Demon's Fall (6 page)

“Don’t touch her,” he said, and the merchant paled, stepping back and nearly falling through the wall of the neighboring tent. Kenan unwound the whip from his arm with deliberate movements. “Now, where is this smith?”

The merchant swallowed. “You can find him over—”

The ground shuddered, and there was the sound of an explosion. Kenan turned to see a great cloud of dust and smoke rising several streets away.

“There?” he said wryly.

The merchant, stunned, only nodded.

Jahel was already running that way. She cast off the sheet and her wings spread. The wind rustled her feathers, and then she was flying.

Kenan followed on foot, dodging those who had stopped to gape at the sight of an angel flying freely through Hellsgate. They were too shocked to form into another mob, but it would only be a matter of time.

He knew when he reached the right place, even without Jahel standing out in front. The building was a ruin, a pile of smoking timbers and fallen stones still obscured by hissing steam. Kenan looked at it helplessly, knowing that no one could have survived that. There was no trail to follow from here.

“Kenan, it’s Edom!”

Jahel had spotted the demon-horse standing off to one side. His body was tense and his eyes wild, and a cruel muzzle strapped over his head kept him from speaking. When she approached him, he reared and lashed out with his hooves.

She retreated, but slowly, murmuring reassurances. When she reached Kenan, she whirled around and demanded, “Is that all you do in this city? Capture those with free will and chain them?”

“This role was decreed,” Kenan said, but he felt sick as he looked at the stallion. “And it was no denizen of Hellsgate who did this. It was one of the Horsemen.”

There was movement from the collapsed building as another beam gave way, and the remainder of the building groaned. And through the new flurry of dust that arose, Kenan could see the silhouette of a man with wings.

The angel who emerged from the steam threw back broad shoulders and studied them with a pleased air. In his hand he held a broadsword of mottled metal that unsettled Kenan’s stomach when he tried to focus on it. But his most striking feature was his wings—they were red, the same shade as Edom’s hide.

“Gidon?” Jahel started forward, then stopped. “Your wings…”

“I am War,” he said, and there was an echo of power in his voice that left no doubt.

“This is your friend?” Kenan said, aghast. “You didn’t say he was an angel!”

“What else could he have been?”

“You said you were looking for Hellsgate in the mortal plane when you met him.”

“No, I was in Heaven’s library, hoping to find a map.”

He seized her shoulders. “This angel tried to open the Scroll of Revelations. He came to Hellsgate to flee the wrath of Heaven, and somehow he pulled you into the whole mess.”

“No,” she said, her face pale. “That would be madness. Gidon was trying to help me. He saw how upset I was over the loss of Lisha’s soul, and he suggested we come here to find it. He guided me.”

“He lured you here. Where you were captured.”

War laughed.

Kenan faced him, determined to wrench Jahel from her denial. “You arranged that trap for Jahel.”

“Of course. I brought her to Hellsgate, where I planned to come anyway. It was easy to cause ill will toward angels among the demons. I thought they would have killed her already. And none of the Heaven-born would stand for the death of one of their own. Then war.” He breathed the last word.

“Why play these games? If you are War, you need no petty ruckus.”

“I was awaiting my sword. For what is War without his weapon?” He smiled and lifted his blade. “Hellfire-forged, and quenched in holy water.”

So that had been the cause of the explosion—the two elements didn’t mix well. And neither material would have troubled War overmuch. The Horsemen were beyond the restrictions that held back angels or demons.

Kenan wondered how he had convinced the smith. Perhaps the chance to make the world’s most dread weapon had been too sweet a call to resist. But he looked at the rubble and knew that the sword’s maker was no longer a concern.

War made a circle with his sword. There was an echoing movement about them.

Kenan realized that they were ringed in by demons who must have also come to see what had caused the explosion, or followed Jahel. But now they were all in War’s thrall, their gazes fixed upon the gleaming blade, a stillness to their faces.

“Perhaps it is a petty ruckus,” War said. “But it pleases me, as any conflict does. Since you stand with the angel, you may die with her.”

He sprang upon Edom’s back. And they fit together somehow, the angel and the demon-horse, as glaring red as the sunset they were about to bring down upon the world.

