There were dozens of children.
Between five and ten per cell. A quick scan told me we had underestimated the number captured. My stomach turned. They’d been herded and locked up like animals. All seemingly alive, though some, like the men upstairs, appeared to be just hanging on. The stench was overwhelming. They’d been left with nothing more than a small bucket in the corner of each cage. There was nothing else – no beds, no blankets – nothing but a cold concrete floor and metal bars for walls.
I felt another jab at my back as I was pushed into an empty cage, then the gate closed behind me with a click and I heard a key secure the lock.
Don’t panic.
I was acutely aware of the numerous pairs of young eyes fixed on me. Some looked as young as four or five, the oldest maybe ten or eleven.
Phoenix stood by the gate, looking over the cells, surprise registering on his face. He covered it quickly and turned to one of the dark exiles.
‘She’s been busy,’ he said, his tone approving.
The exile grinned. ‘Big group came in from Canada and the Antanov flew in yesterday from Russia,’ he reported.
Phoenix nodded. ‘Leave us. Post a guard at the top of the stairs. No one in or out,’ he ordered.
Once the exiles had disappeared up the stairs I felt the blood drain from my face and leaned against the bars for support.
‘There are too many,’ I whispered frantically. ‘And what certainty do we have that she won’t just recapture the ones she releases after we’re dead?’ I wanted to take a deep breath to try and clear my head but the smell was overpowering and I was already fighting the urge to gag.
Phoenix shook his head, leaning close to me so the children couldn’t hear. ‘She won’t if you can make her pledge on it. Angels must adhere to a sworn oath. Exiles are hazy on the issue. Some are bound by oaths and others can break them. But Lilith was such a powerful angel, her oaths are still strong. If she makes one, she will not break it. You need to make her swear to the children’s eternal freedom before the ceremony.’
‘Will she?’
‘She’s so confident, she probably will.’
I felt a sharp stabbing pain in my lower back. I grabbed the collar of Phoenix’s shirt and pulled him against the bars. ‘Please, go to Lincoln. They are hurting him.’
Phoenix looked at me sorrowfully, but nodded.
It was a sorry thing, but right then I was comforted by the knowledge that after my death, Lincoln would not have to suffer the pain of seeing me and feeling it – his soul would shatter the moment I died and then even his own death wouldn’t hurt him.
I moved to the back of my cage, the children surrounding it as if I were some kind of magnet. Their eyes were alight with a dangerous emotion. Hope.
My chest tightened and I suddenly felt the weight of so many lives hanging in the balance.
‘Breathe,’ a young voice said.
I spun to see one of the oldest children.
‘Breathe,’ he said again.
I realised I was panting, on the verge of hyperventilating. I tried to calm myself down. I thought it wasn’t going to work, but then I felt him.
Lincoln.
Our bond, our souls. It wasn’t like when Phoenix had infiltrated my emotions, this was more intimate and natural. He was just there, wrapping himself around me and comforting me like afternoon sun seeping into my skin. I crouched and closed my eyes, concentrating on the warmth that was spreading through my body and into my soul.
‘Good,’ said the young voice.
I opened my eyes and watched the boy, amazed. He was maybe eleven and from the way the younger kids watched him, he was a leader.
‘What’s your name?’ I asked.
‘Simon,’ he said, standing tall.
I nodded to him. ‘Thanks, Simon.’
‘That’s okay. Took us all a bit of time to adjust, down here. Cages and stink don’t make happy thoughts.’
I sat down, still buzzing from feeling my connection to Lincoln, regaining strength by the second. I could feel that he had been beaten, but just as he was there for me, I knew he was feeling me too. Together, we had a safe place.
And we needed it.
‘Are you here to save us?’ came a small voice from behind.
I turned to face a tiny blonde girl, no more than six years old. She was stick thin, wearing what looked like a nightie, ripped and dirty, her face bruised and her exposed feet blackened. Her huge brown eyes blinked at me as she waited for my reply. All their eyes were wide and focused on me.
So many. An arrow for each of them. There’s no way …
I swallowed and glanced at Simon, who was watching me carefully. So young, but he seemed to look at me with understanding.
He turned to the others and spoke confidently. ‘Of course she is. Why else do you think God sent her to us?’