Chapter 10
They landed in the heart of Moscow, though it didn’t look anything like it had the last time he and Raziel had set foot there. The streets were eerily silent, not a single building still standing, some still unnaturally on fire. Vehicles were scattered about, some crushed, some upside down. Blood covered everything. Whatever had happened here, it had been worse than in America. The Russians had either fought back harder or hadn’t put up a fight at all. Conquest was inclined to believe that while it had been a short battle, it would have been fierce. Diablo had to have directed a good portion of his might here.
Why?
Raziel frowned, glancing around. “Are we in the right place?”
Conquest closed his eyes, searching. Most definitely. It had taken more guesswork than he preferred—another unfortunate reality without his crown—and some jumping between continents, but he could feel the bright light of an Archangel calling to him from nearby. “He’s here.”
“Who is ‘he’?” Raziel asked, falling into step beside him.
“No way to tell since they all have the same aura.”
Raziel pulled out his wings, a spring in his step. “Why is that? They all have different Gifts, and their wings are different colors. Why would their auras not be different?”
“Aura isn’t about surface-level power in that way. It’s about the soul. Archangels have a larger capacity, so theirs shine brighter. Ice, heat, lightning, it doesn’t matter what Gift they wield. They’re all pretentious fucks, and they all look white.”
“Their auras are white?” Raziel twisted, bouncing to walk backward right in front of Conquest.
“Careful you don’t trip.” Conquest readied himself to catch him if he did.
“What color is mine?”
A mixture of soft azure and a cornflower blue. The sky on a cloudless day, endless miles of it as far as the eye could see. “It’s—” Conquest paused, tugging Raziel to a stop. He put a finger to his lips and gestured to a nearby building.
Raziel nodded, eyes wide, and followed him. When Conquest used his energy to propel himself to the roof, his Angel landed gracefully next to him a second later.
Conquest moved low and then crouched at the edge, peering over.
Archangel Zadkiel, God’s prized pet, stood near a destroyed building across the street, three Angels surrounding him. He didn’t have his wings out, but his smooth ebony skin and long blond hair, covered in jewels, were unmistakable.
“What are they doing?” Raziel whispered.
Conquest had no idea. It seemed like they were searching for something. He’d never seen an Angel doing menial labor like that.
“They could be searching for survivors?”
A hopeful lilt to his tone. Still so eager to see the best in everyone. “There are no survivors here,” Conquest said. He couldn’t sense a single living soul anywhere in the city. At least as far as he could reach without his crown. Perhaps not endless, but still considerably powerful. “And Zad would know that; he’s the oldest and strongest Archangel currently alive.”
“Older than Uriel?”
“Considerably. Uriel isn’t half as old as he acts.”
“You knew him when he was first an Angel?”
“All of them. And those who came before them.”
“You…” Raziel hesitated. “You’ve worked with them before, haven’t you?”
Conquest placed a hand on Raziel’s arm, lightly caressing it in a soothing up-and-down motion. “Another time, Raziel. I need you to be silent.” Conquest had no secrets, not from his Angel. Whatever he wanted to know, Conquest would tell him. Within reason, at least. There were some things Conquest held from him, not because he was keeping secrets, but to protect him. The cruelty of their world hadn’t sunk its claws into Raziel, not in the ways that mattered, and Conquest would ensure it stayed that way.
Zadkiel pressed his hands together, eyes closing as lightning flickered around him. The jewels in his hair lit up, and his hair rustled like wind blew through it. He pushed his hands out, and a large torrent of wind erupted, the rubble exploding outward. It created a hole in the wall of the building that had all but toppled over, one large enough for them to pass through.
The three Angels ducked through first, disappearing inside. Zadkiel turned, his golden eyes looking straight at Conquest. His lips twitched, the corner flicking up momentarily. Then he followed the Angels.
“What are they doing?” Raziel asked, standing as soon as they were gone.
