Blood and Feathers (33 page)

“You’re forgetting something.”

“What?”

“Me.” As she spoke, Alice picked up a small stone that lay next to her feet. It was rough, and it was cold in her hand. She tossed it lightly into the air, where it promptly burst into flames. A spiral of white smoke coiled up and away, and all that came back down was pale ash. It wasn’t entirely unexpected – after all, if she didn’t think
something
would happen, there would have been no point in trying it – but even so, the little flurry of ash made her uncomfortable and short of breath. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Abbadona; his eyes wide, his mouth even wider. She patted his knee. “Close your mouth, would you? Something’ll fly in.”

“How did you know it would do that?”

“I didn’t
know
, exactly. I just thought, you know, that it would.”

“You know something, Alice? You scare me.”

“If it helps, you’re not the only one.”

They both stared ahead of them, past the settling ash and back down the path they had come. Now they weren’t running, she could hear how quiet hell was. Or, rather,
not
hear it. Before, there had always been something: the noises of the other levels – creaking ice, or the whispering of the Plain; the scratching and moaning of the forest, and the voices of the Dark House. The voices. She would never forget those voices. But here, hell was quiet. Silent. The only sound was Abbadona’s breathing. Everything else was empty, cold and still.

A hand settled on her shoulder and she swiped it away. “Look, just because we’re able to have something approaching a civilised conversation right now, it doesn’t mean I want you touching me, alright?” She turned towards him angrily. Things were complicated enough without
that
. But as she turned, she saw his hands in his lap; saw his face, waxy and pale as he stared past her to a spot somewhere behind her. She saw the dark eyes behind him, and the sharp, shining steel at his throat.

The hand lifted from her shoulder, then casually, insultingly, it patted her head.

“You don’t scare me, Alice,” said Xaphan. “Nice display. But before you even think about trying any of your tricks, I should warn you: you’d better be sure you can finish me off. Purson over there too. Otherwise we’ll cut your little friend here into pieces in front of you.”

“What’s that to me?” She swallowed hard. There were sparks beneath her skin, scratching to get out. “He lied to me. He made me believe he was something he could never be. Why should he mean anything to me? He’s a Fallen.”

“But you’re not, are you?”

Xaphan stepped around to where she could see him, and gestured to Purson, who grinned and dug the blade he was holding into Abbadona’s neck. Blood spilled from the wound, but Abbadona did not flinch. He stared ahead, blankly. Alice, however,
did
flinch, and Xaphan saw it.

“I wonder, is it that you’re still fond of him, or is it that you’re just too human? The angels have great plans for you, but I wonder whether there’s angel enough in there to do what is necessary. There’s too much of your father in you, I suspect, and not enough fire.” He nodded to Purson again, who dragged his knife across Abbadona’s throat. It left a fine line like a necklace, oozing redly, and Alice turned her face away. “I thought as much,” he laughed as he leaned closer.

With so little distance between them, she could see the sweep of scar tissue that covered one side of his face: there were faint lines that ran across his cheek like a roadmap, and shiny knots of burn-tissue, some of it old, some of it fresh and angry. He blinked at her.

“So now I suppose the question is what we do with you...” Xaphan tailed off, his head tipping to one side as though he was listening to something a long way off.

Alice shivered. Not something,
someone
. Lucifer. She looked quickly towards Abbadona. Purson still had his knife at his throat, but although his chin was raised, his head tipping back, his eyes were fixed on her.

Whatever Lucifer had said, Xaphan was smiling. The scars on his face bulged and his teeth glittered and Alice fought to keep control of the fire that tore and scratched at her insides, looking for a way out. She could let it, she thought; let it out and it would burn them all. Including Abbadona. Could she let him die? More to the point, could she kill him? What would that make her? She squeezed her eyes shut and pictured the flames, and saw herself lost and alone in the middle of hell. Forever. Xaphan stepped around her and over to Abbadona, hauling him to his feet by the lapels of his jacket. Purson’s blade followed and still Abbadona kept his eyes on Alice. Xaphan stood in front of him and sighed.

“I really did expect more from you. We all did.
He
certainly did. And after all that time we spent together, after everything we talked about, I was absolutely convinced that we understood one another, and then you go and do something like this.” He snatched at Abbadona’s wrist, pulling the sleeve back and exposing the burned-off brand. “Clever. Clever, clever boy. Of course, Gabriel wouldn’t be dealing with a Fallen. And, no offence, dear chap, but if he did, it wouldn’t be one as insignificant as
you
. And none of his Earthbounds would risk it, which leaves his Descendeds. And that
is
interesting.” He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Not that it helps you much. You see, you’ve rather over-extended our patience, and that’s not good news for you. Not good at all.”

“‘Our?’” snarled Abbadona, finally taking his eyes off Alice and meeting Xaphan’s gaze. “You’re getting ideas above your station again. I know he’s not in there, so just give it a rest. You don’t scare me.” He spat at Xaphan’s feet.

Xaphan frowned. “I thought you might say that. Still, it doesn’t make any difference. I’ve had my orders. It’s back on the Wheel with you, and this time you’re staying there.”

Alice saw Abbadona sag, just slightly. Xaphan had already turned away. “And you, Alice? You get to watch.”

She knew what they would do to Abbadona. She’d seen it already, and knew as well as he did what this meant. If she did it, if she turned the fire loose on all of them, it would be a mercy, as far as he was concerned. But he would still die, and he would die at her hands. And no matter what there had been between them, no matter whether he had lied, no matter what he was... he did not deserve to die in this place, and not through her. He had told her that she was his hope, and she could not let his hope be the one to destroy him. Besides, there was still time...

She felt a sudden chill, and a pain somewhere behind her – not quite a part of her, and distant. There was a lurch of vertigo, a flash of light and then, nothing.

