37. Zariel
Chapter thirty-seven
Zariel
S lowly, with my vision still clouded, I pushed myself up. Everything hurt, especially my head. What had hit me?
That was right—Gadriel.
Where was Cat?
Cat.
Time stopped. She was next to the High Artist, her eyes aflame. Her hands were filled with tufts of bloody feathers. She … plucked the High Artist?
Cat …
There was no coming back from this. There was no future where the High Artist would let her leave. Or live . And Gadriel, he would use any influence he had left to ruin her.
Gadriel had Aniela. He had my sister in his twisted grip, ready to kill her, and there was nothing I could do to stop him .
Whatever happened in the next few moments would change everything.
Cat…
In less time it took to take a breath, everything we shared together, everything we dreamt of, what could be, passed between us. And I wanted that future, wanted it so bad that I would do anything to make it happen. No matter what it took.
The other angels stood back, watching. Why weren’t they interfering? Then again, this wasn’t their fight. Most of them just wanted to go home.
“Whatever you want,” Cat said to Gadriel, pulling out one last lump of feathers before she bowed to Gadriel in mock submission. The High Artist deserved it. She did it—she ruined him.
Gadriel smiled, slick and satisfied. “I want you to—”
“What? What do you want?” I asked, drawing his attention to me. I wasn’t trying to negotiate—I needed to get closer . Stumbling, I took a few steps. Let him think I’m injured. Aniela didn’t fight him. She couldn’t.
“Well,” Gadriel said, “for starters, bow to me as your new High Artist.”
Stunned, I blinked hard, and then took advantage of Gadriel’s turning to speak to the angels surrounding him to move closer. Just a bit closer. I didn’t look at Cat—I couldn’t waste the time. There was no possibility I was going to let her come to harm while I had life .
“Yes, me,” Gadriel said. “I am the second in command. And you can see, she has shown that our former High Artist is … unworthy.”
Second in command? Since when? And what about the ritual? The High Artist should have known better than to trust Gadriel—Gadriel probably guessed that the ritual would never be completed now, and this was his chance to seize power.
Gadriel as the High Artist?
Never.
I lunged, grabbed Gadriel, and managed to land a blow before he twisted and planted his own against my side. Aniela freed herself, and then stumbled, exhausted, the effect of her imprisonment evident. Grunting, I twisted, shoving Gadriel off course—he corrected far too quickly. Dammit. Growling, he flew just high enough to crash into me, and I spread my own wings to keep him from slamming me into the stone wall. We gripped each other’s biceps, tearing into each other’s skin, both of us refusing to let go. He was stronger than I was, better rested—I couldn’t fail.
Cat …