CHAPTER NINETEEN #3
“You let Gabriel go. Right now, and you give me your word—binding, unbreakable—that neither you nor anyone in your service will ever harm Kennedy or anyone connected to me. Ever.”
I watch as Pestilence’s smile grows wide with genuine joy. “Done,” Pestilence says immediately. “I swear it by my true name, by the power of the Horsemen, by the crown of Hell itself. Kennedy and all connected to you are untouchable.”
“No!” I try to move forward, but my legs give out, and I crash to my knees, helpless to stop what’s happening right before my eyes. “Reaver, you can’t do this!”
He finally turns to look at me, and his expression is… peaceful. “It’s okay, Gabe. This is my choice.”
“It’s a stupid choice!”
“Yeah, well. I’ve made a lot of those over the years. At least this one means something.” He smiles and it’s genuine. “Get out of here. Find Kennedy and Jenna. Tell them… tell Kennedy I’m sorry.”
“Tell them yourself,” I snarl. “Because I’m not leaving here without you.”
“You don’t have a choice.” He looks over at Pestilence. “Part of the deal—Gabriel walks out of here. Now.”
Pestilence smiles. “Of course. I’m a woman of my word,” she states as she waves her hand. I feel power wrap around me, healing me from within, giving me back all my strength.
“Reaver,”
“Find Ember for me, would you? She’s a good dog.”
Before I can protest, they’re gone. They’re gone, the demons are gone, I’m no longer dripping in entrails and filth. I’m standing in Pesta’s great hall alone.
“Fuck!” I scream out, and the sound echoes off the vast emptiness of the space. Rage and determination to not let Reaver suffer pulse through me.
I take stock of my surroundings and the newfound surge of power now coursing through my body. With two steps, I release my wings. They feel perfect, repaired, and strong. With my third step, I take flight, leaving behind the fortress I was locked away in for ten years.
Leaving behind Reaver. “You idiot,” I whisper to the night sky, to the fortress that slowly starts to disappear, “You fucking, selfless idiot.”
I fly low, making circles in the sky, swooping down, my wings extended as far as they’ll go.
The threads of gold woven into the coal black of my fallen feathers shimmer as they catch the dim light from above.
On my final pass, low along the banks of the Styx, I see the faint shimmer of angelic protection.
My first instinct is to continue to The Firehouse and Jenna, but then I hear the faint whine of a dog.
“Fuck,” I breathe out as I turn and head towards the shimmer off in the distance. My landing is less than stellar, but fuck, I haven’t flown for a decade, so in retrospect, the slight stumble and fall is to be expected. “Just like riding a bike, my ass,” I grumble as I dust myself off.
The shelter isn’t much, an abandoned shack at best. But it’s against a boulder-laden hillside, which gives it some protection. Finding where Reaver put the dog wasn’t hard. The angelic protection can only be seen by Archangels, or in my case, fallen Archangels.
When I bend down to look into its hiding spot, the scruffy thing perks up and looks right at me, as if to say “It took you long enough”. When she realizes I’m not Reaver, she gives me a halfhearted growl.
“I know, I know, you were expecting someone else. So was I,” I assure her as I pull her from the tiny hiding spot. “But we’re gonna get him back, don’t you worry.”
I look the little thing over and shake my head.
Even in Hell, even facing his own damnation, Reaver stopped to save the innocent.
He always chooses to protect those who can’t protect themselves, love over hatred, and sacrifice over selfishness.
That’s why Pesta wants him, because she knows he would never sacrifice the world if he can sacrifice himself—a lesson I learned too late.
The little mutt gives me a sniff, then rubs her head against my hand in approval.
“You ready?” I ask as I cradle her in my arms and take off into the sky.
She only protests for a moment, giving me a whimper that breaks my heart.
It’s not the sound of uncertainty, it’s the sound of fear.
However she got here, she was flown in and dropped to be forgotten.
“I got you, baby,” I tell her, and I do my best to radiate calm as we soar higher. She nuzzles in and buries her head in the crook of my arm. We fly up, through levels of the underworld that no Archangel, or dog, is ever meant to see.
Finally, the neon lights of The Firehouse come into view. “My landings aren’t so hot,” I warn the dog, who has fallen asleep in my arms. I drop down as gently as possible, a flawless landing, but it still wakes her, and her head lifts to see the unlikely bar seated on the banks of the Phlegethon.
I place her on the ground, and she sticks close to my legs as we walk into The Firehouse. Alastor is standing behind the bar when I enter, most likely serving that same shit he calls a drink to unsuspecting patrons.
“Holy fuck!” he yells as he hops over the bar, knocking over several patrons as he makes his way over to me. “Holy fuck,” he repeats as he grabs my forearm and pulls me in for a hug, patting my back. “Holy Fuck.”
“Holy fuck,” I repeat as I wrap my arms around my oldest friend. “Is Jenna here yet?”
Alastor pulls back and looks at me. “Holy fuck.”
All I can do is laugh as I pat him on the shoulder. “I think you’ve covered that. Did you have a stroke in the time I’ve been gone? When I left, you didn’t have a great vocabulary, but it was more than two words.”
“Sorry, man, I’m just… holy fuck, I can’t believe you’re standing here, finally.”
“I know, but we have a lot to discuss. Is Jenna here?”
Alastor shakes his head. “No, Jenna’s—” He doesn’t have a chance to finish his sentence when I feel her presence, and I watch, holding my breath as the door opens and Jenna and Kennedy trot in. They’re a little worse for wear, but alive.