I feel the finality ringing in every step of the short walk to The Saint, every block bringing me closer to finishing this and slaying another of my brothers.

I ended so many of them during the war, all lower level seraphim that both sides fed to each other, nothing more than angelic cannon fodder. I didn’t even know most of their names and have long forgotten nearly all of their faces. It was war, and in war, there were always deaths.

But this- this is unneeded.

The hotel sits empty, a lone police car waiting half a block away, all the city could spare when riots are breaking out on every street. The two rookie officers that drew the short straw and ended up here make no move to exit their car. I can’t say I blame them.

A few hotel patrons linger in the street, waiting for cabs that won’t show or the black-eyed valet. He took a stolen Tesla for a joyride and drove it into the levee, so they aren’t leaving anytime soon. The crowd of possessed that surrounds the entrance blocks them from any hope of returning to their hotel, so they stand frozen, staring at their phones in Sisyphean denial of the entire situation.

I push through the mob, the possessed souls having enough foresight in their lizard brains to recognize the Lord of Hell in their midst. For all that they’re enjoying their spring break revels, they all know exactly where they’re destined to end up and that it won’t do well to cross me.

I kick open the door hard enough to crack the glass.

“Uriel!” I bellow, my voice reverberating off the empty lobby.

My brother peers over the railing on the second floor, surveying the chaos in the street with a detached air that infuriates me. Uriel vaults over the edge, dropping down with a force that splinters the front desk under his feet.

"Lightbringer," he says, barely sparing me a glance as his eyes dart around the room searching, no doubt, for Grace. "I'm not interested in killing you right now. Where is the Last?"

I ignore his question. “You had your Garden, Uriel. What gives you the right to unleash this on the world? Is this some childish cry for attention? If our Father hasn’t shown up for your other exploits, he’s not likely to make an appearance now!”

Uriel springs on me with a ferocity of a wild animal, teeth bared in a crazed smile that would look far more at home in Hell than in Heaven. He shifts his wrist, his blade sliding into his hand with an ease for violence that looks all too familiar.

He moves like a viper, slashing out and feinting back so quickly I don’t feel the first slash across my chest until the burn of the Heaven-forged metal sets in. This isn't the Uriel I remember, escaping to Eden as the wars raged outside the gates, turning his back on both sides in favor of picking flowers in his own private sanctuary.

I wonder what drove him to this.

Then I remember I don’t care.

I grab the front of Uriel's robes, yanking him close enough to render both our weapons useless as I grapple for his sword. I lose my grip on my blade, and I hear the clatter of metal on the tile beneath our feet as I launch him at the bar. Uriel spreads his wings in an effort to stop the momentum to no avail. He hits the mirrored wall, the glass no match for his bulk. Dozens of bottles of liquor shatter, filling the room with the sharp scent of the spilled alcohol.

I stalk across the lobby, pausing to grab my sword from the ground. Uriel lays slumped behind the bar, top-shelf booze soaking into his clothing, but I know there’s no chance that our little tussle was enough to knock him out, let alone seriously injure him.

"Get up," I snarl, "I'll at least give you the dignity of dying on your feet."

Uriel springs to life, jamming his sword into my thigh with a force that drives me to my knees. One of his hands closes around my throat, dragging me back to my feet as he twists the blade. I stay silent, the searing agony ripping through my leg bringing the clarity only pain can provide.

“It’s been too long since anyone challenged you, brother,” Uriel sneers. “You’ve gone soft.”

In my peripheral vision, I see Phenex stagger in, barely supported by Michael, the entire left side of his suit red with blood, and I’m amazed that he’s even managing to stay upright. Michael appears to have fared better, though he watches Uriel with a wariness that makes me certain they fought as well.

The momentary distraction is enough to make Uriel take his eyes off me. Dropping my blade, I shove myself backward, the razor edge ripping through the flesh of my upper thigh, and I silently thank the torment of eons in Hell as only a low moan escapes me as the divine sword burns my flesh like acid.

I limp back weaponless, trying to put distance between myself and Uriel as I plot my next move.

Phenex elbows Michael away, moving towards me, but Michael's words ring out.

“All of Heaven is watching the choice you make right now, Phenex. Choose wisely.”

He hesitates for just a moment before shaking his head, continuing his advance until he’s just beyond the striking distance of Uriel.

Phenex was never a warrior. He fights when he has no other choice and his back is to the wall, but he never revels in the sounds of breaking bones and rending flesh. The Hell-forged daggers hidden in his boots haven't seen use in centuries, but Phenex still plucks them from their hiding spot and has one embedded in Uriel's shoulder to the hilt before I can blink. He tosses me the second dagger, and I catch it easily.

I see Uriel move, and I open my mouth to warn Phenex too late. In an instant, he has Phenex by his pale hair, wrenching his head back to bare his throat. "I thought you'd be smart enough to slink back to Hell. You always did pick the wrong side, Phenex."

The cut he makes is deep, not enough to kill instantly, but enough to send Phenex to his knees, his hands ineffectually trying to stop the torrent of blood.