I lift my hands. I’m a matchstick poised to strike. I spark, lighting the fuse inside me, becoming an arsonist, destroying fallen angels and demons without mercy. Emil notices the commotion that I’m making with my magic. He pauses from his task of ripping the world in two. Focusing his full attention on us, his lips move. “My inescapable lover,” I hear Emil whisper in my mind, “how shall I enslave you this time?”
He aims his magic at us, thrusting energy. The army of fallen in the path between Emil and me become crumbling sand sculptures slowly falling apart. Brennus tries to block the spell with his own magic, but it keeps coming, crawling over him and turning his forearm crispy. He urges the black winged-horse aside, soaring away from the beam that will kill us. Emil lifts his hand once more, his golden armor gleaming, even in the lack of light. Aiming his palm at us, he’s unable to throw his magic because Reed appears in front of him. Emil shifts his diabolical magic to Reed, plying him with heinous energy. Reed’s ring takes the brunt of the curse Emil would cast upon him.
With the spade blades notched between Reed’s fingers, he slashes Emil in the throat, cutting an X pattern in his flesh and watching his blood spurt from his body. Emil reels back, his blood flowing down the front of his golden armor. He reaches for the first being he sees. A Cherub falls into his clutches. Emil’s hands glow golden. The gaping slits in his throat closes in seconds, appearing on the neck of the Cherub in his grasp. Emil takes a huge, ragged breath in; his eyes wild and wide with the need for air. Reed presses forward, cutting through bodies of evil creatures that get in his way. My inescapable is in full retreat, flying across the divide, back into the underworld. Reed doesn’t stop at the threshold, but follows him into Sheol. His ring glows blue, the jewel in the center glows with its own fire
The other demons Emil has left behind press into our realm, engaging in the battle without any sign of retreat. “REED,” I scream. I dismount the winged-horse. “REED!” I soar after him, veering into the mass of fallen, swinging my hammer and knocking the life out of everything in my way.
Reed tugs on the chain around his neck that holds the whistle. It emerges from underneath his armor. Placing it to his lips, he steps over the threshold of our world into Sheol. The second he does, blue light from his ring closes in around him and he disappears, becoming invisible. I hear rather than see him blow the whistle. Atwater must have taught him the notes to use to close our worlds when he gave the boatswain to him. The sound is muffled. It doesn’t affect me the way it had when I was next to it. This time, I hardly feel it at all.
The sky around us begins to change. The fabric of our world, the one of gray skies and dark clouds closes in, making the red sky behind it shrink. I panic knowing Reed is on the other side closing the gateway to Sheol. He plans to try to kill Byzantyne and Emil on his own. It’s not a bad plan. If he can make Emil’s Seraph mentor cease to be and slay Emil’s angelic body, only Emil’s soul would survive. Wouldn’t it? But Emil would be trapped in Sheol. It could work! It would allow Reed and me to remain together, but it’s still a horrible plan for one reason: he intends to do it without me.
Trumpets sound. Startled, I turn, scanning the clouds behind me. Divine winged warriors careen through the air in rows like paper angels strung up in the sky. Weapons gleam from sunbursts that cut through the clouds. Some divine angels are attired in black armor with red Xs on the front of it. Others wear red armor with black Ts across the chest and abdomen. They engage in the fighting. The roar of their war cries echoes in the air.
Even though the gateway is closing, it doesn’t mean the battle is any less excruciatingly real. There are hundreds of thousands of fallen and divine angels clawing at one another everywhere I look. I turn and keep moving toward Sheol, slicing through anything that gets in my way. Brennus and Finn are by my side, cutting and slashing demons to get us to the entrance of Sheol. “Do ye intend ta go dere den?” Brennus shouts, while beating back a bald skeletal beast that is in a very serious stage of decomposition.
“Yes,” I reply, not looking at him, but using the long handle of my battle hammer like a bo staff to beat away anything that gets near me. I reach the threshold to Sheol. It’s closing in fast.
“Den I go wi’ ye,” Brennus says, raising his chin as if he expects an argument from me. On the contrary, I think it’s a solid plan having someone with me to help. It might just be the best plan he’s ever had in his undead life.
“Okay,” I agree. Finn takes a position on my left side, protecting me from being assaulted by flocks of bat-winged reconno?tres with taffy puller-shaped mouths.
Struggling through the misshapen mess of violent creatures, we make it to the edge of Sheol. I fly over it to the other side. My hammer glows an eerie blue. Finn calls out, “Genevieve! It works!”
“What works?” I ask, but something strange is happening. Evil creatures are now avoiding me, careening around me as if I repulse them.