They Who Fell (22 page)

CHAPTER FORTY

“H
e’s been dead for some time, I should think,” said Rhamiel. They’d ripped the top from the trailer, prying it open like a sardine can so they could hover above it and look inside. They’d have had no way to fit with their wings, and saw no reason to allow a little metal to stand in the way of their inquiry. The body was unrecognizable, reduced by weeks of exposure to nothing more than a skeleton covered by a soft mush.

“I should know,” said Uzziel. “The rest of you should as well, if you’d simply listened. My spies have seen the threat we face. They warned of this precise location, weeks ago. But none could be bothered to leave their couches to investigate.” He’d grown increasingly edgy as the Hunt had continued, and as they’d traced paths that followed the little flags on his map. He suspected everyone around him, and had started to believe Nefta’s theory that there were enemies among his brothers, no matter how implausible it had seemed.

“You can’t expect us to trust the reports of one of those creatures,” said Zuphias. “Every word they speak is unhinged. The Ophanim are the Maker’s abortion, a failed experiment on the way to our perfection. If it weren’t for his sentimentality, he’d have wiped them from the heavens long ago.”

“The Ophanim are odd, but they do not plot,” said Uzziel. “That’s where the Maker erred, with both angels and man. He gave them the faculty to plot and scheme. And so that is all they do.”

“Look here,” said Rhamiel, flapping his way down to the ground and picking up a long piece of flesh, blackened at one end. “A piece of your spy, it seems. One of his tongues, I’d wager. And burnt clean through. We’re still on the trail of that little ant with Abraxos’s sword. Which means his disagreeable friend must be nearby.”

“They’re not here,” said Zuphias. “But they have been. The voices still speak, but not as loudly as if they still lurked about in the area. I hear voices of the past, and not of the present.”

“Then simply bid her speak again, and tell us where she calls from,” said Ecanus, approaching them from across the lawn. He’d been playing games with the servants, forcing a few of them to chew apart some of the gnomes that stood in front of the trailer, and watching carefully to ensure that they swallowed. It was just clay, he said, the same substance they’d been created from. The gnomes didn’t seem to agree with them, not judging from the blood that spewed from the cuts in their mouth, or the sickly looks as they rubbed their stomachs. But none of them thought it sensible to disagree, and so they kept chewing until he grew bored of the matter.

“You’ve the brains of a half-wit,” said Zuphias. “That was the first thing I tried. The woman is dead, or lost to me. I cannot feel her, and so I cannot make her pray.”

“Perhaps another try would be in order,” said Rhamiel diplomatically. “It’s been some time since we set off on our journey. We’ve idled away enough days that she may yet speak again.”

“Perhaps this try you could make more of an effort,” said Ecanus. “Perhaps living so high in the tower has rendered you soft, and unable to perform your duties.”

Zuphias cast a dirty look towards Ecanus, and then closed his eyes, taking in a series of deep breaths. He hummed, from deep within him, a low noise that grew louder and louder as he focused. His face scrunched in on itself, straining with effort, and he brought his hands to his forehead as he struggled to find them. He didn’t hold back; Ecanus’s taunting was driving him to make a point. He pushed and pushed, until finally blood began to drip from his nose and ears. He collapsed forward, his wings splayed at odd angles, and finally he struggled to his feet and began to wipe the blood from his face.

“Well?” asked Rhamiel. “Have you any news?”

“I heard her,” said Zuphias. “And I know where they are. The tower. They have an infernal machine. They mean to unleash hellfire upon it, and bring our home to the ground. No more dallying. We must return at once.” He took to the sky without waiting for the others, launching himself in the direction of his home. The rest stood stunned, and all of them turned to Rhamiel.

“Jana,” he said, and took to the skies himself.

The rest of them rose as well, beating their wings as quickly as they could, following through the air as Zuphias and Rhamiel led the way back to the home they’d left behind, empty of warriors and sleeping through the threat it faced.

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

“G
o,” said Holt, pointing to the ramp. “And stay online.” He clicked his walkie-talkie, and turned back to Faye as Thane and Dax ran the suitcase up towards its final destination at the apex of the Perch, where the chambers of the angels were clustered. He helped Faye to her feet, leaning her against the wall as she tried to regain her senses.

“They’re coming,” said Faye. “I could hear his voice this time, through all the fog. They’ve gone off somewhere, and they’re coming back here.”

“You’re fine,” said Holt. “Don’t worry about them. We’re here, and we’ve come far enough.”

He turned to the girl, the one who’d been tussling with Faye. She looked terrified, with a tiny bit of curiosity poking out from underneath the fear. She hadn’t left, and was just standing there, watching them and trying to figure out what to do.

