A Hackwith - The Library of the Unwritten

“You have it?” Uriel’s question was more like a demand, coming from close behind them. As one, Claire and Hero judged Uriel as the bigger threat and turned.

For the first time, Claire got a close look at the Face of God. She was tall and pale, like a deity carved from stone. Broad shoulders, pale cropped hair, and a narrow nose just below eyes that would simmer judgment for eternity. Her ivory suit flowed, revealing no distinguishing features but perfection. Claire knew the look of a zealot when she saw one, unearthly or not. Uriel’s wings were not a shabby feathered cloak, as was Ramiel’s, but a shattered, fragmented ray of light that splintered from her back and seared eyes if considered too long. Claire briefly wondered how on Earth that translated to a mundane appearance in the eyes of the mortals milling on the bridge.

Beyond Uriel, Hellhounds roiled like a black tide. They were close enough to see now, masses of muscle and matted shadows, eyes a dark red that reminded Claire of Walter’s teeth. They continued shuddering in and out of visible light, jarring like a glitching video, throwing themselves at the shimmering wall that flickered from Uriel’s blade. It seemed to extend far in either direction, for anywhere the beasts tried, a snap of light threw them back. Unlike the wards of Mdina, it showed no signs of failing.

Claire was uncomfortably aware that all that stood between them and her was the fleeting goodwill of Heaven.

Andras made a vague bow to the angel. “The pages and the librarian, as we discussed. Show the angels your little prize, Claire?”

Claire didn’t move. “Introductions first. We’ve not had the pleasure. You must be Uriel. I’m Claire, librarian of the Unwritten Wing.” She jerked a chin toward Hero. “This is Hero, unwritten book of no importance. Bit of an annoying barnacle, really. You might want to send him on his way before he latches on.”

“So immune to my many charms,” Hero said, but Uriel was not amused.

“You are all prisoners of Heaven. Surrender the codex.”

Claire glanced toward the angelic barrier again. “Exactly how long will your party trick hold against Hellhounds?”

For the first time, Uriel smiled. It was a smile that made the human parts of Claire’s brain recoil and shudder. “Nothing from Hell will overcome a blade of Heaven.”

Hero leaned over with a mock whisper. “I’m rusty. Was that a threat or a guarantee of safety?”

“Hard to tell with angels,” Claire said.

“I can confine the human and her companions while you do what must be done, Uriel,” Rami rumbled. He spared a glance for Claire. “Though I will only confine. No harm will come to them.”

“Unless she blasphemes the will of Heaven,” Uriel added.

“Well. I feel reassured,” Hero said.

“Would you just stop ?” Claire hissed.

“What? Betrayal, enemies, certain death… I’m not a hero, remember? The bravery was just for show. All I have left is weaponized wit and my good looks.”

Uriel made a disgusted noise. “I’m eager to be done with this distasteful business. Produce the pages of the codex.”

Andras took a step toward Claire and she flinched. Repulsion coiled in her throat and felt very much like panic. “Don’t touch me.”

“Pup, don’t make this harder—” Andras started, but Hero had his gun out. Claire was pleased to note that he did not step in front of her in some idiot heroic gesture but kept angled to her side so she could move. Perhaps there were perks to maintaining a villain in her service.

“Call me pup again and Hero can shoot you.” Claire’s lip curled, but a hand came down lightly on her elbow. She twitched and turned to see Ramiel. She reached to throw him off, but a wave of chill passed through her. All the strength left her grip. Not just her grip, though—left her . Her shoulders dropped. Her mind momentarily blanked, and it took a hard scrabble to remember her present concern. It surely had been trivial, not worth her time. It’d been so long since she could rest . Her chin fell.

Andras moved forward and began gently digging through her pockets. She could not have fought him, even if she’d been able to form the compulsion to. Some part of the back of her mind began to snarl against it. Claire turned a horrified stare at the angel.

“I apologize for taking liberties, but it’s better this way.” Rami’s voice was reserved. “Mortal souls. It’s part of my gift.”

Hero made to move, but Claire shook her head dully. A gun would do no good against angels. She tried to maintain a steady thought, but it was difficult with the cloud of calm that Ramiel had wrapped around her brain.

Andras finished turning out her pockets. “It’s not here.” He met her eyes with a sudden anger Claire hadn’t seen before. “Where is it?”

“The other?” Ramiel nodded to Hero.

“She wouldn’t trust it with the pages.” Andras’s eyes narrowed. “What have you done, pup?”

“Between the Hounds and the angels and this peculiar feeling I got whenever you talked about the pages…” Her voice was airier than she liked. Claire shrugged with as much will as she could wrest from beneath Rami’s suppressing touch. “I’d hoped I was paranoid. You’re the one who taught me to be cautious.”

“You…” Andras’s eyes turned sharp, and he scrutinized her face. He jerked with a sudden certainty. “The stray.”

A grin twitched on her lips, a little wild and unhinged as she felt Ramiel’s grip ease. She glanced to Hero. “I’d say we distracted the Hounds long enough for him to get to the gate by now, haven’t we?”

Suspicion distorted Uriel’s marble features. Her hand shifted, straying back to the pommel of the sword buried in cobblestone behind her. “Is there a problem, demon?”

“Not for me.” Andras studied Claire’s face with something like admiration, which made her stomach churn. He patted her cheek, once. His fingertips were leaching heat. “But I’m afraid I have a stray to catch. Our business is at an end.”

“Andras…” Claire found her voice just as the demon stepped away. The sad smile on his face was the last thing to disappear as a ground spout of shadows swallowed him into the earth.

“Shit,” Hero said.

The Hellhounds bayed, distant in the silence that followed. Then Uriel’s face transformed. “Betrayal.”

“First rule of demons,” Ramiel said, unimpressed. “We might have anticipated this.” He released his grip on Claire, and she realized he was watching his partner with rising caution. “Uriel, what do we do now?”

“Now?” Uriel’s furious voice nearly cracked with a hysterical note. No—that wasn’t the only thing cracking. A flare shimmered over her face, like lightning under clouds. Claire blinked, sure she’d imagined it, but the angel’s blue eyes looked ignited. The shards of light on her back appeared to split and scissor into blades. Claire flinched despite herself. The angels presented themselves as mortals on Earth, but she remembered the stories of an angel’s true form, vast and wild enough to break human comprehension. That form played close to the surface now, and Claire’s heart stuttered. There was a reason the first words out of an angel’s mouth in the stories were Be not afraid.

“Now I will shred Hell itself, let every demon know that I will not—that the Creator will not —tolerate such insult. That worm dares—”

“But our… prisoners?” Rami pressed, having backed up a step himself.

Uriel frowned, turning to Hero and Claire as if she’d just noticed a buzzing gnat. She calmed. Her voice was distant and preoccupied. “They are of no import.”

And with that, Uriel reached for her sword.