Conquest stayed where he was, rubbing his bottom lip. “Not here for search and rescue, that’s for sure.” Not that he’d thought they were in the first place. Unless they were looking for one of their own, they wouldn’t stoop so low. So what were they doing?
Time to find out. He stepped off the side, landing with a booming thud on the path below, concrete cracking beneath him. It looked less out of place that way, considering the destruction surrounding them.
Raziel glided down far more elegantly, wings spread wide. His feet didn’t make a sound when he landed.
“Are we going in?” he asked.
“No.” He leaned against the side of the building instead, crossing his arms over his chest. “I wouldn’t fit, and you aren’t going in alone. We’ll wait here; it would be impolite not to say hello to old friends.”
Raziel’s lips pursed, a weak attempt to hide his smile. “Are they old friends?”
Conquest took his time answering. Not a clear “yes” but not a clear “no” either. “When you’ve been around as long as we have, fighting the same Beings over hundreds of thousands of years, you get a sense of familiarity. Zadkiel has been around almost as long as I have, and he’s a formidable enemy.”
“You sound like you admire him.”
“I respect his power. Doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy killing him or ripping his wings to pieces. The truth lies somewhere in the middle of friend and enemy.”
“You’ve worked together, though, haven’t you? You’ve been allies.” He cuddled up to Conquest, head resting on his chest. “I can’t imagine you and Uriel working together.”
Conquest gave him what he silently asked for, arms slipping between the top and middle wings to wrap around him. “We didn’t work together.” Just the thought was enough for a sneer to work its way onto his face. That white-winged prick wouldn’t know the word “ally” if it bludgeoned him in the face. “War deals with that asshole, when he has to. When you say ‘ally,’ you think friendship, trust and a mutual understanding. There isn’t any of that.” The opposite, in fact. He and his brothers did what they had to so they could go home and keep Famine from the endless torment of being torn between the God they’d once served and the man he loved, who had gone mad long before Famine could have saved him. “We didn’t choose to be the Four Horsemen. We aided them only because we had to, not because we wanted to. Interaction was kept to a minimum. We did our job, they did theirs, the world ended—or not; we weren’t always successful—and then we went our separate ways.”
“If War and Uriel are together… will Uriel hurt him?” Raziel asked hesitantly.
“If he gets the chance, absolutely.” That didn’t worry Conquest nearly as much as their location. Did War even still live? Normally he would be adamant that they’d have felt it, that their connection was too strong to not feel it. But if he were so far away that not even Death, with his vast Power, could find him, would they feel it?
If they found nothing but War’s corpse after their search, Conquest would take more glee than normal in ripping Uriel to pieces. He didn’t care that War would return; no one hurt one of his brothers and got away with it unscathed.
Raziel tugged at his arms, and Conquest unfolded them for him. “He’s okay,” he said confidently.
His sweet, beautiful, na?ve Angel. Conquest tipped Raziel’s chin up and kissed him. Every time he did this, every time he touched and enjoyed and laid claim, he tainted that sweetness. And yet Raziel always came out of it as pure as he’d gone in. All the savagery and the harsh realities of the world, none of them stuck to him. His soul was so light that not a thread of darkness could find its way in.
Conquest took his time exploring Raziel’s mouth. He lifted him into his arms, turning to rest him against the wall and expertly getting his pants down enough to expose his ass. He fucked Raziel right there, his Angel’s cries of pleasure carrying on the wind. He thrust hard and fast, the scent of Raziel surrounding him. It didn’t take long for them both to find their release.
Raziel was resting pliantly in his arms, satiated and tired, when Zadkiel and his Angels finally returned.
Zadkiel’s lips turned down upon spotting them, nose wrinkling.
Conquest kissed Raziel, lingering just to irritate Zadkiel before letting him down to his feet. He nudged Raziel to stay behind him. A small hand fisted against Conquest’s back.
“Zadkiel,” Conquest greeted, when he was ready.
