Chapter 5
Gabriel was not a happy angel.
As an Archangel, he should be riding high at the top of the Heavenly food chain. For most of all existence, Archangels had been in charge. Sure, some of the other Orders had taken the reins, but without exception, they’d failed miserably, and the Archangels always had to swoop in and save the day.
But Archangels weren’t in charge anymore, and it didn’t look like they’d be saving anything anytime soon. Not even their own hides. Not when they were imprisoned inside their minds.
But Gabriel wasn’t as lucky as his brethren, who hung in stasis chambers, their minds locking them in a fantasy existence and unable to fight against reality. No, the Thrones were literally keeping him on a short leash, beaten regularly as he awaited trial for his part in helping destroy Sheoul-gra and changing the course of all mankind.
“Hurry up.” Poria, a dark-haired Throne draped in obnoxious jeweled robes, tugged on his chain, nearly knocking him off balance as they mounted the steps to Throne Hall. “Zaphkiel isn’t very patient.”
“Yeah, well, Zaphkiel is—”
The fucker zapped him with a bolt of glittery lightning so hot it made Gabriel’s skin steam.
“I have permission to fry you into next century if you don’t behave.”
“Take off these restraints,” Gabriel growled, “and we’ll see who gets fried.”
The reminder that Gabriel, an angel of vengeance and death, was a hundred times more powerful than Poria did not sit well, and Gabriel rode another stab of electricity.
Poria had better hope Gabriel’s sentence for helping Azagoth destroy Sheoul-gra was a long one because the second he was freed, he was going after the bastard.
Poria paraded Gabriel through the halls, where other Thrones mocked and scorned him. One even spit on him as if it was medieval Europe, and he was being taken to the headsman for a public execution.
Gabriel added all of them to his revenge list for when he was released from whatever punishment they’d give him. Assuming he was found guilty. But he doubted that would happen. He was a senior Archangel, chosen by the Creator himself to serve as one of Heaven’s elite warriors. Archangel orders came to them through Metatron, and even the Angelic High Court wouldn’t take a soldier of his caliber out of service for long. Not when Armageddon was nigh.
Nine hundred-plus years nigh, which sounded like forever to beings with short lifespans. But a thousand years was a flash in time for angels and many demons. A snap of the fingers. A flap of the wings.
He moved with purpose, spine rigid and expression neutral, but he committed every face to memory as Poria perp-walked him to Zaphkiel’s doorway. As they approached, the cloudy, opaque opening vibrated, turning glittery before disappearing. They entered Zaph’s office, a remarkably stark and boring white room that sometimes had furniture, other times not. Today, not.
Zaphkiel stood in the center of the featureless white space, controlled by his mind, so he could have chosen to make it a luxurious palace or a wilderness retreat. But nope. The angel’s office space was as unimaginative as he was.
Thrones were so. Damned. Boring.
He looked over at the Celestial standing off to the side, his pale lavender wings tucked behind him, his hands clasped in front of his blue military tunic.
“Hey, Hut,” Gabriel said. “Been a while.”
Hutriel, a senior Virtue and an angel of punishment, appeared bored. Or maybe it was just the perpetual stick he always had up his ass. His nickname, Rod of God, fit him. “Not long enough, scumbag.”
“Aw. You haven’t changed at all. Still a rod.”
“Enough,” Zaphkiel barked. “Gabriel. Thank you for coming.”
“Of course,” Gabriel said. “How could I turn down your invitation? Oh, right. I couldn’t. What the fuck do you want?”
“Your Ordeal begins tomorrow.”
Well, if that didn’t just drop a wedge of ice into his belly. Gabriel was confident he’d get a slap on the wrist. But he’d expected the trial to begin later. Much later.
“Why tomorrow?”
“Because the sooner you’re dealt with, the sooner all angels will accept that the Thrones are now in charge.”
Ah. So, not all of angeldom was happy with how the Thrones had wrested control from the Archangels.
“Did the public catch wind of the fact that you’ve imprisoned every Archangel and are harnessing their powers to keep Reaver shackled?”
The expression on Zaph’s face said that, no, the general population wasn’t aware of that little detail. “Reaver doesn’t need to be shackled anymore. He’s immobilized with grief.”
The reminder made another block of ice drop into Gabriel’s stomach, splashing acid all the way to his heart. Reaver, the only Radiant in existence, an angel of extraordinary power, had been rendered comatose after his mate, Harvester, had been driven through an inoperative portal.
“If you hadn’t staged a coup and shaken Heaven all the way to its pearly white gates, that wouldn’t have happened.”
“We didn’t force Harvester to enter the Gaiaportal. She made that choice on her own.”
“You think she chose death?”
“We don’t know that she’s dead. Just that her mate bond with Reaver was broken.”
“And that her blood rained down on the Temple Mount. Doesn’t sound survivable to me.” Gabriel rolled his shoulders and worked out a kink in his neck. “So, why am I really here? You didn’t drag me down here just to tell me the trial starts tomorrow.”
