I've expanded this chapter after JoVersify's comments. Please do read the second half :D Till next Friday! (hopefully I'll get it done fast enough for pre-reading this time round)
Poison, III
When the gates faltered for the third time, it didn't return, leaving Eden wide open for Lilith's hell-bound army.
Issa reached for her Edenium blade but Edvardiel was already in movement. His skin flashed, the sheer energy forcing her backwards. She stumbled, sprawling to the ground. Worry flashed through their bond and she looked up to see him gazing back at her, a web of glory crackling between his palms.
Her hair whipped around her face.
"Watch out!" she screamed.
He turned back just in time to deflect a demon—the mace grazed his throat, opening a thin line of blood.
She seized her blade and rose to find herself surrounded by…
"Acolytes."
Every muscle in her body locked down. These weren't demons. These were Acolytes like her. Like Yassper. One was built just like him, towering and muscular, with curved double blades in his hands. Their eyes met and she could tell he wanted to be here as much as she did.
Issa's world spun.
He was new, then. Freshly risen from another ruined city. His veins glowed blue—he was fighting the poison, just like they all tried to do in the beginning.
They converged on her and Issa evaded the weapons by instinct alone. A whistle here, a flash of silver there—several nicked her flesh, superficial and not deadly. Blood trickled over one eye and she panted, licking her lips.
"Issa!"
She didn't dare look back. Didn't dare take her eyes off the puppets trying to maim her. They weren't here to kill her—their cuts were too shallow for that. They were here to drag her back.
The Edenium blade trembled in her hands. It would be so easy to cut them open—especially the newest boy, the one with the blue glow. Just do it, she tried to tell herself. You've done this a million times.
Yassper's face flashed before her eyes.
Issa blinked.
More images flooded her mind—the little hand clutching a bloodied teddy bear, the fragile body crushed underneath the bookshelf. Heavy rain and crying echoed in the background while a hand that didn't feel like hers yanked Yassper's blade from a mother's chest. Her ears rang and she couldn't breathe.
Bloodied feathers drifted down from the skies, completing the nightmarish scene.
Move! Her dream angel shouted.
She couldn't. She couldn't. Her weapon clattered to the ground as the boy's curved blade buried itself in her abdomen. Or almost did. Edvardiel was there, his glory blasting the Acolyte's arm off.
The boy's horrified eyes were the last thing she saw before everything went black.
She remembered thinking that he'd seemed more horrified at what he was doing than the fact that he was missing an arm. And she wondered if this was his first mission. Poor bastard couldn't catch a break.
She dreamed.
Three feathers levitated around her, circling, while a fourth feather floated above her head.
Her dream angel was there too. The more she looked at him, the more she thought he looked like Edvardiel. They even had the same glint of humour in their eyes, only this angel possessed an arrogance to him that Edvardiel didn't have. He looked as though he were withering away. His red hair was streaked with grey and even his wings seemed to have lost some of their sheen. If she had to give him an age, she'd say he was in his mid-fifties.
That was foolish of you, child.
She stared at him as he lounged behind the barrier of the circling feathers.
Do be more careful. Many people worked hard to keep you and that mopey boy alive.
"Edvardiel's not mopey," she said defensively. "You have no idea what he went through."
The angel smirked. I'll admit, I never saw this little affair coming. Very poetic. It makes all of our failed plans almost forgivable.
"Who are you?" she asked.
He strode towards her. The more important question is, who are you, child? Who could create a key to Heaven? He snapped his fingers and a mirror rose before her. She saw her reflection staring back at her, bruised and bloody from the battle. A long cut ran down from her left eye to her jaw, explaining all the blood in her vision.
"What do you want me to say?" she snapped. "You're the one holding the key to all my memories."
Your memories have already told you. His voice was silken. But if you want me to spell it out... He snapped his fingers again and her reflection dissolved, reforming into a familiar face. A face that she'd hallucinated several times.
She flinched back. "No."
It couldn't be.
Yes, her dream angel sounded almost gleeful. You inherited Eve's power of Life but even Eve cannot grow a key to Heaven. At least, not until she carried you in her womb. You see, every gate has a maker. Eden's gates were made by Samael. Heaven's gates were made by the king of angels. And his blood runs in your veins.
Not for the first time, Michael stared back at her from the mirror.
"No!" She shook her head violently. She couldn't be the child of that monster.
But the longer she looked, the more similarities she found. The harsh set of his lips. The perpetually disapproving gaze. Even the foul temper.
