I recoil on instinct, sending a jolt of fire to every nerve ending.
Zarael’s mouth is frozen in a snarl, his orange eyes static and opaque. The seconds stretch out—I can’t look away from the horror of it—and then Semyaza snatches up the head by a handful of long black hair. The angel’s wings snap out from nowhere. He launches himself from the sand with a single beat, pushing a gust of cool air over me. I grit my teeth, ride another wave of pain and push back at the shadows crowding in. I move my head a few centimetres, find Zarael’s body lying truncated where it fell. Gag.
Above me, Semyaza is airborne. In his left hand, he carries Zarael’s severed head; in his right, a dark-stained sword. I try to watch him, but I can’t sit up. I hear his wings beat as he flies over the beach. The sky glows orange, brightens momentarily with a flash of sheet lightning followed by a low rumble of thunder. The evening is breathless. Even the ocean is finally subdued.
‘Zarael is no more,’ Semyaza shouts. His voice, rough at the edges, resonates with authority and carries over the ringing steel. ‘Return to the abyss or be annihilated.’
The demons, those I can see, falter. Turn their faces skyward.
‘Cohort, fall back,’ Semyaza orders.
The skirmishes near me end abruptly: Leon and his buddies are nowhere to be seen. What’s going on?
But there’s not enough air in my lungs to feed that thought and the night—is it night now?—blurs. A gust of air washes over me. I’m vaguely aware of someone striding towards me…Semyaza, back on the ground. His wings disappear as he walks, or at least I think they do. He’s all smudged at the edges.
‘That’s close enough,’ Rafa says. He’s next to me on the sand. He wasn’t there a second ago. His fingers shake as he brushes hair from my forehead. I close my eyes, exhausted from the knives and lack of oxygen.
Semyaza looms over us. ‘I will heal her.’
My heart does a weird flip.
‘Like hell you will.’ Rafa’s voice is tight.
‘Boy, you are injured and useless to her until you are whole.’
‘Fuck you, old man.’
I try to roll over. ‘Are…you…hurt?’
‘A few nicks, that’s all.’
‘You are bleeding all over her.’
‘Rafa—’
Semyaza is suddenly beside me. His fingers clamp around my wrist, and then I’m in the void with him.
I don’t fight it, and I don’t know why.
I don’t even know if I could’ve stopped him, given he’s my—
The thought is obliterated by a blast of energy. I’m standing behind a fighter jet on full throttle. Scorching. Skin-flaying. I can’t speak, can’t open my eyes against the furnace. Panic builds: this fire is going to consume me. It’s—
It’s gone.
Feeling slowly returns and I register each sensation: cool, damp air rushing over me, dousing my skin. Orange light, flooding under my eyelids. A slow, rhythmic beat, buffeting me. The smell of the ocean.
I’m flying.
I look down, see ocean flashing past, my legs dangling below me. Feel Semyaza’s tight grip around my waist, holding my weight away from him with massive strength, so there’s space between our bodies. His wings beat powerfully, propelling us forward as I hang in his arms. I take a quick inventory of my injuries. My head is tender, but I can think clearly again. My ribs, only a dull ache. Semyaza’s healed me all right, but bloody hell…it was far from gentle.
The sky and ocean ripple with shades of amber, so we’re still in Pan Beach. Thank god we didn’t come out in a different dimension. I lift my head and see the town in the distance, dark under the glowing sky except for the fires burning on the esplanade.
‘Align your body.’ Semyaza says it loud enough so I can catch his words before they’re whipped away. ‘You are causing drag.’
Okay, so my father’s first words to me aren’t going to be sentimental. I draw back my legs so my body is in a straight line…it’s a tough ask of my abs and I know within seconds I’m not in good enough shape for a long flight. I inhale deeply, relishing the fact that I can breathe again.
We draw closer to the beach. I could shift ahead, make the point that I don’t appreciate being snatched away and don’t need Semyaza to carry me home. But we’re almost there. And flying’s not so bad…
A hundred metres out and the shapes on the beach take form. The Immundi are fleeing—they’re well beyond the resort now—even though nobody’s chasing them. I strain to see long white hair in the retreating horde, but if the Gatekeepers are still here they’ve gone to ground. So have the hellions. The Fallen and Rephaim are facing off in front of the esplanade, neatly divided into two camps. The Rephaim are in a loose formation on the banks of the dunes, the Fallen spread out on the sand below. I can tell which is which even from here because the Fallen have their wings out.
