Forgiven (42 page)

‘Please, we’ve been given a chance to get it right,’ she pleaded. ‘All we need is time to find our own way.’

The Archangel shifted uncomfortably. ‘You think them worthy of His attention, Morning Star?’

Lucifer shrugged. ‘It remains to be seen.’

‘You will continue the Great Task as He has set forth?’

‘Until I am no longer needed.’

‘Even if it keeps you from the Light?’

A solemn nod. ‘It is my penance.’

‘Not all penance, I think,’ Michael said archly. ‘You enjoy your freedom overly much.’

‘My freedom exacts a price beyond your imagining, Archangel.’

Michael’s bottomless blue eyes alighted on Riley. ‘A mere child,’ he muttered, shaking his head. With a wave, Heaven’s angels began to disappear in swirling eddies of light, two at a time.

Lucifer nodded his approval and a corresponding number of his Fallen rose in a black mist, then vanished.

Michael unfurled his huge wings as he scrutinized his rival. ‘We shall still meet at the End of Days, Morning Star. That
shall
come to pass.’

‘So it shall, Archangel. Until then.’

Without another word Michael shot into the sky, twirled once and vanished in a flash of silver and gold.

When she looked back, Lucifer was already gone, taking the remainder of his troops with him.

‘What about my dad?’ Riley shouted.
He can’t stay in Hell, not with the demons.

He has paid his debt.

But –

You still owe me a favour, Blackthorne’s daughter. When that is fulfilled, we will talk. Until then stop whining.

‘Whining?’ she shouted aloud. After all she’d been through?

Then it hit her. There would be no war today. The earth would continue to turn on its axis while all its inhabitants went about their lives on this sunny morning in February.

Oh. My. God. I actually did it!

Riley draped herself over a headstone and wept in profound relief.

‘Don’t touch her!’ someone commanded. ‘Let the angelic essence bleed into the ground first.’

Ayden.
At least her witch friend had survived.

‘Look at it flow out of her. It’s like a river. I’ve never seen anything like that.’

Mort
. He’d made it too.

It took time, but Riley finally opened her eyes. She was still slumped over the headstone, the granite digging painfully into her ribs. At all points of contact golden yellow light poured out of her body, sheeting down the weathered stone and into the ground just like a battery discharging.

‘Ouch,’ she said, sliding to the ground and landing hard on her butt. Every cell of her body throbbed, from her toenails to the ends of her hair.

‘Now you can touch her,’ the witch advised.

It was Beck who did the honours, gently stroking her arm so her eyes moved in his direction. Black demon blood coated his clothes and splattered his cheek. ‘Yer alive,’ he said, smiling.

‘You too.’
Go figure.

Beck scooped her up in his arms. She was going to protest, but realized it was wasted breath. She was too weak to walk anyway. He carried her only a short distance and set her on the stairs to the Bell Tower. A scratchy wool blanket was tucked around her.

When she raised her eyes, she found the trapper kneeling in front of her. The wound on his face continued to weep, trailing blood down his neck and into his shirt. He leaned so close their foreheads touched, like he had before.

‘Paul loved us both,’ he whispered. ‘I’ll never forget that.’

Neither would Riley. Those last few seconds when her father’s brown eyes had met hers she’d seen his endless love, his deep compassion, the boundless pride he felt for her. Those scant few moments were enough to last her a lifetime.

Beck leaned back, then stood. ‘I need to see to the wounded. Will ya be OK?’

She nodded in reply.
Don’t let anyone else die
.

Pulling the blanket over her head, Riley closed her eyes. The sounds of battle still rang in her ears and she felt the burning flames of Sartael’s sword close to her face. She had been able to stop Armageddon, but what about her dad? Was he still in Hell? If so, it was a bitter victory.

‘Riley? She peeled back the blanket and found Ayden sitting next to her now.

The witch placed Riley’s backpack near her feet. ‘Figured you’d want these.’ She handed over the key to the mausoleum. ‘You left it in the lock. I put the sleeping bag away, but I didn’t see the claw. I’m sorry.’

Maybe it was gone, like the demon it came from.

‘The knife’s inside the backpack,’ the witch said. ‘You blooded it, so it’s yours now. When you’re ready, come by the shop. We’ll sit in the sunlight and talk of what happened today.’

‘I owe you so much.’

‘The owing goes both ways.’ They shared a lengthy hug, then the witch limped down the road. Along the way she encountered Father Rosetti. They paused, studying each other, then he nodded in her direction and she returned it. They parted company as equals.

Peter.
He’d be pacing his room, fearing the worst. Riley dug inside her pack to find her cellphone. To her surprise the self-inflicted knife wound on her left hand had healed with only a faint scar to indicate there’d ever been a wound there, and her cellphone worked despite all the magic that had been thrown around. Maybe it had something to do with it being inside the protective circle. She pushed the speed dial for her friend. No way could she remember his number right now.

‘Riley? Please tell me that you’re OK and that the demons are history.’

‘Yes to both.’

