Authors: Leah Clifford
Tags: #Juvenile Fiction, #Paranormal, #Love & Romance, #Social Issues, #Death & Dying
The front door opened as an angel entered. A shadow slipped down the chimney.
The music stopped just as the screams started. Piercing. A loud wail and then the sound of shattering glass. After that she couldn’t tell the screams apart. Sebastian was inside, Madeline, Erin, Vaughn. All the others. They were there because of her.
“Shhh,” Luke cooed, stroking her hair as he held her up and against him. “Watch. Don’t you dare look away.”
Shadows passed behind the lace curtains of the windows. Someone stumbled out of the house, onto the porch, and one of the shapes on the roof flicked out of existence. A second later, it was only a step behind a Sider running full tilt for the street. The angel shoved the boy’s shoulder, sent him off the path on the opposite side of where she and Luke stood against the bushes. Snow flew as the Sider went into a frantic crawl. He didn’t get far before he was flipped over onto his back. His pleas echoed in the still night.
A mechanical chitter filled the yard. At first she thought it was only noise until the word “abomination” broke out. The angel straddled the fallen boy, one leg on each side, and lifted his arms. Fingers spread, his hands plunged downward. She heard the crack of bones before a gargling scream reached her, the Sider’s rib cage split wide, the angel’s fists groping inside. In her horror, she stepped back into Luke.
Bright white light shone between the angel’s gore-covered fingers. Kristen squinted, trying to figure out what she was seeing. Fire burst from the center of his palms and fell like drops, hissing in the snow. A moment later, the flames dimmed and then went out. What was left of the Sider disintegrated, nothing more than a gray mark marring the snow.
“
Seraphim
means ‘burning ones.’ Fitting, no?” Luke’s arms were still tight around her, his voice barely a whisper in her ear. “They’ve learned to pull out your soul. Destroy it. No chance to go Upstairs or Down.” The house was still full of screams.
“You got me out,” she said in awe as Luke turned her toward him. “You saved me.”
“Instead of warning you.” He ran a finger down her cheek. “I guess that makes us even.”
The horror of his words slammed into her.
From the corner of her eye, she saw the angel’s head snap up, twist toward them. He came toward them at a loping run. She flinched, and Luke leaped in front of her, a snarl rumbling through him.
The angel slowed. “Only when the boy was dead could I taste her terror.” His words shivered through her like nails on a chalkboard. “Her kind is unclean. She spreads seeds of plague. Stand aside, Lucifer.”
“No closer, slave.” Under the leather jacket he wore, Luke’s shoulders rippled. Black steam hissed from the seams, out the collar and arms, and then sunk to the snow like a low, heavy fog. Rolling and bubbling, it reached Kristen and oozed over her shoes. She kicked, trying in vain to keep it off as it climbed up her legs in tendrils of darkness.
The angel didn’t stop. “The orders of a Fallen mean nothing.”
The bottom of Kristen’s dress disappeared under the inky blackness. Luke pressed his hand against her stomach. “You’d let them all escape for the sake of this one?” he asked. “Are those
your
orders?” He jutted his chin toward the house. A group of four Siders was tearing across the yard.
The angel in front of her and Luke wavered. “Our orders are to end them on sight. I’ve seen her.”
“You’ve seen them now, too.”
The black fog crested over her hips, coating her with a liquid warmth.
Luke wouldn’t save you only to kill you.
She couldn’t trust him, though. She brushed at one of the tendrils, and it wrapped around her wrist, spiraled up her arm. Wisps stretched toward her neck, her jaw. Kristen fought to move, but at her feet the dense fog felt more like tar.
Luke’s voice stayed calm and collected as he spoke to the Bound. “My wrath surrounds her. You won’t break through before the others are gone.” He pointed to two more Siders sprinting across the lot. “You’ve allowed four to escape already. Four to spread the plague instead of one. There go two more.” For the first time, the Bound angel looked uncertain. “I wonder,” Luke mused, “if you’ll be punished?”
With one last glance at Kristen, the Bound disappeared. The Sider across the yard stumbled as the angel popped into existence beside him.
At Kristen’s feet, the black fog dissipated, releasing her. Luke took her hand as it gathered back into him. From the house came the sound of a window breaking. “Some party,” he said.
The screams were louder now, and with them came a crackling. A glimmering orange glow shone from beyond the shattered glass.
Kristen took a step toward it in disbelief.
“Is that fire?”
A ball of flame burst from the second story of her house.
M
adeline checked her watch, annoyed and jittery with anticipation. Any second now, Kristen would show, and Madeline would tell her what she’d done, the glorious leap of faith she’d taken. God, how it’d paid off.
She peeled the dress up her leg, revealing her thigh and the gash stinging fiercely there. Maybe Jackson had been right about cutting too deep. Unhealed, it wept fresh blood through three Band-Aids.
She slipped her cell phone from her cleavage. Jackson hadn’t been happy to stay home and guard the girl, but there wasn’t simply Kristen’s reaction to worry about. Luke had only yesterday told her he wanted the Siders kept around. And Madeline’s discovery would make Luke, too, an enemy.
She flipped the phone open and keyed in a quick text to Jackson, trying to calm her nerves.
Not missing anything.
Muted through the door, the music from the party was bordering on creepy, the singer’s wail fading in and out. The beats stopped suddenly, but the stricken cry went on.
Music’s worse than normal,
she texted.
At the base of the stairs, the door to the outside opened. A frigid draft teased her curls as Madeline stood. The hemline of her dress slipped down, the fabric catching on her Band-Aids before draping her ankle again. “Kristen?”
