“I can help,” Adriel said, very softly, as if he’d attempted to offer before. The look in his eyes told me that he’d also been rebuked for trying, perhaps painfully.
“Baradiel says to get back inside, brother,” Nuriel said, his voice and his smile flatter this time.
Adriel said nothing, shuffling backwards, his face only just visible in the shadows. Maybe this broken angel was the key. If we could somehow reach out to him, get him to betray his brothers –
“You have come to our terrestrial sanctuary with the express intention to harm us and our followers,” Baradiel said, his voice loud and ringing, like he was announcing some kind of decree. “For this trespass, you must die.”
I cracked my knuckles. “Funny you should mention that. We’re here to execute you, too. In the name of Asmodeus, Prince of Lust, I sentence you to death.”
“A fine day for a battle, then.” Nuriel laughed, raising his face to the sky. “Did any of you check the forecast for today? I’ve heard that there might be some inclement weather.”
I followed his line of sight, my heart pounding when I saw the swirl of gray clouds above us. A storm was brewing, but knowing these angels, it wasn’t just any storm.
Mr. Wrinkles picked a fine time to dig his claws into my shins. “I would eradicate them if I had the power left to do it,” he said from somewhere between my legs. “But I do not. I suggest you do something before we’re all killed.”
Pierce launched himself wordlessly at Baradiel, moving so quickly that I only saw him blur and appear a foot away from the angel, his daggers upraised. Baradiel raised his hand, a disk of ice materializing on his forearm. Pierce’s daggers clinked ineffectively against the angel’s shields, about as useful as a pair of rusty ice picks.
A ball of flame roared from between Dantaleon’s pages, and quick as a flash, Baradiel appeared in its path, blocking the arcane fire with his shield. The flames cleared. The ice on his arm had hardly melted.
Pierce bared his teeth, his torso leaning towards Baradiel as he attempted another attack. Nuriel extended his arm, his smile serene as a sheath of frost sprouted from his wrist, erupting into a perfect sword made entirely of ice. He thrust his blade forward, aiming it dead center of Pierce’s chest.
“No,” I cried, hurling a ball of fire. Baradiel shifted, again absorbing it with his shield.
“Oh. Hell, no.” Crystal gestured at Pierce, and he disappeared, Nuriel’s sword zinging and cutting into thin air. A split second later, Pierce was sprawled on the ground at our feet, teleported by Crystal’s magic.
“You’re going to get yourself killed,” Crystal and I hissed at once.
Pierce rubbed the back of his neck, confused. “It’s kill or be killed,” he said, looking at the sky. “I’ve got two daggers, and look. They’re sending hundreds.”
I looked up, the dread almost choking me when I saw them: a hail of blades carved out of the purest ice, each as slender and sharp as an icicle. All of them were sailing straight for earth, yet aiming for our cluster, as if a target was painted at our feet.
The angels were trying to drain us of our power. Who knew how much they kept in their reservoir? Mr. Wrinkles was already spent. Dantaleon had to be approaching his limit, too. I hated that I would have to expend what little magic I had left on protecting us.
“Gather close,” I shouted, extending my hand towards the sky, my heart pounding like drums as the rain of daggers came closer and closer. “Arma grandia.”
A dome of red light gleamed over us all. Pierce and Crystal clutched at me, pressing their hands against my back, lending me what they could. All the while I kept thinking of how I shouldn’t have had to need their power, how I should always have been more than enough to protect them on my own. My brother, this strange girl, my cat, even my mentor.
And then came the daggers.
The shield thudded and shuddered with every icy spike that came crashing against it. The film of magic afforded us a close, terrifying view of the storm, the icicles shattering as they struck my shield. Dozens came, and I knew the attack wouldn’t slow any time soon. Cracks were beginning to spider the outside of the dome.
“Shit,” Pierce said. “We’re dead.”
“I can’t teleport us away from here,” Crystal said. “There’s too many of you. I barely have enough to move myself.”
“I fear that I must admit the same,” Dantaleon said. “I’ve already consumed so much of my energy transporting us here. Hold the shield, Quilliam. Hold it, or we’re all doomed.”
Sweat had broken out all across my body, my shirt and my hair soaked in my own terror. I couldn’t hold it any longer. The icicles were coming too hard and too fast. I could feel every collision deep within my bones. Outside the dome, the angels laughed.
And then they screamed.
My eyes went huge as I watched through what was left of my force field, the world tinted red through its lens. If I had ever killed an angel before, I would have remembered the color of their blood. No matter the truth, Baradiel and Nuriel bled red, streaks of crimson pouring down their chests from long spikes that punctured their bodies clear through the back.
The shield around us finally shattered, pieces of magic drifting to the grass and tinkling like shards of broken glass. But the storm had passed, and I was too transfixed by the bizarre sight. The twin angels lifted their heads to the sky, their eyes glowing as huge wings sprouted from their backs. They were attempting to return to heaven.
And then the spikes were pulled out of their bodies, leaving bleeding holes in their chests. The brothers screamed again when even more of the bladed spikes emerged, severing their wings.
The light left their eyes. Baradiel and Nuriel fell to their knees, then
