Angelus (2 page)

Father Schrader clutched the parchment in his hands and stared up at the scaffolding climbing the side of St. Matthias Church. He'd been careful to erase each of his footprints as he'd advanced through the heavy snow, leaning down to fill them back in before anyone noticed. Perhaps that would all be for nothing. Surely, the scaffolding would rattle the second he set foot on it.

He didn't have much choice. The church doors were probably locked.

He glanced around, observing the nearby buildings. Most of them were in a state of heavy decay. Only one or two probably had any inhabitants. Faintly, down a long cobbled alley, he could see flickering candles set in one of the windows. As if the people inside sensed they were being watched, the candles suddenly snuffed out.

Father Schrader looked up at the dark sky. He listened for the telltale sound of heavy wingbeats.

Nothing. Now was his chance.

He folded the paper into fourths and set his numb hands
on the metal scaffold. The first two sections used ladders rather than stairs, and a layer of glassy ice slicked the rails. He bit his lip, trying to ignore the painful chill already leaching into his palms. His teeth chattered despite his heavy coat. “I'm getting too old for this,” he muttered to no one in particular, and his voice sounded hollow in the lonely air.

He really should have sent one of the novices on this mission. But Nina Willis had insisted that it was best he go himself.

With painful slowness, he ascended the scaffold. It didn't rattle after all. Perhaps it was too cold, as if the church also had a skeleton and bones that could freeze solid.

His foot slipped once, twice. Adrenaline raced through him like fire, and his heartbeat galloped. Then, at last, he reached a platform next to one of the broken windows. It had once held a sparkling picture of the Annunciation. Now it was a busted menagerie of color. The angel's face in the picture had shattered, leaving behind a headless figure with white wings. Father Schrader settled down beside the hole in the angel's face. His hands shivering with cold, he pulled out the parchment and reread it. The writing looked hasty, more scratches than letters.

                   
Father Schrader,

                       
Some of the members of the Vermilion Order have been meeting secretly at St. Matthias Church. Fury says they often arrive at midnight, but it's too dangerous for her to enter the church herself, and besides, the angels are shooting down too many crows for sport. None remain at that location, and so my presence would be suspect too. I have a bad feeling about what's going on there. We'll do our part to scour Luz and find Gloriana's mirror tonight—and
take it before anyone notices. If we don't hear from you by morning, Juno will come looking.

                       
Best of luck,

                       
Nina Willis

Father Schrader hesitated for a moment. Then, his mind set, he tore the parchment into minuscule pieces and shoved them into his pocket. If he was killed, let his murderers think he'd acted alone.

The silence gnawed at him. His heart still racing, he turned and looked out over the western side of Luz.

The grander mansions owned by the Vatican still shone with an ironically optimistic golden light. If he focused, Father Schrader could discern the steeple of St. Mary's Cathedral, and surrounding it, many of Westwood Academy's tallest buildings. Beyond them lay the poorer divisions of the island city, and then the landscape sloped downward, and most of the houses descended with it, until one stood at the edge of an eerily calm ocean. Ordinarily, the view from where he sat would have been even more spectacular. Glorious lights had probably kissed every window in the city only a few months ago, during the festive Christmas season. Amazing, the shadows that fear brought.

Because in the sky overloaded with stars, another city revolved. It seemed large as a galaxy, and its multicolored brilliance emanated power and majesty. From its sparkling depths, angels flew and entered Luz, and its light shone like a moon in Luz's perpetual night. The beauty of the angelic city almost matched the terror it induced.

Worlds that should never have contact with each other were on the brink of colliding.

Father Schrader startled. Voices had started to echo inside
the church. Carefully, he turned, leaned close to the hole in the window, and peered inside. A suffocating darkness filled the space, but his eyes eventually adjusted. Slivers of light from the angelic city penetrated even here.

There was nothing to see at first. Just rotten pews and snow.

