Anyone driving along that road to the west of Charlotte tonight would have felt that there was something wrong. Maybe they would have attributed it to the gray clouds flickering with light that didn’t come from the fireworks still being fired off by the locals. Maybe they would have blamed the strange quiet all around, or the faint chill in the air that had nothing to do with the temperature. Most likely they would have seen the two small crosses by the side of the road, how they had both been knocked to the ground and broken into pieces.
We expected that they would be there first, of course. The Fallen trust no one, and especially not angels. They were there all day, prowling across the surrounding lands, searching for traps. When they found none, they set a few of their own. They wouldn’t do any good against us, but they might perhaps hurt a human in the next few days. We will have to go back and make certain that they are all disabled.
We did not choose to play their game. When we arrived, it was together, and it was exactly at the moment that had been agreed upon. At the crash of our wings together, more than one of the enemy skittered back with a hiss.
Ero’an cast a glance across the gathering. “There are more than five of you here,” he noted.
His tone was mild, but it was enough that several of the watchers fled and vanished. Others, however, pressed closer, mouths agape and grinning.
“Four to bear witness, you said,” Asoharith answered. “I don’t control the others. Who cares if they want to watch?”
“Then you will not mind if I summon a few more of our own?” he asked. “After all, there are others in heaven who wish to see this fight. Salathiel herself was saying just earlier that she was sorry she could not see it from the scene.”
At the merest mention of the Elder’s name, all the rest of the spectators were gone. Asoharith’s smile did not flicker. They weren’t part of her plan, it seemed.
Even with them gone, she was not alone. Four other Apostates were still present—Neige with her great shield, Ivan-Turel looming at the back of the group, and two others, an indistinct shadowy figure, and one whose eyes were obscured by long hair, but not its overlarge maw of crooked teeth.
They were all restless, looking from one to the next of our group—all but Asoharith, whose eyes had been fixed on me from the moment I arrived. “Asa’el,” she murmured.
“Asoharith,” I replied, with the same scant courtesy.
Her mouth quirked. “My parents did this,” she said to me, motioning to the broken crosses at her feet. “They even did one for Van, since apparently his family couldn’t be bothered. Who knows if they even know? Meanwhile my mother and father built me a great big memorial with a winged statue and sweet words carved into it.” She grinned at me, spreading her own great wings. “This is more appropriate, or at least it is now that I’ve updated it. A broken remnant that gives warning to others.”
I didn’t respond. Nor did I take my eyes from her.
She shrugged. “Well, aren’t there some formalities we have to lay out? Aren’t you going to introduce me to your friends?”
I looked at Ero’an, who nodded. “I, Ero’an, will watch to the east,” he said. “Who will stand opposite me?”
Of the Apostates who were gathered behind Asoharith, it was the shadowy figure that stepped forward. “Though I could not hope to match you, great Ero’an,” it said in a mellow, pleasant voice, “I would be honored to stand against you.”
“And your name?” Ero’an asked coolly.
Orison told me that they would be reluctant to give their names, but this one did not flinch. “I am Pelaios.”
Ero’an inclined his head, and they walked side by side to mark the eastern boundary of the battleground.
Orison stepped forward. “I, Orison, will watch to the west,” he said. “Who will stand opposite me?”
Without a word, Ivan-Turel turned and stalked to the boundary. Orison followed, sending a wash of courage my way as he went by.
Through all this, Asoharith was still watching me. Though her expression was even, I could see her anger and bloodlust rising—it felt like a haze of oil in the air. I returned her gaze as coolly as I could.
Nodayimani stepped forward, her eyes on Neige. “I, Nodayimani, will watch to the south,” she said coldly.
Neige yawned and stretched. “Oh, I suppose I’ll oblige you then,” she said, hefting her great shield over one shoulder. “Since that’s why you’re here, isn’t it, Nodayimani?”
Nodayimani did not flinch, though I could feel the fear in her soul. She told me just yesterday that Neige very nearly killed her many years ago, and that she was determined to face her. I was proud that no trace of her fear was visible to the enemy.
“And your name?” Nodayimani demanded.
Neige grinned. “The one that you have will suffice, infant.”
Stifling her disappointment, Nodayimani went with Neige, although she kept her weapon always between them.
“Then you and I, N’am, will watch the north,” N’am said to the last remaining Apostate.
That great jagged maw stretched even wider in a grin. “So it seems, star-bearer,” it said. “My name is Annoth.” As it came past Asoharith, it swatted her with one wing. “Gotta say, twerp, I hope you break the conventions, because I’m looking forward to smothering this one.”
N’am stiffened, but Asoharith, too, seemed offended. She looked away from me for the first time to glare at Annoth. “This is my fight, hag,” she snapped. “You’re just here to watch.”
