Days of New: The Complete Collection (Serials 1-5) (37 page)

“We’re going after them,” Zarachiel said. Clark avoided the angel’s hard gaze.

“What if you tell Michaela about the group, and she could pass it along to her…uh…friends.”

Grace tried at a smile, which eased the tension seeping from Zarachiel’s pores. “I know she’s an angel. I can see the light of her wings over her shoulders. I’m not afraid.” Her eyes went to Zarachiel. “Are you one too?”

Zarachiel was quiet for a long moment. Finally, he spoke. “I was once.”

Michaela stiffened beside Clark, like the Archangel’s words did her physical harm, and she let out a little gasp of air. Clark didn’t know what to think either. He had no idea how Zarachiel couldn’t believe himself to be an angel anymore. Clearly he was, even if he was a little damaged. Not knowing what else to do, Clark took Michaela’s hand and squeezed.

Surprising them all, Grace didn’t ask about Zarachiel’s wings. Instead, she looked him in the eye and said, “I figured. You’re too beautiful not to be.”

Her words clearly took Zarachiel by complete surprise. Clark couldn’t see the angel’s entire face, but he could tell Z was shocked. And it crushed Clark. Had no one ever told him he was beautiful? Zarachiel’s eyes went to the bed, like he was unsure how to receive such a complement. “Thank you,” he stammered.

“What can you tell us about the group? You said they were bad?” Michaela asked. Her eyes stayed far away from Zarachiel.

“Not much. These guys called themselves the Loyalists of Adam. Some kind of new human race cult? They didn’t speak well of angels.” Grace’s voice trembled, and Zarachiel leaned closer to her, as if to shield her from the memories.

“If they are a human race cult, why did they hurt you?” Michaela asked, all business now. Clearly this was the first she was hearing of a human movement against the angels.

“They said it was my duty to…serve them.”

Zarachiel jerked, moving off the bed, still holding Grace’s hand, and turned to Clark. His eyes were narrowed, his nostrils flaring. The tic in his jaw was worse, sending pulses up the side of his head. “We need to go after them. Hunt them down.” He didn’t say the last part, but Clark caught it clear enough:
kill them
.

“I get it, Z,” Clark said. “But you should get her back to the compound first. Rally the Descendants. Then we will go after them.”

“Who are the Descendants? Where is the compound?” Grace asked, nervous.

“They’re an ancient order of humans. We’ve worked with the angels for centuries. You’ll be safe there,” Clark said.

“What about the current
situation
?” Maya asked, choosing her words carefully as not to scare Grace. But the woman was clearly smart; her eyes narrowed at Maya’s words.

“It’ll be taken care of soon. The Descendants will be safe,” Michaela said, her voice hard. “Maya can go back with Z and Grace.”

“No way,” Maya argued.

“Look, I get—” Clark started.

“No. You don’t. I’m coming with you to the cave. Zarachiel can take Grace back alone.” Maya crossed her arms over her chest and stared down Michaela and Clark.

“Stop,” Clark held up his hands and turned to Zarachiel. “You need to move her elsewhere. You can make a decision about the compound, but after today, this cabin is compromised. Either by Lucian,” Clark shot Maya a sharp stare at the name, “or by this new group of assholes. You need to move now. Well, as long as Grace wants to go. It’s your choice, Grace. No one will make you do anything you don’t want to. You’re safe with Z.”

Grace looked back up at the Archangel. Sensing her attention, he sat back on the bed with his back to Clark. “I’ll keep you safe,” Zarachiel pledged.

“I don’t want to be alone,” Grace whispered. “I want to stay with you all,” she said this last part to Clark.

“Good. Are you taking her back to the Descendants then?”

“Not until we take care of this group,” Zarachiel said to Clark, keeping his stare on Grace.

“I don’t think—”

“How many were in that group?” Zarachiel directed at Grace.

“Fifteen,” she guessed. “Maybe twenty. I didn’t see all of them. Some…some didn’t watch.”