He searched in the direction of the altar. Shadows moved and conversed anxiously with one another. It was clear that some of them wore the long black coats of novices. Others were priests he recognized from conclaves in Luz. Others wore ordinary clothes, but their stance and louder voices suggested people in authority. The jumble of voices made it impossible to glean anything from their conversation.

Then, every voice silenced. A few candles were lit, and the faces above them searched the ramparts of the church for spies. One of those faces focused in on the Annunciation window.

Father Schrader ducked. Despite the cold, sweat beaded his forehead.

But nothing happened. He must not have been seen.

Inch by inch, he dared to rise and look through the hole again. There were more lights now, and he recognized a few individuals with absolute certainty. Two of them were female: a novice under his direction named Lizbeth and a young girl from the elementary grades. He didn't know her name, but she'd been to him for confession multiple times. Her blond hair caught the light and seemed to shine. Many of those in the church spoke to her with a reverence almost as shocking as her presence.

Then she turned aside to speak to Lizbeth, and her eyes flashed an ominous shade of crimson.

It couldn't be.

Father Schrader held his breath, struggling to hear. The young girl's voice floated toward him like an echo.

“. . . I will not tolerate anyone standing in my way. Besides, I respect you enough to see you as less than absolute fools. Neither the Archon nor Her supporters will win this battle. So make certain that if you join my mother's cause, you have no intention of turning back. She tolerates betrayal even less than myself . . .”

“How do we know that
you
won't betray
us
?” a bombastic voice said. “Do you think we allowed you to take those souls from Memorial Cemetery without suffering for it? Even now—and forgive me—but it almost feels like a mistake. You're unlike the other angels, after all. You must understand our concern . . .”

Father Schrader recognized that voice. It was Bishop Kline, the mayor of Luz in all but actual title.

The priest shivered more. How fortunate he'd decided not to be open with any of his superiors.

“Do you mean you're suffering from a guilty conscience?” the girl asked. Her eyes glowed softly. “That is none of my concern, priest. Besides, consider the great good you're doing in exchange. My mother, Lucifel, will reward you for your service. Trust me, unlike how she has been portrayed throughout history, she tends to keep her promises.”

“But if you would just tell us what you intend to do with them—”

“Does it matter?” the girl said. “In your beliefs they are beyond pain. That should be enough to console you for now.”

Bishop Kline's hesitant stance suggested he wasn't quite sure of his beliefs anymore.

Father Schrader struggled to control his ragged breaths. He'd encountered this strange angel before. Her name was
Mikel, and, stunningly enough, she'd just revealed herself to be the Devil's daughter. But why were the angels stealing human souls? The frightening hunger behind Mikel's burning eyes could mean all sorts of things. Though there was sadness too. Its oppressive weight seemed to tighten the world around them all.

Even so, he couldn't understand. Why would angels obey Lucifel? She ruled over Hell.

Unless—

Had she infiltrated Heaven again somehow?

Now a young male novice stepped forward. The gold cross at his neck gleamed brightly. “Enough of this fearmongering,” he said bravely, inching toward Mikel.

His left hand fidgeted behind his back with something else that caught the light. A dagger.

He searched his companions nervously, but none dared to move with him or back him up. “What can your kind possibly do for us?” the novice continued, his voice trembling. “You're nothing but winged monsters. And you—you're the most monstrous of all. I know what will happen. Whether with the Archon's help or without it, we're doomed. Lucifel will destroy us when she tires of our existence. You're probably taking those souls to devour them, or to use them for some hellish purpose. I remember what that demon did in St. Mary's. So then,
this is for my dead sister,
” he shouted.

He lunged at Mikel with the dagger.

A few individuals rushed to hold him back. Cries of anger and fear reverberated through the church.

Instantly, the little girl dropped unconscious to the ground and the novice began to scream.

His screams ceased as abruptly as they began. The little girl stirred in her sleep and a priest swiftly knelt by her side,
lifting her up into a sitting position. “She's alive,” he said sharply to the others who'd gathered around them. A collective sigh of relief went through everyone.

