Days of New: The Complete Collection (Serials 1-5) (19 page)

“Maybe you should’ve tried making more friends,” Gabriel said with a crooked little smirk that he’d obviously learned from some deviant fallen angel.

“I try! Everyone’s just too stupid or too annoying to be friends with. That’s not my problem.”

“Clearly.” Gabriel rose from his chair, like the conversation was coming to an end. “But stay inside a little longer. I have angels out looking for Lucifer. When we find something, you’ll be the first to know, I promise.”

“That really helps me a lot now.”

“Things are a little busy at the moment. You humans were supposed to have Earth under control.” Gabriel said the words with a smile, which made Clark feel a tiny sliver of camaraderie with the guy.

“Yeah, but that was before Lucifer rose from the dead.”

Gabriel’s smile fell away. “That is troublesome.”

The words were heavy and ominous in the air between them, and Clark caught his first glimpse of Gabriel, the General of Hell. Clark imagined the Archangel had replaced Lucifer quite well.

Suddenly, Gabriel’s head twitched, cocking to the side like something had caught his attention. He listened for a second before saying, “You need to go.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ll be back to check on you.” Gabriel started to fade quickly. Clark’s stomach wrenched. He didn’t want to be left alone again. “But right now, something is happening at the compound. Watch out.”

Chapter Four

“L
et’s get some rest—”

“Did you hear that?” Camille reared up from her chair, sending it crashing backwards.

Z’s head snapped around at the change in her tone. Together, they went very still and just listened; Camille felt as if her heart’s beat suspended in time as she strained her ears. From the first floor of the compound came a pounding. The pounding gave way to the sound of wood splintering. Someone screamed, but many others shouted and hollered, their calls growing like war cries. By the time glass started to shatter, Camille flicked out her wings and reached for her sword. Zarachiel’s hand was already on his machete that always laid a few inches from his fingertips.

“What is it?” Maya asked, her worried gaze darting between the two angels.

Instead of answering, Camille crossed to the room’s windows, the glass emitting a damp chill against her bare arm as she looked down. From below, the refugees were rushing the doors of the compound, breaking windows and climbing inside. They carried long pieces of wood with sharpened points, heavy pots they’d used for boiling water or even shovels and rakes from the greenhouses.
I knew this was going to happen
, Camille thought, shaking her head in annoyance. Once again, she thought about just letting nature take its course and allowing the humans to expunge themselves from the Earth. Instead, she stepped back from the window and stalked toward the front door. Zarachiel was already waiting for her there.

“The refugees have broken in,” he said to answer Maya’s question.

“But why?” Her voice cracked in distress.

“Because they’re scared.” Camille’s body sensed the fight, and her fingers tingled. The air around her shifted and stirred, fluttering the end of her tight ponytail. Her sword felt familiar in her hand, every inch of it known to Camille in dazzling detail. A little half-smile played at the corner of her lips. This was what she lived for.

Zarachiel’s hand went to her shoulder, pulling her back before she could open the door. “Camille, wait.”

She darted a glance over her shoulder at him. He’d lowered his sword, his eyes on Maya. “Maybe this is an opportunity,” he said, thinking as he spoke.

“If you’re thinking of throwing her into the throes of a mob, I would totally agree. Clark might be pissed, but we could make it look like an accident. Like she got away from us and ran downstairs, blinded by panic and stupidity.” Camille considered Maya for a moment. “It could work. She has the look for stupid.”

“Excuse me?” Maya squeaked.

“Uh,” Zarachiel said, eyes wide. “That’s not exactly what I meant.”

“Oh. It was just an idea.”

“Well…thanks for it, but I was thinking maybe now is the time to break into the monastery. We may not be able to find someone to help us, but we could at least gather some information on exorcisms. It might help if we have to get Clark away from here.”

“What about the refugees?” Camille asked. “The Descendants might kill them to defend the compound.”

“I’ll take care of that. You take Maya. She’ll know what to look for in the monastery.”

“Shouldn’t I be the one to go downstairs?” Even as she said the words, Camille heard more shouts and yells. People were running on the floor below, their feet crunching over broken glass. Heavy things hit the ground hard enough to make her back teeth vibrate. It was a full-fledged riot downstairs, and she doubted a bent and broken Archangel could single-handedly take back control.

“I can handle it. You can protect her better anyways,” he said, his eyes flicking to Maya, who cringed when a particularly loud boom shook the floor.

His words made Camille sigh. So he knew it might be a risk for him to be the one to go downstairs, but he wanted to protect Maya at all costs, for the same reason that Camille kept her close: because Clark would’ve wanted it. Thinking of him gave her another thought.

“We’ll go to the monastery first, but then we’re going straight to Clark’s cell. If I can get him out, I’m going for it. If you don’t see me after this, go to the abandoned church. We can bind the demon or whatever there.”

“Good plan,” Zarachiel nodded, reaching for the doorknob.

Camille grabbed his hand before he could turn it. “Be careful, Z. No heroics.”

“I will. I promise. Watch her closely, Camille.” He jerked his chin over his shoulder to indicate Maya, who stood behind them with her wide eyes and mouth hanging slightly open as she looked between them.

“I will. I promise.”

With that, Camille eased open the door and stuck her head outside. The hall outside Clark’s apartment was thankfully quiet. She looked back at Zarachiel and nodded. His mouth pressed in a tight, grim line before he slipped out, heading for the side stairs down to the floor below. Camille watched him go, limping ever so slightly as he ran away, before she turned back to Maya.

“Will he be okay?” the Nephil asked, her voice quavering.

“He’s an Archangel,” Camille said, as if that was answer enough. “Do you know where the monastery is?”

“Yeah.” Maya’s bowlike mouth puckered in thought. “You don’t?”

“I’m not that kind of angel. Where is it?”