Zadkiel flared his vibrant purple wings wide, more jewels embedded in his secondary feathers. “Conquest,” he said dismissively.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Conquest asked. He summoned his glaive and rested the blade between his feet. He wanted a fight, and Zadkiel would give him one. “If you’re attempting a rescue, I have some bad news for you.”
“Leave.” Zadkiel turned away from him. “Report back, I will handle this.” The Angels left eagerly as if they were relieved not to have to face Conquest. A shame; wings always looked better covered in the blood of their owners.
“Don’t turn your back on me.” Or Conquest would stab him in the back without regret. Honor was for the loser.
“This has nothing to do with you.” His gaze flicked to Raziel, jaw twitching.
Conquest shifted, hiding Raziel completely from view. If Zadkiel even tried to come for him, he wouldn’t be leaving this street. “That’s where you’re wrong. Someone wanted us here, so here we are.” He spread his arms in a “what can you do?” gesture.
“Run back to your master, then,” Zadkiel replied, gaze hardening.
The constant blame game for who had summoned them was getting old. If not God, and not Diablo, then who? It had to be one of them, and why they had chosen this time to not fess up irritated Conquest immensely. “You don’t have a leg to stand on when you’re talking about masters, pet .” Zadkiel did whatever his master wanted, a blind puppet with no thoughts of his own.
“Lucifer and War are stirring up enough problems to keep you busy; go away.”
The Archangel thought Lucifer and War were working together? He didn’t know that War was with Uriel? There was no way God didn’t know. He had to; he knew exactly where every one of his flock was. So why not tell his most loyal servant? “You don’t want to fight me, Zad?”
“What would be the point? You completed your task. Killing you—while satisfying—would have no bearing on the outcome of this Apocalypse.”
That wasn’t the only reason for a good fight. Zadkiel might be the strongest Archangel, but he wasn’t nearly as fun to goad as Uriel or Raphael.
Zadkiel kicked off the ground, and Conquest shot a blast of energy in front of him, effectively halting him. His wings flapped, swerving him out of the way.
“I didn’t say you could leave,” Conquest said menacingly.
Zadkiel twisted in the air, face twisted in anger as he stared down. “I have no time for you.”
“That’s too bad because I’m not finished.” Conquest lifted his glaive to rest on his shoulder, getting ready to use it. “I’m curious, Zad, what are you looking for? Maybe I can help you find it.”
“How courteous of you.”
“I’m a very courteous individual. Speaking of manners, I do believe I asked for this dance. It’s so impolite to say no when your dance card isn’t full yet.”
“I have no interest in your childish games.” Zadkiel’s lightning crackled around him as he landed, strips of it circling his wings and lighting up the jewels across his wings and in his hair. Perfect .
“That’s too bad because I’m not giving you a choice.” Conquest threw another ball of energy at him, and while Zadkiel was distracted by it, Conquest surged forward, swinging his glaive as he did.
Zadkiel’s sword came out of nowhere and met Conquest blow for blow, every step swift.
“Remember the last time we danced? You didn’t fare so well,” Conquest taunted.
“Perhaps I don’t like your music, Conquest.”
Conquest dodged a bolt of lightning and sliced across Zadkiel’s stomach. Zadkiel used the momentum and cut through the armor on Conquest’s arm. Blood for blood.
Conquest smirked and flung himself backward, out of the way of Zadkiel’s sword. Without his crown, he had to be careful here. If he emptied himself too quickly, it would become a one-sided fight. Zadkiel wasn’t to be trifled with, even on his worst day.
Raziel went to move in, and Conquest barked out, “Stay there.” He was no match for this Archangel. One day he would be; Conquest would make sure he was stronger than even himself—but right now he needed his Angel to stay safely out of the way. He couldn’t fight Zadkiel and worry about him.
“How the mighty have fallen,” Zadkiel said, turning his nose up at Conquest.
“I never liked flying.” Conquest flung purple energy at him, simultaneously slicing his glaive through the air, aiming for Zadkiel’s throat. A bolt of lightning got him in the hand, and he gritted his teeth, shaking off the tremors as they circled each other like predators.
