Ignite (35 page)

I push Michael all the way off of me, scrambling to my feet and dragging him up to stand next to me. “We have to hide you. He can’t—it wouldn’t be good if—if he sees you he will—” My head spins and my stomach twists, winding tight like spaghetti being twirled by a fork. I bounce nervously on my toes and clasp my hands together to stop them from shaking.

Michael is unnervingly still and calm. He takes my hands in his and speaks slowly. “He’ll never know I was here.”

I bite my lip anxiously. He’ll know—Azael always knows. But I nod anyway. “You have to hide.”

He places a small kiss on the top of my head. “I will,” he says, stepping away from me and walking towards the woods. “Tell Azael I say hi.”

I laugh weakly and turn back to the wide sky as he is swallowed into the shadows of the trees. I search for a pair of dark wings on the horizon but still don’t see any. I close my eyes, listening. I hear a restless breeze skim over the trees and through the valleys of the mountains, the wind whistling tentatively to the darkness, but I can’t hear Michael anywhere in the woods. I touch my bracelet absently and feel that it is still warm.

He’s still here, I reassure myself.
Stay close.

When I hear a response, it’s not Michael’s voice.
Close to what?

A surge of air pushes against me and my eyes fly open. “Azael.”

“Sister,” he says, a barbed smile spreading across his sharp face. “What am I to stay close to?”

I hesitate. “Nothing. I just meant…” I falter, my tongue tripping over itself. “You’re cutting it close. I was about to leave.”

He watches me skeptically, his eyes narrow. “Then I guess it’s a good thing I made such excellent time.”

With effort, I plaster what I hope will pass as a genuine smile across my face. “So, what’s the big news?”

“Ah, yes. Down to business.” He flexes his hands and holds up a single finger. “First, as you know, I am second-in-command. And, because I am such a swell brother,” he says with a grin, standing a bit taller and puffing his chest out, “I have made you my number two. When I lead the army of Hell across the fiery threshold of Heaven, you will be by my side, wielding one of the most powerful weapons anyone has ever seen.”

I arch an eyebrow in interest. “What weapon?”

“Be patient! I’m getting to it. That’s the second order of business. Hell is forging their own archangel swords. Well, they’re not exactly
archangel
swords… I guess they would be Greater Demon swords? I don’t know. I’m still working on a name for them.”

I lean forward, waiting for him to go on. A smile crooks the corner of his mouth and he knows he’s got me interested.

“They’re more powerful than Heaven’s weapons—darker and stronger. Generally, more badass,” he brags. “Now, I haven’t technically seen one yet, but even Gus sounded excited about it, and you know his aversion to weapons! All he ever carries around with him is that damn notebook. You can’t quite kill someone with paper cuts, can you?”

I stay quiet.

“Right. Now to the good stuff about the swords. Get this.” He steps closer to me, his eyebrows raised high and his eyes smoldering darkly. “They’ll kill angels, archangels, and even demons. If it lives, it’ll kill it. Hell, I even think it’ll kill what’s already dead!” He smiles arrogantly.

“Impressive.”

“Really? Impressive? That’s all you’ve got for me?”

“You’re right.” I shake my head and place my hand over my chest where my heart would be. “Goodness me, Azael. This is the kind of news you should deliver to a lady while she is seated, lest she faint!” I fan my hand in front of me theatrically, batting my eyes.

“Much better. A little too ‘overwhelmed debutante’ for my taste, but I can appreciate the improvisation. It felt sincere, like it was coming from your gut.”

I stick my tongue out and move my hands to my hips.

“All right, third order of business.” He pauses dramatically and leans in close to me. In a slicing hiss, he whispers, “It’s time.” He steps back, as if giving me room to appreciate what he is saying.

“Time for what?” I ask.

“For the love of—Pen, how short is your memory?”

I stare at him blankly, my mind somewhere deep in the woods with wherever Michael is.

