A Gift of Wings (37 page)

Lucky’s uncomfortable sense that she was wearing a nightgown lessened somewhat when she learned her costume was not complete. She stood with raised arms, while Aidan wrapped her waist with a white belt decorated with black sigils. After the sigil belt had been wrapped and secured, Zeke dropped a long stole over her shoulders. It too was white and marked with sigils, not black like those on the belt but a fiery red-gold. The stole looped around her neck so that the two long ends hung down her back. She guessed its fiery sigils were meant to mimic those that would be burned into her skin during the Making.

Once the stole was in place, Zeke placed his hands on her shoulders. “You are sure about this?” he asked, his gray eyes steady on hers. When she nodded, his hands closed in a brief squeeze.

Aidan stepped in front of Lucky as Zeke released her. Cupping her cheek in his hand, he stared into her eyes, his own reflecting his fear for her, a deep respect, and something more that she couldn’t quite name, but which threatened to bring her to tears. He placed a soft, lingering kiss on her mouth. Then, letting his hand fall from her face, he whispered, “See you on the other side.” And he was gone.

Gesturing for her to follow, Zeke moved out into the hallway. He led her back down the stairs to the basement level, where his office was located, but instead of turning right at the base of the stairs, he turned left. Following behind him, Lucky stopped and stared.

Directly in front of them was a massive set of double doors. They were not set into one of the ivory painted walls but were free-standing in the middle of an otherwise empty room. Made of what appeared to be heavy, dark wood, they were carved to look like a pair of folded wings, each feather of which was exquisitely detailed. Unable to resist, Lucky reached out to touch the polished material. As her hand moved over the carved feathers, she could feel a slight vibration beneath her fingers, like she was stroking a purring cat.

“They are called the Gates of Heaven,” Zeke said. “They were originally created to facilitate passage between the earth and the Heavens for the Fallen. Once we chose to leave the Heavens, we could no longer simply dematerialize here and rematerialize there; we had to use the doors, to knock and seek entry, as it were. Now, only
Ha-Satan
—and I on rare occasion—are allowed entry to the Heavens even through the Gates.”

He sighed and was silent for just a moment before continuing, “The Gates have since been modified for other uses. Since human Sensitives are unable to dematerialize, they can, with the help of an angel or
Ha-Satan
, use the Gates to reach places outside the earthly realm—like the Alliance Council Hall, which is our destination.”

“Are these Gates the only ones?” Lucky asked.

“Oh, no. This pair is one of many. Every community of Fallen around the globe has a pair of Gates, each placed in a secure location and protected with wards. Not only is this house heavily warded against unauthorized entry, but no human—even a Sensitive as powerful as you—can so much as see the Gates without my permission.”

When he finished speaking, Zeke held his hand out to her. “Ready?” he asked.

Lucky took his hand. “I’m ready.”

Zeke placed the palm of his free hand into the slight indentation in the center of the pair of doors, where the wings met. Lucky could see a golden glow begin to emanate from beneath his hand. When he removed it, a complex sigil was marked in fiery lines and curves against the dark background. Then the flames subsided, sinking inward as if absorbed, and the wings began to open.

Lucky’s eyes widened in astonishment. The doors didn’t open outward or inward like any doors she had ever seen. Instead, the wings unfolded, and as they did, they began to glow with a light that was almost too bright to bear. She closed her eyes, shielding them with her free hand. When she opened them again, she was looking at a wing-shaped opening through which she could see distorted images, as if they were on the other side of a field of clear, flickering flames.

Feeling a tug on her arm, she realized that Zeke had taken a step toward the opening. Moving forward, she joined him, and they stepped through together.

CHAPTER 24

That single step seemed to take forever. Lucky felt like her body was being compressed, stretched. It was hard to breathe, as if the air were too thick to take into her lungs. She heard the crackle of flames, the rushing of water, and something like the beating of powerful wings. She tightened her hand on Zeke’s. Then they were through to the other side.

They were standing on a grassy boulevard, leading up to a huge building constructed of white and black granite and topped by a golden dome. Perched on the top of the dome was a weathervane in the shape of two angels facing one another, arms raised, with bent elbows and hands clasped. The sky was blue, and although she couldn’t find the sun in the sky, she felt the warmth of sunlight on her bare arms, and feet.

Looking around, she saw angels—some Light, some Dark—flying through the sky, and descending to the ground to enter the Alliance Council Hall. Other beings, some winged and some not, were strolling on the boulevard or hurrying toward the great building.

“Are they all here for the Striking?” she asked.

Zeke shook his head. “No. Some of them may be, but most are here for other reasons. Many ceremonies and meetings are held here.”

“How was the passage?” Aidan called, as he came strolling across the grass toward them.

“I felt a little squished,” Lucky answered. “Otherwise, it was fine.”

“Shall we?” Zeke asked, and headed down the boulevard toward the Council Hall.

Lucky and Aidan fell in behind him, Aidan catching Lucky’s hand in his. As they walked, Lucky took in her surroundings. Except for the winged and otherwise inhuman figures and the lack of a visible source for the sunlight, they could have been somewhere in or around Chicago on a mild summer day.

“Where are we anyway?” she asked Aidan.

“Elsewhere,” he answered, with a smile. “This place was created as a meeting place for everyone who is part of the Alliance—Light, Dark, Fallen. Since no one from any one group wanted the others to have the advantage of having the Council Hall in their world—on their home turf—it was decided that the Council Hall should be, well, elsewhere. So, in Elsewhere we are. The place belongs to everyone in the Alliance, and it’s considered neutral territory.”

“Does it have weather? Seasons? Day and night? Or is it always like this?”

“It’s always like this as best I can tell. At least, it has been any time I’ve been here.”