I see the front of the Immundi pack. That can’t be right. I blink, try harder to focus, but I’m still seeing the same thing: the Immundi funnelling into a panicked line, four or five abreast—and then disappearing into thin air.
I turn my head, find Semyaza’s bearded face startlingly close. ‘I thought they couldn’t shift?’
His eyes meet mine, icy and unapologetic. Matted hair trails back over his shoulders, barely bothered by the wind. ‘It is a portal.’
Ah.
I knew portals existed—they have to if the Fallen were trapped in another dimension, otherwise how did they get there?—but I’ve never seen one until now. ‘To where?’
‘An outer circle of the hell where the veil is in tatters.’
The veil. Semyaza’s words to Nathaniel catch up with me. Semyaza pierced the fabric that separated his dimension from ours to manipulate Nathaniel all those decades ago. I remember what that means and the coldness leaches back in. The Garrison was never interested in us. We have no higher purpose.
I don’t know what’s more unsettling: having a destiny I didn’t ask for or having none at all. Thoughts snake around me, squeeze tight. And then Semyaza pins back his wings and takes us into a steep dive. The night rushes past, bleeds together. Adrenaline surges—I can’t help it. Even as we plummet towards the beach, towards uncertainty, I can’t help but think how much Jude and Rafa would love this sensation.
Semyaza buzzes the Immundi, scattering their formation and sending them into a heightened state of frenzy, trampling each other. If I didn’t know better I’d say he was doing it to amuse himself.
All I want is every last hell spawn gone from my town. I want this carnage to be over, even though it brings on the moment when we face the consequences: the Fallen are free, and we don’t know what that means. For the Garrison, for Nathaniel…or for us.
It’s only when Semyaza swoops up and banks right that I catch flashes of movement between the Rephaim and the Fallen. Weapons drawn on both sides. Semyaza mutters something in a language I don’t understand and changes course. Faces lift in our direction.
‘Cohort, hold!’ Semyaza shouts.
Daniel, Callie and Uri have placed themselves between Nathaniel and the Fallen, their swords lifted. Callie’s favouring her bad leg, but she’s not giving ground. I scour the faces of the Rephaim, find Rafa and Jude together, shoulder to shoulder. Their swords are drawn, but not to defend Nathaniel: they’re already moving forward to meet Semyaza.
I don’t know how to land, but I manage to get myself into position so my feet don’t tangle with the angel’s as we touch down. Semyaza steadies me for two steps and then lets go. My legs are shaky but they take my weight.
Rafa blocks Semyaza. ‘What gives you the right—’
‘She is healed.’ Semyaza barely glances at Rafa as he steps around him and heads for Nathaniel. I grab Rafa by the t-shirt before he can go after him and pick a fight. ‘Hey. Hey.’
Rafa stops, faces me.
‘I’m okay,’ I say firmly. I check him over. His arm is streaked with blood. ‘Are you still bleeding?’
‘No.’ He’s still thinking about challenging Semyaza. I slide my hand down to his elbow, keep a grip on him while I check on Jude.
‘You?’
My brother offers his back to me so I can see the wound is scarring. It must have taken at least half a dozen shifts to get the healing to this point. But I know from experience that he’ll be feeling the deep muscle ache about now. And Daisy was so right: it’s ugly.
‘Did Semyaza say anything to you?’ Jude asks.
‘Yeah,’ I say, letting go of Rafa and moving closer to the stand-off between Daniel and the Fallen. ‘Told me I was weighing him down.’
Two of the Fallen have moved up onto the dunes, both taller and more muscled than Daniel. The other angels stand in restless formation on the beach, faces flushed from battle. A hundred metres away, the Immundi are still crushing through the portal. Where are the Gatekeepers?
‘You’re not touching Nathaniel.’
Daniel’s sword is remarkably steady in the face of two hundred warriors. The angel on the right is the same one who fought beside Rafa against the Gatekeepers. Dirty blond hair hangs in a messy plait down his back. An old scar marks the bridge of his nose.
‘We led this traitor to your mothers and he executed them,’ the blond angel says. ‘He has earnt his fate.’
