and she could hear his wings.

“Not doubt.”

“I should hope not. What, then?”

“I don’t know.”

“Adriel gave you a message for me.”

“Yes. Now can you stop breathing in my ear?” Alice snapped, glaring at Michael and taking a step away from him. He straightened up, raising an eyebrow at her.

“Message, Alice.”

“He said to tell you the apprentice was ready. What does that even mean?”

“It means that Adriel has done the right thing.”

“Which is...?”

“The Angel of Death cannot be partial: he cannot be ‘ours’ or ‘theirs.’ Not at a time like this. He simply... is.”

“Which is why Lucifer isn’t any more.”

“Quite. You can imagine how that would have gone, can’t you?” Michael scowled, but continued. “Adriel was chosen from those of Lucifer’s choir who remained. He was the most... level-headed. The most balanced.”

“Looks good in a suit, too.”

“Yes, I’m sure that was one of our main considerations.” He sighed. “Everything will change, Alice. If Lucifer is restored. Everything. Do you understand?”

“Not even slightly.”

“Perhaps it’s best that you don’t. And do you still want to come with us?”

“Do they still have Vin and Mallory?”