“Always midday in summer. Not bad.”

They had reached the steps leading up to the Council Hall. Lucky gripped Aidan’s hand more tightly as they climbed the stone steps, and he laced his fingers through hers. Zeke held the heavy door open for them to precede him inside. A long hall floored with pink marble stretched out before them, and black marble stairs with ornate golden banisters curved up on either side. People—beings—were hurrying down the hall and turning into the corridors that branched off it, just like in any office or governmental building Lucky had ever visited. Zeke directed them to the stairs to their right, and they began to climb. The marble felt cool beneath Lucky’s bare feet, in contrast to the warm grass and the heated stone steps outside.

The stairs led them to another pink marble tiled hall, this one narrower than the one on the first floor.

“Here we are,” Zeke said, stopping outside a door about halfway down the hall and on the left.

Lucky took a deep breath as Zeke turned toward her.

“Remember to make your responses as we rehearsed,” he said.

Lucky nodded.

Aidan squeezed her hand before releasing it.
This is it,
Lucky thought. Once through that door, there was no turning back. No sooner had the thought crossed her mind than Zeke opened the door and ushered them through.

The room was oval-shaped and looked like a cross between a church and a courtroom. The walls were paneled in dark wood with tapestry depictions of angels hung on alternate panels. Gilded trim circled the frescoed ceiling that arched high overhead. A single large chair sat in the center of the room, facing a raised dais upon which sat a podium flanked by two heavy tables. The entire wall opposite the podium was filled with graduated gallery seating, made from dark wood and looking to Lucky much like church pews. Aidan left them to head toward the gallery, while Zeke directed Lucky to the chair that was the room’s focal point.

As they drew closer to the chair, Lucky saw that it too was raised. Zeke held her hand as she climbed the three steps leading up to it, releasing her when she reached the top step, so she could turn and face the podium. She remained standing, as she had been instructed, while Zeke moved toward the table to the right of the podium. Positioning himself behind it, he too remained standing, with his arms behind his back. Lucky’s breathing quickened as her stomach began to knot. She wished she could turn around and look for Aidan in the gallery, but Zeke had told her she must face toward the podium at all times. Without turning her head, she shifted her eyes toward Zeke. His eyes met hers, and he tilted his head in the tiniest nod of encouragement.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw someone approach the table on the podium’s other side. Moving only her eyes, she looked in that direction. She managed to keep from starting in surprise as she recognized Kev. In his formal role as
Ha-Satan
, he bore little resemblance to the warm, smiling man who had teased his younger brother and helped prepare her for this ceremony. His face looked hard, almost cold. No longer in his green shirt and faded jeans, he was dressed in loose-fitting black silk trousers and a blood-red robe that fell to his knees. The robe was open down the front, revealing an expanse of bare chest, on which rested a large, circular black pendant with red markings. Like Zeke’s and her own, Kev’s feet were bare. He took a position identical to Zeke’s behind the other table. His eyes caught hers before she could look away, and he dropped one eyelid in a quick wink. Somehow, that wink helped to calm her more than had Zeke’s nod—perhaps because it made her realize that, whatever happened, she had at least three friends here. She wasn’t going through this alone or unsupported.

She could hear the sounds of others entering the room and climbing the gallery steps to find seats, and again she wished she could turn her head. To distract herself, she studied the podium in front of her. Carved into its front in
bas relief
was the image of an angel, robed and barefoot, facing forward, wings arcing up behind. The angel’s left hand rested on the hilt of a sword, the tip of which pointed toward the floor; the right was held up, palm out. The palm was marked with a sigil that had been traced in gold. The gold marking stood out against the dark wood, and Lucky swallowed the lump that formed in her throat as the purpose of today’s ceremony rose to the front of her mind again. She had gotten so caught up in the preparations and her nervousness about the ceremony itself that she had almost managed to forget why she was here.

Suddenly, she heard the beating of wings, and the space behind the podium was filled with a light so bright she had to close her eyes. When she opened them, the light was fading, as if being drawn into the body of the being now standing behind the podium. Zeke had told her that the Archangel Uriel would be presiding at the ceremony, and she had tried to imagine what he would look like. Her imagination had not come close to the reality. The Archangel was huge, easily four times the size of Zeke, and his massive wings stretched half the length of the room. The wings seemed to be in constant motion, like water or light, and sparked with the iridescence of opals and mother of pearl, shimmering with colors she had never seen before. The hair which flowed down to his shoulders was like spun gold and moved as if lifted on a faint breeze. His eyes were closed.

As the brightness was absorbed into his body, the Archangel shrank until he was perhaps only twice Zeke’s height and breadth, and his wings folded inward, arcing up behind his shoulders. His entire being pulsed with the golden-white light as if it were barely restrained and could explode into that unbearable radiance at any moment. Heat radiated out from him as well. Even with the space between them, Lucky felt as if she were standing in front of a roaring fireplace. His glowing face was stern, set in hard, unforgiving lines, and when he opened his eyes, the sockets appeared to be filled with flames. He was beautiful and awful, compelling and terrifying. Lucky couldn’t tear her gaze away.

He lifted one hand, and she realized it held a large book, ancient-looking and bound in leather trimmed in gold. She was amazed it didn’t burst into flames in his hand. He placed the book, unopened, on the podium and, lifting his head, gazed out over the room. It seemed to Lucky as if he saw everything and nothing all at once, as if his flame-filled eye sockets took in everything and everyone in the room, but that he remained untouched by anything he saw.

He lifted his arms, spreading them wide, and opened his mouth to speak. The voice that issued forth was like the rushing of wind or the roar of a tremendous fire. Lucky sensed more than heard the words he spoke.