The first wave lingered over the shore. In the Before, the water could sweep boats, cars, bicycles, tables, chairs, lift the roofs, and rush all the way up here. In the Age of Angels, it stood still as if on command. It probably did stand on Michael’s command. He could flood the island.
It had been said that a flood once ended the world.
The Court’s bells rang louder.
I jerked as if slapped out of my shocked state. My parents. Did they make it? I sprinted across the lawn of level one—which I swore was not even a foot long this time—past the gate into level two, then another gate. Locked. The gate separating levels two and three was locked. I pulled the lever, but nothing happened. Furious, I shouted, “Open!” The steel lock across the gate slid and fell. The gates opened before me. People spilled inside, and I watched their faces. So many people. Fear I wouldn’t find my parents here, or worse, that they hadn’t made it, gripped my chest and tightened my lungs. I couldn’t breathe.
I got out of the way of the stomping crowd and slumped against the stone wall, drawing breaths, fighting for air. Above me, weapons clashed. Angels covered the sky, not just the Command Fleet, but others in purple uniforms fighting alongside those humanoid bat creatures Michael called the Ras. One creature fell from the sky, landed on the wall, then rolled and ended up right in front of me. The people in the yard screamed. I vaulted to my feet, knives in hand. The creature grunted, rolling onto his belly, one broken wing at an odd angle, and turned. Our eyes locked. It was gonna kill me and all the people here. I knew it like I knew my Dad would be at the market now, pushing that fruit stall home, trying to get to my mom and brother instead of going straight to the House and staying safe. Mom wouldn’t leave without him. I knew that too. It had nothing to do with being irrationally stupid, and everything to do with how we stuck together like my brother’s Lego.
I bent at the knees and threw the knife. It lodged in the creature’s throat.
He covered it with both hands, pulled, but couldn’t yank it out. Wounded, he advanced on me. Another knife in hand, I rushed him and stabbed him in the gut, then carved a path to his throat, screaming at the top of my lungs. Guts spilled all over me. The stench made me want to vomit. I stepped away to watch him sway on his feet.
I extended my hand to reach for the knife in his throat, but it ejected from his body and flew back into my sheath. I blinked. I think I moved it. I think I moved it like I’d moved the gates. “Holy crap, Michael,” I said to nobody in particular. But he heard me.
“Move on!” Michael shouted from above. I looked up. Raphael’s sword sliced Michael’s thigh. Blood gushed and splattered on my face. Raphael charged.
Michael evaded the charge, but kept staring down at me. “Move on!” he shouted again.
I had to move. Jesus. “Moving, Commander,” I yelled back.
The crowds poured inside the level two training grounds. I shouldered my way through them. Soldiers formed lines on either side of the bottom gate, herding people like sheep inside the grounds. I ran down the line, determined to get to my parents. I couldn’t leave them out there. Once on the street, I ran toward the city, taking the same street as I had before, hoping against all hope I would reach the house where my family lived and find it empty. Perhaps then I would know they’d left.
As I ran, I prayed. I had never been a believer of anything, but things had changed. Let me help my people. I am grateful for the skills given to me, and I will use them to do the right thing. I will. Throw me a bone. Anything.
And there they were. At the end of the street, running up the hill—Mom, Dad, and Nathan.
“Soldier!” My dad waved. “They’re right behind us.”
I stood there until they ran past me as if I was nobody to them, but that was okay, because they weren’t nobodies to me. I ran after them. The soldier was pushing the gates closed and pointing behind me. My family made it inside.
A huge boom sounded, and the gates closed.
I didn’t make it. I didn’t make it inside in the same way the other soldiers didn’t make it out of the chow hall. At the wall, soldiers aimed arrows toward the street, archers ready for the Marked. I searched the sky for Michael, caught a sight of golden wings covered in blood, feathers both purple and gold flying all around a pair of angelic forms that moved so swiftly, I could barely tell them apart. If I called to him, he’d lose the fight. Michael could not fall. He was the world’s anchor that kept everyone alive.
The fog licked at my feet, crawled up my leg. Metal locks clicked as they slid over the gates. An eerie silence preceded the Marked, the fog somehow insulating the sounds. They came, dressed in gray and black, ordinary people, with ordinary tools: screwdrivers, hammers, butcher knives. Men and women of all shapes and sizes, from all walks of life.
There were no cowards in this Court. I wasn’t gonna be one. Courage. Faith. No mercy.
I crouched, accepting I would die today, but if I had to die, at least I’d do it with style. Michael would be proud of me. I would not go down as a whiny little soldier, but as someone who stood up for herself.
I shouted a battle
