‘So you claim,’ says Raffe. ‘But the election isn’t complete.’ He turns to the angels. ‘It’s quite a string of coincidences, isn’t it? Messenger Gabriel being killed without telling anyone why we’re here. Uriel being the only archangel available for the election. Every time there’s any doubt, another apocalyptic monster appears as a sign.’
Raffe looks at Uriel. ‘How convenient for you, Uri. Yes. I agree to a trial by contest.’
Angels nod and echo. ‘Trial by contest.’
As in winner takes all and is declared to be telling the truth? What are we, living in the Middle Ages?
Uriel sweeps his gaze over the crowd.
‘Fine,’ says Uriel. ‘So be it. I call Sacriel as my second.’
Everyone looks to the largest angel in the group and his enormous wings. ‘I accept,’ he says.
Raffe looks at the angels, gauging them. Who is loyal enough to back him as his second? There were angels who voted for him, but voting for him and dying for him are two very different things.
‘I’m flattered that you need the biggest, meanest warrior on your side to best me, Uri. Let’s see, how big a warrior do I need as a second to beat you and Sacriel? Hmm . . . I’ll take . . . the Daughter of Man. She should even out the odds.’
Angels laugh.
I stand on the churned-up ground, stunned.
Uriel’s lips purse. ‘You still think everything is a joke, don’t you?’ Uriel spits out his words. He definitely doesn’t like being laughed at. ‘Have your fun now, