chapter twenty-seven

“What is with him?” I asked the quiet room.

“He’s a little touchy,” Miri said, not fazed at all by Longinus’ outburst. She was back to scrolling through the screens on her computer.

Knowles cleared his voice. “In a vision, Miri saw Akaros with the intact spear—the obvious conclusion being that Longinus fails in his mission to protect the spearhead, despite his vehement protestations.” Knowles was a shadow in the corner, his voice seeming to come from everywhere at once.

Miri looked up and shrugged. “I didn’t like telling Longinus about that dream, let me tell you. And I sure hope I’m wrong.” She turned back to her screen. “I hope I’m wrong about all of it.”

“So . . . Who is he, anyway?”

Cornelius opened his mouth, a stern expression directed at Miri. I thought he’d tell her off for being impertinent or something. Instead he sighed and the tiniest of smiles graced his lips. “He has the unique ability to come back from the dead. An ancient curse, I’m afraid, but a gift to us. You see, Longinus is the guardian of the spear of destiny.”

“The spear of destiny.” I’m sure my left eyebrow quirked upward and I probably wore a scornful look on my face. At least I didn’t snort.

“We believe Akaros means to claim the spearhead and attach it to the staff he carries—the one Michael tells us was formed from the Tree of Knowledge, itself. A more powerful weapon would never have existed in this world before. The power to destroy, forever, any that are not ready to Ascend. Deadly to mortals, Gardians and the Fallen—that is if the two pieces are allowed to be united.”

I looked at my hands. At my hand in Michael’s. My hand that was so cold. And while I watched, black tendrils curled and snaked their way over my fingertips, across the back of my hand and up my wrist. I jerked, wanting to pull away from Michael before he saw it, or felt it, or before I infected him. If that was even possible.

But he held on more tightly, and even put his other hand on top of mine, so it was caught between both of his. He looked at me, and while I avoided meeting his gaze I felt his calling mine, demanding that I connect. Acknowledge him.

“Desi,” he said, so softly I thought no one else in the room could hear him. “We have to get the staff from Akaros. Before he has the chance to get the spearhead. If he gets it . . . ”

“Big badda boom,” Miri said, just as quietly.

“Something like that,” Michael responded. He moved his hand upward, warming my shivering arm. “Have you seen it? You know . . . the staff?” His eyes searched mine, unable to admit the truth even when it stared right back at him.

“In Hell, you mean.” He recoiled like I had slapped him. And in a way, maybe I had. I couldn’t let him forget who I was, that I wasn’t the girl he remembered, the loved-by-an-angel girl. I was Desolation. The devil’s daughter.

I looked at Father Cornelius and Longinus, who had quietly returned to the room and reclaimed his post in the corner. They didn’t know—they were human. They knew nothing.

My eyes flicked to Knowles, wondering how much he knew of Lucifer and his plans. It was Michael’s face, though, that drew me. His warm eyes and golden touch. What did he know of the evil that lurked beyond this world—beyond Asgard? The closest I thought he’d ever come was the War—but Akaros and Lucifer were Gardians back then. Golden. Shining.

Michael couldn’t even fathom how far they’d fallen.

How far I’d fallen.

He looked at me now with love and trust. Two things I feared I’d never be worthy of.

I yanked my hand from his grasp and stood, rocking my chair as I did. I clenched my fists at my side and glared at the people around me.

“You are foolish. Every one of you.” I made sure each of them knew I meant them—personally. Even Miri. “You are humans, a Fallen who had never set foot in Hell before the other day, and a Gardian who’s blinded by love.” Michael flinched, but I forced myself to turn away from him. It was better this way. Better for him to know, before he let himself believe there could ever be anything more between us—the girl he knew was gone. Long gone.

“You’ve only seen a Shadow—and maybe a Halo,” I said, glancing at Michael. Cold burned through my veins, but I wouldn’t stop. Couldn’t stop. They were talking about things they knew nothing about. “You have no idea what Lucifer—the Glorious, Triumphant Devourer of Hope, the Lord of Lies, King of Injustice, Father of Horrors, my father—you have no idea what he is capable of.”