“Gus says that it’s time to come back to Hell. Leave this horrible world for something a bit more pleasant. It’s nearly the day of reckoning, and as the new leaders of Hell, we need to go finish preparations. Sharpen a few blades, torture a few weak souls who refuse to fight, shake a few hands, maybe even get a portrait of us commissioned. You know, leader-y type things.”

“Now?” My hands drop from my hips, hanging loosely by my side.

He shrugs. “I’m going to be leaving tonight. But you still have to complete
your
job. How is little Michael, anyway?” His lips curl back from his teeth. “Have you seen him lately?”

I nod, swallowing around a lump in my throat. “Of course. I saw him today.”

“And have you convinced him?”

I cross my arms over my chest and kick at the ground with my feet. “I’m working on it.”

“Well you’ve run out of time. One way or another, you’re done. When will you see him next? Tomorrow?”

“I suppose.” I bite my tongue, fighting the urge to look over my shoulder into the woods.

“Then tomorrow’s the day. You either convince him to join us or you kill him. And when you kill him—which I have my money on, so don’t let me down—make sure to bring back a present for Lucifer. Maybe his heart or that pretty little head of his.”

I set my face in stone, not letting his words affect me. One mistimed flinch and Azael will know.
He always knows
, I think to myself desperately.
Somehow Az
always
knows
. I take a deep breath and fidget with my fingers, curling them around one another so tight that my bones could break. I half hope one of them does. “What if I don’t see him tomorrow?”

“Then wait. He’ll be back. I’m sure, if you’ve done your job, he’s entirely enthralled with you. My pretty little sister.”

He steps towards me and tugs at a loose strand of hair. I pull it away from him and tuck it back behind my ear. Azael smiles at me and grabs my chin, holding my face between his long, thin fingers. For the first time, I truly notice how cold they are. I must have become accustomed to Michael’s warm hands holding me—his touch soft and gentle, not rough and pinching like Azael’s.

Az tilts my head up so he can look down into my eyes.

“I bet you’ve completely blinded him.” With a slight sneer on his face, he lets go. “He’ll follow you anywhere if you just ask in the right way.”

I scowl in disgust. “Just what are you asking me to do?”

“I think you know,” he laughs darkly. “Tempt him. Persuade him. I learned a lot during my time with Lilith. Lessons, I think, you would be smart to learn. I’m sure she’d be willing to teach you when you come back home.”

The only way I can fight down my disgust is by biting the inside of my cheek so hard it bleeds. I focus on the bitter taste in my mouth instead of the churning acid in my stomach.

“I don’t think you’re aware of the power you have in your beauty. It’s a weapon not everyone has at their disposal. So
use it
. And if he resists, then…” He drags his finger across his throat. “End him.”

I beat down a wave of nausea with clenched fists. “If that’s what you think is best.”

He pats me on the head condescendingly. “That’s a good Pen. So agreeable tonight.” He turns around, spreading his dark wings as wide as he can, ready to take off. I stare a hole into his back, waiting for him to leave. But he pauses and looks back at me. “It’s strange.”

“Hmm?” I try to soften my face into disinterest.

He folds his wings behind him quickly and turns around, stepping up so he is inches in front of me. He smells like cool peppermint and warm blood. It masks the sweet smell of honey that lingered on the rocks from Michael, and I’m glad he’s oblivious to the golden scent.

“You never agree with me,” he says, eyeing me suspiciously. “Nothing is ever this easy with you.”

“Do you want me to fight you on this?” I tilt my head. “To waste time arguing about something when… when I agree with you?”

“You agree with me?” he asks slowly, pulling the words apart until the letters hang on to one another by only a thin thread.

“What is there to disagree about?” I ask innocently. “I will convince Michael. And if I can’t, then the only option left is to kill him. It’s my job.”

I watch him and see that it’s not good enough. He needs more convincing. I bite the inside of my cheek again and force the next words out through gritted teeth.

“I’ve been wanting to snap that angel in half since we first saw him,” I lie as convincingly as I can. “He’s an insignificant little pest who wouldn’t be able to hold his own in a battle against one angel, let alone fight an army of angels. I only hope I get the chance to kill him soon.”

