Shattered Walls (Seven Archangels Book 3) Read online

  Remiel tucked into a ball and dropped, flashing out of Creation just as his soul’s energy shot through where she’d been.

  And then in the next moment, she flashed right up to Heaven’s gates and barreled through to the other side, landing on her shoulder and rolling up onto her knees, laughing.

  Asmodeus slammed against the gate but couldn’t get in.

  She pushed her hair out of her eyes. “Nice try, loser.”

  Archangel guards clustered around her as Asmodeus discharged a blast of flame at the gates, but nothing got through. Remiel grinned.

  Belior joined him, startled, maybe even frightened.

  “What’s the matter?” Remiel got to her feet and dusted off. “Someone got into your super-secret club house?”

  Belior shot a look at Asmodeus and must have been asking what she’d discovered, so she stepped closer to the gates. “You had all those little toys and your toy soldiers to go with them. You’re so cute.”

  Remiel ignored the flood of invective from the Seraph and watched the Cherub. Come on, Belior, give me a clue. But Belior only put his hand on Asmodeus, who whirled on him and stared him down, and in return Belior fixed him with an equally stony stare.

  The Archangel Michael appeared at Remiel’s side, so she faced him. “Situation under control.” Remiel chuckled. “These two built a snow-fort. Nothing to see here.”

  At her back, both demons vanished.

  Michael was projecting five flavors of surprise and shock. “Where’s Zadkiel?”

  “Safe.” Remiel backed up her words with a projection of reassurance and mischief. “She’s the one doing the real work.”

  From her hiding spot, Zadkiel listened as the demons attempted to batten down the chaos Remiel had created. She’s good at that, Zadkiel prayed, but I’m not sure this was really the best way to get the answers we need. Because in the next moments, the remaining demons, including the Cherub Satrinah, were sure to search the room.

  Zadkiel hid herself more thoroughly than before. First she dissociated, and then in her pure spirit form, she released all her thoughts. Every attachment to here and now, including her worries, had to dissolve in order to escape the intensive scans.

  So before Satrinah even ordered the soldiers to search the cavern, Zadkiel went deep into herself and brought up the memory of wine. Cana. Jesus at a wedding with her invisible at his side. The simplest of instructions with no light show and no magic words. Just: fill this jar; bring this to the steward; his mother’s gentle, Do whatever he tells you. The fabric of a miracle looking like everyday canvas.

  That was when Zadkiel had offered a trade, and in exchange for something she’d never needed anyhow, he gave her a cup of that wine. I want to know what it tastes like when my Lord says ‘wine,’ she’d said to him. She’d turned her subtle body into a human body, and he’d given her a chalice filled to the top. She’d drunk that cup to the very bottom not for the taste nor the detached feeling alcohol gave a human body, but for the truth it contained.

  Afterward Jesus had given her the ability to recreate that taste whenever she wanted, and she did it now. Wine. It had been the unknown hint of a covenant about to be born in a later cup of its own, and she’d tasted it that first day. She alone of all the angels, Zadkiel, not even one of the great ones.

  Zadkiel prayed with the memory, dismissed herself in her hiding spot and became nothing more than the truth of what she’d tasted two decades earlier. And there she remained, unaware of the bustle and undetected by the demons.

  When at last she returned to herself (a gradual return, so gradual lest she trigger their notice) she became aware of two tense voices: Satrinah and Belior.

  “They suffered no disruption,” Satrinah was saying. “I cast a Guard over the work area immediately in order to maintain the process’s stability because it stood to reason he’d flame her without consideration for the potential damage.”

  Belior huffed. “No, that would never occur to him, even after some of the material destabilized and disappeared. But are you certain we can’t move them?”

  Tentative, Zadkiel extended her senses until they encountered a bristling anger at her back: the area now bore a strong Guard, whereas before there had been none. Until Remiel had blown in, therefore, their chief fear must have been discovery by Satan rather than discovery by the angels, and setting a Guard might have attracted attention. Interesting.

