Page 106 of Grave Revelations (Prophecies of Angels and Demons #3)

Chapter 105

Gabriel

Gabriel raced over land, becoming dust, and let his magic carry him on a breeze. When they’d arrived, they had landed in the heart of what was Washington, DC, but so much of the East Coast of the United States was gone that he couldn’t say where.

He reached the ocean, skimming its surface, but wave after wave rose to meet him, sending him higher into the air until he found himself back in the clouds, dodging and narrowly missing lightning strikes.

He pressed forward, racing faster until he spied the remains of Bath, North Carolina, and a funnel of dark beasts blotting the sky.

They were a beacon pointing directly to his destination.

Charging through them, he became whole as he spiraled down, down into the belly of Primoria’s tenebrous depths.

He landed, sending fissures spider veining along the ground, and raced for the throne.

Where four had been, only one remained. Azrael had destroyed the others, intent on taking this realm for himself, and they had all been none the wiser. Even Samael had been out-maneuvered by the greatest strategist their kind had ever known .

He reached Azazel’s throne, fingers curling around the stone as he strained to tear it free from the earth.

The ground shook underfoot, and he spun, coming face to face with the insubstantial form of Azrael, swirling darkness and mist. Sparks of electricity ricocheted through him, cresting atop his head in glittering points; it was clear he delighted in the way he bent his gift as the new King of Hell.

“I can’t say I’m surprised you found redemption, Gabriel,” Azrael said. “You always were His favorite.”

Gabriel lifted his air shield before him, calling to the earth to shape a spear from the stone running along the wall beside him, sliding it into his waiting palm.

“His favorite? I lost everything!” Gabriel retorted. “What’s your excuse?” He gave Azrael a disappointing once-over.

Azrael cocked an eyebrow, inching forward, and Gabriel backed up, blocking his brother’s path to the throne.

“My excuse?!” Some of Azrael’s outline shimmered, going solid in his outrage. “I spent thousands of years fighting for humans. Giving my immortal soul to aid them.”

“We were all given a task, Azrael. You were no different.”

Azrael’s inky feathered wings twitched, the ends misting around his feet. “I bled, re-grew limbs, wings, and even my head more times than I care to count. I left my mate in Alaxia for months, sometimes years, to handle the humans’ petty squabbles. Did your task ask so much of you?”

Gabriel opened his mouth.

“Don’t—” Azrael raised a hand, forming a bright, glowing shaft of electricity in his palm “—give me your sob story. One hundred mortal years without your mate is nothing!” He screamed the last word. “I went without seeing Pierre for over fifteen hundred human years.” His eye twitched. “I counted.”

Azrael stepped closer, the burning spear growing in his hand.

Gabriel pulled thinning air into his shield, strengthening it, and tightened his hold on his shaft .

The room buzzed with ions, and the crackling electricity Azrael called on a whim had begun streaking around them. Lightning exploded in the wall beside Gabriel, sending sparks flying, and he ducked.

Azrael used the chance to strike. He drove his bolt through Gabriel’s shield and into his chest.

The smell of charred flesh hit him hard, and Gabriel stumbled back, falling into Azrael’s chair. It hummed under his weight, sending energy through his limbs, hastening some of his healing.

Azrael screamed in outrage and fell on him, wrapping taloned fingers around his throat as strike after burning strike of lightning sizzled through him, cooking his insides.

Gabriel raised both hands and tried to form a shield, but his vision flickered at the edges even with the trickle of energy coursing through him from Azrael’s throne.

“Rebecca,” he sighed, wishing desperately he could see her one final time. Tell her how sorry he was that he wouldn’t keep his promise.

As his vision darkened, Rebecca appeared before him, angelic. She landed gracefully beside him, beautiful, white wings stretching wide behind her, her expression pained.

He lifted a hand, its weight like a thousand bags of sand. Light, you found me.

She didn’t take it, instead reaching past his hand to his middle. She pulled back, and he turned his head sluggishly, seeing Azrael frozen over him, his face contorted in rage.

Light. You’re not safe. His muddled mind tried to send her a message, to warn her, but he wasn’t sure if she was real or just a manifestation of his greatest desire in his final moments.

Rebecca raised her ethereal arm overhead and swung it down hard. The end of a bone-white lance protruded from the center of Azrael’s chest, and then the world caught up with him.

Gabriel inhaled sharply, feeling every ache and pain as Rebecca rushed forward, catching him in her arms .

Azrael sank to the floor, going solid, his skin lightening to the shade of his angelic form as his taloned fingers retracted until they were blunt once more. His dark eyes cleared, becoming silver, staring out at nothing. As he lay there, charcoal wings splayed wide, golden blood poured from his chest, leaking across the ground and soaking into it.

“Gabriel. Gabriel, are you okay?” Rebecca wrapped her arms around him, kissing his neck and chest, peppering kisses over his face, landing at last on his lips. Where she touched him, white light glowed, and he was healed.

His arms came around her, and he inhaled her scent, feeling her healing magic sink into him.

She squeezed him tightly, her brightly illuminated wings cocooning them both.

He opened his eyes. “Rebecca.”

She lifted her head from his chest, but he hugged her close, refusing to release her.

What’s wrong?

You have wings.

She laughed, pressing another kiss to his cheek. And my very own halo .