“We’re staying here,” Zarachiel said, his voice a growl. “I’ll defend the cabin until you come back. And then we are hunting them down. No time for going to the Descendants. I don’t want to lose the Loyalists’ trail.”

“Uh, okay. We don’t really have the firepower to go after that many people,” Clark said, completely thrown off guard by Zarachiel’s vehemence.

“I’ll help. And so will Gabriel,” Michaela offered.

Clark sighed and raked his hand through his hair. “This is a cluster, you guys. A total, freakin’ clusterfu—”

“When are you going after Camille?” Maya cut in.

“Now,” Clark answered.

“I’m going.”

“No—”

“Clark, just wait,” Michaela said, interrupting the burgeoning argument between him and Maya. “She might actually be able to help. I’ve never known
Lucian
to be like this over someone. If it’s the way she says—”

“I do,” Maya interjected.

“…Then she could help,” Michaela finished. She pursed her lips at Maya.

“It’s dangerous.”

“I can go with you,” Michaela offered.

Clark sighed and thought for a long moment. His head hurt. His back hurt. Everything that could, ached. He needed a soft bed and a long vacation. “No,” he said finally. “You stay here with Z. I want him to have backup in case those guys find the cabin. We all know this meeting with
Lucian
might not go well. And if he sees you, it might go worse. I’ll take Maya, but if it gets bad, you run,” he said to Maya.

“Sure.”

Clark didn’t believe her for a second, but he let it go. “So I’ll take the car. You two stay sharp. Do we need to scavenge for anything to help Grace?”

“I’m fine. I just need some rest.” Grace smiled shyly up at him.

“We have enough food for now,” Zarachiel added.

“Okay. Then we’re ready to go,” Clark said, looking over at Maya.

Zarachiel stood and shook Clark’s hand. “Stay safe.”

“You too.”

Clark and Maya left the room. Michaela closed the bedroom door quietly behind them before motioning for Clark to walk to the front porch. Their steps were heavy across the cabin’s wood floor, and the front door screeched on its rusty hinges as Maya pushed it open.

“Are you sure you’re okay with this plan?” Clark asked Michaela when they were outside.

“I want to keep an eye on Grace,” Michaela said so quietly that Clark had to lean forward to hear.

“What do you mean?”

“I want to make sure we can trust her. She knew a lot about this group for just being randomly attacked in the woods.”

“Do you really think she could be lying to us?” Maya asked, sounding worried.

Michaela shrugged. “We have to be careful.”

Clark sighed, feeling his exhaustion on a cellular level. “If we can’t trust her, who can we trust?”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll make sure we’re okay.” Michaela stepped over and hugged Clark. “Just focus on bringing Camille back.”

Chapter Seven

L
ucifer had never been fond of caves. Especially not this one. Water trickled by in the little stream while demons set out kerosene lanterns to light the dank darkness that flooded the underground cave. Stalagmites stabbed up from the ground, poking into the cavernous ceiling. Lucifer felt buried, but this wasn’t even the deepest part of the cave. That was below his feet, beneath countless layers of rock. Deep down there, the Watchers had once been imprisoned for eons, chained into the river, the water turning their magic useless. The punishment was horrible, and some had said it was too severe for their sin.

Maybe. Maybe not.

All Lucifer knew was that the stench of decay and despair hung heavy in the air. Too many angels had lost too much in this cave. No matter what side of the line between holy and fallen they fell on.

He didn’t regret tearing out Michaela’s wings right there beside the stream after she was deemed a traitor by Heaven. No, he regretted ever making that deal with the Aethere to begin with. At the time, he’d found it amusing that the holy angels would turn on one of their own. He’d done the deal and held up his side of the bargain—framing Michaela and causing the fall of half the Archangels. But all that had followed that fateful day in Heaven had been more than he could have foreseen. The treacherous deal had caused too many things to change, and Lucifer hated change.