Knowles opened his mouth to protest, but I thrust my fist toward him and watched in surprise as a burst of air flowed from it and made Knowles cough, effectively cutting him off.

“No, you don’t know, whatever you might think. You saw him as a man—I know him as the Shadow he is—the demon. Don’t fool yourselves,” I said. “He is a god, and none can defy him.”

Knowles, whose eyes had grown wide, finally showing the fear that befitted the situation, pointed at my hand that I now held clenched at my side.

“What is that?” His words bit into the air, accusing.

“It’s nothing,” Michael said, jumping to his feet and blocking Knowles’ view of me.

“Let me see,” Knowles demanded, but Michael didn’t budge.

“Are you keeping secrets, little girl?” Knowles tried to shoulder Michael out of the way, but he was like a boulder, steadfast and immovable. I had a twinge of pride then, a moment of communion. And then I shoved it away.

“I have no secrets,” I said, stepping around Michael. I held my arm out in front of me for everyone to see the tendrils of inky black that curled around my forearm. “I’ve told you. I’m not what you think—I am a demon.”

“No you’re not!” Miri said, but her voice was even higher than usual, the tight strain belying the words she meant to defend me. “I’ve seen your Halo.”

“I knew you were divided—I’ve seen the proof. But that is unlike any Shadow I have ever seen,” Knowles whispered, his voice cracking just a little.

I looked at my hand, then shrugged. It seemed the least of our problems.

“Well, then,” Cornelius said, slipping the glasses that hung from a chain around his neck back onto his nose. “I think we knew when we first met in the crypt that she was not the one we sought—not the Pure.”

I wasn’t ready to give up this foolish argument that there was any hope for mankind if Father bent his will to Ragnarok. If he wanted to bring death and destruction to Earth—that’s what they’d get.

“But it has to be her,” Longinus said. Even Knowles and Michael moved to the table and watched while Cornelius found the paper he was looking for.

“A sacred weapon,” Cornelius said.

“The rod.” Longinus nodded his head, thoroughly confident. I wanted to believe I didn’t know what they were talking about, but at the mention of the spear, my skin tingled and knowing tugged at the back of my mind. The garden, the precious staff on my lap . . .

“The blood of Ascension.”

Everyone looked at Longinus whose face hardened (that’s if a stone can get stonier) under their gaze. He pulled an object from beneath his shirt. He gripped it in his hand so tightly I expected him to bleed. He finally opened his palm and held the object out for everyone to see.

In his hand, he clasped a spearhead, the center point about four inches long and deadly, its surface mottled with the patina of age. “I vow to you, the devil himself would have to pry this from my cold, dead hands to rid me of the weight of this burden. And that cannot happen.” The fire I’d seen when we first came into the room flashed in Longinus’ eyes.

His passion was admirable, but pointless. I grunted and rolled my eyes.

“Yes?” Cornelius asked me, while Longinus’ clenched his jaw.

“You can’t be serious.” I paused long enough to get that they really were. Not one looked away. Even Miri glanced up from her laptop with wide, questioning eyes. I gestured to the thing in Longinus’ hand. “That wouldn’t stop Michael, let alone Lucifer.” I resisted looking at Michael, asking him to forgive me. And I resisted the shiver that worked its way through my body—I didn’t want to admit to anyone, least of all myself, that even I didn’t know what could stop Father. I couldn’t even stand against Akaros—he was far too powerful. Certainly for any of them.

No one said anything, but it was obvious from the looks on their faces that it was me they thought was nuts.

Miri cleared her throat and when I met her eyes, she held her laptop up. “Here,” she said. Michael and I switched seats so I could dutifully look at the screen she turned toward me. “See this?” She showed me a painting I recognized, as it was from the post-Raphaelite era I loved and featured prominently in the tapestries I had in my rooms in Hell. This picture showed Christ on the cross while a Roman centurion pierced his side with a spear.

“So?”

“Look closely,” Miri urged.