  Satrinah didn’t answer right away, moving about the work area with a rustle of feathers, leaning in, touching the table, focusing closely on the work. “You should reassess my calculations to be certain, but I would prefer not to transport. Stability is the greatest concern. The losses aren’t considerable, but given our lack of materials, we need to account for replaceability.”

  Belior said, “Then we need to prevent her from getting back in. She may not even try. Her sanity is never entirely to be taken for granted.”

  He called one of the soldiers and gave instructions. The bits Zadkiel caught told her the demons were going to seal off the cavern by destroying the entrance.

  Entombing themselves, in other words. With that Guard up, no one would be able to get in or out without their explicit permission, and the Cherubim would be aware of any attempt.

  That done, the Cherubim returned their full attention to the project at hand. On the plus side, they felt secure: they’d scoured the room and now no one could get in. Whatever Remiel had done after leaving, she’d managed to convince them her objective was creating chaos rather than a targeted search for a weapon under development. On the minus side, they spoke in voices low enough that Zadkiel had no chance of overhearing a thing.

  But they’re Cherubim, she prayed. Fallen Cherubim, but still.

  So as long as the problem of moving their experiment-in-progress absorbed them, Zadkiel was able to move about the room with more freedom. Still cautious, she nevertheless was able to slip through the corners, slide like a thought around the peripheries, and get closer to the work station.

  Whatever they had there, it felt dreadful. The Cherubim regarded it with disgust, and as if it were a living thing, it behaved with repulsion toward them as well. What was it? She couldn’t sense any kind of energy signature, but at the same time, the Cherubim handled it as though it contained power.

  They weren’t dealing with a sigil. It wasn’t material imbued with human feeling. It wasn’t ensouled. But it was something that, according to them, they occasionally had less of.

  She couldn’t even gather from the Cherubim’s conversation what they’d designed the weapon to do. She’d heard Gabriel get like this before, of course, wrapped up so much in one tiny detail of a problem that he overlooked the chief purpose of the project. If he were part of a construction team, he’d be the one working so hard on a latch that when he finally solved the problem of securing the entrance, he’d be shocked to remember the door was part of a house, and the rest of the house had been built around him. Microfocus was like a Cherub disease. These two needed a Seraph.

  Or rather, I’m glad they don’t have one around, Zadkiel prayed. Let them take longer. I’m not going to object.

  Deep inside, she felt the Holy Spirit chuckle.

  Who’s the target of this thing? With a weapon, you wanted to know that first. Something to kill a human? Microbes, maybe? A weaponized disease could in theory wipe out the human race. Demons tended to warp rather than kill, though, even when they had permission. You couldn’t destroy a soul, human or angelic, because souls were immortal. The demons struck greater victories not by killing human bodies but by having the humans strangle off God’s life in their own souls.

  Maybe the pair were forging something to damage the Earth. The universe had no shortage of materials capable of that, though. Matter was matter. To experiment like this, they must think they had a means of destroying the planet permanently, or maybe just the Holy Land. Gabriel had talked once about unstable elements, and how they were perforce rare.

  Oh, that made sense. Sat
rinah had emphasized stability. That must be what the Cherubim were using.

  Zadkiel withdrew on herself and again recalled the taste of wine. Then, steadied, she considered her options. Remiel’s escape meant Michael by now knew as much as she did, and therefore help would come at some point. Zadkiel could wait. She’d have to remain undiscovered, but that wouldn’t be a problem.

  If she were correct, the weapon itself would be of no use on the spiritual plane, and for now the demons had it sealed up away from Creation. Zadkiel couldn’t leave, but as long as the demons didn’t realize they had an intruder, she had an advantage.

  So which demon was projecting the Guard? She doubted it was Belior, given his focus. It might be Satrinah, but most likely it emanated from the only two remaining soldiers, either one or both. Satan or Michael might cast a wide net searching for Satrinah or Belior’s signatures, but no one would know to search for two anonymous soldier demons who probably even Satan wouldn’t recognize.

