Rebellion

dumber than you look. And that’s saying something.”

Vin tossed the rope aside and he sat there, legs stretched out, in between Mallory – unconscious on the floor – and Toby – unconscious in the chair. He looked from one to the other.

“I knew I should’ve stayed in Hong Kong.”

THE BOTTLES ON the shelf rattled, gently at first, but with increasing violence. No-one in the bar noticed – they were too absorbed in their own affairs, and the music was loud – but when the first bottle threw itself from its spot and smashed on the floor, its contents bursting into flame as it hit the concrete, they paid attention. A half-dozen men in crumpled suits, collars open and ties tucked in their pockets, glanced round. Paul the barman, a man with bright red hair, stared wide-eyed at the broken glass and the burning puddle before reaching under the counter and pressing a small black button, pulling a metal rod out from beneath the bar and setting it on the top, just in case. The remaining bottles behind him rattled ever-louder, some of them jumping in place and rocking alarmingly, and a phone mounted between the shelves rang.

One eye on the bottles, Paul picked up the receiver – plugging his other ear with his finger to better hear the voice on the other end. He listened, his face expressionless, and then he spoke.

“They’re coming,” was all he said.

He listened again and nodded, then hung up the phone and disappeared through a black door behind the bar, turning a dial on the music control pad as he left.

No-one saw him leave.

The music grew louder.

When the next bottle fell, nobody noticed.

MICHAEL’S CHOIR REACHED the warehouse, but instead of launching themselves straight at it, as Alice had expected, they stopped.

“Michael’s waiting,” whispered a voice from the shadows, and Alice twitched. She thought she was the last one there. Peering into the dark, she saw a vague shape... and a pale face in the gloom. Castor. Dressed head to toe in black, he was almost impossible to make out in the shadows.

“Waiting for what?”

“The most effective moment.”

“He’s giving them warning.”

“Of course he is.” He folded his arms.

“That’s crazy...”

“Not if you’re Michael. He wants them to know he’s coming. And that he’s coming for them.”

“For whom, exactly?”

He didn’t answer, so she changed tack. “What about you?” she asked. “I thought you’d be out front, leading the charge...”

“Me? No. I’m an Earthbound, remember? Don’t belong.” He stepped into the light of Alice’s flames, twirling his baton in his hands. “You’re going in after Mallory, aren’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Then you’re going to need a little backup. What do you say?”

“What do I say?” She pointed to what looked like a loading-bay door, padlocked shut. “I say... what are we waiting for?”

The door was a corrugated metal shutter, large enough for a van to back through. Castor peered at the hasp of the padlock, attached to a small steel loop set into the ground. “Just to make this clear,” he said, smashing his boot down onto it – once, twice, three times until it cracked – “I’m very much off duty right now.” He kicked the fragments of metal out of the way and heaved on the door, which rattled up and over their heads, leaving a gaping hole ahead of them. Alice shot a look over her shoulder. The angels were still waiting.

She and Castor were not.

The smell was like walking into a wall. Solid, thick, heavy. She couldn’t just taste it, she could feel it. There was a faint green glow coming from the emergency lighting in the rafters, high above – just enough to make out the stacks of crates that stood around the space. They were going to have to tread carefully.

“What on earth is that smell?” Alice’s voice was muffled by her sleeve, clamped over her face in an attempt to shut it out.

Castor didn’t seem particularly bothered by it. He pointed at something in the far corner. “That. Come on.”

“You want me to get closer to it? Why?”

“Because.” He tugged at her arm and headed towards it. Pulling a face, she followed – only to walk straight into his outstretched arm a moment later.

“What...?”

He was pointing down with his other hand.

She looked.

He had stopped her on the edge of a large pit in the floor, her toes actually sticking out into empty air. It reminded her of the mechanic’s pit in the garage her father used to take their car to when she was little. Only that pit had been smaller – much smaller. And less full of...

She peered into the pit, straining her eyes in the faint light.

...Less full of entrails.

“Oh, god.”

“Believe me when I say there’s absolutely nothing godly about this place.”

“What is that?”

“You really want me to tell you?”

“No. I really don’t.” More than anything, Alice wanted to look away, but she couldn’t. Her eyes just kept on staring. They wouldn’t close, wouldn’t blink, wouldn’t move. “I think I can see a finger.”

“I think you need to stop looking.” Gently, he pushed her back and away from the pit, although he didn’t move himself. “This is what they do, Alice. This. They were like us, once. All the Fallen. They were just like us.”

“What happened to them, do you think?”

“Lucifer happened. Lucifer promised them freedom: he just neglected to tell them what he was freeing them from. Hope. This is the work of the hopeless. No-one with any hope in their soul could do this.” He stared down into the pit.

“One of them thanked me. As he burned, he thanked me.”

“You were killing him. It’s probably the first mercy he’s seen since he Fell.” At last, he stepped back from the pit. “Don’t let it bother you.”

“Bother me? Compared to what? This?” She waved towards the mess on the floor of the pit. “Because this is taking ‘bothering me’ to a whole new level.”

Somewhere in the darkness, something growled.

“And that was what?” Alice asked, taking an involuntary step closer to Castor.

“Time we weren’t here.”

“Guard dog?”

“If only. Come on.” He skirted around the pit and towards the stacks of crates, with Alice close behind.

They threaded their way through the towers of boxes, and Alice couldn’t help but stop once or twice, listening for the growling again. It was still there, but it was faint – and, thankfully, getting fainter.

“You’re not going to tell me what that was?” she asked.

“Nope. Certainly not here, in the dark. You’ll thank me later.”

“If there is a later...” she muttered. Funnily enough, running face-first into Lucifer bothered her a whole lot less than unspecified animals growling at her in the dark.

At the end of the maze of boxes, they came to another stretch of concrete, and a door. Beside the door sat