A footstep creaked on the old boards, then another at the same time. Madeline froze. “Who’s with you?” she asked. Her voice echoed in the tiny space. She couldn’t see around the spiral of the staircase. She lowered herself a step, bracing on the wall to get a glance around the bend.
Please don’t be Luke.
She hadn’t seen him, had counted on talking to Kristen before he and the Fallen made their appearance. If he’d shown, and she’d missed him, it would explain Kristen’s delay.
He can’t know what I’ve done,
Madeline thought.
Run. Now.
The thought beat harder with each moment she waited. In a few steps she could be out of the enclosed staircase and in the upstairs hall.
The wailing music had gotten louder, more off-key. It sounded almost like . . .
Screaming.
Launching up the stairs, Madeline grabbed the knob, but the door was ripped out of her grip. She dove forward, past the figure in the doorway. He grabbed her by the neck and lifted her.
“Please,” she choked, hanging helpless. She clawed at the hand, but her gloves made her nails useless. “Please, I can’t breathe!” She pointed her toes, trying to find ground. Maroon irises bored into her.
Bound.
With a dramatic choking noise, she rolled her eyes back and went limp. Her limbs twitched to fight, punch, survive as he shook her once, hard. And then his fingers loosened. With everything she had, Madeline swung her leg into his crotch.
The angel tossed her backward. Flying down the steps, she slammed into the wall, her shoulder popping out of place. When she hit the landing, pain radiated through her rib cage, so intense she couldn’t get air.
The Bound who’d grabbed hold of her descended the stairs even as two others came up from below. “End her,” he rasped, still bent from her kick. “Quickly. They mustn’t be allowed to escape.”
“Stop!” she croaked. “I’m not one of them.” She held a hand up, agony shooting through her chest. “I’m not. A Sider. I swear.”
A face appeared suddenly before her. She flinched, jarring ribs that must be broken. She could smell the angel, a thick scent like wood smoke that tickled at the back of her throat. She clenched her jaw, didn’t dare move.
“We know what you are. We watched you well, Madeline.”
The broken sound of her name made her cringe. “Don’t hurt me. I helped Gabriel. Please. Ask him. I’m on your side.”
Silence. The angel she’d kicked plodded down the stairs.
“See to the others,” he said quietly. His two companions loped past. When the door at the top of the stairs opened, a cloud of acrid smoke rolled across the ceiling.
“Oh my God,” she whispered.
“No.” He tottered closer, his steps uneven. “Not your God.”
Panic knotted in her stomach.
“Madeline.” A low, sharp crackle came from his mouth. “Tell me how the plague began.”
I don’t know,
she thought.
Should I lie?
A thump shook through the floorboards above her head. Something hammered against the door. She curled up, hiding her face. If he was going to kill her, she didn’t want to see, didn’t want to know it was coming. Cold sweat poured off her.
I’m going into shock,
she realized. The angel kneeling next to her made a pitying noise.
Fingers stabbed into her shattered ribs, squeezing. Madeline screamed. Black dots sparkled in front of her as she fought against losing consciousness.
“Stop!” she sobbed. Warmth spilled down her side.
“Brief pain, then nothing,” he said as if to console her.
“Gabe will speak for me!” Blinking away tears, she grabbed for his wrist. “I’m his friend. Tell Gabe. I fixed everything,” she said.
I’m mortal now.
The hands on her froze, and she let her own fall away. They’d bring Gabe to her and he’d make the pain stop and it would be okay.
Where’s Luke?
she thought. He’d save her. She’d make a deal with him. Anything he wanted.
“You
dare
ask Gabriel to speak against his own kind while you stay loyal to
Lucifer
?” She tried to lift her head, but the angel pressed down on her shoulder. “You’d brand Gabriel a traitor to lure him back to darkness? It will never be.”
He shoved her hard. The back of Madeline’s head cracked against the wood stair. Her vision swam as the Bound angel drew back a hand.
“Please,” she said.
His fist plunged down.
M
adeline checked her watch, annoyed and jittery with anticipation. Any second now, Kristen would show, and Madeline would tell her what she’d done, the glorious leap of faith she’d taken. God, how it’d paid off.
She peeled the dress up her leg, revealing her thigh and the gash stinging fiercely there. Maybe Jackson had been right about cutting too deep. Unhealed, it wept fresh blood through three Band-Aids.
She slipped her cell phone from her cleavage. Jackson hadn’t been happy to stay home and guard the girl, but there wasn’t simply Kristen’s reaction to worry about. Luke had only yesterday told her he wanted the Siders kept around. And Madeline’s discovery would make Luke, too, an enemy.
She flipped the phone open and keyed in a quick text to Jackson, trying to calm her nerves.
Not missing anything.
Muted through the door, the music from the party was bordering on creepy, the singer’s wail fading in and out. The beats stopped suddenly, but the stricken cry went on.
Music’s worse than normal,
she texted.
At the base of the stairs, the door to the outside opened. A frigid draft teased her curls as Madeline stood. The hemline of her dress slipped down, the fabric catching on her Band-Aids before draping her ankle again. “Kristen?”
A footstep creaked on the old boards, then another at the same time. Madeline froze. “Who’s with you?” she asked. Her voice echoed in the tiny space. She couldn’t see around the spiral of the staircase. She lowered herself a step, bracing on the wall to get a glance around the bend.
Please don’t be Luke.
She hadn’t seen him, had counted on talking to Kristen before he and the Fallen made their appearance. If he’d shown, and she’d missed him, it would explain Kristen’s delay.
He can’t know what I’ve done,
Madeline thought.