Rebellion

“They do.”

“Then what do you think?”

“I think I would have immense trouble keeping you here. But don’t for a moment make the mistake of thinking that I couldn’t. Or wouldn’t. And you would not enjoy that at all.”

“I’m not going to blithely shut up and do what I’m told, so let’s not even waste time on that conversation.”

Michael made a sound which might have been a growl, but she pretended not to notice. After a moment, he sighed. “It doesn’t matter what I say to you, what I order you to do, does it?”

“No.”

“You realise that they are there, in part, because of you?”

“No. They’re there because they made choices. Just like I’m here.”

“Mallory chose to give you time to get away.”

“That’s why he’s my friend.”

“Tell me, Alice: why would you risk so much to save him? To save them?”

“Because he... they’re worth saving.”

“Would you do the same for me? Am I... worth saving?”

“I’m not sure.”

Michael laughed, but there was very little joy behind it. “One thing you will obey me in, Alice, and this I do mean. The Fallen will have other prisoners. Mallory is being held with a human. You cannot save them both.”

“Why?”

“Because. Human or angel. Make your choice.”

Alice stared at him. “You’re telling me – you, Michael, all-powerful angel and all that – you can only save one of two people in a room.”

“No, Alice. I’m saying you can only save one of them.”

“What’s the catch?”

“That’s for you to decide. Now choose. Choose, or stay behind – and remember, if I take you, it’s nothing more than as a show of faith. Stay out of my way. I have work to do, and there’s more at stake than the lives of a couple of angels.”

“You’re a caring type, aren’t you?” She was getting used to Michael’s utter disregard for anyone else, but even so... “Of course I’m going to pick Mallory. Why wouldn’t I want to help him?”

“And therein lies the bane of my daily existence.” He opened his wings. “Remember your choice, Alice.”

“You’re not going even going to try another ‘do as you’re told or I’ll muzzle you’ speech? Frankly, I’m disappointed.”

“Do not provoke me, Alice.” He stood in front of her with his wings wide open and his eyes burning, holding out a hand. “Besides, by your choices, you muzzle yourself.”

His fingers closed around hers and the world filled with flame.

“I HATE THAT,” she said, opening her eyes. Wherever they were, it was dark. It was dark and it was damp and it smelled like oil and, quite possibly, vomit. Old vomit, at that. “I really hate that.”

“You would rather have walked?” Michael sounded even more sarcastic than usual.

“No, I’d rather have...” Alice started to look around, and tailed off. “Where the hell are we, anyway?”

“Where they are.” Michael nodded to a warehouse just ahead of them. “The Fallen. Gabriel. Lucifer.” The last name came out in a hiss.

Behind them, Alice could just see the outlines of Michael’s choir: they were trying to blend in, trying to be subtle. Trying, not succeeding. And she realised that this was where they were going to miss Zadkiel: not just because he hid them, made them forgettable when they needed to be... but because he was merciful.

What had driven Gabriel to Lucifer? Vengeance, she was willing to bet. Vengeance on... everyone – on Michael, most of all. And what would Michael do without Zadkiel behind him? Adriel had told her to help him, to help Michael. To help the angels to remember.

Human or angel. Make your choice.

There it was. What Adriel, more than anyone, had been trying to make her see. That there was no choice. She was both. That was the point of it all. She was both and always would be, and that was where she stood – between the two. More than that, it was where she belonged. And Adriel – impartial Adriel – had not only seen it, but he had tried to tell her so, before all hell had broken loose.

He’d seen it all coming.

So what was this ‘apprentice’ business, and what did it mean?

The angels were restless, shifting their weight from foot to foot; ruffling their feathers and muttering amongst themselves.

Alice looked at them all, and she knew they would not be merciful.

Betrayed not once, but twice, by their brothers. Betrayed by one of their generals. Besieged and attacked in their own safe haven, and forced to watch as the world they had been protecting tipped away from them.

No. There was no way they were going to be merciful.

ALICE HAD THE strangest sense of deja vu. The warehouse, she knew, would have a green neon sign on the front: the entrance to a sleazy-looking club. Around the corner was an alley full of rubbish, and just along from that was another warehouse. Or what was left of one.

She’d been here before.

She’d been here the night she had caught up with Murmur.

“Michael?”

“Alice.”

“You said this is where they’re hiding. Since when?”

“Since we burned them out of hell.”

“And you knew that?”

“Of course I did. But I had no reason...”

“You knew they were here, and you did nothing?”

“Would you have had me do, Alice?”

“Stop them! Kill them! Anything!”

“And then what?”

“Excuse me?”

“Then what? I could have taken Forfax at any time. Xaphan too, and any number of the others. But Lucifer would still be dust in the wind, and it’s him I want. Him, and now Gabriel.”

“But you could have stopped this. If you’d taken them... Zadkiel... Medea... those kids. You could have saved them!”

“And what good would it have done me? Would it have brought me any closer to Lucifer? No.”

“But his generals. The Twelve...”

“Would have been replaced. They always are.” He adjusted the edge of his breastplate. “For all this time, I have fought a war of attrition. I have tried to wear them down faster than they wear us down. I have followed the rules: rules which, by the way, Lucifer is more than content to break. I have been patient. No more.”

“I just think you don’t like the idea of losing.”

Alice was prepared for Michael to be angry, but the violence of his reaction still took her by surprise. One second she was standing on dark, damp, vomit-spattered tarmac, the next she was... somewhere else.

It was a box, mirrored on all sides. The floor, the roof, each wall... all reflected her own frightened face. Not quite a cube, it was tall enough for her to stand, and wide and long enough for her to reach out her arms. She couldn’t see how it was lit, but it was certainly light enough for her to make out her surroundings. With mounting panic, she realised that was part of the point.

“What are you doing, Michael?” she asked, her voice bouncing back to her with tinny resonance. The only other sound was her breathing, and it crossed her mind that she had no idea how much air she had...

“Michael?” She called his name, louder. There was no answer.