Covenant (26 page)

“I'm not turning back,” Angela said. But the look on her face showed how much her heart was sinking.

Kim knew how she felt. What if that wasn't the right choice? And yet . . .

“Oh, I know you're not turning back,” Python said to her. “That's what makes you so much fun. You're far from boring, Angela Mathers.”

Kim turned aside this time. It was hard to look at Python because he found himself hating the demon more by the second. “Let's get on with this,” he muttered.

Angela glanced at Kim, seeming to think. She turned back to Python. “Should we expect your help in there?”

“Must I do everything for you, my dear?” Python said. “Indeed, I've done too much already. Very few make it this far through the labyrinth at all. Considering the trouble I'll now have with my mother, I should go back and console her for tragically losing the troublesome Archon. At the very least, I'll slow down her progress as she sends the Hounds of Hell to sniff after you. In short—no.”

Purple mist billowed around the demon's feet and torso.

“But if you want my advice, make sure the Watchers don't get into your head. Those former angels are always too curious for their own good . . .”

The fog drifted away, and Python was gone.

Kim looked at Angela, his eyes meeting hers. He still felt her gentle kiss on his mouth, and he warmed inside despite the chill running across his skin. Angela didn't say anything, merely set her hand on the gnarled handles of the doors.

Her face steeled with resolve.

She stood like that for a minute or longer, seeming unable to take the next step. Her fingers shivered. She closed her eyes.

Kim could only watch as she held the handles firmly and pushed.

Thirty

Angela couldn't know it—but because Luz was the linchpin connecting the Realms, everything in the city mirrored Heaven and Hell to some degree. From Luz's shape, to its festivals, to its watchful statues—everything the Archon would be forced to endure had already passed in some way before Her eyes.
—S
OPHIA

Angela had expected yet another tunnel, hall, or corridor. But when the doors opened, she found herself gazing into a cavern that was so immense, it seemed to have its own sky. A completely flat and silent world spread out before her. There was no breeze and the air smelled stale. Great globes of light glimmered high above, like dim suns behind a haze of clouds.

Directly ahead in the distance, enormous obsidian pillars soared upward into the fog. They crowned a large but low hill of ashy sand. Was this the plain she had seen on that crude map of Hell? But the word
plain
seemed too small for something so incredibly vast.

“Careful,” Kim whispered as Angela stepped forward.

Angela walked slowly through the ashen sand. She pulled off the arm glove on her left hand. Kim froze for a moment beside her, staring at it.

“Do you have a weapon?” she whispered to him.

“Of course I do,” Kim said. He inclined his head at her. “You.”

“If you say so,” she said, sighing heavily.

“And these.” Kim slipped one or two crumpled paper wards from his coat pocket. For the first time since Lilith's Ball, Angela realized he was still wearing part of his crow costume. “But they won't do much besides stop them for a moment or less. Lucifel wouldn't use the Watchers as guards if they were that ineffective.”

“All right. Stay close to me then, and I'll do my best.” Angela looked away, remembering her cold slap to his already bruised face. She still found it hard to look Kim in the eye. The feelings were there, but their ideals clearly diverged. The rift between them just grew by the minute. For so long, Kim's face and touch had tormented her memories. Now he was even more handsome than Angela remembered, despite his wounds. But the resolve behind his eyes shook her nerves badly. It was clear he had no intention of turning his back on what he saw as Angela's true destiny. “It's too quiet,” she whispered, trying to fill in the awkward silence.

Kim nodded, staring ahead.

Angela continued, more and more shaken by the immense quiet. Now that they were closer to the pillars, it was easier to see the strange hieroglyphic writing carved along their sides, all the way up to their triangular peaks. These pillars were actually obelisks, and there were hundreds of them, in hundreds of parallel rows, with each row a width of forty feet at the least.

Their geometric precision was only interrupted by rectangular indentations carved into their middles. Angela halted, her breath sighing out of her. She probably looked goggle-eyed with wonder.

Kim bumped into her and cried softly in surprise. His hands gripped her shoulders. Their warmth was comforting enough in the eerie silence that she didn't brush him away.

Slowly, Angela glanced around, her heart yearning to burst from her chest. Fear raced like fire into every corner of her being.

These obelisks held the most realistic angel statues she had ever seen. In comparison, the statues that had disturbed her outside the Grand Mansion in Luz suddenly looked like primitive lumps of rock.