T
HERE WAS SOUND
before anything else. Voices seeped in at the edges of Alice’s mind, muffled and distant at first, but growing clearer, louder, more certain.

She opened an eye. Outside, was nothing but searing light, and inside it was dark, and warm, and peaceful. She had a nagging feeling that there was something she was meant to be doing. It was important. It was important and it made her angry. Or perhaps they were both the same thing? It didn’t seem to matter so much in here, in the dark. Maybe she would just stay here for a while...

“Alice. Alice. Aaalice...” The voice calling her name wasn’t one she knew. No – that wasn’t quite true. It wasn’t one she
liked
.

“Alice. I know you’re awake. There’s no point trying to pretend.”

“Time to get up and play, Alice.” Another voice; this one sharp, all edges and points.

Someone poked her hard in the ribs and she rolled over, curling into a ball. Another poke, this time to her back, and harder still.

“Get up, Alice. I’m getting terribly bored of waiting. And, besides, there’s someone here who’s just
dying
to see you again.”

No. She really didn’t like that voice. It reminded her of something: a feeling, more than anything else. Of feeling tired, of feeling cold. Of feeling frightened.

Xaphan. It was Xaphan, and suddenly her eyes were open.

“T
HERE YOU ARE
. I knew you were in there somewhere. You have very pretty eyes, Alice. It would be such a shame to keep them closed any longer. Or to let Purson have them.”

He glanced over his shoulder towards the dark-eyed Fallen standing a few paces behind him, then turned back to Alice. “He’s very impatient, you know. Between you and me, it’s exhausting keeping up with him.
Exhausting
.” He looked back again and rolled his eyes. “But the thing is, he’s very useful. Not to mention well-connected.” He lowered his voice and leaned closer. “I think he’s something of a favourite at the moment. Not that
that
ever lasts for long. We all have our moment in the sun, of course.” He drew away from her again, and Alice automatically tried to follow, but banged her forehead on something cold and solid.

She shook her head to clear it, and it was only as she did this that she saw the bars in front of her.

She was in a cage.

Xaphan watched her register this with great amusement.

“What, you thought you could simply stroll around? Like I’d let that happen. No angel – Descended
or
Earthbound – has ever set foot on my level, never mind in my lab. A half-breed’s bad enough... But then we all have our orders, don’t we? I have mine, you have yours and
he
has his.” He stepped neatly to one side, but even before he did, Alice knew what she would see.

To call it a room would be unfair. It was a space, a workspace: a lab, lit by the same sickly light as the rest of hell. A workbench ran the length of the opposite wall, littered with books, broken glass and strange, twisted tools. A flask sat above a blue-flamed burner; its contents bubbled and shrieked. Where the bench thrust from the rock wall, there was a wheel. Eight feet across, it was built of steel-bolted bone. Broad leather straps hung from its edges; another from its hub, and dark stains spread patchily across it. She knew what this wheel was. She had seen it in Abbadona’s memory. Even from here she could feel it weeping pain like a wound. And even from here she could feel his fear, as he stood beside it with his head bowed in defeat, Purson gripping him tightly and forcing his burned wrist into the first of the straps.

She didn’t realise that the shout was hers until he looked up at her with sad eyes. She didn’t realise that her hands were wrapped around the bars of the cage until the cold-iron froze her palms. She didn’t realise that she was pulling on them, shaking at them, hauling at them with all her strength until her shoulders ached, and even then, she didn’t stop. And all the while, Purson methodically fastened the buckles on the straps.

Alice’s throat was dry and sore but still she couldn’t stop screaming, because everything else was falling away, all the angels; all the fire and the pain; all the blood and the death and the horror... and all that was left was Alice, watching a man she had once thought she loved bound to the wheel where he would die.

He held her gaze, and it no longer mattered that he had never been who she thought he was. It didn’t matter that he had been little more than a spy, nor that he had lied. She was about to watch his execution, and they both knew it.

Purson stepped away from the wheel. The straps held Abbadona –
Rob
, the name such a trivial matter now – stretched out across the wheel. Still his eyes were locked to hers.

“Alice?”

There was a new voice – a woman’s voice. Young. Familiar. Alice tore herself away from the wheel, and looked for it, her grip on the bars slipping, her arms hanging heavily by her sides. There was no-one else there: just Xaphan, Purson and Abbadona, tied to the damned wheel. Waiting.

Waiting for what?

The air around Xaphan began to shimmer, to shiver ever so gently, and then dropped as though everything behind him had been an illusion, a curtain which had been allowed to fall.

Suddenly, there was someone standing beside him. Green eyes, and a streak of black against bright white hair.

“Alice, I’m sorry.”

“No, Florence. You’re not.” Alice’s voice was cracked, but still managed to sound angry, angry enough that Florence took half a step behind Xaphan for protection. “How can you be sorry? You’re on the wrong side of the damn bars.”

“I never... I didn’t...”

“Yes, you did.”

“If you’d just let me explain...”

“Explain what? Why you let everyone think you were dead? Why you left your brother? Why you left Vhnori to the Fallen? And this, what about
this?
You’ve got an explanation for this?” Alice banged on the bars.

“Because Xaphan asked me to.” Florence’s voice was low, her eyes on the ground.

From the wheel, Abbadona began to laugh. “You love him? You’re out of your fucking mind, sister.”

“No one asked you,” snapped Xaphan, taking his eyes off Alice for the first time.

Abbadona snorted. “You got me on the Wheel already, Xaph. What else are you going to do to me? Talk me to death?”

Alice was staring at Florence, her face dark, and Florence shook her head in frustration. “If anyone was going to understand, I would have thought it would be you. We’re the same...”

“No, I really don’t think we are.”