“You need to go, too,” said Holt. “Out. Talk to Sam. He’s a good man, he’ll take you where you need to be.”

“Who are you?” said the girl.

“It doesn’t matter,” said Holt. “Look at him. Look at the angel.” He pointed to Isda’s corpse, toppled over in the dining room, fingers still poised over his scabbard and ready to tap. “We’re here to kill them all. We’re here to set you free. Now go.”

“You can’t!” yelled the girl, a look of horror on her face. “You can’t kill them all. They’re not all nasty, not like him.”

“She’s got Stockholm syndrome,” said Faye. “A lot of them do. Girl, you have to leave. We can’t make you. We aren’t even going to try. There’s too many like you in here. But we’ve warned you, and you have to understand: this place is coming down tonight, and anyone left inside is going to die.”

“What about the ones outside?” asked the girl suspiciously.

“If you go outside, you’ll live,” said Faye. “Everyone outside is going to live.” It seemed to calm her down significantly. Still, she hung around them, hovering at a distance while Faye recovered, until there was a sudden movement from the ramp.

A stream of people was trickling down it, and soon it turned into a flood. The servants had begun an exodus, floor by floor, sending word up as they went. They ran past them towards the exit, looking frightened, many of them committing the first act of rebellion in their entire lives. Not all of them had come; not even all of them had been told. It wouldn’t have been safe, particularly not with the ones in the upper levels. The most loyal servants were still asleep in their chambers, and the most fearful ones had stayed behind, unwilling to risk any anger from their masters even as they were afraid to be the ones to tell them of the evacuation. They didn’t believe in their deliverance, and they preferred to sit quietly in their rooms and wait out the storm.

The girl was still standing there, watching the flow of servants, and Holt started towards her to make sure she got moving. He was interrupted by a very familiar face.

“Cass!” he yelled, as a woman ran towards him, hugging him tightly. It was Cassie, down from the world above, finally ready to make her escape back to the world she’d come from. “Looks like my notes have been getting through.”

“We’ve got a good communications system, up and down the Perch,” she said. “It’s primitive, but they don’t even bother trying to decode them even when they’ve found one. Everything’s ready. Everyone who’s coming. We’ve been organizing for weeks. Most of the angels will be asleep, but we’ve got to move. Some of them come out, or get insomnia. Or they might get tipped off. If we don’t move fast, not everyone’s going to make it.”

“We’ll get as many as we can,” said Holt. “This is Faye. She’s one of my cell. She’s sick. An angel’s been in her head. The other two are heading up top with the bomb.”

“I take it you met Sam,” said Cassie.

“He’s out front, leading the herd,” said Holt.

“Perfect,” said Cassie. “I’m going the same way. I’ve been in here too damned long.” She’d come to the Perch an eager volunteer, roughly a year before. No one even questioned it; the Vichies outside were happy that their quota was just a little bit easier to fill, and the servants inside didn’t see anything unusual about her willingness to join their safe haven. The angels would have preferred her to be younger, but she claimed to be a skilled seamstress, and they weren’t in the habit of scrutinizing resumes. She’d started on the crafters’ floor, and with a little bit of flattery had been able to exploit the angels’ vanity to improve her position. Nefta had jumped at the chance to accept her pledge after a short conversation about art, and so she’d moved to the top.

She’d known Holt for years, from one of his earlier cells. They’d always talked about getting someone on the inside, and organizing a resistance. She’d tried, but it turned out that none of the servants had the stomach for that. She’d shifted to spying instead, sending messages outside via code, handed down the Perch level by level until they were given to one of the Vichies. The servants were brave enough for that, if adequately compensated, but she had no idea if anything she sent was making it to its destination. It was a moot point, for there was no leaving now. But once she got the first message back from Holt a few months in, she’d eagerly begun feeding him everything she could about the Perch and its weaknesses. She’d agreed to help with his plans, but only if they could at least attempt an evacuation.

“You do what you’re going to do,” said Cassie. “This is probably everyone who’s coming. Once you get things ready, you get your ass outside, too. They’ll….” She stopped herself as she saw Jana, standing in the middle of the stream of people as they parted around her.

“Jana,” said Cassie. “Let’s go. I know you hate me, but let’s go.”

“Where will I go?” asked Jana. “How will I find Rhamiel?” She looked worried and lost. Leaving one’s home is never easy, even when there’s no threat for doing so. She’d taken the first few baby steps already, but a trip outside the tower was something different entirely.