Heaven's abandoned princess. Her dream angel's delight faded away at her obvious horror. I'd have thought the news would be of more comfort to you after your worries about not being good enough.
"Comfort?" Issa echoed. "You think I'd be happy about this?"
Her dream angel's hair flamed as he pressed a hand against the barrier. Forget his character for a moment, child, and think about his power. Your power. He grinned and Issa realised that angels were truly nothing like humans. Like demons, their emotions lacked depth and colour—something she'd realised only when Edvardiel became her Keeper. His emotions were rich and subtle, unlike the shallow and exaggerated caricatures she'd grown used to.
Think about everything you can do. Everything he's taken, you can give back. Every wrong he's done, you can make him pay back tenfold. He was pressing both hands against the feather barrier now, his expression almost hungry. The Seraphim do not kill the Nephilim because God commands it. They kill them because they are afraid. Nephilim children are always, always stronger than their angel parents. He grinned again. Your father must be cowering in terror. He unleashed Hell on Earth just to be rid of you.
Issa thought nothing of Michael but she didn't trust her dream angel either.
"What about you?" she demanded. "Did you try to kill your son as well? Did you try to kill Edvardiel?"
She was only guessing but her dream angel drew away from the barrier, the flames in his hair growing muted.
Seraphim are not made to love. But Eden was a patient teacher. Something like tenderness glistened in his unnatural eyes. He tilted his head at her. Tell my mopey boy not to wait. I'm not coming. The circling feathers were moving more and more slowly and his voice was growing softer and softer, as though he were fading away. He looked up at something she couldn't see. Our time is almost up.
"Why aren't you coming?" she asked. "Who are you?"
A trail of angelfire followed his feet as he walked around the barrier. You saw me battle your father, child. You saw him lose. Who am I?
She opened her eyes to see Edvardiel bending over her while terrible screams echoed in the background. One of his wings was draped around her, soft and warm.
"Issa?"
She sat up so quickly that their foreheads nearly banged together. "Fuck," she gasped. "Fuck." She'd fainted in the middle of battle. She never fainted in the middle of battle. "How long was I out?"
Edvardiel looked at her uncertainly. "Two seconds, maybe?"
That had to be the two longest seconds of her life. She didn't want to think about her dream. She didn't want to think about what any of it meant. Her eyes zeroed in on the gates. They were back in place—had she hallucinated it all?
"What happened?"
"The gates went out for a few minutes. I was holding off the demons, and I turned around and I saw you—"
"What do you mean the gates went out for a few minutes?" There was mayhem all around and the horrible screaming—
"They vanished for a few minutes but then returned," Edvardiel said. "A few demons came in but I took care of them."
Issa turned towards the screaming and saw the Acolyte whose arm Edvardiel had blown off being held down.
Her stomach lurched. "What are they doing?"
"Don't look," was all Edvardiel said.
The sound made her heart hurt. "Aren't you going to help him?"
Edvardiel didn't meet her eyes. "I can't."
"What do you mean, you can't?"
The screaming stopped abruptly and from the corner of her eye, Issa saw the boy's body go limp.
"I don't have enough to help two," he said.
Something about his manner was off.
"Edvardiel—"
"Come on." He wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her to her feet. "Let's get you somewhere safe."
Issa couldn't help herself from looking back. The boy's double blades, the ones that looked so similar to Yassper's, were being examined by Mike. In death, the Acolyte's face looked eerily young. Someone kicked his mutilated body, turning him around to look for more weapons, and another set him on fire. Within seconds, flames engulfed his body, sending plumes of smoke into the sky.
Issa looked away.
"That could've been me," she said numbly.
"That'll never be you." Edvardiel's wings flared, as though daring anyone to come close. "Come on."
Her legs felt like lead and she realised she was shaking. She was actually shaking.
"What's happening to me?" she asked, looking at her bloodied hands.
She'd never been this soft. She'd never been this weak.
Edvardiel's wings curled around her more tightly, hiding her from sight. "You're safe."
"No one is safe," Issa said. Especially not with the gates acting as they did.
A familiar, drugging calm flooded their bond, and Issa felt her lids grow heavy. "Edvardiel," she said, her words garbled. "I know what you're doing."
She leaned heavily against him and he lifted her up into his arms.
"You don't play fair."
He kissed her forehead, his glory-filled eyes swimming in and out of her vision. "I never claimed to."
A cool wind blew against her face then as he took flight, his wings gleaming in the sun.