“It never ends.”
“It never ends.”
They were silent for a moment, the snow eddying around them. It struck Alice that there were no other sounds, anywhere. No cars. No kids playing in the snow. Not even the birds. The world was hiding – it just didn’t know what it was hiding from. She did. And it was enough to make her take a deep breath and square up to the angel in front of her. Again.
“I
SUPPOSE
I should be grateful you’ve fixed the shower?”
“It might be nice. I suggest you sit under it.” Mallory’s voice was muffled by the bathroom door, but she could still hear the amusement in it. “But I’m warning you now that I’m not coming in there to get you out if you seize up.”
“You’re a real prince among men, aren’t you?”
“Actually, yes. Don’t bother with the cold tap. It still doesn’t work.”
The idea of a shower had come as a surprise. Somehow, she had assumed that just like the rain and the snow, the water would simply go round her, but when she mentioned this to Mallory, he gave her one of his looks. The ones that made you feel like you were five years old and had just been caught stealing a biscuit. Apparently, only “the weather” did that. Obviously.
Her fingers were so cold she could barely unbutton her shirt. The chill had crept so far inside her bones that she was beginning to wonder if it wasn’t fear. Because, she thought as the pipes groaned, that nagging fear that had followed her around since this began was now so thick that she could taste it, could feel it settling on her shoulders like a cloak. She could smell it: a sour, cloudy echo that followed her wherever she went. She clambered stiffly into the shower and felt the water run over her, over the bruises and the grazes and the cuts and the soon-to-be-scars, and she gave in. She let the fear wash over her with the water. It clambered inside and stretched itself out into her hands and her fingers; it choked its way into her lungs and suddenly her palms were burning. Burning. With actual fire. In the shower.
“Uh.. Mallory?”
“Mmm?”
“Why am I on fire?”
“Are you?”
“No. Because I joke about this sort of thing all the time. Of course I bloody am!”
“Huh. That’s interesting.”
“No, it’s incredibly inconvenient!” She held out her arm and watched as the water turned to steam when it touched her skin, evaporating into the flame. “Whatever you’re doing, can you stop it?”
“Not me. You figure it out.” He sounded remarkably calm. “We talked about this, remember.”
They had. All part of the patented Mallory crash-course: How To Stop Being On Fire. Yes. Alice closed her eyes and tried to concentrate – which was, admittedly, hard, given the fire skipping up and down her arms – and breathe. Breathing helped.
Ten minutes later, she was dressed again, and standing in the bathroom doorway, glaring at Mallory, who was slouched on his sofa, reading one of his notebooks filled with scrawled symbols.
“You want to explain what that was?” she asked, tapping her foot in irritation.
He didn’t look up. “Not really.”
“Where did that come from? There’s no-one here; no-one in pain...”
“There’s you.”
“Fair enough, but I’ve been aching like this for...”
“There’s more than one kind of pain, Alice.”
“
What?
” She stared at him. “Do you talk like this just to drive me crazy?”
“Your gift. What triggers it?”
“Pain. What am I missing, or am I just being thick? No, wait. Don’t answer that.”
“The thought never crossed my mind,” he said, trying to hide his smirk behind the notebook. He glanced over at her and coughed, dropping the book and swinging around to look at her properly. “And you think pain’s only a physical thing, right?”
“No. Yes. Maybe?”
“It’s alright, Alice. It means we’ve done it.”
“We’ve done what?”
“We’ve got you to a point where you stand a chance. You’ve got control. Not just the part of you that’s governed by your empathy. You own it. All of it.”
“Yay?”
“And just listen to you. You’re giving me attitude. You weren’t a couple of days ago, were you?”
“No, but...”
“No. And you know why? It’s because you’re not afraid any more, isn’t it?”
He raised his eyebrows at her, and she opened her mouth to reply... but stopped. He was right. She wasn’t. The fear that had crawled inside her was gone. Almost like it had been... burned away.
Mallory nodded. “You took it all – the fear, the pain, all of it: all the things you’ve been carrying round your whole life – and you turned it into fuel. You let it in, and you let it feed you... and you beat it.” He was up from the sofa, dropping the book on the floor and pacing up and down the small room. “All you have to remember to do is to let it in, and you’ll be fine.”
“Let
what
in, exactly?”
“Everything.”
“Oh, that’s helpful.” Alice turned on her heel and disappeared back into the bathroom, slamming the door behind her. From the other side, she heard Mallory say, “You’re welcome.”
T
HE LIGHT WAS
fading as they left. Someone had scraped the snow off the path from the church, and it occurred to Alice that although there were footprints, clear signs of life coming and going, she had never seen anyone other than the angels – or the Fallen – around it.
Mallory simply shrugged. “Just because you don’t see something, it doesn’t mean it isn’t there, does it?”
“That’s what Gwyn said. About your wings.”
“We have a script.”
“Funny.”
He had given her a coat. It was long, and it was red and warm: warmer than anything else she owned. He had passed it to her across the table, wrapped in dark tissue paper. “You’ll need it. You’ve heard the phrase: ‘when hell freezes over’? Well, it already did.”
“A snowball’s chance in hell?”
“No-one said the Fallen didn’t appreciate irony.”
The door closing behind them made an awful, final sound.
T
HE HOUSE WAS
small, neat, suburban. Not unlike the house Alice used to live in; the street almost identical even down to the boxy front gardens and the makes of the cars parked along the kerb. There was little to mark this house out as different, except for the blankness of the windows. It wasn’t just that the house was empty: it was
soulless
. This was a house that knew it had been abandoned, and it wore that knowledge like a shroud.
Mallory pushed his way past an overgrown shrub to a gate standing shoulder-high at the side of the house. He reached over it and unbolted it, raising an eyebrow at Alice. “What?”