Instead of coming back for more, Zadkiel flung himself away from Conquest. He gave them one last sharp look and then opened the fog, disappearing before Conquest could move to stop him. A retreat.
Not cowardice, strategic. What were they doing here?
“Why did he leave?” Raziel asked, moving closer.
“Didn’t you hear him? He has no time for my childish games.” Conquest smoothed a hand over Raziel’s shoulder and down his back, checking him over. He hadn’t been in the fight, but Zadkiel’s Gift echoed.
Raziel smiled with bemusement. “Why did he actually leave?”
“I don’t know,” Conquest said truthfully. He wished he did; he hated being unaware of the dangers coming their way. “They’re up to something, and I don’t like it.”
Raziel’s brows drew in, and he slipped out of Conquest’s grasp, moving to pick up something nearby. “Look. It’s Uriel’s feather,” he said, twirling it in his hand. Snowflakes, still perfectly formed, rested on it, the white ethereal. Perfection in a single object.
Conquest glanced at where Zadkiel had disappeared. That threw a spanner in his theories. “They already know that Uriel isn’t on Earth. Why would they be carrying that around?” It wouldn’t help them locate him in a place he wasn’t present.
He pocketed the feather. It was worth a fortune to the right people. If they needed something from Amii again, the feather would be a good bargaining chip. He’d all but soiled himself in excitement the last time Conquest had taken one in.
“What now? Can we go see Atlas?” Raziel asked hopefully.
As much as Conquest would like to visit their mortal, they had more work to do. There was still one more Archangel roaming around.
“Soon. It’s time to go hunting. Raphael is out here somewhere too; let’s go pay him a visit.”
“We don’t know where he is, though.”
“We’ll find him.” No matter how long it took.
It took them three days to work out where Raphael roamed, another full day to find exactly where he was. And Raziel missed Atlas. He’d wanted to visit, but Conquest couldn’t risk losing the scent. Not to mention, Angels had been following them ever since their encounter with Zadkiel. None had approached after Conquest had killed three of them and placed their heads on spikes as a message. They followed nonetheless. Reporting back?
They couldn’t risk leading them back to Atlas. How much danger would he be in if Heaven knew Atlas was a weakness of theirs? Raziel’s familiarity with just what they would do with a weakness made the decision to stay away that much easier. If he thought too hard about it, he could still feel Uriel’s blade against his throat. All because Conquest had dared to care about him. No. Atlas had to be kept safe. They would return when it was time to return.
That didn’t stop the ache or the hole that grew bigger with his absence every day. Raziel wanted to see him now , feel his lips again, see that rare smile. Talk more. Learn more. Just be.
Instead, they were here, in Japan, in search of an Archangel with fire-red hair.
The archipelago seemed to be faring better than the rest of the world, with safe houses and locations set up everywhere. Fights broke out in the streets multiple times as they searched over the remnants of the beautiful islands.
There were more people left here to fight, Raziel supposed glumly. What use were weapons with no hands to wield them? The Demons were picking off the mortals one by one, and if they didn’t do something soon, there would be none left. Raziel couldn’t allow that to happen.
“What do you think he’s doing here?” Raziel asked.
“Raphael is harder to anticipate than Zadkiel. There were Angels in the larger cities helping the mortals,” Conquest said. “He could be doing the same.”
“Zadkiel wasn’t.” He hadn’t cared at all for helping. And Raziel wasn’t sure he would describe what the few Angels they’d seen were doing as “helping.” Lackluster at best, like they were simply doing a duty they wished not to. A pathetic show of force. If they had come down with the full might of Heaven, they could have altered the course of things. The sheer number of them fighting against Lucifer’s army could have saved so many. Including those that Atlas held dear.
Instead, they’d stood by and done nothing.
“We’ll find out what he was doing,” Conquest said confidently. “And there he is now. The Archangel of Patience himself.”
Raphael walked alone down a quiet street of Okinawa, his impressive red wings dragging behind him, leaving streaks of lava in his wake.
