“Sadriel? I don’t suppose I could tempt you to join us up there?”
She shook her head. “I’d prefer to stay down here,” she said, her eyes very momentarily flitting towards Lina, then away again. “You understand, don’t you?”
“Perfectly,” I said. “So all you losers just stay down here and hold the fort while I go up there and be the big damn hero.” I’d said it all with a smile, partly to convince myself of my own grand delusion. Fake it till you make it, right? Except it wasn’t really working. The confidence didn’t feel real.
Apollo stretched out his hand. “Remember, Mason. There might be other applications of your powers that you haven’t fully considered.”
“Look, we basically smashed him in the face with an on-fire freight train and he just shrugged it off. Smiting barely works. Not sunfire, not divine weapons either. I’m out of ideas here.”
“The Vestments,” he said, like that was supposed to mean anything.
I wagged a finger at him. “Listen, I’m not falling for that one again. No more million-dollar debt. And besides, it’s not the time for riddles and hints right now. Just do like Artemis said. Shut up and rest up.”
He sat up suddenly, wincing as he closed one hand tightly around my wrist. “Remember what we discussed.” He lifted his head to the clouds. “The Vestments? Maybe they aren’t just about arms and armor. You need a change in perspective. I see the world from a bird’s eye view. Maybe you need to do the same.”
“So fly up there, attack from on high? That’s the plan, but I’ll keep what you said in mind.” I pulled my hand away, rubbing at my wrist, still wondering what the hell he meant. Sadriel looked between us, frowning suspiciously. I just shrugged at her. “He’s probably delirious,” I muttered. “From his injury, and the fall.”
“Right,” she said. “Well, do take care up there, Mr. Albrecht. And no pressure, but if Beelzebub defeats you, then it dooms us all.”
I narrowed my eyes at her. “Right. No pressure.” I looked up towards the three dots up in the clouds, keeping my eyes focused on the one with the insect wings. “Defeat a demon prince. No problem.”
30
With a beat of my own wings, I was off, speeding back up into the sky to fight an enemy freshly fed on the essence and spirit of my fallen brethren.
Blasts of blue and gold lanced across the sky as Samyaza and Raziel expended the last of their power. They were still trying to smite Beelzebub. We rammed him at full speed with an entire flaming chariot and it had hardly made an impression. What the hell were little insect bites supposed to do?
“Ah,” Beelzebub said, laughing. “So the prodigal child returns, with his silly glowing hat. I always did wonder what made this one so special. Such privilege, being born a son of the king of the fallen.”
I bared my teeth at him, but kept my silence. Beelzebub was just goading me on. I never asked for this. I never asked for my mom to be kidnapped by some psychotic demon prince. We just wanted a normal life, but we were way past that now. Normal was never going to be a thing for the Albrechts.
“The boy is different in more ways than that,” Raziel said. “As is his purpose. He will be your end, demon.” Raziel fired another blast, clutching at his wrist. He was running out of juice. It was too obvious.
Beelzebub laughed. “Different? I bet he bleeds just like all the other nephilim. I’m sure he’ll die just the same.”
In a flash he spun towards me, slashing his hand through the air, unleashing a swirling trail of droning flies, and fire, and black lightning. My heart did a somersault as I beat my wings hard, flying up and out of the attack. I dodged enough of it, but felt the tips of my left wing bend to pressure, grazed by the swarm. Singed feathers fell, then danced off with the wind. That was too close. I couldn’t risk another close shave like that.
“Don’t touch my son,” Samyaza roared, speeding towards Beelzebub with a fist bathed in blue fire.
“No,” I shouted.
Beelzebub twisted again, just out of Samyaza’s path, but still flying close enough to slam his open palm against his chest. Thunder crashed. Beelzebub scorched his torso with black lightning. Samyaza screamed, his blue fire snuffed out, the light of his glyphs fading as he slipped unconscious, then fell towards earth.
Raziel shot through the air, arms outstretched as he raced to catch Samyaza before he could fall. Raziel looked up at me for a fleeting moment, but I caught what he wanted to say clearly in his eyes and the lines of his face. We had to run. This was over. We were defeated.
“No,” I muttered to myself, staring down at the world. Raziel was flying Samyaza down to safety. All that remained in the air was me, only dozens of feet above Beelzebub. Below us, somewhere, was my mother, and farther down, the mouth of the volcano. This couldn’t be over. We couldn’t allow Beelzebub to summon more of his armies and take over the earth, especially not after he’d slain so many.
A change in perspective, Apollo said. This was it, then. A bird’s eye view? And how was that meant to help me?
“It is over, nephilim,” Beelzebub boomed, his gaze raised tauntingly to meet mine. “You and your friends are defeated. Surrender and I may yet consider keeping you alive in my larder for sustenance.”
“Never,” I shouted. “I’m
