“Are we going to do nothing?”

Michael weighed his reply to Gabriél’s question, hoping to quell his rising fury, then he spoke slowly. “There is nothing to do for which we are allowed.”

“Have you asked?” Gabriél’s speckled, gold tipped wings flared, brushing Michael’s wings.

“Of course I have,” Michael snapped and put some distance between them. His patience at the brink of shattering, he couldn’t stand the inadvertent contact.

“Recently?” Gabriél demanded.

“Repeatedly,” Michael replied, somehow keeping the heat from his voice.

Gabriél stormed away from the balcony, leaving Michael to continue watching the drama play out alone from his perch in Heaven.

Michael studied the earth rotating below Heaven. He studied the humans scurrying to and fro, consumed with their mundane lives. Those imperfect creatures and their blessed ignorance, he’d never envied them, until now. A storm approached, one that would wipe clean everything they knew and alter the existence of Heaven, Hell, and life on Earth.

Truth be told, he found it hard to generate the appropriate concern. The die had been cast and he would carry the blame. That wasn’t the cause of his apathy.

I must find her.

He’d searched everywhere, turned over every stone. There wasn’t a square inch on the planet or in the heavens she could have hidden. That left one place. The one place he couldn’t go without expressed permission, permission he did not have.

* * *

G

emma stumbled. Knees and hips buckled and the rest of her joints threatened to buckle as well. The help of a wall at her back kept her upright, though not for much longer. Time ceased to matter in Hell. One second could equal one year. One year could equal a millennia. And vice versa. Or not. Everything she saw, felt, did, could all be an illusion. Hell preyed on the weakest point in its inhabitant’s psyche, exploiting that weakness in exacting detail, until all that was left was that weakness. The inhabitant became what they’d strived not to be for the rest of eternity.

That was the place Gemma found herself mired in as she faced off against the last Demoni Lord. The other three had limped away, nursing injuries that would’ve killed an immortal. She wished she had been the cause of all their wounds, but their blood loss and missing limbs happened when they turned on each other. Seemed angelic flesh was a delicacy the underworld rarely enjoyed. She’d never felt more special.

Or more afraid.

Gemma faced the fourth Demoni. He was built along the same lines as archangels—tall and muscular. His skin was parchment thin enough to view his inky essence surging beneath the transparent layer. The effect gave him a smoky, marbled appearance. He moved in and out of the shadows, keeping his facial features hidden. She wondered why when he readily displayed his loincloth covered body. The battle between herself and the Demoni had raged for months, if she trusted her internal clock. Never had she fought so hard, so long, used every skill, every tactic, and yet, the four still lived. She hadn’t even managed to scratch them, so ineffectual was her attack. She hadn’t even had a chance to explore, to search for an escape.

She had one tactic left, one fail safe measure she could employ, but if she didn’t succeed, the blight of this world would pollute her celestial aura and she’d truly be lost.

Sweat trickled into her eyes. She blinked the distraction away to find the Demoni closer. Just out of striking range. Until he extended his hand and gestured for her to come to him. One swing of her blade and she lopped it off at the wrist.

His hand landed with a thud, flipped onto its palm and skittered around in a dizzying circle. The Demoni smashed it under his heel with a disturbing squish.

Dear Father! A single touch from her empyreal sword should have incinerated the being in an instant.

A tremor went through his arm, starting at his shoulder and traveled all the way down to the bleeding stub at the end. His blood sizzled on contact with the ground. His head tipped to the side, and though she couldn’t see his eyes, she felt them sizing her up, taking her measure since he hadn’t the chance when he fought the others.

He pivoted and walked away. The shadows on the peripheral scurried in the opposite direction as he approached, leaving an open pathway behind him.

Gemma cut to the left. She chose the unknown nebulous expanse over following a Demoni. The landscape wasn’t the place of never ending night she had expected. There were degrees, from smoky to black hole level darkness. She could see through the different gradients, if there was anything to look at. Her feet sunk into the sandy ground with each step, as if there was a beach with rolling waves waiting to be discovered. Nothing so benign lay in wait here. And nothing attacked as she trudged along, her steps faltering, her sword dragging because she dare not put it away, even though she barely had enough energy to carry it. She tried to take flight, but her wings wouldn’t open. Too afraid to reach behind to feel their condition or worse, feel if there was emptiness in their place, she kept moving.

Thoughts of her men kept her going. Had they searched for her? Did they have time to search with the ongoing war? How did they fare in the battles? How many had she lost? She’d spent one day as captain, then ended up in Hell. The new chancellor must have replaced her by now, but with whom?

On and on, the questions continued as a mile became ten, then one hundred. Her feet couldn’t tell the difference, but her body registered each agonizing footfall. It didn’t make sense. At the dawn of the first epoch, angels battled the horde of the Demoni Lords for ten millennia without ceasing until they were all imprisoned. Why now, after so short a time, was she failing?

It had to be this place. Hell. It was poisoning her, mind and body. She caught the scent of water and her tongue withered. The tantalizing aroma of food cramped her stomach. Thirst and hunger, things angels didn’t need, tormented her. She needed help. Where were Dina and Gideon? Maybe they could aid each other and find a way to exist in this place until they were saved. It wasn’t likely when it was their fault she was in this situation, but it was the only hope she had.

A lightning bug zigzagged in front of her eyes. Enraged, she swung her blade at it, determined to kill the insect. The agile bastard dodged each thrust of her sword and darted away. She gave chase until she went down in a tangle of limbs.

Gemma didn’t know how long she lay there. Alive, yet helpless. Any moment, something would come along and kill her. She prayed it would happen quickly and that the light within her would rejoin the Celestial Order to be passed to the next angel.

She registered the solid thud of approaching footsteps. Instinct had her pushing away from the ground to die on her feet. Exhaustion kept her in the exact spot where she’d collapsed. She offered no resistance when feet, clad in leather skins, came into view and stopped beside her face. She strained to look up, to see the rest of him, and got no further than a muscular pair of calves.

She blinked and when her eyelids lifted, she was limp in someone’s arms. Head lolling upside down, her blurry vision focused on a light flickering in the distance. It grew into a lantern illuminating the inside of a bush tent. Carried inside and placed on a bed, Gemma sank into the unexpected softness. A slow blink allowed the room to come into focus. Desk, lantern, hammock. A bundle of incense burned in a holder on the edge of the table. The scent reminded her of the rainforest deep in South America—earthy, wet, yet perfumed from the myriad of blooming flowers.

Fingers stroked her face. She tried to slap them away and failed to move a single muscle.

“Sleep,” a voice rumbled.

She didn’t want to sleep. Didn’t need to sleep. Fingers continued to stroke her skin, further lulling her senses. Her vision faded even as she fought to stay awake. She couldn’t. Sleep meant certain death, yet she hadn’t the power to stop the slide into unconsciousness. Gemma clung to the last shred of awareness, a lifeline to the dying. Just as the last vestiges of her mind gave way, the most stunning sunburst, gold-rimmed eyes she’d ever seen came into view.