There was no hope of catching him as he rode off, and what were they to do if they did? The circle of demons closed about them and drew tighter. Those in beast shape were growling. Kenan eyed the horned demon closest to him, trying to figure out if he could manage to wrestle away his axe.

Two winged shadows blotted out the sun.

“Another angel!” someone called out, and a chorus of bloodthirsty cries arose.

“You will leave them be,” a woman’s voice said with such force that the demons drew back.

It was Lilith and Baraqiel. They must have seen the explosion and come to investigate, only to find another mob to disperse. But this time the demons were driven by War himself, and they dared to stand against the First and an archangel.

They were doomed, of course.

Kenan took advantage of the distraction to snatch away the axe and swung it wildly. He grew busy defending himself and Jahel, determined to acquit himself better this time, but sometimes he would catch sight of a blur to the side—and then a demon would collapse, gurgling. Lilith moved so quickly, it was easiest to track her by seeing where others fell before her. Baraqiel used his sheer size and strength to strike them down. But Kenan noticed that they pulled their blows, avoiding killing anyone. They wanted to stop war, he reminded himself, not start it. Their restraint didn’t keep them from scattering the horde of demons.

When the last of the demons had fled, Lilith and Baraqiel landed before Jahel and Kenan.

Jahel gasped at her first clear sight of the archangel. “Baraqiel!”

“You’ve gone astray, Jahel,” he said, but he sounded tired rather than angry.

Kenan made obeisance to Lilith. “Thank you again, First.”

“We must stop meeting this way,” she said. She looked at Jahel searchingly, then turned to Kenan. “This is the one?”

Kenan nodded.

“You said you had freed her.”

“She returned to find the angel who came with her. Gidon.”

Baraqiel’s voice went soft and dangerous. “So he’s the one. Jahel, what have you to do with this?”

“He used me,” she said, sounding bewildered. “He wanted my death to spark a war. I can’t believe—no.” Her hand flew up to cover her mouth as she faced some memory. “Before all
this, I remember him joking once that we should just end the world, so that Heaven would rule it all.”

Kenan stared at her. “But he couldn’t have known that!” There were several prophecies that spoke of the ways the world would be ravaged in its ending, but the final outcome was only written in the Scroll of Revelations. The thoughtless angel might have brought doom upon them all with his assumption.

“Gidon was foolish for his own sake as well,” Baraqiel said. “The Horsemen don’t spring full-fledged from the scroll. The opener becomes one. That’s why it takes seven openers—one to manifest each stage toward Armageddon. But it takes time for the aspect to become fully fledged. He won’t be overly dangerous as long as he doesn’t have his accoutrements.”

“He has a sword,” Kenan said. “A demon smith forged it for him, and quenched it with holy water.”

The look that Baraqiel and Lilith exchanged told Kenan that his news was dire indeed.

“That’s probably why he came to Hellsgate in the first place,” Baraqiel said. “Bringing Jahel was only a side scheme.”

“The war will begin soon,” Lilith said softly.

“It can’t be inevitable,” Kenan said. “Can’t we restore him to the scroll?”

Lilith looked startled, then thoughtful. “Can you get it?” she asked Baraqiel.

“I have it,” he said.

“You brought it to Hellsgate?”

“I knew it would be needed one way or another, with one of the seals opened,” he said. “But even if we have it here, how will we use it to get him back in it?”

Jahel said, “Let me speak to him.”

“He isn’t Gidon anymore, child,” Baraqiel said to her. “You should return to Heaven and gird yourself for the coming battle.”

“Still, let me stay.” She gave him a pleading look. “I was part of his scheme. It’s a matter of honor.”

The archangel hesitated, then nodded brusquely. “Know that there’s little chance we’ll be able to seal him away again, though. The Horsemen aren’t a force easily stopped, never mind reversed.”

Seal him away.

Kenan thought of how the explosion of hellfire and holy water hadn’t affected War. A holy seal and sticky sin would present no more difficulty. And where else would Gidon have gotten such a seal?

“Jahel,” he said. “He must have used the same seal—the one that was once set upon the Scroll of Revelations—on your collar, to keep any demon from undoing it.”

Her eyes widened. “We could use it to bind him again.”