  The soldiers watched the Cherubim at work, each in a defensible position on opposite sides of the room, and each on high alert. The one closer to Zadkiel appeared to be an Archangel; she couldn’t decide about the other. In a pinch, she could take one down. And if the Cherubim got close to finishing their weapon, she would have to.

  But for now, Zadkiel prayed. Prayed and centered her heart around the memory of a cup whose liquid she still could taste.

  THREE

  “I wish you hadn’t done that.”

  Remiel leaned over the map Michael was creating with light. “You said as much already. I used my best judgment, and I thought we needed to shake things up a bit. You might want to position that a little further down,” she added, gesturing to the entry cave. “I didn’t get an exact sense of its location, but it felt as if we traveled further.”

  Saraquael folded his arms, coming around Michael’s other side. “I dislike leaving Zadkiel down there for too long. Let me scout it out.”

  “Asmodeus has the whole army on high alert at the moment. You won’t get close.” Michael looked up, frowning. “I’m hoping she has the common sense to stay hidden for as long as it takes.”

  Remiel said softly to Saraquael, “That’s a subtle shot at me.”

  “Nothing subtle about it.” Michael looked up, arms folded. “You were reckless, and you cast the die too early. I needed you down there for surveillance, and now in effect we’ve got no surveillance, and we need to get to Zadkiel.”

  Michael turned back to his map. “Okay, let’s go over this again. See if I’m missing anything.”

  Remiel forced down her anger while Michael and Saraquael reviewed the basics again, and she reached for God until she could participate without snapping. He’s over-reacting. He wasn’t there. You don’t criticize a soldier from the observation room when she’s the one in the middle of the attack.

  But finally she could focus again as Michael and Saraquael discussed tactics. You couldn’t enter Hell except through one tightly-guarded entry point. Satan liked to know who got in and who got out, and while a sneak entry could be done in small numbers, even the lowest level demons would recognize a strike force. Waiting until the weapon was complete and ready to deploy wasn’t in anyone’s best interests; neither was abandoning Zadkiel in Hell to be discovered.

  “So we’re going to have to knock on the front door,” Michael said. “Flash in, flash deep into the interior, and fight our way into that cavern.”

  Saraquael said, “And hope they don’t move their project elsewhere in the meantime.”

  Michael said, “Remiel? Any more ideas on the kind of weapon it was?”

  She bristled. “Nothing more comes to mind.”

  Michael turned back to Saraquael. “Suggestions?”

  “Not waiting too much longer.” Saraquael shook his head. “There are too many uncertainties right now. What materials they’re gathering, their intention, their timetable… If they do find Zadkiel, they could use it on her, and we wouldn’t know.”

  Michael said, “Remiel reported that they’re not ready.”

  Saraquael said, “If she’s right, though, and this is an attempt to get back into Satan’s favor, they’re going to rush their timetable now that they’ve been discovered.”

  Remiel smirked. “That’s exactly what I wanted them to do.”

  Michael’s wings tensed, and then he shook his head. “Saraquael, I want a team of Dominions, maybe twenty. Since Remiel started by distracting them, we’re going to continue the distraction tactics. I want you to attack the wrong place. How about…here?” Michael lit up an area of the map. “This looks topographically similar enough to the actual location that Asmodeus might think we’re just in error. He’d like to believe we’re stupid, so he’s more apt to believe it. Make a lot of noise and get a lot of attention.”

  Saraquael laughed. “Give me a few Seraphim too.”

  Grinning, Michael pointed at him. “Take five. Burn a few acres. Israfel hasn’t blown anything up lately, so set her loose.”

  Remiel flexed her wings. “Now that sounds fun.”

  “Not you.” Michael turned to Remiel. “You and I are going to be really quiet, and we’re going to finish the job.”

  Although Remiel tried to hide it, Michael knew she was angry, and he reached for God to calm himself before deploying.

  She’s doing her best, Michael prayed. I have to believe she didn’t actually want to cause harm. But she made my work harder.

  You just do your own best, God replied. I’m with you.

