“It does...”
“And then when it’s convenient, you stand there and you shrug and you say that, hey, it’s not up to you...”
“It’s not! It was up to
Alice stared at him, at the smoke coiling up from the edges of his wings, and she understood. Michael had given him an order – a real order – and he was powerless to disobey. Michael had made sure that it wasn’t only Alice shackled by her choice: he’d tied Mallory to it as well. Just to be doubly sure. The woman on the beach had been right: the angels were cruel. She shook her head, and – relieved – Mallory took a step back. He relaxed instantly, ruffling his wings as they healed. “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me, Mallory.”
“One minute.” He watched her for a moment, his face inscrutable, then stepped outside, leaving Alice alone with Toby.
He barely seemed to know what was happening. She wasn’t surprised, and she couldn’t blame him. He had no idea where he was, why he was there, what he had done (or not done), and none of it made any sense. He must have been there since the riot. She’d tried to push him away. To protect him. She’d done well at that, hadn’t she?
She brushed his hair away from his face.
“Alice... what’s happening?”
“You got in the middle of something, Toby. You didn’t mean to, and it wasn’t your fault. But now you’re in.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I don’t either.”
He was looking at her now; straight at her. His eyes locked on to hers. “You’re going to leave me here, aren’t you?”
“I’m sorry, Toby. I’m so, so sorry.”
“You said you were going to get me out...”
“I don’t have a choice.”
“You’re just going to leave me.”
“I can’t...” Alice found herself drawing back from him. She hadn’t meant to – not at all – but still, she had pulled away.
“You’re going to leave. With them.”
“I have to.”
“You don’t have to. You can help me!” He strained against the ropes, and the chair rocked from side to side. “Please! You can help me!”
“I can’t. I can’t untie the ropes, and I have to go. I’m sorry.” She dropped a kiss on his forehead, along with her tears. “Someone will come back for you and get you out, I promise... I’ll send someone. Just... hold on.”
“You can stick your promise, Alice.” Toby’s voice was heavy, and it hurt Alice more than anything else in that room. She was abandoning him, and he knew it.
“I’m sorry...” she said again, and she meant it. But somehow she was beside the door and he was still tied to the chair. Still tied to the chair and beaten. Still tied to the chair and bleeding.
And she was beside the door where the angels were waiting.
Toby turned his head away from her, and there was nothing else to say.
Mallory’s face was grim, but he was still waiting. “It’s time to go,” he said. Alice nodded.
“I know.”
“Alright, then.” He glanced up at Castor and Vin. “Let’s go.”
Toby heard them walk away. By the time the echoes of their voices had faded, the only sound left was his sobbing.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
The Garments of Vengeance
ALICE HAD BEEN right about the fighting. While she and Castor were looking for Mallory and Vin, Michael and his choir had torn through the rest of the warehouse. Things were burning everywhere Alice looked. Sheets of paper blew along corridors – some scorched, some still on fire – and pools of fire dotted the floor. Shouts echoed through the building; shouts, and the occasional scream. Alice felt dizzy, unstable. Nothing made sense. She had left Toby. Toby, a prisoner of the Fallen, and she had left him to be tortured, perhaps even to die. Beside her was Mallory, his face blank. But he was angry, and he was hurt. Whatever Michael had done, it hurt – and more than that, it had forced him to obey. Something which never sat well with Mallory...
They rounded a corner and walked almost straight into two of the Fallen, who recoiled and gnashed their teeth at the sight of Mallory. He sidestepped one, dodging neatly and bringing his gun level with the other’s heart. He pulled the trigger, and the unfortunate creature took a bullet in the chest, falling back with a shriek. Without breaking his stride, Mallory whirled around and smashed the butt of the gun into the other’s face, knocking him to the ground.
“Where is he?” he shouted, leaning over the Fallen, who grinned and spat up into his face.
“He’s coming home,” he hissed.
“Lucifer? Fuck that. That’s not who I meant and you know it,” said Mallory, and sharply brought his boot up under the Fallen’s chin. His head snapped back and lolled against the floor.
“Coming home, indeed. Load of old bollocks.” Mallory muttered.
Castor was staring at him.
“What?” he said, stopping mid-stride.
Castor blinked back. “You’re a crazy person. An actual crazy person.”
“Me? No. No, right now, I’m angry. You want to see what happens when I get crazy?”
“Is that likely to happen tonight?”
“That depends on how long it takes me to find Rimmon.”
“MICHAEL!” ONE OF the angel’s wings was broken, and hung down at his side. Michael pulled his sword up and out of the body on the floor and turned to look at him.
“What?”
“Xaphan has been sighted. He’s heading...”
“Follow him.”
“You don’t want us to stop him?”
“Not yet. Xaph’s usually the first one to run, and he’s usually the one who knows where to go. So watch him, follow him... whatever it takes.”
“We could...”
“And if you kill him, what do you think Lucifer will do?”
“I understand.”
“Good.” Michael wiped his sword clean. “I won’t have our plans spoiled – not now we’re so close.”
“Yes, sir.” The angel saluted and hurried off.