Raziel grasped Conquest’s arms, tugging. “I don’t want to fight with him.”
“Why?”
“Look at him.” Sad. Alone. Despondent. All descriptions accurate for the picture that Raphael presented.
“Don’t let your soft heart fool you, Raziel.” Conquest brushed his knuckles down Raziel’s cheek and then fitted his palm over his jaw. “Raphael is dangerous, more than even Zadkiel in a lot of ways.”
More dangerous? Raziel had always found Zadkiel and Uriel far scarier than Raphael. The youngest Archangel of the three, he had always been the kindest. Helpful to newer Angels, always ready to lend a hand, a cheeky smile. Raziel had watched him from afar, wishing that someone, anyone, would give him that kind of attention.
The pain he must have been hiding all this time.
“He’s a man with nothing to lose. Michael isn’t coming back, not after all this time, and he’ll be a broken man for the rest of his existence because of it. He’ll always wonder what happened, if Michael chose to re-Cycle himself after death, if he chose not to return to Raphael’s side. It will haunt him forever.” Conquest smoothed his thumb across Raziel’s cheek, and Raziel leaned into it, eyes briefly fluttering closed. “Those that have nothing are always the most dangerous.”
Everyone knew about the great love between Raphael and Michael, even those who had never met the Archangel of Kindness. From a purely theoretical point of view, Raziel had understood that Raphael was heartbroken, but he had never been able to put it into context before. He could imagine what it might be like, to love someone that much—had dreamed about it, in fact—but to then lose them? The agony of waiting hundreds of years for his love to return, only to be left wanting. Raziel couldn’t fathom. Now he knew firsthand how a love like that felt and couldn’t imagine living without it.
“I don’t want to hurt him,” Raziel whispered. Maybe that made him weak, but he didn’t care. He never wanted to be the kind of Being that would kick a person already down. Raphael was in enough pain. Just the thought of that pain made Raziel’s chest ache, let alone being the one going through it. How could he ever take another step if Conquest wasn’t right beside him? Atlas was quickly taking that same spot, settled right there in his heart beside Conquest. How could he not? He was magnificent, more than worthy of being a Horseman’s companion.
“Raphael is not an innocent,” Conquest said. He smoothed fingers over the top of Raziel’s wings and then down the inner curve of them. “He’s still an Archangel, and none of them have honor.”
“But I do. And you do.”
Conquest smiled wryly. “I’m afraid I’ll have to disappoint you, love. I have none.”
Raziel knew differently. Choosing not to acknowledge it didn’t make it less true. Conquest might be cruel, and derisive, and have little care for those weaker than him. That didn’t mean he killed indiscriminately or did it for pleasure . His Horseman had more honor in one hand than most had in their entire bodies. He fought head on, he was honest—brutally so—and he had loyalty in spades. What was that if not honor?
“I know that we want to see what they’re doing, but do we have to fight him, or antagonize him the way you did with Zadkiel?” If they followed and watched, wouldn’t that give them what they needed, more than pulling their ire and having them run? They hadn’t learned what Zadkiel was doing, so a change of tactics could be what they needed.
“He’s not as much fun, I’ll give him that. Not anymore anyway.” Conquest kissed the corner of Raziel’s mouth, tongue flicking out to taste it. “Alright, baby Angel, let’s do it your way.” He gestured with his arm. “After you.”
Raziel curtsied with a wink and then spread his wings, descending quickly to the streets below.
They followed Raphael for three more days, careful to keep out of sight and not alert their quarry. Occasionally, an Angel approached the lone wanderer, spoke a few cursory sentences he and Conquest couldn’t make out, and then took off again.
Raphael himself did nothing but walk the streets. He didn’t enter buildings or engage with humans or Demons. Every step seemed aimless, pointless .
Every so often, he dropped to one knee and traced a symbol on the street. It flared red, concaving, with lava filling the shape. Flames erupted over it and then it disappeared like it had never been there.