“Rhamiel’s not here,” said Cassie. “He’s safe. This place is going to be rubble soon. You won’t be with Rhamiel if you get yourself killed.”

That was enough. Cassie took her by the hand, and Jana let herself be pulled along. “Let’s go,” she said. “Hate me all you want once you’re safe. Holt, don’t stay too long. All it takes is one of them, and you’re done.” They merged into the crowd, and were gently pushed with the current as they all headed outside.

“Thane,” said Holt into his walkie-talkie, keeping his voice low just in case the wrong person was listening on the other end. “What’s the status? We’re about to head up.”

“Negative,” came Thane’s response. “This thing is huge. We’ve been bookin’ it and we’re only a quarter of the way up. And we got our asses up here before the rats started tryin’ to get off the ship. Let us deliver the package.”

He was right, and Holt could see it. Servants were still coming off the ramp, all headed in one direction. Swimming upstream wasn’t a realistic option—it was more likely they’d be caught in the middle, unable to get to the top in time to be of any help. If it was just him, he’d have made a run for it anyway. But with Faye along for the ride, and not in the best condition, he opted to stay put.

“Okay,” said Holt. “We’re staying down here to help with the evacuation. It’s on you two, now. Get it up to the top, as close to their quarters as you can, and bring this place to the ground. And if you run into any trouble, just set the damned thing off, no matter what.”

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

“A
drink! A simple drink, all that I ask!” Nefta had been shouting her lungs out, to no avail. She’d strongly preferred having two servants, as a redundancy against exactly this sort of incompetence. With Jana gone, she was forced to make do, a problem when she woke in the middle of the night with an inability to sleep and an urge to make art.

She stormed through her chambers, shouting for Cassie, before she was finally forced to walk all the way to her bedroom. She pulled open the door, prepared to deliver a lecture on laziness, only to find it empty. “Cassie!” she shouted, her irritation growing. If she were awake, then she should be answering, rather than putting her own business ahead of that of her mistress.

Nefta went into the kitchens, finding nothing. She checked the storage closets, to see if she’d been hiding in one of them. Again, they were empty. The entire chambers were. That meant only one thing: Cassie was gone, roving around the tower without permission instead of sleeping in her bed as she was supposed to.

It put Nefta in a foul temper, something that was dangerous when she was up this late. She fizzled with energy, and if she couldn’t put it to good purpose, she’d put it to a bad one. Now Cassie had her ire, and she’d be made to pay for it. One rebellious servant was enough, but Jana’s insubordination was clearly spreading. She might have escaped, but Cassie had taken the pledge, and Nefta thought it high time that such matters be nipped in the bud.

She threw open the door to her chambers, bursting out into the tower. The halls were empty, not unusual at night. She stalked around them, searching for any sign of where Cassie had gone to. She wasn’t in any of the hallways nearby, and while she might have been in another angel’s chambers, she couldn’t well compound the problem by searching them at random and awakening their occupants. She chose instead to go down, into the common lounge. After poking around behind the couches and in the most obvious hiding places, she concluded it was empty. It only made her madder; wherever Cassie had gone, she was determined now to find her, and wouldn’t give up until she’d given her a good lashing.

She made her way out to the ramp, taking flight and looking down below her. She saw two of the servants, running upward as quickly as they could. They bore the white uniforms of those outside—not a common sight in the tower, but not out of the question, either. What disturbed her more was what she saw below them.

At the bottom of the ramp were hundreds of servants, running towards the tower’s exit en masse. She knew at once where Cassie had gone, and she wanted to know why. Nothing like this could possibly have been allowed by one of the angels. It was an escape, a plot against them all, and she would put a stop to it at once.

She dove to the bottom, circling around the ramp as she flew. Some of the servants below had seen her, and began to point upwards. They ran with a newfound intensity, scrambling away as quickly as their legs would carry them. None of that would matter; they could get outside, but it was miles to safety. She’d raise the alarm after she’d ended things, and they’d pick them all off outside the tower if they had to, one by one.

She landed in the middle of them, prompting some of them to flee back up the ramp. She grabbed the nearest servant, holding him up in the air by the throat as he kicked and cried.

“What is the meaning of this treason?” she hissed, as he went limp in her hand and emptied his bladder into his pants.

“They said they’re going to kill us,” he whimpered. “Please. I had to. There wasn’t a choice. Everyone says they’ve got a bomb, and they’re going to destroy the tower.”

“Who?” she said. “Tell me who.”

He just pointed up, back to where she’d come from, and then it all clicked. She tossed him aside, snapping a few of his bones, and launched herself upwards, pushing against the air with all her power as she rose.