But the novice who'd dared to attack Mikel now stood with his eyes glowing red.

“Would anyone else like to try something stupid?” the angel said through him.

Everyone turned and stared at him, wide-eyed. No one said a word. Mikel had jumped from one body to another in the space of a thought.

“This should convince you,” she said softly, “that the Archon's power can't match my mother's or mine. And if you think the Supernal Israfel will save you, consider that he's imprisoned by Lucifel now as well. If Lucifel's new reign is about to begin, make the intelligent decision about whose side to be on. The universe's last hourglass has turned over, and God no longer holds it. It is us or Angela Mathers. And I doubt she'll feel very merciful toward the humans who made her life so miserable.”

So that was it. Despite whatever was going on with the human souls taken from Memorial Cemetery, Mikel's intention was for Angela Mathers—the Archon—to die if she returned to Luz. It was pure insanity—Angela could certainly choose to end the world, but she could also choose to save it. Lucifel, on the other hand . . . no human really knew her goals, but they couldn't be good.

Yet it made little sense. Nina had told Father Schrader that Mikel had been helpful previously.

The angel probably had her own motivations. Her oppressive sorrow might be a clue. But regardless of everything, that meant once they'd brought Angela back from Hell, she would have to be protected. No one could afford her death.
The Book of Raziel had to be opened and the final choice to ultimately save or destroy the universe made, and before it crumbled apart or—just as terribly—the dimensions collided together.

He could only wonder what was keeping Angela from making that choice already.

Father Schrader shifted his weight to his knees.

An echoing creak shuddered through the scaffold. A piece of the platform snapped.

Mikel whipped around to look up at the hole in the window.

She saw him. Her red eyes narrowed angrily.

The others in the church shouted in confusion. Father Schrader sensed rather than saw that Mikel was coming after him. Trembling violently, he scrambled backward and began to half climb and half slide down the first ladder back to the ground. If he slipped, he'd certainly either die or at least break bones.

He was halfway there already. He might make it.

Glass smashed above him. It flew past him in chunks to the snow. One piece caught his cheek, slicing into it like solid fire.

He looked above him. Mikel—or more accurately, the novice she was possessing—had flown through the window and snagged the platform where he'd been standing. The novice's face and hands bled with cuts from the glass. Then she half flipped over the side of the platform, racing down the ladder toward Father Schrader. Perhaps she'd rethought pushing the novice's body with another flight. It wasn't necessary anyway. She was preternaturally fast.

She was gaining on him too quickly. He had no choice but to jump now.

He let go of the last ladder, plummeting ungracefully into
the snow below. Father Schrader sank, crying out as his body hit the frozen ground beneath. An immense pain overtook him, threatening to shut down his heart and brain. He struggled for breath, fighting off the urge to sink into unconsciousness. His legs screamed out they were broken, and they refused to move as a strange warmth crept through him.

“
Exorcizo te,
” he shouted, waiting to feel Mikel's hands wrap around his neck any second.
I exorcize you . . .

His voice died away. Nothing happened. He opened his eyes, startled to find the novice Mikel had possessed lying in the snow a few feet away. The young man's ankle looked broken. Many of the cuts bled profusely.

Father Schrader fought with his fear, but then he speedily reached over and felt for a pulse.

The novice was alive.

And—Father Schrader looked down at his own body in surprise—he must not have injured his legs badly, after all.

Voices sounded from outside near the front of the church. Those inside were probably exiting to find him and Mikel. He stole one last glance at the novice crumpled on the ground, muttered a prayer of healing, and then shot away toward a narrow alley at the church's rear. Though Nina had said no more crows lived near the church, he burst through a few of them strutting around a storm grate in the alley. They launched away from him, screeching madly, and wild with fear, he continued to run and didn't stop until he found shelter inside an abandoned fortune-telling shop.