Zaphkiel strolled over to one of the white walls. As he approached, the wall turned transparent, revealing a view of the pristine, Heavenly city of Catali below. Sitting on a vast, verdant plateau like a crown of gold, ivory, and gemstones, Catali shone under an azure sky. Glistening bubbles—angelic homes—floated over ivory structures below that contained more homes, offices, and whatever else anyone wanted them for.
And threaded between the structures, rippling streams and frothy waterfalls flowed through tranquil forests made of all the trees found on Earth. It was a reminder to angels that Heaven belonged to humans as well, and angels were obligated to pass through the Heavenly membrane to the Other Side, the First Heavenly plane, where the humans resided. Keep up appearances and all that.
Zaphkiel clasped his hands behind his back and gazed outside. “What do you know about the Gehennaportal?”
Gabriel blinked at the unexpected question. He’d been sure this meeting would be about his trial, not about the Gaiaportal’s evil twin.
“I don’t know anything. Why don’t you ask whoever built it?” he asked, knowing full well who had constructed the thing.
The Throne didn’t seem to have caught Gabriel’s sarcasm. “Satan is locked up until Armageddon, so that’s a non-starter.”
“And I still don’t understand how I’m supposed to know anything about it.”
Zaphkiel swung slowly around to face Gabriel. “Azagoth used the same materials and methods as Satan used for the Gehennaportal to construct Sheoul-gra. Since you were involved in that project, surely you know something about the portal.”
No, he didn’t. Azagoth hadn’t offered up any info, and Gabriel hadn’t asked. The fine details of building a holding tank for demon souls hadn’t interested him in the least.
“I know Thrones were in charge at the time of both portals’ construction. How did you not work out a deal with Satan to give you its blueprints?” No wonder Thrones’ reigns were short. They couldn’t govern for shit, and most of the biggest disasters in the Earthly realm could be laid at their incompetent feet. “And why not just ask Azagoth what you need to know?”
“Because his realm is sealed off to us, and he doesn’t seem inclined to answer our summons.”
No, the Grim Reaper had never been eager to respond to Heavenly requests. It was why Gabriel had disguised himself as a lesser, disgruntled angel and communicated—secretly—with Azagoth for thousands of years. At first, it had been to keep an eye on him. But as Azagoth grew more powerful, Heaven had demanded more and more from him, while offering more and more restrictions. Gabriel’s self-imposed watcher role had gradually shifted as corruption began to rot the Celestial ranks.
“Why do you need this information, anyway?” Gabriel asked.
Zaphkiel turned away from the window. “It’s possible,” he began, “that when Harvester went through the Gaiaportal and activated it, she activated its Hell-based counterpart as well. And I’m sure I don’t have to tell you how bad that would be.”
It would be very bad. Out of fear of what Reaver’s twin, Revenant, the King of Hell, could do to Heaven, representatives from every Order had agreed to seal him inside Sheoul.
If he discovered that the Gehennaportal was open, he could escape and bring down the wrath of Hell inside Heaven itself.
Gabriel smiled as an opportunity beamed down on him like the Heavenly Father’s Grace. “I could talk to Azagoth for you,” he offered. “For a price.” He winked at Hutriel. “I’ll send Azagoth and Lilliana your best wishes while I’m there.”
Outrage lit up both angels but for different reasons.
“You aren’t in charge here,” Zaphkiel snapped. “You will help us because it’s the right thing to do.”
“Go Team Heaven?” Gabriel laughed. “The Heaven that wants me to endure a sham of an Ordeal because you need someone to blame for Sheoul-gra’s destruction? You want to humiliate me because you know I won’t be found guilty. I’ll be given a slap on the wrist, and the Thrones will look like fools.”
There was no proof that Gabriel had helped Azagoth. He had, of course, but he hadn’t known about Azagoth’s ultimate, destructive goal. Gabriel had only intended to help Azagoth prevent angels from breaching Sheoul-gra and destroying him.
Which, really, was bad enough.
“Will you help or not, Gabriel? We don’t need you so badly that we will agree to your blackmail. You’ll do it or not. If you help us, it’ll delay your Ordeal and might even create some goodwill in the eyes of the court.”
Gabriel had already figured that out. He’d hoped to extract more from the Throne, such as making the Ordeal go away, but since it probably wouldn’t be that big of a deal…sure, Gabriel would help. He actually was on Team Heaven, after all. The players might have changed, but the concept, the very existence of Heaven, would always stay true.
He opened his mouth to tell Zaph as much when a tremor shot up his body, rattling his bones and teeth.
Zaphkiel’s eyes shot wide, and he reached out to steady himself against the wall as the building shook. “What the—?”
“Evil,” Gabriel whispered. “That was a wave of malevolence. Something big just happened in Sheoul.”
“I know,” Zaph rasped, his face pale and expression panicked. “But what? What could have caused something so momentous that we felt it in Heaven’s very heart?”
A shiver spread across Gabriel’s skin. What, indeed.