“Well, you’ve got wings. You could, you know... fly.”
“There are some things, Alice, which need to be done
right
. You’ll see.”
He lifted the latch and the gate swung open. It led to a wide passage that ran alongside the garage. There were pots here, the plants in them long since dead, and weeds had pushed their way between the paving stones. A tangle of bindweed slumped out of what once must have been a child’s sandpit, now filled with muddied slush and snow. Ahead of her, Alice spotted a half-rotten football in a border and her stomach heaved. This was the house that had once belonged to Iris: most likely, it still did, provided Iris and her family were still alive. This was the first of the hellmouths.
They rounded the corner of the garage and there, ahead of them on the lawn, she saw it. She couldn’t stop herself. “Jesus wept.”
“Most probably. I know I did.” Mallory’s voice, behind her, was gruff.
“It’s not what I was expecting.”
“Why ever not? Hell. Mouth. Description’s pretty accurate.”
It was.
Terrifyingly
accurate. Up ahead, only just visible in the near-dark, a circle of enormous teeth had forced its way up through the ground. They loomed over the figures waiting for her, their wings whispering in the breeze. Gwyn was the first to step forward, looking over her shoulder and nodding a greeting to Mallory. “You’re ready.”
“I guess so...”
“It wasn’t a question.”
“Oh.”
“I’m proud of you, Alice. You have done well.”
“Thanks?”
She shuffled from one foot to the other. If she was entirely honest, she was hoping she wouldn’t have to see Gwyn here – although, if she really
was
being honest, she knew it was unavoidable. She could never quite put her finger on it, but there was still something about him she couldn’t trust. Maybe it was just his distance. Maybe it was something else... like the fact he’d let the Fallen break her father’s neck. Yes. That would probably do it. He was looking her up and down thoughtfully. “You know, I was almost afraid, when we met.”
“Afraid? Of what?”
“That you would be a disappointment. After your mother... well. You can’t blame me for thinking it, can you?”
“I’m not sure I see your point.”
Alice clenched her fists, trying to ignore the flash of sensation in her palms. Gwyn shook his head. “So many thought you would turn to the Fallen. So many. They thought you would let us down; that you couldn’t help it.” He smiled. “I told them, ‘Have faith.’ And here you are.” He spread his hands beatifically.
“Bullshit.”
It was thinly disguised as a cough, and it came from the shadows to Gwyn’s left. Gwyn’s head whipped round, and Alice followed the line of his gaze. There, half-hidden beside a tree, was Vin – and a few steps behind him was Jester. He waved. Alice stared at him open-mouthed. “How... I thought...?”
“Yeah. Me too,” said Vin. “Turns out he finally got the hang of his gift and managed to give Purson the slip. Of course, he left me behind to get
tortured
, and to then spend two days tearing my hair out trying to find him... but what can I say? I’m obviously a natural teacher.”
“More like I’m a natural talent,” Jester said with a smile. “Apparently, I can make you see whatever I want. Who knew?”
“So when he didn’t want to be found... Well. I tell you, this kid is going to be
golden
.” Vin patted him on the shoulder, and pulled his sunglasses out of his pocket, pausing with them halfway to his face. “Toast a few Fallen for me.”
“Vin. It’s dark. You can leave the sunglasses.”
“It’s a look. Shut up.” He sniffed, and Alice laughed. There was no sign of Florence, and no-one mentioned her. Alice considered asking, but thought better of it.
She caught the scent of woodsmoke and spun round. In the shadows beside the house, she could just make out three figures talking: Mallory, Gwyn and... someone else. Mallory’s head was lowered and he looked uncomfortable, fidgeting as he spoke. No, not uncomfortable: uncertain. She breathed in the scent on the air, trying to remember it. It was familiar, she knew that much. It was safety. It was A’albiel, the Descended who had rescued her from Xaphan. No wonder Mallory was uncomfortable – hadn’t he said he’d never met one of Michael’s choir before? Still, there was a first time for everything.
Alice peered at the hellmouth. It didn’t help. It still looked just as ugly, and just as scary. Nor was the farewell party helping. It all seemed a little final – like the thud of Mallory’s door closing behind them, this was a little too much. She scuffed at one of the teeth with her shoe. It felt solid enough, and the bloody great hole that dropped away into the earth behind it looked deep enough. She stared down into the dark.
It really
was
dark.
Something across the hellmouth caught her eye and she dropped to a crouch, slinging an arm around the closest tooth for balance and leaning out a little. As she’d thought: stairs. Someone had carved a staircase into the hellmouth – into what looked exactly like the flesh of a throat. Fighting back a shudder, Alice wondered what you had to do to get that particular duty on hell’s rota. It can’t have been good. But still,
stairs?
She stood up, wiping her hands and turned to face the others. Gwyn was right behind her, making her jump. “You should go.”
“I thought I was going to have to jump or something. You didn’t tell me there were stairs! And there I was, worrying about how I’d get out...”
“The steps won’t bring you back up,” Gwyn said with a calm smile. “They will only take you down.”
“One-way stairs? That’s ridiculous.”
“That’s the Fallen.”
“No, really. That’s impossible. Stairs can’t only work one way. They’re...
stairs
.”
“Try it. When you reach the third step, try to turn back. But I warn you, Alice: you won’t be able to.” His expression was carefully, infuriatingly blank.
She sighed. “You know something? You guys are weird.”
Mallory snorted, and Gwyn shot him a look of disapproval before placing his palms flat on Alice’s shoulders. “I have to ask you, Alice: do you enter of your own free will?”
“What?”
“You’re supposed to say yes,” hissed Vin from under the tree, and it was his turn to get a dirty look from Gwyn.