  Keeping Remiel at his side wasn’t the punishment she thought it was; it also wasn’t, as she thought, a vote of non-confidence, a way of saying he needed to baby-sit one of his best officers during the mission. No, he just wanted to keep the actual strike force as small as possible, and Remiel knew how to get him back into that cavern.

  Prickly as she was, she wasn’t talking beyond the necessities, and Michael gave her space during the last minutes before deploying. Then he prayed with her and Saraquael, asked for God’s blessing on the mission, and in they went.

  Saraquael’s team rushed Hell’s entry point, creating all the chaos Michael had wanted, and more. Asmodeus had left sentries posted throughout the opening, and the Dominions clashed with them for quite a few minutes without breaking through. Michael was about to order another squad of angels into the opening when finally Saraquael called to his force, and they all disappeared into the ice fields, to the decoy site.

  Michael took Remiel’s hand, and she flashed them back to where she thought the cavern should be.

  In the lashing snow, Remiel dropped to her knees and put her hands on the ground. “It should be near. It feels right.”

  Michael extended his senses for Zadkiel but felt nothing other than the chaos Saraquael was creating in the far distance. He pushed out harder, and then gasped.

  Remiel’s head snapped up.

  We’re in the right place. They’ve got a Guard. Michael squinted against the wind as he projected his thoughts to Remiel. They’d never be able to hear one another talking. I thought I recognized it, that’s all.

  The Guard tingled against his memories, almost but not quite familiar.

  Remiel sent, Belior’s?

  He shook his head. No, but it doesn’t matter. I’m just going to blow through it.

  Remiel grinned, but before she could offer to help, Michael focused all his power into his sword and aimed downward.

  Snow blew back in their faces like a geyser, stained with light and sharp like shattered glass. Ice cracked, but beneath them the Guard held. Michael took to the air, Remiel at his side, and tried again, his power this time augmented with hers. The Guard shuddered, and Michael pushed harder, praying for power and channeling every strength into soul energy aimed at that wall.

  “They’re reinforcing it!” Remiel shouted. “It’s not going to be enough!”

  Even as she said it, though, the Guard caved inward like a roof with one of its support beams gone. Michael gave one mor
e blast, and the energy structure collapsed.

  Zadkiel! Remiel was laughing into the wind. She must have taken them out.

  Michael shot through the gaping roof of a cavern filling with landsliding snow. At one end he found Zadkiel, her sword locked with a demon soldier’s, and in the center were two Cherubim, one of them shouting and the other lifting a metal lid on a black case. It was Belior, and he’d opened their weapon. Opened it and aimed it at Michael.

  Zadkiel streaked across the room, in between Michael and Belior, and light exploded through the cavern. Light…and darkness. The light sliced through Zadkiel with a scream, then turned into darkness that sprayed over them both. Michael braced for pain, but it never came. Instead the darkness began swirling around Zadkiel, curling around her heart.

  Satrinah flew backward from the table, eyes hemorrhaging hatred.

  “Get back!” Remiel charged at the work table in the center to reach Zadkiel. Belior was gone; Michael hadn’t felt him flash away. But when light and dark had spewed out of the box, he’d vanished.

  Zadkiel slashed at the coiling dark as it tangled in her wings and stuck to her hands. Remiel rushed at her, hands outstretched, but Zadkiel slashed at her with her sword. “Stay back!”

  The blackness slipped up Zadkiel, binding her arms to her sides and then coiling down her legs. Remiel went back toward her again.

  Michael shouted, “You don’t know what that is! You’re going to get hurt!”

  “Doesn’t mean I can’t do it.” Remiel dropped her sword and reached right into Zadkiel’s heart. “That only means it’s going to hurt.”

  Before Michael’s eyes, as Remiel reached through Zadkiel’s heart to uproot whatever was that dark thing, the darkness erupted from Zadkiel and exploded through the room like vines grasping for anything to strangle. Zadkiel screamed, but Remiel reached in deeper. The whole cavern shuddered with the darkness, slimy and sludgy, but then silence fell, and stillness.