There’s a beat—and then the Rephaim stir. Understanding dawns. For most of them, this is the first time they’ve heard the truth about what happened to the women who gave birth to them. Eyes turn, accusing, to Nathaniel, still slumped against the boardwalk railing, bleeding out. The blond angel levels his blade in Nathaniel’s direction.
‘If he lives, he will not cease until he has seen us delivered back to hell.’
‘He has the right to defend himself,’ Daniel says. ‘But he needs to be whole to do that, and we can’t heal him.’
The blond warrior barks a laugh. ‘You think we should help him?’
‘Yes.’
‘Truly, Daniel, you would let him live after all he has done?’
Daniel’s attention snaps to the second angel. He has thick, dark dreadlocks and a beard down to his chest, but there’s something familiar about the shape of his nose, the set of his mouth under those whiskers. The disappointment in the question.
He’s Daniel’s father.
Daniel sees it too because he’s run out of words.
Semyaza draws his broadsword from the sheath between his shoulders and steps into Nathaniel’s line of sight. ‘You would allow these children to defend you, even now?’
Nathaniel fumbles behind him for the post, watches Semyaza through swollen eyelids. He grips the wire and hauls himself to his feet. Stands there, swaying, his torn wing hanging at an awkward angle. Chiselled face distorted with bruises, bites and anguish.
‘I have failed them in every way possible.’ A ragged breath. ‘I have no more to ask of your offspring.’
Semyaza nods. ‘Barakiel, Jael.’
Jael—Daniel’s father—holds Daniel’s gaze for a second longer and then he and the blond Barakiel step around Daniel. Nathaniel watches the two angels approach. They grab him by his arms and haul him forward. He grimaces but offers no resistance, no sounds of protest. Nathaniel’s legs don’t work, so the angels drag him through the sand and drop him at Semyaza’s feet. Nathaniel takes his weight on his hands and knees, broken wings draped either side of him. With considerable effort, he lifts his ravaged face.
‘Is it your plan to gather the Rephaim and make war on the Garrison?’
Semyaza’s irises flicker in a steady rhythm. ‘That is not your concern, brother.’
Nathaniel watches him for a long moment and then sits back on his heels. His eyes find Daniel’s. Then Jude’s and then mine. A tear slips down his mangled cheek. The revelation that it was the Fallen and not the Angelic Garrison who reached out to him all those years ago is unmaking him piece by piece.
He has no destiny either.
He drops his head to expose his neck. He’s ready for Semyaza to kill him. For a second I forget how to breathe. Nathaniel murdered our mother—the mothers of all of the Rephaim—and he’s lied to us for a hundred and thirty-nine years about a greater purpose that never existed. And yet…My blood cries out for him. That this is wrong. He fooled himself as much as he fooled us. However heartless Nathaniel was, however twisted his motives, he believed he was following orders given by the Host of Heaven.
And how can I ask for forgiveness for my mistakes if I can’t offer it in return?
Semyaza draws his blade.
‘Wait.’
I put myself between Nathaniel and Semyaza. My father blinks at me, slowly.
‘Move aside, child.’
‘No.’
Rafa and Jude step up next to me. Daisy too. Then Daniel, Uri and Callie. The others. Semyaza’s gaze rakes over us.
‘You choose this traitor before your own fathers?’
‘Oh for fuck’s sake,’ I snap, and Semyaza’s eyes flare. ‘Why is it always about a choice with you lot? I’m not taking his side, I’m asking you not to kill him.’
‘Because you care for him more than our need for justice?’
I hold his gaze. ‘Because it’s not your place to judge him, any more that it was his to judge our mothers.’
‘I think you will find that in present company, we are the only ones qualified.’
‘I disagree.’
I flinch at the sound of a new voice behind me, every nerve ending shot. I look over my shoulder, find a guy I’ve never seen before standing calmly between Daisy and Jones like it’s the most normal thing in the world to be on a beach surrounded by sword-wielding soldiers, winged creatures and butchered demons. He has rain-slicked hair, sharp jawline, sinewy build. Wearing boardshorts and a loose-fitting white t-shirt. Hands in his pockets. Barefoot. And taller even than Zak.
‘And who the fuck are you?’ Rafa asks.
The newcomer blinks and his dark eyes suddenly flash icy blue. ‘I am Gabriel, Second Lieutenant of the Angelic Garrison.’