“MICHAEL TOLD YOU to report to him.” Alice was having trouble keeping up with Mallory, who was now storming ahead of them.
“Yes, he did.”
“You’re not, are you?”
“Oh, I will. Just not yet.”
“Why?”
“Because he made this personal.”
“Who? Michael?” Mallory turned abruptly to face her, and she stumbled to a halt.
“Not Michael. Rimmon.”
“Oh, not again...”
“Alice?”
“What?”
“Listen to me – just for once. This is personal. More personal than you can imagine. It always has been, and I’ve had enough. So yes, I will go and report to Michael like the good little soldier I am... but first, I’m going to find Rimmon and I’m going to hurt him. And I’m going to enjoy it.” There was an edge to his voice that Alice recognised. “So if you don’t want to be there for that, I suggest you go. Now.” He steamed ahead again, not waiting for a reply.
Alice frowned. “After all this? You think you can just walk away? You think you can do this without me?” she shouted after him. Behind them, Castor looked at Vin.
“They’re always like this, aren’t they?” he asked, gesturing to them both.
“Welcome to my life.”
MALLORY THREW THE door open and marched through. “Rimmon!” he shouted. Something nearby rattled. “Rimmon!”
“He’s going to get away...” Alice mumbled, following him through. It was dark on the other side, but here and there she could make out reflections: light glinting on metal. It was a big room, and it smelled of booze. “Mallory...” she said. “I don’t like this.”
He paid no attention. Instead, he banged his gun down on something and carried on shouting. “Rimmon! I know you’re in here, you little shit!”
“Mallory....”
He was still ignoring her – but Alice had found the light switch... or rather, a bank of them. Switch by switch, she flicked them on, and then wished she hadn’t.
The room smelled of booze because it was a bar. They were standing beside the counter: clad in black plastic with gold edging, it wanted to look like marble and failed. There was what seemed to be a dance floor ahead, and coloured lights spun above it, casting weird, shifting shadows. A small, round podium stood in the middle of it all, complete with a golden pole fixed to the ceiling, and Alice felt an overwhelming desire to wash her hands.
Every bottle behind the bar was broken. Some of the remains of the bottles lay on their shelves, spilling a liquid rainbow which pooled on the floor and glittered with broken glass.
But worse than the broken glass, worse than the podium, worse than the knowledge that Rimmon was in here and that Mallory wouldn’t leave until he’d found him... worse than all that were the bodies.
Some of them still held shattered glasses, smashed as they fell. Some of them had been trying to run – or at least, to get away. One or two looked as though they had been trying to shield themselves, or possibly each other. Much good had it done them. A man in what had been a black suit lay face-down not three feet from Alice. The back of his head was charred and sticky. He had one arm outstretched; his fingers clasping a wallet. It was still smoking.
The Fallen had not done this.
Michael had done this.
These were not the Fallen. These were people. Michael hadn’t come for Lucifer; he had come for
Alice didn’t see Rimmon step out of the shadows, she didn’t see Mallory grab his gun. The first she knew was the bullet that zipped past her ear, making her dive for cover behind the bar
“You aiming for me, or her, Mal?” asked Rimmon, lurking across the room. “I only ask because from here, it was kind of hard to tell.”
“You’re going to have to speak up, Rimmon. I can barely hear you all the way back there.” Mallory waved his gun at the Fallen. “It’s funny, you were so keen to get in my face earlier. Now...” He shrugged.
Rimmon snorted, but he didn’t get any closer. “Why should I bother myself with you? We’ve won... and there’s nothing you can do about it.”
“I’m not sure the pissed-off Archangel knocking around the building’s going to agree with you on that one.”
“Michael? Are you kidding? He’s the one who let all this happen! He could have stopped us at any point, but he didn’t. You know why? Because he’s so damn set on getting his hands on Lucifer. He doesn’t care about the rest of it. He never has, and he never will. The sooner you wake up to that, the better.” Rimmon laughed. “Mind you, you’ve never been the brightest of the bunch, have you? Look at you, standing there. You’re a blunt instrument.”
“Really? Want to see how blunt I can be?” Mallory squeezed the trigger of his gun, unloading the entire magazine at Rimmon’s chest.
With each impact, Rimmon staggered back... and finally, finally, he fell.
Mallory didn’t move. Arm still raised, he stood.
Rimmon lay flat on his back on the dancefloor... and then he started to laugh. Louder and louder he laughed, until the whole place echoed with the sound. He hauled himself to his feet – still laughing – and tugged at the front of his jacket. It fell open.
Underneath was a solid black vest, its front studded with flattened bullets.
“Same old Mallory,” he said, tapping the bulletproof vest with a smirk, and pulling a gun of his own from his pocket.
Alice ducked again – wondering where the hell Vin and Castor had gone – and listened to the burst of gunfire. She found herself counting the shots... and hoping Mallory at least had enough sense to duck. Or move. Or do something sensible. The room was swimming in alcohol: one misplaced spark from her and the whole place could go up, taking them all with it. Without knowing where he was, she didn’t dare risk trying to help, so instead she hid helplessly behind the bar and counted the shots.
They stopped, and she scrambled to her feet. Rimmon was still holding his arm out, the gun now swinging from his fingers and his mouth open as though he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing.
Mallory was in exactly the same spot. He hadn’t moved, and at first, Alice thought that the bullets must have missed. But they hadn’t. His clothing was punctuated by neat bullet holes, almost lost amid the buckshot holes, and a trickle of blood ran down the left side of his chest.
“You’re going to have to try a lot harder than that, Rimmon,” he said, and from where Alice was standing, it almost looked like he smiled. Rimmon turned to run... but Mallory was there first, making it across the room in the blink of an eye.
He had left his gun on the bar.
In his hand, he had a metal rod.
“VHNORI? ARE YOU alright?” Castor caught Vin’s arm as he stumbled. Something was wrong. Castor’s mind itched as the other Earthbound gasped for breath, and Vin slumped against the wall, his face twisting in pain.
“You need to fetch them. Fetch Alice. Fetch Mallory. There’s no more time. Get them out.” He stared straight into Castor’s eyes... and Castor flinched.
Vin’s eyes were completely black.