“You have the seal?” Baraqiel demanded.

“At my home,” Kenan said, and for the second time it was a frantic dash back to his house. On the way he saw that there were already fires starting, smoke wreathing the taller buildings and shouts in the distance. War was wasting no time.

The other three flew there and arrived before him, but he found them standing in the middle of the room, looking at the chaos helplessly.

He went to the corner where Tiras had thrown the seal and crouched. The seal had thankfully landed so that he could read the embossing.
Shamgar War Abaddon,
it said in the
same ancient script that spelled out the true names of souls. There were still clumps of sticky sin on it.

“Here it is,” he said. “We can’t touch it, though. Tiras had to take it off Jahel. And it burned him badly—I can’t ask him to do that again.”

“It has to be in contact with the Horseman’s skin,” Baraqiel said. “At the same time as the scroll.”

Jahel knelt by Kenan and reached toward the seal, then snatched her hand back before she even brushed it. “I can’t,” she said in frustration, but she tried again. Her fingers hovered over it for a long moment, and then she sighed and pulled back. “I remember how the sticky sin on the net seared me.”

Kenan could feel its power ripple over his hand when he made the same attempt. It prickled, promising agony if he dared come closer. He couldn’t force himself to push past that near-tangible aura.

“Can we get rid of the sticky sin?” Jahel asked.

“Hellfire will melt it,” Lilith said. She made no move toward the seal, apparently knowing better than to try. “But we don’t have the time to go through the gate and fetch some.”

“How did this Tiras manage it?” Baraqiel asked.

“He said it was because he was mortal, once an angel, and now a denizen of Hellsgate.”

“We don’t have the time to find him, either,” Lilith said. “We’ll have to bring War here.”

Baraqiel frowned. “How?”

“How else?” She smiled, then turned and kicked him in a swift motion.

He staggered back. “Lilith?”

“He is War. He thrives on conflict. A fight between an angel and a demon of our rank will draw him surely enough,” she said, circling him.

A look of resignation passed over his features. He pivoted to keep her in sight. Then his fist lashed out, and Lilith deflected it with her forearm. Her grimace said that he had not pulled his punch.

They exchanged a flurry of blows, parted, then met in another clash. The clawed tip of her wing gashed his chest, while a dark bruise ringed her eye. He limped slightly, and she favored her left shoulder. Their expressions held an intentness that could have been mistaken for a fierce kind of joy.

Jahel pressed against Kenan’s side, her eyes wide. Kenan didn’t think their struggle was meant solely to lure War anymore, and it was almost with relief that he heard the steady beat of hooves outside. “He’s come,” he said, but the two of them made one last strike before they turned to face the door.

War sat astride Edom, clad in red armor. He raised the visor of his helmet and looked down at them with amusement. “Pity,” he said. “I thought there was a fight here.”

“We fight against you,” Lilith said, moving to stand next to Baraqiel.

“Such a strange council!” War marveled. “Angels and demons consorting with one another. We can’t have that.” He dismounted. Edom’s bloodshot eyes rolled wildly, but he stayed steady.

War strode into the house and raised his sword with a vicious smile.

Kenan uneasily took in their positions. They had to get War over to the corner where the seal lay, and somehow they had to get it past his armor. Perhaps they could get him to fall. His face was exposed.

Baraqiel moved to meet War, but Lilith grasped his arm. “No,” she murmured. “You have to hold it ready and keep it safe.” She stepped in front of him.

Kenan saw the archangel’s hand move protectively to something under his tabard and remembered the Scroll of Revelations.

“You know what influence I hold over demonkind,” Lilith said to War.

“Yes, it’s been most irksome,” he said. “But you won’t be able to scatter my army once it’s properly assembled and I’m leading it toward the angel host.”

“Think how much sooner that will be if I help you,” she said with a rich smile.

He drew in a breath as though inhaling victory. “You’ll stand by me?”

Her smile dropped away. “No.”

He snarled and swung his sword at her. She lithely evaded the blow, drawing him in closer by two steps.

“Some Horseman you are,” she said scornfully, but this time when he sprang at her and she whirled to elude him, her hair flared out and he grabbed it, yanking her in. She smashed the heel of her hand into his face, but War seemed unfazed.