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Shattered Walls (Seven Archangels) (Volume 3)

By Jane Lebak

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ONE
Remiel drew all four of her wings tighter against her body, the inner set flush against her sides while the outer one iced over with Hell’s lashing sleet. Squinting against the wind, she muttered, “They picked the right place to hide their project, whatever it is.”
Ahead of her, Zadkiel shook her head, scattering ice crystals from her curly black hair. Why were they even here? Demons didn’t use the ice fields for research and development. Hell’s elite typically cordoned off the dark caves known as the lab area for their personal office space, and the rank-and-file spent most of their time in the hot interior or on the shores of the Lake of Fire itself.
But the ice fields? Demons hated them. For research and development, or even for just talking, this part of Hell had too much weather. It was certainly too tumultuous for delicate work. The rumors Michael’s informants had picked up gave tantalizing hints about a weapon in development, but no real information. Not even which demons were involved.
Zadkiel with her incredible talent for revealing what was hidden had led them to this spot, which was the last place Remiel would ever have thought to look for demons engaged in delicate work.
Delicate, but secret—and for that, Remiel had to admit, you couldn’t get much better in terms of isolation. Maybe Zadkiel was on the right trail. Or maybe they were enduring this nasty blizzard for no reason whatsoever.
Zadkiel touched Remiel’s arm, and Remiel followed. With her sky-blue wings extended (well, icy silver wings for the moment) and her eyes closed, Zadkiel pivoted a degree, then back, then tucked her wings again and pushed forward against the wind. As long as they kept their angelic signatures suppressed, not even projecting their emotions to one another, no demons would be able to detect them. But that also made it harder to stay in contact, so Remiel struggled to keep her in sight.
Similarly, it would have been a lot easier to go completely incorporeal. Wearing subtle bodies, the angels were vulnerable to wind and weather, but being incorporeal would hamper their ability to search. And that was the reason they were here, the reason their little incursion party consisted of only two angels: a Seeker and someone to protect her.
Zadkiel dropped to the surface and pushed against the snow, raising her wings to provide cover as she dug. Remiel turned her back to Zadkiel, opening her senses for any approaching demons. You could hurry up whatever you’re doing, she thought.
In her mind, Zadkiel chuckled. Soon. And then, Now.
Remiel turned in time to see Zadkiel vanish head-first into a hole. She jumped in after.
She hit a solid surface, and her wings flared as her legs gave out beneath her. At her side, Zadkiel was on hands and knees, slush frozen to her clothes, breath heaving.
There was silence. Ice and silence.
Shifting to a stand, Remiel rested her hand on her sword (although for all she knew, the weapon was frozen to its scabbard.) She extended her senses through the cave but felt only distant prickles. There were demons nearby, but not close. Cautiously, she started to glow.
They’d taken shelter in a cavern of ice, barely large enough for two angels and their wings. Drawing her sword wasn’t a concern after all: there was no room to use it. Still, she rested her hand on the hilt and projected heat down the blade until the ice melted.
Beside her, Zadkiel flared heat all over her body, dissipating the ice and drying off. Can you feel their residue?
When Remiel shook her head, Zadkiel edged to the walls of the cave. Lots of demons use this space the way we’re using it now, she sent. That’s why the ice is so smooth—they come in, they flare the ice off themselves, and then they head…this way. She crouched at one corner. There’s a tunnel hidden here.
Above them, the opening had already sealed over with sleet. Remiel frowned. The pair of them could get jumped very easily, and anything Remiel could think of to improve their chances would only increase the chance that they’d be detected. It would be very easy to cast a Guard in this little hollow, letting her power form the spiritual equivalent of unbreakable walls, but if the demons had any sentries posted at all, a Guard was as good as a signal flare. She and Zadkiel might be able to get free if attacked, but afterward the demons would more tightly protect, or move, whatever this mysterious weapon was.
In other words, if the angels tipped their hand right now, they needed to tip it fully and finish the job in one go. With a strike force consisting of exactly one Dominion and one Virtue.
Stranger things had happened. Remiel sent, Can you feel how many there are down there?
In a hundred years, Remiel wouldn’t herself have tried scanning outward to detect and count guards who were themselves scanning out to detect intruders. For a Seeker, though, it might be possible, and Zadkiel was one of the best. She rested a hand on the ice. A half-dozen. One of them… Zadkiel yanked back her hand and whispered, “Asmodeus.”
Remiel grimaced. Asmodeus was one of the Maskim, a Seraph second in power only to Satan. And his involvement pretty much guaranteed the participation of another member of the Maskim: Belior, Asmodeus’s bonded Cherub.
Zadkiel frowned at her. We should bring Michael.
Not yet. He needs more information than we’ve got. Remiel considered the ice chamber. Are there any other exits?
Zadkiel pressed against the floor with her eyes shut, then spread her wings. Remiel stood over her, shivering. This position was entirely indefensible.
It took minutes, minutes during which Remiel’s wings numbed over from the cold. Then Zadkiel edged toward the opposite corner, put her hand to the ice, and started producing heat.
Remiel clenched her sword hilt. Keep doing this and they were sure to attract demonic attention.
When Zadkiel pulled back her hand, she’d left a palm-sized impression in the ice, as deep as her hand. Beneath that was a fissure in the ice wall.
“Perfect,” Remiel whispered.
Zadkiel dissolved her subtle body, making it completely incorporeal. Without any form, she was able to flow down the crack in the wall, pausing just inside. Remiel took a deep breath and then she herself returned to her fully angelic form, losing her pseudo-body’s shape and existing as a pure spirit. She attached her attention to Zadkiel, who drew her into the fissure. Before penetrating further, Remiel paused and created heat, melting and smoothing the area of ice Zadkiel had just cleared. Now they were sealed in.
Pulling Remiel along, Zadkiel descended, creeping like water in a steady drip through stone. No, not merely like water. They were water. The two of them were free-flowing energy, etchers of stone and makers of caverns. They were motion and they were slipperiness. And then they were free.
Zadkiel let go, and Remiel found herself in a niche just outside a larger cavern. And there, two wingspans in front of her, stood Asmodeus.

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