Here comes Heaven.
With every passing second, the air currents turn more intense. My limbs feel like they’re being torn off. Pain radiates through my bones. Getting into Heaven is never pleasant when you’re part demon, but this is especially painful. I grip more tightly onto Lincoln, pressing my cheek against his firm chest. Even through the wind roars in my ears, I can still hear my guy’s steady heartbeat. He’s part angel, so this stuff doesn’t hurt him. Touching him helps.
A minute later, it’s all over. Blissfully-still air encompasses us. The igni disappear. Lincoln and I now stand before the Pearly Gates. I inhale a shaky breath. I’ve never seen the gates up close before. They’re a huge pair of doors made from intricate loops of shifting igni. This is one of the places where my little ones hang out when they aren’t helping me zap stuff around. On either side of this entrance, a barrier wall stretches off into the distance. It’s enough to make you feel ant-like in comparison.
No one else is around outside of Lincoln and me, although that’s no shocker. Human souls get zapped into Heaven’s interior by yours truly. Angels fly their way in and out of Heaven. The Pearly Gates are rarely used.
I scan the clouds for angels. There are none in sight. That’s strange. Dad told me that angels flew past the gates all the time.
Lincoln gives my hand a gentle squeeze. “Are you all right?”
“Getting into Heaven hurts like a bitch. Once I’m here, it’s cool.” From what Dad told me, it’s that way for full-blooded demons, too. It was one of the reasons why they never expected an invasion from Hell. Oops. “How are you doing?”
“I’ve been better.” There’s a sad look in his eyes that I’ve never seen before.
I cup Lincoln’s face in my hands. The bristle on his cheeks tickles my palms. “Don’t worry about the codex. Mourn and Dusk said it was supposed to go to the Wheeler Institute. I’m sure that’s where it is right now, and we’re already prepped and ready to visit. We will find the codex again.”
“I hope so, Myla.” He leans into my touch. “The thought of being parted from you…”
My mouth falls open. Lincoln is not an “I hope so” kind of guy. He’s Mister Confidence. Something is off. “Hey, I know it sucked to have Aldred ambush us, but we’re warriors, right? We bounce back.”
“We’ll try.”
I’m about to give him a quick pep talk (okay, lecture) on being positive, when the sound of flapping wings fills the air. A shadow falls over us. Considering how bright everything is, the darkness feels heavy as a blanket. Looking up, I see a dozen angels flying toward us. The sun is behind them, so their faces stay hidden in shadow. Even so, I can tell that one angel has golden wings. Bet that’s Dad. Golden feathers are an archangel thing.
A deep voice booms down from the skies. “Myla-la?” Oh, that’s my father, all right. I’m so happy to see him I decide not to give my standard speech about calling me baby names in public.
I wave up to Dad. “Yup. It’s me. Lincoln’s here, too.”
Lincoln steps away from my touch. He’s usually an affectionate kind of guy, so he must be in a mood. I’ll work on him later.
Dad swoops around at top speed before slowly landing before us. He wears his knightly armor and holds a baculum sword of white flame.
I grin. My archangel father is so cool.
“What’s wrong?” asks Dad. “Why didn’t you get official passage to Heaven?” Typically, the process involves getting an angelic posse to carry you across the border, including all those anti-pain enchantments for those of us with a demonic side.
Overhead, the other dozen or so angels hover in battle formation. All of them carry regular broadswords and wear lighter armor. My father acts as the General of the angelic army, so whenever something unexpected happens, he always calls in his troops.
“No one’s attacking, Dad. We came here to follow up on your note.” My father still looks distracted, so I feel it’s necessary to clarify things. “The Wheeler Institute, remember?”
My father scans the cloudy ground like Armageddon himself will pop up out of the mist. Then, I realize that’s exactly what had happened here, only hundreds of years ago. My father fought in the infamous Battle of the Gates, which took place right at this spot. It was the first time someone from my family defeated Armageddon. Needless to say, the King of Hell has been trying to kill us all ever since.
Dad’s eyes narrow. “Are you certain there’s no trouble?”
“No one is attacking, I mean it.” Good thing I’m telling the truth. My father can totally tell if I’m lying. It’s some kind of archangel-magic thingy.
Dad doesn’t move. He doesn’t extinguish his fire-sword, either. “Then what are you doing at the Pearly Gates? I planned to lead the team that would carry you into Heaven.” Which would have been awesome. Getting carried around by my archangel Dad is pretty much the ultimate.