Blood and Feathers (13 page)

The path looped around the church and beneath the trees; funnily enough, to exactly the same spot where Vin had caught Lilith. And there, leaning against one of the tombs, was a huge, hulking man – not a man, judging by the scrappy wings that stuck out from his back; one of the Fallen. Alice could finally see what was making the cracking sounds, and immediately wished that she couldn’t.

Piled up next to the Fallen on the tomb were long, thin bones, which she could only imagine had come from the graves around them. He was picking each up in turn, weighing them in his hands and snapping them neatly in two before lifting each section to his mouth and sucking furiously. Alice’s stomach flipped as she watched him chew on the end of a bone, then toss it aside and reach for another. She found herself drawing closer to Gwyn, and she wasn’t the only one. Vin had scuttled behind the taller angel and although his face was largely in shadow, she could see that he felt just as queasy as she did... in fact, she thought as another wave of nausea slapped into her, she could
feel
it too.

The Fallen raised his head a little and sniffed, loudly. He threw the bone he was holding over his shoulder and turned to face them full-on, his hands on his hips.

Gwyn stepped forward. “Batarel. I should have known by the smell. Are we interrupting your dinner?”

“He wants to speak to you.”

“Does he? I’m surprised he remembers how to string two words together.” Batarel’s head dropped forward, and when he raised it again, his eyes were the same whiteless, lidless glowing red that Alice remembered from the Fallen who had launched himself at them in the graveyard. Batarel rolled his shoulders and neck from side to side, and when he spoke, his voice had changed. It fizzed and crackled like static on a radio. Gwyn took a step back, and gestured for Alice to stand behind him. This wasn’t good, she thought, as she ducked between his wings.

“Gwyn. My brother,” said the almost-Batarel, holding out his arms to Gwyn. Gwyn didn’t move, and Batarel sighed. “Still holding a grudge? Aren’t we a little old for that?”

“A grudge? Lucifer, if it was just a grudge, we wouldn’t be having this conversation. And I am most certainly
not
your brother.”

Alice peered over Gwyn’s shoulder. “Lucifer?” she whispered to him, “As in...?”

She saw Gwyn nod gently. The red eyes suddenly fixed on her, the mouth below them breaking into a broad smile.

“And there she is! Well? Come along, child. Step out where I can see you.”

“The half-born is under my protection, Lucifer.” Gwyn’s voice was stern. “
Our
protection. You know what that means.”

“Which is why there’s no harm in my seeing what all the fuss is about. So, hop to it.” Alice felt a pull at her feet, dragging her out from behind Gwyn, who glared at her. Completely exposed to the glow of those red eyes, she felt very small and alone.

“You do look like your mother, don’t you? It’s really quite remarkable, the resemblance. Tell me, do you know who I am?”

“Should I?” Alice’s voice managed to sound braver than she felt.

Lucifer cocked his head on one side. “I would hope so. After all, the daughter of an angel and a priest? What kind of education did you have if you don’t know the Morningstar when you see him? Oh, yes. With a pedigree like that, you were theirs from the moment you were born, or that’s what they’ll tell you.” He caught her stare and grinned. “You’ll have to excuse my appearance,” he said, waving down at Batarel’s body. “I don’t get out much these days.”

“You’re wrong about my father.”

“Am I, now? And in what way am I wrong, precisely?”

“He wasn’t a priest.”

“Oh, no? Don’t tell me: he didn’t believe in any of it?”

“That’s right.”

“Perhaps that’s what you remember, but it wasn’t always so. I see more than you might imagine,” he tapped his nose and crouched down, scooping up a handful of soil and rubbing it between his fingers. “Tell me child, if that were true, did it never occur to you to ask why he had so many books about faith on his shelves?”

“They were my mother’s...”

“Were they? And, knowing what you know now, I might wonder what your mother would need to know of God that she couldn’t learn by simply asking.” He brushed the dirt from his hands, all the while smiling that awful smile, and stood up, looking at Gwyn. “The rules have changed, brother. The balance is tipping. And you think this scared little girl, this half-born, is the one to save you?”