“What is he doing?” Raziel asked, blinking in confusion. What was the point if the symbol didn’t even stay?
“Marking the spot,” Conquest answered. “So that he knows where he’s been.” He stroked his lips and then down his beard. Raziel reached up to thread his fingers through the thickness. It tickled his skin, and lust swirled in his belly, wanting to feel the soft bristles other places.
“That gives weight to the searching theory,” he offered, trying to remember what they were talking about.
“Yes, it does. Though it doesn’t look like his endeavors are particularly fruitful. He’s sticking to the larger cities and following a set pattern. If he was going to find something, he would have by now.” He sounded irritated by that fact. Raziel understood. They’d spent an entire week searching, and while they’d found who they were after, it hadn’t led to any questions being answered. In fact, they had more than when they’d started.
“Why is he still walking, then?” Raziel asked. He’d been in Japan the full three days. Did he plan to move somewhere else or walk every inch of the islands?
“Patience,” Conquest said simply. He took Raziel’s hand and played with it absently. “Renowned for it, after all. The Archangel of Patience is very good at long, singular tasks. I’ve known him to travel and search dimensions for years at a time.”
“Alone?”
“Since Michael, yes.”
It sounded lonely. Raziel at least understood how that felt. To choose to retreat, not so much. “What does he go searching for?”
“Anything and everything. The Archangels are not just God’s warriors. They’re his eyes and ears and his most important line of defense. That comes in many shapes.”
“There are only three of them right now. Have there ever been all seven?” He’d heard tales of times where there had been seven of them, formidable virtues against the darkest of Lucifer’s fallen. There were paintings of them in Heaven’s library, ones that took up whole walls. Information about them was scarcer. Almost like urban legends more than fact. Would Conquest know? He’d always been around, hadn’t he?
“In the very beginning. And then after that? Only once. A long time ago. A rise to Archangel is no easy feat and requires a particular kind of Angel.”
“They have to be Angel-born?”
“No, not necessarily. Characteristics required are available in any kind of Angel. However, it takes considerable time for them to obtain the power needed to survive the elevation. Uriel is the only one I know who survived it so young, though it doesn’t surprise me given his contrary personality.”
Raziel caught the hint of… not quite admiration, but a respect for Uriel’s strength. Conquest might hate the Archangel—Raziel had to admit he didn’t exactly have a soft spot for him—but that didn’t mean he was blind to how powerful he was and had a healthy respect for it.
“You knew him as an Angel.” Not really a question. Conquest answered him anyway.
“Unfortunately.”
“What was he like?”
Conquest surveyed their immediate area as he took his time answering. Was it a hard question? Raziel waited with bated breath for the answer.
“He was like you, baby Angel,” he said eventually. “And then he wasn’t.”
Like him ? Did he mean the kindness or the powerlessness? Both? If that were true, why had Uriel always been so mean to him? “What happened?” He had to know.
“You’ll have to ask him.”
Raziel huffed, mouth screwing up. Ask him? Like it was that easy. The last time Raziel had seen Uriel, they’d been in a massive fight, caught between Heaven and Hell almost quite literally. The time before that , Uriel had slit his throat. “Really, though.” He’d rather hear it from Conquest.
“Really, I don’t know. I’ve never once given even a single spare thought to Uriel, his history, or his feelings .” He finished the word on a sneer. “I wouldn’t shed a tear if he were to re-Cycle himself, or if by some miracle he were to simply cease existing.”
Conquest took another critical look at where Raphael continued to walk the streets and then turned back to Raziel. “There’s nothing worthwhile here to find. We’ll leave Raphael be as you wanted. Are you ready to return to America, baby Angel?”
Raziel smiled brightly, joy fluttering in his heart. A week away felt like a lifetime, even when it was a mere drop in the ocean of his existence, and he was ready to see Atlas again. “Yes.” So much yes.
They returned, expecting to find Atlas with Victory, safe and sound.
Instead, Victory sat alone, and Atlas was gone.