Worse yet, the effigies were almost too detailed and natural. Some were male and some were female, their double wings were weather-beaten and portions of their bodies had been swathed in bandages. They wore coats of dazzling green and blue with thread glittering like silver. At any moment they appeared ready to move, sigh, or speak. An unexpected breeze whipped through the corridor, blowing sand into the air. Yet their glassy eyes never even blinked.

It was like some ghastly wax museum.

A creeping sense of being watched picked at Angela. She followed her instincts and dug her nails into the Grail. The Eye began to bleed and blue warmth dribbled down to her fingers.

Kim stepped back hastily. He stared as the Glaive formed between Angela's fingers and the blade crystallized. The weapon's haft and pole stretched in the opposite direction, settling to rest in her other hand.

Angela closed her eyes and listened to her heartbeat. Blood pulsed and throbbed through her hand, mixing with the Eye's as the Glaive sucked gently away at her life force. She would have to be careful and not waste too much valuable time here.

Angela couldn't afford to be weak now.

Though she couldn't help hoping maybe—just maybe—the Watchers would let them pass.

Angela walked slowly until she was in the middle of the great row of watchful angels and obelisks. She stopped.

Nothing's happening.

Whispers erupted around her. They seemed to hang in the air and then disappear like dreams.

Angela looked at the statues. The world spun as she held up the Glaive, her arms shaking. Kim breathed beside her, a cold sweat trickling down the side of his sculpted cheek. The whispers grew louder. His amber eyes widened. “Now,” he said grimly. “
Get down
.”

A hefty gust of air beat down on Angela from overhead. A long shadow darkened the sand.

She slammed to the ground beneath a hurricane of beating wings, and Kim fell with her, covering her as best he could. Sand blew into Angela's eyes, nose, and mouth. Her head rang from the force of her jaw snapping shut. She clawed at the sand, unable to bear being pressed blindly to the earth.

Just as quickly the wind ceased. The storm of plumage disappeared with it. Trying not to flail or scream, Angela spat the grit from her mouth and rubbed the sand from her face. Beside her, Kim knelt in a protective gesture, his face even paler.

A circle of curved wings now blocked every escape route.

Two of the statues, obviously not statues at all, loomed on either side of Angela. The same coats that had appeared so dazzlingly affluent from a distance had actually been faded by exposure and time. Long tattered bandages covered half of the nearest angel's plumage, and a thread of light stretched from its head to the inner nook of an obelisk. Like Python had warned, these angels were literally guard dogs on chains.

The Watchers' voices erupted in incessant, maddening whispers. But their lips never moved.

Intruders . . .

The word echoed and returned again as if from a million mouths, assaulting Angela's senses. She touched her ears, hardly able to believe the strange echoing effect in her head as the words reached down into her consciousness and plucked at it painfully.

Are you the one I love . . .

Where were you, beloved? Have you come back to me . . .

Each voice competed with the next, some crying about lost love, others about loneliness and punishment.

An intense pain shot through Angela's head. She screamed, only slightly aware of Kim's cry as he clutched at her, shouting her name. Angela hit the powdery sand beneath her. The Glaive threatened to collapse into a pool of liquid.

Images filtered as quickly as lightning though her mind. One second she was a baby reaching for a toy. Now she was a child, locked in a closet while her brother slipped her food beneath the door. There were Christmas carols, but as always, no presents for Angela. Her mother shrieked at her, called her a filthy blood head, and hit her. Her father didn't make a move to stop it. Time abruptly shifted. Angela was once again painting Israfel's image, with hot tears rolling down her face. Then it was time to sit silently in the institution, staring at white walls in her equally white uniform. Fire erupted in a blazing inferno around her. Scars flared to life on her arms and legs. Her parents died in the flames. Her brother, Brendan, died after crawling pathetically to Israfel's feet.

The sight of it all tore at every fiber of her heart and soul. She begged in her mind for it to stop, please stop.

Where are you, my love?

The voices continued mercilessly. Angela cried out as she found herself dancing with Israfel again, as she recognized the pain behind his eyes. He was calling for her. But suddenly she was in Kim's arms, trying to forget her own agonies. Angela's soul twisted and writhed and she tried again to break free of the nightmares being forced on her, but the Watchers pried into her mind with all the greater aggressivness.

You were taken from me . . . now I must take you back . . .

Now Sophia appeared before Angela's tortured mind. She was delicate, beautiful, and lonely as ever. Sophia stretched out her arms to Angela, begging her not to enter Hell. Slowly, the peaceful world they had built together crumbled apart.

Pain threatened to stop Angela's heart.

But I have to enter,
Angela argued with her.
For your sake. I have to.

But what was that horrible screaming voice in the background, interrupting them?