“I think I’ve heard enough.”

Gwyn raised one of his arms, opening his hand as he pointed at Lucifer. The smell of ozone filled the air and sparks raced down Gwyn’s fingers, and, with an ear-splitting crack, a bolt of lightning shot from his hand and struck the Fallen angel, throwing him sideways. Alice jumped back behind Gwyn as Batarel shook his head to clear it. His eyes were no longer red: Lucifer had gone.

Batarel shook himself down. “Nice trick. Stings a bit. You got anything else?”

“Have I got anything else?” Gwyn smiled. “For you? I’ll do my
very
best.”

A rush of wind blew dust into Alice’s eyes, and she blinked, rubbing her hand across her face. When she looked up again, Gwyn was striding towards Batarel... but he looked different. His suit had disappeared, and in its place was armour: a breastplate strapped over shining mail, and his wings out wide, sparks coursing across the feathers. It only took him a few steps to reach Batarel, whom he knocked off his feet with a single blow to his chin.

She would have stood there, rooted to the spot with her mouth open, staring at him forever, if Vin hadn’t pulled at her. “Alice! The others – they’re here. Move!”

So rapt had she been watching Gwyn that she had not noticed the three Fallen sliding into the shadow of the tree behind them. Vin, however, had, and he wasn’t prepared to let them gain any kind of advantage. He hauled her away from the path and among the graves, feet catching in the long tufts of grass as they ran.

The churchyard was larger than Alice had first thought; it opened into a whole cemetery to the side of the church, and Vin obviously hoped to lose the Fallen in the maze of tombs. Alice’s heart pounded so hard she was sure it would break through her ribs. Finally, Vin stopped.

“Thank god!” she gasped, but he held up a hand, motioning her to be quiet.

“They’re still there, somewhere,” he whispered.

The sound of footsteps rustling through grass and leaves to their left made them both jump, but the steps kept going, passing them by.

“That was close. Come on, we should get inside.”

He peered around the side of a tomb and looked back at Alice, but didn’t get any further. A large pair of hands snaked around the stone and clamped around his head, yanking him back. Alice bit down on a scream and pressed herself back against a gravestone. She could hear the sounds of a struggle from the other side: fists connecting with flesh – and what she fervently hoped was not a tearing sound – and she gradually became aware of a cold sensation in the small of her back, an almost-ache that she couldn’t quite place. Her back spasmed, and somewhere in the dark Vin cried out.

Alice held up her hands. If what Gwyn had said was true, all of it, she should be able to do... well, something. She had no idea what, exactly, but that didn’t seem to be the point. There was another thump, this time accompanied by a low snarling sound, and Vin yelped again. The cold spot on her spine grew, and at last, she could feel the fire inside her fingers. Taking a deep breath, she jumped up and shouted, “Hey!”

It did the trick. Not far away, she could see Vin being held (or possibly held
up
) by one of the Fallen while another threw punches into his side and ribs. Grey feathers lay scattered around their feet, and the Fallen holding Vin had blood on his hands. Vin himself was pale, his head lolling to one side. She wasn’t even sure if he was still conscious, and for a second, she wondered whether that might scupper her plan, such as it was. But she had other things to worry about: both the Fallen had stopped their attack on him, and were staring at her. Their stares gradually turned to smiles, and the one who was holding Vin released him – he promptly crumpled and hit the ground, hard. Everything Alice had been feeling vanished. The pain in her back was gone, her hands appallingly normal. Vin was out cold, which meant she was too. Aware the Fallen were moving towards her with expressions she didn’t want to see, she smiled and gave them a feeble wave.

“Hi!” She edged her foot behind her, feeling out the ground and getting ready to run. “So. This whole ‘Fallen’ thing. How’s that working out for you?”

She shifted her weight and was starting to back away when the pain in her back returned with a cold flare, her fingers suddenly prickling. She looked past the Fallen and saw Vin, still flat on his back but with his arms outstretched. A fine grey mist was seeping from his palms, sliding across the grass towards the Fallen, who had stopped.