A pair of demons dragged Camille into the cave by her arms, her legs and back banging over rocks and divots in the cave’s floor. She left a narrow trail of gold blood behind her, but she wasn’t dead, though her skin had a sickly pallor and she didn’t open her eyes once, even when the demons dropped her arms and her head knocked against the floor.

“Master,” one demon huffed, its skinny chest heaving from the effort. The second one bent over and rested its webbed hands on its knobby knees. “Your prisoner has arrived.”

Lucifer nodded and motioned for the demons to leave. They scampered off in a hurry. He didn’t look down at Camille because he still felt a slice of pain in his head every time he did. All he knew about his odd headaches was that he wanted to avoid them as much as possible. Maya’s presence seemed to be the only antidote. The cure he could never have.

“Irin,” Lucifer called out, his strained voice ringing through the cave. “Emim.”

The two fallen angels appeared quickly—too quickly, like they’d been lurking in the shadows right beside him—and materialized from the shadows like vapor. “Yes, sir?” they said in unison.

“Pin her to the far wall. Use your bone swords.”

“Pin her wings, sir?”

Lucifer’s head snapped up, his eyes glaring at the angels. “Is that a problem?”

“No, sir,” Irin and Emim whispered together, their smiles mirror images. “We just wanted to
confirm
.”

Lucifer nodded, his throat tightening as the twins hefted Camille’s body into the air and flew toward the wall. A steady pulse began beating between his eyes, and Lucifer knew he was in for a killer migraine.

He didn’t know how much time he had until Clark showed up, but he knew it wouldn’t be long.

A hammering sound filled the cave. All the demons and Lucifer stopped to look toward the sound. Emim or possibly Irin had Camille propped up against the rock wall, his wings beating behind him to keep them both aloft while the other twin hammered a sword laced with bone through the middle of Camille’s wing. Her eyelids fluttered, her face contorting with pain as she wavered in and out of consciousness. When one wing was secure, the twins switched positions and repeated the process on the other side. In moments, Camille hung like a mounted butterfly, her thin, naked body slouching in the middle. The twins regarded their work for a moment and then decided to secure her hands as well. They lifted them over her head and slammed a knife through her stacked palms.

Lucifer winced and looked away. He needed fresh air.

Making his way out of the cave took a while; the turns were numerous and twisting, doubling back on each other before emerging into the daylight. Lucifer took a deep breath of air and walked deeper into the woods. He needed to be alone for a bit to clear his head because something bad was happening inside his skull.

It felt a lot like guilt.

* * *

Clark gunned the Chevelle’s engine down the highway. Occasionally, he had to dodge abandoned cars littering the road like old trash, especially when they passed by the dark, empty husk that had once been Lexington, but for the most part, he had free rein to go as fast as he wanted to. The sun was bright for a winter day, the air almost warm. Beams blasted through the windshield and heated the car’s interior so that they didn’t even need the heater.

Maya sat in the seat beside him; she’d been quiet for most of the ride since leaving the cabin. Her hands twisted in her lap, the pulse in her neck jumping every now and then when Clark had to swerve the car around some kind of debris in the road. For the most part, she stared out the window, her eyes searching the woods for signs of life.

“Do you think more of them are out there?” she asked.

“Who?”

“Survivors like Grace. I thought the Descendants had rounded up most of them.”

Clark sighed. He knew the Descendants hadn’t found everyone. Not even close. “They did sweeps through most of the nearby states, but they wouldn’t have found everybody.”

“That seems really sad to me,” Maya said, her eyes still lingering beyond the window, “that people are out there thinking there’s no hope or safe place for them to go to. They don’t even know.”

“Maybe they’re safer where they’re at,” Clark said with a shrug.

“What about that group? The Loyalists of Adam?”

Clark raked his hand through his hair. He shouldn’t have been so surprised by hearing of a cultlike uprising against the angels, especially a brutal, cruel one. He didn’t comment.