He whooped in her ear. Then he sobered. ‘You sound totally wiped. You at home?’

‘No. Give me some time . . . tomorrow maybe . . . and I’ll call and tell you what happened.’ This time she’d tell him all of it.

‘It was really bad, wasn’t it?’ he asked. ‘I can tell from your voice.’

‘Yeah. It was total Hell. I’ll talk to you later, guy.’ She disconnected the call and let the phone fall into the pack.

When she looked up, Simon stood in front of her. He clenched a bloody sword like it had been fused to his arm. His usually tidy hair was streaked with sweat and dark circles underscored his troubled blue eyes.

All of them had paid a price for the game between Heaven and Hell.

‘I was right: your father was working with the necromancer, making those undead demons.’

‘No, my dad was the one who broke the spell. It was Sartael who was behind all this. Weren’t you paying attention?’

‘That isn’t what I saw,’ Simon retorted.

‘Of course not. You’d hate to admit that a Fallen could get into your head. Well, it happened and now you have to live with that like the rest of us.’

‘Why did you stop Armageddon? Was that Lucifer’s order?’

‘No. It was Heaven’s.’

‘How dare you lie to me!’ he said, his eyes flaring and his hand tightening on the sword. ‘So many people have died because of you.’

‘No, my only fault was caring too much for you.’

Martha glided up, looking first at Riley and then at Simon. The patron angel of Oakland was still sporting her wings and she wore her
tough love
expression. Someone was up for a lecture and Riley didn’t think it was her.

Simon’s jaw dropped as he made the connection. ‘You,’ he said. ‘It was you, in the hospital. You touched my chest and . . .’

‘Healed you. Yes, I plead guilty,’ Martha replied, her eyes narrowing. ‘What did you do with that second chance at life, Simon Michael David Adler?’

He cringed at the tone of her voice. ‘I, ah . . .’

‘Did you stand by the one who sacrificed her future to give you that chance?’ Martha chided. ‘When the Fallen came to you with his lies, did you resist him?’

‘She—’

‘No, you embraced the dark whispers because it was easier than accepting that your faith had been tested and found wanting. You betrayed your girlfriend to the demon hunters to put your own soul at ease.’

‘But Riley—’

‘Agreed to prevent Armageddon in exchange for your life,’ Martha said. She shook her head in disappointment. ‘If I was her, I’d be wondering if you were worth all the trouble.’

Simon’s face blanched as pale as his hair. ‘I didn’t know,’ he said in a coarse whisper. ‘I thought . . . Oh, dear God.’ He was on his knees in an instant, his head bowed in contrition. ‘What have I done?’

With a tortured sigh, the angel knelt next to the stricken man. ‘It is not the end of your world,’ she said, patting his arm. ‘You’ll survive.’ When he looked up, his eyes teemed with tears. ‘You’ve learned a lesson – a soul is forged in the fires of adversity, not comfort.’

He swiped away the tears. When his eyes met Riley’s, she saw the unrelenting agony within in his heart.

‘I’m . . . sorry,’ he whispered.

‘So am I, Simon,’ she replied.

‘Saint!’ Harper called out. ‘Get your ass over here.’ Simon staggered to his feet, then hurried away.

‘Go in peace, child,’ Martha murmured.

‘Will he find his faith again?’ Riley asked.

‘Perhaps.’

‘What would have happened if I hadn’t freed Ori?’

The angel puzzled on that. ‘It’s my guess you wouldn’t have been allowed to stand between the two hosts, to plead humanity’s case.’

‘It’s all about sacrifice for you people, isn’t it?’

‘Of course,’ Martha said with a wry smile. ‘Which is why your father is no longer one of Lucifer’s.’

‘What? He’s in Heaven?’

‘It’s getting sorted out. The odds are in his favour.’ Martha smiled broadly. ‘Very good odds indeed.’

‘Oh God,’ Riley cried, nearly collapsing in relief. ‘He’ll be able to see Mom and . . .’ Her eyes brimmed with tears.

‘Maybe it
was
worth it after all,’ Martha replied. She turned her head at the sound of wings. ‘Ah, good, they’ve arrived.’

She marched towards a small knot of angels near the Blackthorne mausoleum and began to issuing orders like a general. The angels scattered, righting headstones, replanting uprooted trees, filling in the holes the Fives had created. A supernatural clean-up crew. When one Divine walked past a paramedic toting a broken headstone, the guy didn’t even see it.

I wonder why they’re doing this. They didn’t fix the place after that tornado went through.

As the angels worked, Riley let her eyes skim over the cemetery, past the industrious angels, the mounds of demon ashes, the bodies covered with blankets. Ori’s plinth stood empty, lit by sunlight.

Eventually she’d know if he was still alive. When that day came, she’d either be mourning the loss of the angel or the loss of her immortal soul.

One would be as life-changing as the other.

Beck wiped the blood on his jeans, then tied off the bandage with a firm tug.

‘Ya’ll keep the leg, Remmers,’ he said. ‘Be sure to have Father Rosetti bless the Holy Water so ya know it’s good.’