The mist wound itself about their feet and twisted around their ankles, spiraling its way further and further up their legs. They picked up their feet and tried to step out of it, doing their best to shake it off, but if anything it clung to them more closely, winding tighter and tighter with every movement they made. And then they began to scream.

Alice couldn’t see what had changed at first, not until she looked down. As the mist worked its way up their bodies, it left their feet free... and their feet had been turned to stone. In fact, their whole bodies were changing beneath the mist, and by the time it had reached their necks, everything below their waists was solid rock. She watched as the grey cloud swallowed their faces, and a moment later, the screaming stopped. Vin dropped his hands, the mist vanishing. He rubbed his forehead, and Alice was dimly aware of a slight ache there too. Her fingers itched uncomfortably, but, so far, no fire. Perhaps Gwyn had been wrong; perhaps this gift wasn’t what he’d thought after all.

“Alice!” Vin’s shout snapped her out of her thoughts. He had propped himself up on an elbow and was struggling to get to his feet. He pointed to a spot behind her left shoulder. “Duck!”

She dropped, and felt a breeze pass over her head. Scrambling towards Vin, she could hear the footsteps closing in on her. The last of the Fallen. She had forgotten all about him. Vin was on his feet and in the air with a leap, landing behind her; she caught her foot on something and fell forward, turning over in time to see Vin knocked aside like a toy. But the Fallen wasn’t moving. He was waiting.

Shaking, she stood up. She didn’t run. What was the point? Between her and safety, there was at least one of the Fallen – and who knew how many more – not counting Batarel, who might have given Gwyn the slip. And
he
was someone she did not want to get any closer to than she already had.

“You looking for me?” she said, hoping she sounded more confident than she felt.

The Fallen nodded and licked his lips. He was holding a very large and very shiny knife. A very
sharp
knife. Alice remembered the sensation of something narrowly missing her head and gulped.

And without warning, something clicked inside her head, and – not knowing what she was doing, or why she was doing it – she raised her arm, holding her palm out towards the Fallen. Her hand ached, deep inside the bone. It was just like stretching a tired muscle. A plume of flame erupted from her palm, wrapping around the Fallen in a breath. He shrieked and flailed wildly, his arms burning like torches in the dark – and with a ripping sound, he was gone.

Alice stood frozen to the spot, staring at the place where he had been. Somewhere behind her, she heard the rustle of feathers and uneven footsteps. Vin was on his feet. He leaned on a stone next to her. His face was bruised, his mouth bloodied, and it looked like he’d have a beautiful black eye in the morning, but Alice was more concerned by what she could see of his wings. Clumps of feathers had been ripped out, leaving holes in his wings, which shuffled sadly against his shoulders. He followed her gaze and shrugged. “This? I’ve had way worse than this in my time. It’s never as bad as it looks. Bugger, though: like I haven’t had my wings clipped enough, right?”

Alice didn’t have any words. Instead, she held out her hand as though it were a bomb that might go off. He nodded. “I saw. And to think you did that all on your own. I don’t think you’ll be needing me hanging around to protect you much longer, will you?”

“Don’t go. Please. I don’t...”

“Oh, I’m not going anywhere. Who said I don’t need
you
to protect
me
?”

“Reluctant as I am to break up this little party of yours,” said Gwyn’s voice from the shadows, “we should leave.”

He strode towards them, past the two Fallen whom Vin had turned to stone, pausing briefly to lay a hand on each of them. His fingers sparked and the statues shook, shining a hot blue as cracks raced across them, finally collapsing in a cloud of dust. “The Fallen have been in Mallory’s room: they turned it upside down. Not that you could tell, apart from the scent they left over everything.”

“Is Mallory...?” Alice began, but Gwyn shook his head.

“He wasn’t there. I doubt he’ll be pleased at the mess, but other than that I’m sure he’ll be fine. But it does prove my point. They came here, looking for you, and there was nothing to stop them. We need to find somewhere else to keep you.”