“Oh, I’ll be watching closely,” Annoth murmured, tossing her head. One terrible eye was cleared just long enough for her to wink at N’am, who could not help but shudder.
Asoharith growled to herself and turned back to me. “Well, Asa’el?” she asked. “Are you ready?”
I did not speak for a moment. We had expected trickery, but already it seemed a bad situation. The witnesses were old and powerful, all of them, and they were matched almost perfectly to the ones we had chosen to come with me. And we were so careful to choose allies who might not have been expected to stand with me—aside from Orison, of course, but there was no way he would not have come. But with Annoth’s smoky filth to oppose N’am’s starlight, Neige’s ice to Nodayimani’s warmth, Ivan-Turel’s stone against Orison’s lightning, and light and darkness between Ero’an and Pelaios, it seemed that not only had they been able to guess who would be present, but also that they had the choice of who to set against us.
For an instant I worried about Freya and the others, that they were coming into a more dangerous trap than we’d realized. But I set the fear aside—Freya was not the one in danger this night.
Asoharith’s eyes gleamed as she looked at me. “Are you afraid?”
“Yes,” I answered her honestly. “Does that make you happy?”
She bared her teeth and drew her weapon from her back, a long knife that burned my eyes to look at it. It was dark red, and I knew immediately that it was made from Freya’s blood and fear the night Asoharith attacked us.
I gazed at it, despite the pain, and drew my own weapon. “Now I am angry,” I told her.
“Good,” she said, and she lunged into the attack.
She was expecting me to dive aside—I could see that. She wasn’t expecting for me to turn so quickly and strike the back of her neck with my bow. Shrieking, she crumpled to the ground, and then I was on her, levering my bow on her neck and beating my wings to bring more force down on her back.
“Is it honorable to strike someone from behind?” she choked into the dirt.
“Your behavior thus far has left all question of honor behind,” I retorted.
I tried to summon an arrow, but I wasn’t quick enough—the moment one of my hands lifted from the bow, she had twisted aside and wriggled free, dealing me a stinging swat to the cheek as she did so. We faced one another again, and though smoke was rising from the back of her neck and shoulders, she was grinning.
“Maybe this fight will be fun after all,” she said, and she came at me again.
This time I met her head-on, sweeping her blade aside with my bow and aiming for her ribs with the arrow that was now in my hand. With a spin she was free again and in the air, and I followed, the circle of our witnesses rising with us and holding firm.
She was quick in the air, striking like a bird, but she never managed to get closer than a touch before my longer reach forced her to dart aside. It was the style of fighting I had expected—after all, if she stayed still even for a moment, I would have a chance to get an arrow to the string.
I kept her at bay and waited. As long as she kept to this strategy, patience was my best weapon.
Snarling, she began to circle me, darting up and down to keep from making a good target. “If there were any justice in heaven, they would give you to me to do what I wanted,” she snapped. “You failed me. You didn’t save me.”
The pain of those words was less than I would have thought. “You didn’t save yourself,” I said, turning to keep her in my sights.
With a scream she leapt through the air and seized my ankles, her claws sharp and cold. I bent my head and dove, flinging her up into the air. The arrow I shot after her missed her wing by inches, and for the first time I saw fear ripple across her aura.
It quickly turned to anger again. “How was I supposed to save myself?” she screamed, diving again, this time coming for my face.
I was ready for her. My second arrow sank into her shoulder, and the claws that grazed my neck loosened with shock and pain.
“By caring for someone other than yourself,” I answered her, and threw her to the earth.
She landed hard, but by the time I landed beside her she had a foot under her and used it to surge up into me, the blood knife in her hand. This time it struck, dealing a long gash across my ribs, cutting through the old scar and setting it ablaze with pain. Asoharith was too enraged to gloat.
“I. Didn’t. Know!” she gritted, reversing the knife and raising it high.
I knocked it from her hand with an almost careless sweep of my bow and took hold of her throat, closing my wings around her. “You did know,” I said with merciless kindness. “Everyone knows. You chose not to see it, and that is why you were condemned.”
In the cage of my wings, unseen and unheard by everyone else, Asoharith’s anger slipped for a moment. All of her pain, all of the torments and loneliness and longing of hell, was there in her eyes, her eyes that looked just like Shannon’s.
I knew that this moment might come. I knew better. But still I flinched from it.
And she was ready.
With an unholy shriek that shook me to my core, she drew from the air a thin shaft of bone and drove it deep into my stomach. It burned like acid there, and I screamed.
“Do you like it?” she asked, baring her teeth in my face. “It’s mine.”
Chaos erupted.
Orison tore me away from her, but Ivan-Turel was just behind him, wrapping both hands around his neck. I turned on him in rage and horror, heedless of the ripping pain, and Asoharith raised her bone blade again, but then she shrieked as N’am dragged her down. It took an arrow direct to the face to get Ivan-Turel to release Orison, but he had no time to recover as Pelaios danced into the fray.
