Angela showed him the Grail.
The Eye seemed to scorch through him, judgmental and terrible.
He moaned in agony, his branches collapsing, going instantly limp and slithering away from her back to the chasm they’d erupted from. Angela fell to her knees, resting her head on the cushion of her arms, searching for air and the end of the pain. It came after a short time with her muscles still aching terribly, but not enough to keep her from rocking on her heels and rubbing her legs, groaning softly at their soreness.
The new light broke more slowly than the rays over the distant hills.
Clouds whirled overhead in a giant cauldron of vapor.
Gradually, with a majestic slowness, the light at their center began to mysteriously solidify and descend in a helix, one amazing, crystalline step at a time.
Angela had witnessed rainbows forming in the sky, but this was different. Infinitely more beautiful, dazzling, breathtaking. The brightness was so strong, it forced the shadows in the valley to recede, and Angela’s clothes seemed lined with silver, like a cloud in front of the sun. And as the great Stairs continued to descend, each level grew larger and more magnificent than the last, platforms of light that were larger than any building. Below, Azrael’s tree appeared small and insignificant, while souls left his nearly comatose grasp one by one, beginning the steady ascension up to the surface of Luz. Millions rose to freedom, not a few gazing back at Angela in happy confusion, their bodies like a line of gray twining with the helix of the stairs.
The way out of the Netherworld was obviously vastly different from the way in.
It was beautiful. Maybe, besides Israfel, the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen.
But I have seen it before.
Her dream of Sophia. Hadn’t she been standing in front of a stairway of light?
And it looked exactly like this one.
“Go up,” Angela whispered, suddenly overcome by a sense of urgency. The souls seemed to obey instinctively, but not quickly enough. “Higher. Faster.”
Screeches of despair rang out from the valley behind her. Faintly, so very faintly, she could hear someone calling her name as if to curse her. Despite the unspeakable beauty of this Ladder, and how swiftly she’d wrenched it from Azrael’s grasp, her confidence was wavering. She was alone, and behind her were countless enemies. Now the darkness they’d chosen their entire lives was ready to swallow them in nothingness. They had chosen Lucifel. They had chosen a void. And they hated Angela for having to make that choice.
She would have to confront them. It was now both her duty—and her right.
Angela stood up, turning to command them into silence.
Stephanie was there to greet her, her expression shockingly cold. She looked to the Ladder, her face bathed in its light, but only to bring out ghastly shadows across her face. “This must be a miracle, but I’m still not sure I believe in it . . .”
Thick surprise choked off Angela’s voice.
She’s here by herself. But how? Did Naamah help her again?
However Stephanie had managed to enter the Netherworld, or whenever she’d chosen to do it, she must have been hiding all along, waiting for Angela to put Azrael in his place. But what a difference a day could make. She’d dressed herself in a long black coat identical to Kim’s, but with the upper buttons open to reveal her blouse, and the lower opened to give her legs room to move freely. If it was possible, her skin and hair and makeup were even more perfect than before. Only her eyes had changed.
Their irises were blood red. Lucifel’s shade.
Stephanie spotted the Grail and gestured for it, curling a finger. “By the way, I think it’s finally time to share your toys.”
Thirty-eight
For these Jinn, loyalty rises above all else, and betrayal is punished by the cruelest of deaths. Yes, I’m afraid the consequences of your unfaithfulness will be dire.
—REVEREND MATTHIAS GREENE, Letters of Spiritual Direction
Master, the half-breed, he’s—
Fury’s voice cut off sharply, timed to a flicker of crimson light beyond the trees.
Troy skidded to a stop in the leaf litter, her nails ripping through the soil. She’d heard the thunderous beat of Naamah’s wings, yet still hadn’t been quick enough. This was her punishment for leaving Sariel behind, no matter how briefly. Now the demon was going to finish a mission Troy had started centuries ago, leaving her with nothing but a bone or two to placate the Jinn Queen. Her sister wouldn’t humor any kind of excuse. Troy would be the laughingstock of all High Assassins, abysmally stupid for allowing a demon to snatch her prey away.
What a difference minutes could make.
She’d been searching through the shrubs and undergrowth for any sign of Israfel, catching brief traces of him, but losing most of those beneath another overpowering stench. An herb seemed to be growing everywhere, its straight, limp leaves splayed across the ground and giving off a tremendously offensive smell. Troy had torn one of the plants—a heart-shaped white thing no bigger than her eyes—out of the earth, nearly spitting in revulsion from the thick, peppery odor clinging to its bulb. Then she’d scampered back toward Tileaf’s tree, deftly dodging fallen trunks and thick branches.