Chapter 26 #2
“It explains so much,” I said when she fell silent. “Why Sanctuary keeps getting weaker. The Abyss will roll right in here if the gate falls. We’re already out of balance.”
She chewed at her lip, stopping in front of me. “There’s more.”
“What is it, Scrap?” I prompted when she paused.
She slumped down cross-legged in front of me, taking my hands in hers.
“I went to the Abyss in a dream when I came to rescue you. Rumple is still there. He’s the one who taught me how to do the things I can with energy and…
other stuff. He’s calling himself the leader of the Abyss.
I saw him, Ry. He’s changed. He’s got horns and his wings aren’t feathers, they’re like…
made of space and shadows? And he, um, had a tail.
” For some reason, she blushed on the last word.
“He’s changed physically?” I was fighting not to react.
She might not know, but I had studied enough to be aware of exactly what those changes to Seraphiel’s physical form meant.
The only thing that could affect the exterior of a High Angelus in that way was a vast number of choices for evil.
I was almost certain it meant he was the power that had been making things exponentially worse on Earth.
Gavriel had spoken to me about it months before, about a new strength in the shadows that we’d been fighting.
An imbalance that felt more intentional, and less like the natural currents of shadow caused by the chorus of the humans we served and protected.
If Seraphiel had succumbed to evil, then I was deeply grateful for his love for Feather.
It was the only thing keeping evil from trampling unchecked through Sanctuary, and then the Celestial Realm.
I didn’t have to like it, though, that she went to him in her dreams. That she learned from and adored the leader of the Abyss.
Feather’s voice brought me back to the moment. “Yeah, but… something’s wrong inside him, too. He’s still holding the gate. But he says he’s only holding it for me.”
As I suspected. “He doesn’t want the Abyss to take your life,” I said, understanding immediately. And respecting Seraphiel a bit more for it. “He loves you, too.”
“Yes.” Her voice was strained. “But I’m not giving up on him. I’m not!”
I didn’t answer, just held her and sent soothing thoughts. I had just lifted her up to kiss her when Perception—a Protector I’d taught centuries ago—ran into the room, slamming the door behind him. At least, I thought it was that Perception. This Protector was… “Perception, have you ascended?”
He nodded once, but didn’t tear his eyes from Feather.
“I’m sorry, Feather,” he panted. “I tuned out to not overhear your conversation when you started in about the tuna boats and hot dogs, and I didn’t notice in time.
But doors are being opened down the hall, and a large group of Guides is coming this way. ”
“Maybe Gavriel’s returned, and they’re setting us free?” I knew better as soon as I said it. Feather and I started pulling on our clothing, my robe filthy and spattered with blood from the cell floor.
“No.” A dawning expression of horror washed over Feather’s face, and I could tell she was mentally listening to the approaching group. “Righteous, they’ve declared martial law. Valor’s in charge. He’s…” She swallowed hard. “He’s got the soul knife, and he’ll be here in less than a minute.”
“I can protect you,” I insisted, hoping I wasn’t lying. I felt the strength of our mate bond in my center, but my limbs were all still fragile. And my feathers would take a long time to heal. I wasn’t capable of flight yet.
We could hear the footsteps now, down the hall.
Perception whispered, “It might take some of his energy to use the angelic word to open it. I hope so.” His fingers were shaking, and not from the chill in the cell, as he reached for Feather’s hand.
“They’ll unmake us all. But Feather, I swear on my wings, I will die to protect you”—his gaze dropped to my hand and he swallowed hard—“and your mate. Stand behind me.”
I took a breath to protest, but Feather beat me to it.
“Crap on a cracker, Percy, I’m not going to let you die.
Or any of us. Honest to goodness, you men are always swearing on your wings.
You need to be more careful with that. Do you hear me swearing or cursing?
No. Because I’m not an idiot. Mostly. There are times to be brave, and times to be a chicken.
And this chicken knows how to lay a very surprising egg. ”
“She’s lost her mind,” Perception murmured to me. “It’s probably better this way.”
“Bassholes. Both of you, close your eyes. I’m going to try something.
” She gathered the blanket she’d brought and dragged it to the corner, near the bloodstains, stuffing the bag of food she’d brought underneath it.
In seconds, it looked almost like a covered body lay motionless there.
She grabbed our forearms, pulling us to the corner farthest from the door.
Then she began whispering something. At first, I thought it was a prayer. And it was, of a kind. But she was addressing Sanctuary itself.
“Sanctuary, I need just a little more power from you. Cover us. Hide us. Hide us in the shadows.” Then she began counting down from twenty, like a child playing hide and seek. My mind raced. Was she drawing on the power of Sanctuary itself?
Did she not understand what that meant?
“Ready or not,” she whispered, right before the door to the cell slammed open. I inhaled sharply when the lights flickered and dimmed again, and felt Feather’s grip on my arm go painfully tight.
A wave of putrid air rushed past us, almost choking me on the stench.
Valor stood there, his face red, panting as he scanned the room.
The fetid odor was emanating from him. “Well, where is he?” he shouted.
The Guides who filed in behind him scanned the room, but none of them could see us, and not just because the light was so dim.
I tried to control the fear and wonder that coursed through me.
We were invisible. My little mate had manifested one of the most advanced powers of the ascended, but had done it in a way that made my stomach churn.
Keeping my focus narrow so she wouldn’t sense my horror, I thought—we should sneak out—at her, but her hand went tighter in mine.
I felt it then, the exhaustion that was swamping her in waves.
One of the Guides held up what looked like a lamp, and pointed at the pile of blankets and bloodstains on the floor by the wall. Cursing, he whirled to face Valor. “You murdered him?”
A flicker of horror crossed Valor’s face, but was extinguished in the next instant.
He sneered at the pile, but didn’t approach it either.
“He was insolent. Refused to give up the angelic word to access the Flight Hall. Even after I was declared acting leader of Sanctuary. I only beat him as much as he deserved for his insubordination. Can I help it if he died of his wounds?”
A taller Guide moved from the back of the group toward the piled cloth.
“Valor, have you lost your mind? We told you to isolate Protector Righteous, to question him. Not kill him. Everything we do must be done according to our law and our history. You know this. There is no precedent for killing a Protector without a trial.” They stepped close to the soiled fabric, their hood hiding their expression.
But their voice slowed as they kicked out with one foot at the pile.
“Your mission was to get information before the trial, on Righteous and that… Novice.”
The room went strangely silent as the group realized there was no body under the cloth. The Guide spun around and their hood fell back, revealing their face. I knew this Guide. It was Gavriel’s most trusted advisor, Tradition.
“Well, Valor, it looks as if the Guide of All Guides has smiled upon you. You will not need to be punished. Protector Righteous is not dead. In fact, I believe… he hasn’t even left the room.” His eyes narrowed. “How are you hiding yourself, Righteous?”