Wrath of the Fallen by Eve Archer
Chapter Twenty-Three
Dominick
Rami cut his eyes to me as we trudged behind Mastema and Caspiel through the bowels of the chateau. When I’d asked the demon prince to share his news with me, I hadn’t expected that he would lead us even farther into his lair.
I swiveled my head to take in the narrow corridor that was covered in red, flocked wallpaper, the images of bird wings fluttering up the walls. Squinting through the dim light provided only by the occasional brass wall sconce, I questioned whether the velvety wings actually belonged to birds.
We’d long since left behind the high ceilings and shimmering glass of the chateau. The moment Mastema had opened the glossy, black doors at the back of the mansion, we’d been descending deeper and deeper underground, the air becoming cooler and the scent of sulphur growing more pungent.
“Do you think we’re going to reach hell?” Rami whispered to me, after he’d fallen back several steps from Mastema and Caspiel.
“Sadly, no,” Mastema called over his shoulder without turning around. “Not that Lucifer wouldn’t welcome two fallen angels like you with open wings.”
I swallowed hard at the truth of this. Spending eternity in the fires of hell with the original fallen angel Lucifer was indeed our fate. But it wasn’t one I planned to meet today.
“We’re here,” Mastema said, after a few more turns brought him to a pair of heavy, bronze doors. He grabbed the horn-shaped door handles and tugged them open.
If I’d expected a medieval-style torture chamber befitting the prince of demons or even a dark, shadowy subterranean lair, I would have been sorely disappointed. The room beyond the doors was brightly lit and massive, with flat screens covering the walls, and sleek desks arranged in rows in front of high-tech consoles.
“Where are we exactly?” Rami asked.
Mastema strode in and opened his arms wide. “This is where I do my business. This is where I monitor what’s going on in the world, and how my demons can use that to our advantage.”
I scanned the large space, noticing the well-dressed demons tapping away at keyboards and scouring digital maps. News reports being given by overly made-up blondes dominated the screens, interspersed with televangelists spouting fire and brimstone. So, this was demon central. Despite our large holdings, even the Fallen didn’t have a room quite like this.
“Impressive,” I said. “I’m starting to doubt your need for my deputy.”
Mastema shook his head. “This is only for monitoring the evil in the world and dispatching the proper envoys. I need Rami to help me monetize our demonic activity like he’s helped monetize your hedonistic desires.”
I was going to say that hedonism was easier to monetize than evil, but I was afraid that wasn’t true. Fear and evil had always reigned among the wealthiest.
Mastema pivoted to Caspiel. “Show us.”
The demon nodded, moving to a nearby console and whispering to the demon posted there. Within moments, the screens overhead changed. For a moment, I didn’t know what we were looking at—then I did.
“Jerusalem,” Rami whispered in horror, as news reports scrolled across the screens.
I stared at the devastation displayed in the images, and my breath caught in my throat at the amateur video footage of lightning exploding from the cloudless sky and black, tunneled tornados whirling down from the stillness one after the other. “When did this happen?”
Caspiel straightened, folding his arms over his chest and staring at the chaos with a small smile. “Not long after you left the old city.”
I exchanged a look with Rami. This was clearly a reaction to Azrael’s body being found on top of the dome with Uriel’s sword still lodged in it.
“It’s a good thing you got out when you did,” Mastema said. “It looks like the city experienced cataclysmic weather events that nearly destroyed that guesthouse where my demon found you.”
I was unable to rip my gaze from the looping footage of wreckage that made the ancient streets look like a war zone, my pulse racing as I thought about the innocent visitors and nuns who’d been caught in the chaos.
“They must have known we were gone,” Rami said in a hushed voice as he shook his head slowly.
“They did not do this to try to destroy you,” Mastema said. “This looks like the carnage after a celestial battle.”
I stepped closer to the screens. “Uriel would have found his sword in Azrael.”
“And known that Azrael had taken it to eliminate Ella and benefit Gabriel,” Rami said.
“He wouldn’t allow Gabriel to use his sword when they appeared at our fortress. I doubt he sanctioned the angel of death to wield it.”
“Never,” Rami said. “Uriel never trusted Azrael’s power.”
“Then he wouldn’t have liked knowing Gabriel was using it for his own purposes.” I shook my head as I watched the inexplicable twisters and bolts of fire tearing the sky over Jerusalem in two. “And it appears that Gabriel wasn’t pleased that I slayed his errand boy.”
Mastema rubbed his hands together. “There’s nothing quite like a war between the angels.”
My mouth went dry as I watched the images of fury and destruction. The prince of demons was right. This wasn’t just a celestial outburst. This was a torrent of rage that had spilled from heaven and onto Earth. “It’s been so long since there was this much dissent among the celestials. Even when we fell, there was no battle.”
“We didn’t fight our banishment,” Rami said. “We acknowledged our sin and left without creating more trouble.”
“Gabriel will never acknowledge his sin.” I gritted my teeth at this. “That would mean he is like us, and he would never accept that.”
Rami flung an arm toward the screens. “So, he kills and destroys to cover up his further sin? It looks like the other angels won’t let him get away with it any longer.”
I narrowed my eyes at the looping video. “What if you’re right? What if this was all to cover up his role in Azrael stealing Uriel’s blade and coming down to earth to kill the evidence of his disobedience?”
Rami looked at the screens then back at me. “You think all this was Gabriel? How could he explain that?”
I wasn’t sure, but I felt certain Gabriel was behind it all.
“It would make sense if he threw his errand boy under the bus,” Mastema said. “He could claim that Azrael stole Uriel’s sword on his own, and that he was forced to battle him on earth to prevent the angel of death from killing a human.”
Rami gaped at Mastema. “He would take the blame for Azrael’s death?”
The prince of demons twitched up one shoulder. “Better that than admit that he was complicit, yet too cowardly to do the deed himself. This way he would have acted heroically and sacrificed his own angel brethren to save a human.”
I frowned. I would never believe Gabriel to be so heroic, but then I’d spent the past thousands of years hating him. “Uriel will not be so easily convinced.”
“No, he won’t,” Rami agreed. “If this wasn’t an angel war, there is still one brewing.”
And we were the cause of it.
