In the darkness of the glom, Mimi unleashed the full powers of her transformation. She could feel her wings sprout, could feel her horns grow, curling above her forehead. This was her true form as the dark and terrible Azrael, the Angel of Death. These were the wings of the Apocalypse, the harbinger of Hades, of sorrow and ruin. All this she encompassed in her soul and her being.
With all of her strength, she threw herself against the Morningstar, pinning him against the black rock, but her claws found no leverage, and soon she was simply holding a pile of dust. Lucifer would not be taken so easily. But Schuyler was free. I owed you one, Schuyler Van Alen. Now we are even, Mimi thought.
“Not bad, Force.”
She turned.
Behind the gate, Kingsley and Leviathan were caught in a stalemate. The demon had his spear at Kingsley’s neck, and Kingsley had his sword poised at the demon’s heart. Neither would give an inch, Mimi saw. But maybe if . . .
“Stay right where you are, Force,” Kingsley said slowly. His handsome face turned to her behind the iron bars. “Don’t come any closer.”
“Why? What are you going to do?” Mimi cried, although she already knew. She could see the white aura that began to surround him. He was calling up a subvertio, fashioning a white hole of death.
“I am going to destroy the path,” Kingsley said. “It’s the only way.”
“Don’t.” Mimi shook her head, her eyes glistening.
Kingsley looked at her with the utmost gentleness. “Do not cry for me, Azrael. Do not waste your tears. You made your decision. And this is mine. Sacrifice seems to be my destiny. A funny thing for a selfish man, isn’t it? They always called me weak back then . . . but maybe weakness is a strength of a kind.”
Mimi pressed her face against the bars, as close as she could get to him.
She couldn’t bear for him to go without knowing what she had been about to do—she had been planning to leave Jack to be with him. She had meant to forsake her bond and throw her destiny to the wind. I can’t, she was going to say. I can’t do this. I’m coming with you.
“Kingsley, I . . .”
Kingsley smiled his Cheshire smile. And without another word, he called up the white darkness—the subvertio—a spell that unlocked what could not be unlocked, that destroyed what could not be destroyed.
There was a deep rumbling, a shaking, like the strongest earthquake, and the iron gate crumbled, and the path began to melt. The demon shrieked, but Kingsley just looked at Mimi the entire time.
Azrael . . .
In a flash, they disappeared. The path, the gate, the demon, and the Silver Blood.
Kingsley was gone. Trapped in Hell for eternity.
Mimi collapsed to the ground, as if her heart had imploded in her chest.