“But he likes you?” Azael asks.

This is all a test, and I just have to find the right answer. I feel like I’m going to be sick and it takes all I have to keep standing.

“Yes. And he believes that I return the feelings.” I shove a sharp laugh out from my mouth, and somehow I manage to make it sound crueler than I could have believed possible. “As if I could feel anything for someone so insignificant and weak.” I’m going to pass out. “He’s…
pathetic
.” The words nearly choke me.

Azael searches my face, his dark eyes unyielding and superior. Finally, he smiles at me. “I couldn’t agree more.”

I let out a soft breath as he turns back around. For the first time, Azael couldn’t see the truth. He looked into me and was satisfied with my lie. Maybe he just doesn’t want to acknowledge the truth. I’m relieved, but at the same time, I’m overwhelmed by sadness.

We’ve lost each other, and this realization feels like a large stone slowly sinking to the bottom of an empty sea. This very well may be the last time I see him if I am to truly abandon Hell and run away with Michael. So before he can reopen his wings, I grab one of his sharp shoulders and spin him to me, wrapping him in a tight hug.

“What the Hell is this?”

“Shut up. It’s called a hug.” I say, squeezing tighter and closing my eyes. “Just… be careful and good luck and everything.”

He hits me once on the back with his hand, and I know it’s all he can muster. Uncomfortably, he pushes me back from him, an arm’s length away. “Yeah, uh, that’s nice.”

I laugh and he rolls his eyes at me.

“You’ve been spending too much time with that haloed freak,” he says.

“Maybe,” I allow.

He smiles again wickedly. Behind his eyes, I see deep determination. He’s going to burn the world down, and he’s going to enjoy every moment of it. Hell has received a powerful leader.

He opens his wings, hiding himself from me behind large, glossy black feathers. “I’ll see you in Hell,” he says menacingly as he lifts off of the mountain and back into the sky.

I watch him as he flies away, his wings sliding in front of the glowing stars, extinguishing them for a moment before they spark back to life.

Goodbye, Azael,
I think, settling down on the ledge of the cliff so my feet can dangle over the side.
And good luck.

But I know what he would say to that. He doesn’t need luck.

A soft scraping from the behind me draws my attention away from the sky and I look back to see Michael climbing out of one of the trees on the edge of the woods. He climbs down slowly and silently, not even looking over at me. His feet connect with the packed dirt of the ground with a dull thud.

“Michael,” I say, smiling.

Finally, he turns to look at me, his face flat and emotionless. “Pen.”

My smile falters slightly, but I fight to keep it. “I should have guessed you would hide in a tree.”

He’s shadowed under the branches but I can see him clearly enough to notice that his eyebrows are drawn low.

“Michael?”

He shakes his head and looks away from me.

“Michael, what’s wrong?” I stand up and walk towards him slowly. For some reason, I get the feeling that we are balancing on a razor’s edge, and I’m trying carefully not to fall.

He holds out one of his hands to stop me, and when he faces me again, his eyes are bright with hurt. His expression is pinched in betrayal and he looks at me like I am a stranger. Deep beneath my ribs, I feel an ache, and I want so badly to smooth away his worries, but I’m frozen where I stand.

“Everything you’ve said.” He takes a few quiet breaths and shakes his head again. “Everything you’ve done.”

I take another step forward but freeze when he puts up his hand again.

“Stop. I don’t want you near me right now. I need you to stay far away.” He agitatedly drags his hand through his hair, the muscles of his jaw clenching, crushing words he’s unwilling to share with me. He looks at me hard and, in a voice as soft and sad as a whisper, he sighs, “Everything we were was a lie?”

His voice breaks, and just like that, I’m pushed over the edge, falling helplessly into the abyss.

“No, Michael,” I say, rushing forward, pushing away his hand that is stretched out in protest. “We weren’t the lie.” I reach forward to touch him, but he grabs my wrist and sets my hand back down at my side.