The fierce grip on Angela's mind weakened abruptly. Her eyes snapped open. She clutched at her throat. It ached like she'd tried to swallow a knife, and her voice was raspy and raw.

That screaming voice had been hers.

She rocked to her feet. A deep shiver in the ground quaked up through her body, nearly flinging Angela back to her knees. Kim grabbed her by the arm, trying to hold them both steady. For a moment, the universe groaned, and the air warped. Angela clutched her stomach with her free hand. A thick wave of nausea twisted through her.

“It's starting,” he shouted. “The Realms are growing more unstable.”

No,
Angela shouted back to herself in her mind.
No. I didn't finish this yet. It's not over yet. I can reach Sophia!

The earth stopped trembling with odd suddenness. The silence returned.

The Watchers stared at Angela without a single trace of emotion. If they had been surprised by what had just happened, they would never show it. Instead, their eyes pierced Angela like fine needles. Their voices returned. Now, they sounded angrier, as if they had judged her memories and past and found them lacking.

Creature of dreaded omens . . . you are unclean . . . a thing that should not be. A soul without a name.

Nothing unclean enters this place.

Nothing enters this place that is not of this place.

Angela glanced back and forth between the two nearest angels converging on her. She held the Glaive up high, screaming out in terror despite the raw pain in her throat.

You are ours now—and the Watchers will deal with you.

She swung the Glaive, staggering slightly.

Blood sprayed back on her. Two of the dreadful Watchers dropped back into the sand, now truly lifeless.

Instantly, more of them soared in, followed by yet more in a punishing hell of angels. The world became a blur. Angela swung, she cursed, she hacked off wings that spiraled down into the sand, and she cut off arms that flopped twitching to the ashen ground. Blood hit her in the eyes.

She shrieked, twisting the Glaive so that it caught a Watcher in the chest, flinging it backward at least fifty feet.

Still they came, relentless and terrible.

Angela knelt on the ground, gasping for breath. The world wheeled and spun around her even faster than before. She couldn't hold out much longer. Already, she felt the Glaive sucking away all of her energy and turning her muscles to jelly. Her heartbeat slowed to the rolling rhythm of a great drum in her ears.

She shouted in surprise and swung the Glaive hard to her right. A Watcher dropped in two pieces to the ground.

Unclean? Is that what she really was? But Angela wasn't just the Archon—
she was a person too.

More Watchers swooped in. Angela cut them down like a reaper of birds, wing after wing, beautiful face after beautiful face. The exhaustion was almost too much. Blood dripped in her eyes.

I'll never win at this rate. Sophia—wait. I'm doing my best. For you, for Troy, for Nina.

The thought of Nina dead again tore into Angela like a pair of ragged claws. Tears blurred over the unfair world around her. She shrieked and stumbled, but caught another Watcher before its hands could wrap themselves around her throat. Dizziness brushed at Angela, pitching her sideways.

Not yet! Not yet!

“
Exorcizo te,
” Kim screamed. His voice resounded over the cries of the Watchers.

There was a flash of brilliant red light. The angels drew back with angry cries.

Angela whipped around, her matted hair half screening her vision. She wobbled, and suddenly the Glaive collapsed. Blue liquid gushed down her arms and dribbled to the ground. She slipped and tried to catch her balance. Kim grabbed her hard and tugged her forward.

Ashy sand sprayed around Angela's ankles.

She ran, trying to keep up with Kim as he shouted in Latin. She stumbled once, twice, again and again in the powdery sand. She wrapped her hand around the necklace pendant at her chest. The Grail throbbed and burned so fiercely, Angela's hand felt as if it might melt into a puddle of flesh.

They exited the corridor of obelisks. The voices and the cries of the Watchers ceased.

Still, Kim refused to stop running.

Time slipped away in a rush of fear and pain. They could have been running for an hour, perhaps more. Still they continued. Angela kept up with him, her pounding heart and scorching adrenaline pushing her forward despite her dizziness. But there would be no relief for them soon. The sand stretched away in a vast desert, and at its end a great city loomed on the horizon. This was the dreaded demon city of Babylon—it had to be. Onyx and obsidian glistened in the hazy light of the lamps working as the cavern's suns. Brilliant fires touched thousands of the city's windows, glittering in patterns of red and yellow. Pyramids rose high into the fog. Everything was jaggedness and sharp edges, as if the city had been constructed with great black teeth. The low growl of thunder touched her ears, and Angela imagined the city was as angry as it looked. Soon the thunder evolved into an ugly roar.