Michael picked me up and launched into the air, soaring over the heads of angels and demons alike until we reached the clearing where his brothers were fighting. Despite the dismal surroundings, the flight was breathtaking. His wings parted the sky with powerful movements. I wrapped my arms tighter around his neck, resisting the urge to touch one of his wings out of pure curiosity.
He landed us a good ways from the creature, calling for Gabriel’s attention. The blond angel retreated quickly, commanding his soldiers to continue fighting in his stead. The false angel didn’t seem to care. It attacked anything angelic within its reach like some sort of rabid animal.
“Am I to assume we have a plan?” Gabriel asked.
“Not the best plan, but it’s better than nothing.”
He stared at Michael then. “That’s not very encouraging, brother.”
“You don’t know the half of it,” he muttered, but pressed on anyway. “Jordan proposed using herself as a conduit to combine our powers and destroy the false angel.”
Gabriel’s eyes widened. “She can do that?”
“Here’s the Cliffnotes version—I have a small trace of Christ’s blood in me, and it should give us the power we need to kill the false angel,” I said.
He frowned. “Should?”
I put one hand on my hip. “You got a better plan?”
He winced. “Point taken. How exactly are we going to pull this off?”
“I figure a three-pronged attack,” I said. “Gabriel, you trap the false angel in the strongest shield you can conjure and keep it still enough for us to make a move. Michael will drive his sword into its chest to injure it. Raphael will use his healing powers. I think that should release the dead souls that give it its power. If I’m right, that’ll cause all three elements to disengage.”
“It might work,” Gabriel said. “The only problem is that Raphael is fighting Belial, and I doubt he’s going to let him just walk away.”
“We’ll take care of that,” Ithuriel said, glancing at his partner. Zephon nodded. They stepped back and leapt into the air, flying over to the vicious fight between Belial and Raphael.
Michael touched my shoulder. “Do you know how to form this trinity?”
I hesitated. “More or less. I need to release my energy and meld it with each of yours to form a connection. It probably involves some form of physical contact to get it started, just like our healing powers.”
I paused. “I always pictured my first foursome going a little differently.”
Gabriel and Michael both sighed in unison, which made me grin. “Not now, Jordan.”
“I’m here,” Raphael’s voice called out from behind us, making me turn. He was breathless and bleeding, but still in one piece. Michael scooped me up again and we launched into the air. The false angel was swatting angels aside like flies, covered in blood, dirt, and gore. The ground around him was littered with the dead and the dying.
After Michael set me down, I stood in the middle of the three angels, pressing one hand to Michael and Gabriel’s armored chests while Raphael laid one hand on my back. I closed my eyes and reached down inside myself for the power that lay dormant, cajoling it to rise up between us. It felt like a warm, radiant light in my chest: comforting, soothing, and yet the most powerful thing I’d ever experienced.
The archangel’s energy rushed in to meet with mine. They all mixed and blended and then hardened, as if three precious metals had been melted down and fortified into something unstoppable. At last, the connection solidified and our minds were on the same accord: vanquish.
The false angel spotted us and dove forward, reaching its monstrous hand for me, but Gabriel lifted his arm. An invisible force stopped it in mid-stride. The false angel let out a sickening roar of fury, struggling with all its might, but it couldn’t move. Michael stepped away and unsheathed his sword, walking towards the false angel. White fire licked up the blade as he neared the creature. A spot in Gabriel’s shield opened for him.
In the distance, Belial screamed “NO!” just as Michael plunged the sword into the false angel’s chest. No blood came out, only a blinding white light, almost like the one that had been in Michael’s body when Belial tried to overtake it.
Raphael stepped forward as Michael removed the sword, pressing his hand over the wound and closing his eyes in concentration. He murmured soft words in a Latin healing incantation. The false angel began to convulse in his invisible prison, its head flying back in a soundless scream. The light grew even brighter and shot into the sky like a beacon. All at once, the souls of the dead that the sliver had called to it flew from the wound in the false angel’s chest. I felt it in my bones that they were now at peace and crossing over to the other side to see the Father. It was a beautiful sight.