She double clicked on the image. It filled the screen and I leaned forward—and recognized the tip of the spear. It was the relic Longinus still clung to as if it were his very purpose for existing.

I searched his face but while he met my gaze, he gave nothing away.

And then it hit me.

Longinus, a man who felt as timeless as the Earth itself, a man who I couldn’t get any kind of read on. Clutching the object in his hands like it was the Holy Grail itself.

“Oh, hell no.”

No one spoke. No one even seemed to breathe for the space of one, two, three seconds.

And then Miri sighed. And Knowles cleared his throat.

Michael took my hand and squeezed it.

Longinus didn’t move. He didn’t even blink.

“Yes,” Cornelius said. “The spearhead is bathed in the blood of Christ—the blood of an Ascending Gardian. No Gardian could stand against such a weapon. And, with it, Heimdall will fall. He is the god who guards the Bifrost—the Bridge between all the worlds. With such a weapon, all the gods could fall.”

I glanced at the tapestry on the wall—the one of the Tree of Life, really a depiction of Ygdrasyll, the tree of worlds. If Heimdall fell, if Asgard . . .

I looked at my hand in Michael’s, and Remembered how we dreamed of Ascension and creating a world of our own. I looked at Miri, who stared at her computer screen, unmoving, not reading. Tears glistened on her cheeks.

If Heimdall fell, everyone fell. The Gardians on Earth could never return home to Asgard, let alone Ascend.

If Heimdall fell, Father would have his wish—everyone would be his.

Forever.

“Well, okay then,” I said—my ability to state the obvious one of my greatest talents.

Cornelius cleared his throat, but I glued my gaze on Longinus. I needed the strength of his conviction if I was going to be any use to them at all.

“The blood of the Lost,” Cornelius said. “The blood of one who has sold their eternal soul for the trappings of this human life.” Cornelius looked at me over the silver rims of his glasses. A list popped into my head: Daniel, Marcus from homeroom, James. Miri.

My gaze slipped, along with everyone else’s, over to Miri. She seemed completely at ease under our scrutiny.

“I’m not going anywhere alone,” she said. “You guys are my protectors. I’m going to make like a shadow—” I flinched. “I mean, I’ll be like chocolate on peanut butter—just try to shake me.” She laughed a little, but I still noticed the way her cheeks paled and she lost the nerve to meet my eyes.

“Truly, she must not be left alone. Not for a moment.” Longinus tucked the spearhead into his shirt, his body fairly trembling with emotion. “I will not allow any ill to befall you.” His fierce declaration to Miri rocked me and a measure of sorrow seeped into my bones. He loved her. Like a father he loved her, and oh she needed that kind of love. Someone to look over her. Someone to save her. Someone who gave a damn.

Uncomfortable in the silence that stretched out from this pronouncement, I asked, “What are you guys talking about, anyway?”

Cornelius removed his glasses and leveled his eyes with mine. “Why, the End, my dear. The Apocalypse.”

“But, I thought all we needed was to make sure Akaros doesn’t get that.” I pointed at Longinus, meaning the spearhead he’d tucked back under his shirt.

Cornelius sighed and let his glasses fall to his chest again. “Oh, my dear. There is so much more. Lucifer’s plans are myriad and complex. Perhaps he even intended you to aid him, during your sojourn on this world.”

Unbidden, my eyes flicked to Miri. Did he? Am I helping him?

“And it is our duty,” Cornelius continued, “to thwart his plans at every turn. We may not be able to defeat him in battle, but we can weary him. We can let him know we will not go down without a fight.”

He stood straight while I looked in each of the faces around me.

When my gaze returned to Cornelius, he held his hands out to me, asking for my trust.

I felt my Shadow stretch, felt it yearn to align itself with the dark, with Akaros and Father. It filled with

pride

anger

fear.

Would Father call the Apocalypse? Challenge all the gods? Could he?

Michael reached out and brushed his fingertips against my right hand. Fire flamed up my arm as the golden tendrils snaked their way to my heart. There were more emotions—ones less familiar. Ones I was not equipped to handle.

Determination.

Love.

Hope.