I winged upward to see where the others were. Nodayimani was attacking Neige, who was darting backwards through the air, striking from behind her great shield and always laughing. Ero’an, meanwhile, was caught in a shadow-trap—I could hardly see him, flashes of light struggling against the constricting coils of Pelaios’ darkness. N’am against Asoharith and Orison against Pelaios were moving slowly, suffering more blows than they should have, and for too long of a moment I could not understand why.
“Annoth!” Ero’an’s voice burst through the trap indistinctly, but tinged with urgency. “Asa’el, look to Annoth!”
I whirled and saw that Annoth was crouched on the ground, her great mouth stretched in a grin, spidery hands extended towards my companions. Now I could see the murky strands of filth spreading from her fingertips, slowing the angels’ thoughts and actions.
One, two, and three arrows plunged into her back before she even looked up. Her eyes, revealed, were great pits of slime, and she snarled at me, still casting.
I steadied my shudder and put an arrow into each of her eyes. She was grinning even as she vanished from the earth.
Without her to slow them, Orison and N’am shook the haze from their wings, but now the injuries they had suffered were doing the same work. I spun to assist them, but a huge hand seized the base of my wing and hurled me to the ground. I looked up at Ivan-Turel, whose stoic calm had finally been broken by the need to tear a burning arrow from his face, taking much of his jaw with it. He howled wordlessly as he brought his fist down on my head.
It never landed. Instead, a blaze of green fire sprang up around me, and Ivan-Turel caught and was consumed in instants, without even time to scream.
The battle stopped, angel and Fallen alike locked into place. In the silence, a car door slammed.
“Ace.” Freya’s voice was taut. “All of you. Come to me.”
She and Kara were holding hands, their gazes locked on the wall of flames that surrounded me. As I rose and walked across the space between us, that wall opened and admitted first Orison, then N’am, who moved with difficulty, as if the paralysis were not completely lifted from them. Stepping out of the car behind the women, George looked at each of them in turn, and they shook their wings in relief.
“You,” Asoharith snarled. She was looking right at Freya.
“Me,” Freya answered, with a calmness that made me so very proud. She didn’t even look at Asoharith. “I think you have something of mine, Asoharith. I want it back.”
Asoharith quaked and whimpered when Freya spoke her name. She had retrieved the knife made of Freya’s blood, and her fingers tightened around it, but she was helpless to move.
I took my place at Freya’s shoulder, and with my help she and Kara were able to move the wall of fire towards Ero’an. The moment it touched the shadows, the trap collapsed, and Ero’an sprang to safety.
And there the flames stopped, because Neige was standing astride Nodayimani, a foot on two of her wings and the edge of her shield at her throat.
“Your choice,” Kara said dispassionately. “You let her go, and we’ll kill you quickly.”
Neige considered us. For the first time since I first saw her, she wasn’t smiling or laughing. Looking into her solemn, lovely, ruined face, I felt a chill, even through Freya’s flames.
“Think you’ll make it to heaven if you play a part in the death of one of their own?” Neige asked quietly, increasing the pressure on Nodayimani’s neck just slightly.
Kara tensed, but George put his hand on her shoulder. “They all chose this fight,” he said. “They’d rather die than bow to you, all of them. And they know that if they do, their names will be spoken and remembered.”
There were tears in his eyes. We’d discussed this possibility, all of us, and every one of my witnesses assured the humans that it was the truth. George took it the hardest. I was so proud of him in that moment, and I saw from Nodayimani’s smile that she was, too, even from the edge.
Neige gazed at us for another instant. Then, suddenly, she sprang into the air, and Nodayimani took a deep, surprised breath.
George exhaled, losing concentration for a moment. The flames that leapt forward were not as quick as they might have been, and so Neige had time to dive down again, plunging her shield into the ground between us and the other two.
The wave of fire broke on the shield, and though it cracked and shuddered, still it held. Freya and Kara staggered, and the flames winked out, and only then did the great shield shatter, revealed Neige kneeling, her shield arm blackened and smoking, but otherwise unharmed. Even Pelaios and Asoharith were staring at her in horror.
She looked down at her arm with interest, then lifted that one eye to look right at Freya. “Impressive,” she said, and a hint of a smile curved her mouth. Freya closed her eyes against what she saw in that smile. “But remember, little siblings, you are not saints yet.”
And then she was gone, and the others with her.
I had to write it, to record all of it, but now I do not know what else to say. I do not know what any of this means yet, or what will be the response from the other side. I thought that this would be over now.
Brid says that I must rest. She is right, and I will certainly try. But I will not sleep easily.