“Past the observatory on the far east side of the compound. How are we going to get over there?”

Camille considered the front door for a moment. It was a quick moment. She made her decision and closed the door, locking it from the inside. She grabbed Maya’s arm and hurried back through the apartment. All the windows’ edges had been painted over and sealed long ago, but Camille kicked out the glass in the kitchen window. Maya covered her eyes as shards flew from Camille’s repeated attempts to break through the different panes.

“Okay, let’s go,” she said, stamping her boot against the floor to shake off the loose glass.

“Through the window?” Maya asked, apparently scandalized at the thought.

“Where else?” Camille gathered up the small Nephil and stepped into the open air.

Maya squealed in Camille’s ear as her wings swept out and caught the air, wrenching them back up from the fall. The muscles along Camille’s spine pulled with the weight of both of their bodies, but it was easily managed. She beat her wings slightly harder than normal, and they climbed quickly into the air, banking over the compound and heading east. The wind wisped between her feathers, tickling down to the delicate skin beneath and chilling her. Maya was still squealing, though the sound was muffled in the breeze, and her fingers dug into the muscles of Camille’s biceps.

None of that distracted her though, because, as she always did, she thought of Clark when she flew. The two would forever be intertwined to Camille since he’d saved her broken wing during the war. And flying was one of three things that she treasured the most in her life. Clark being the second. Fighting being the third.

“There!” Maya called over the wind.

Camille looked down. A large glass dome stuck out of the compound’s roofline. She knew it to be the observatory, so she banked back, pulling herself down through the gusts of wind. As softly as she could, she landed on the brittle, dead grass and released Maya, who swayed slightly on her feet. But her eyes were bright, and a childlike smile played across her face.

“That was fun!”

Camille couldn’t help but grin back. “You half-breeds miss the best part about being an angel.”

“Shouldn’t the best part be protecting the Earth and serving the humans?” Maya asked with a snort of laughter.

“Eh.” Camille shrugged.

She headed back to the building, and Maya followed after a beat. They went in through the observatory door, crossing through the circular room filled with all sorts of devices used for staring at the stars. The glass dome made the room feel cavernous and delicate, beautiful and oppressive at the same time. Clearly, a lot of effort had gone into making the room as functional as possible for the Descendant astronomers.

Frankly, Camille didn’t understand the big deal about space. It was cold and drafty to fly through, and if you went too fast, ice formed in your feathers that took forever to clean out. Sometimes there were even massive explosions and space storms. Camille had been caught in one once; it wasn’t fun. The tips of her hair had been singed black from the electrocution for days after. Space was fickle and not nearly as beautiful up close as it looked far away.

“Through here,” Maya whispered.

She led Camille out of the observatory and down a narrow hall with no windows. It was a very old part of the compound, and Camille felt as though she was slipping through the years with each step. To distract herself, she looked at the paintings lining the wall. They were brutal and religious in context. Some depicted angels, while others depicted the sufferings of man.
Oddly appropriate
, Camille thought as she easily kept pace with Maya, their footsteps echoing over the stone floor.

“The monks’ living quarters are upstairs, so hopefully no one will be in the library.”

“Okay,” Camille said.

“This part is all you,” Maya said, gesturing to a pair of heavy double doors made of thick mahogany etched with scenes from the Garden of Eden.

“Oh.” Camille caught on and tested the weight and strength of the doors. She readied herself and slammed her shoulder against the door. Each time she hit the wood, the doors shuddered like tectonic plates shifting before an earthquake. Cringing at the resounding boom, she rammed the door again, her shoulder complaining only slightly. From deep within the wood, she heard the fibers start to splinter and give beneath her force. It takes a special person to enjoy such simple destruction, and Camille wasn’t afraid to admit she was one of them.

“Hurry up,” Maya hissed between rams. “That sound is going to bring everyone down here.

“Shut.” Camille slammed against the door again. “Up.” And again. And again.

Finally, the wood heaved a great groan and cracked apart from the lock. The doors banged open, and Camille crashed through, stumbling and huffing for air. Maya followed, her eyes scanning the large room.

Rubbing her shoulder, Camille looked around. On the easternmost wall was another huge stained glass window depicting Enoch among the angels, one of whom looked very much like Michaela. Camille blew a piece of hair out of her face and turned away from the window. In front of it was a large altar overflowing with blessings and small sacrifices to the angels. Camille walked over to get a better look. She found precious loaves of bread that would have been better used in the dining room, items like dolls and necklaces, and piles of handwritten prayers. It was sad, she thought. The angels would never see this, yet the more devoted Descendants left them anyway. Feeling uncomfortable, she turned away once again and looked at the rest of the space, which was filled with wretched-looking pews. Crypts lined the side walls, and there were odd markings on the floor at Camille’s feet that looked like names and dates, which made her wonder if there were people buried beneath her.

“The library will be this way,” Maya said, turning to the left.

Sure enough, through a low archway, another room opened up. And kept opening up. Camille stopped and had to crane her head back just to see the entire room. Two stories of walls were covered in floor-to-ceiling bookcases. The ceiling stretched into the third floor of the compound and was painted with a bright mural of angels flying in a bright blue sky. Back where she stood, more bookshelves lined the floor in tight aisles. On the ends of each shelf, crumbling parchment showed an eccentric sort of sorting system that she didn’t even try to understand. The air was filled with dust and the scent of ancient pages. It wasn’t altogether unpleasant, but it tickled up Camille’s nose and made her eyes water.

Maya wove through the bookcases to get a sense of the organization. She moved quickly, her eyes roving across the books. Camille followed in her wake, keeping a safe distance while she studied the Nephil, who seemed completely at home here. Finally she stopped at one row and started pulling out books. Camille offered her arms so Maya could start stacking them.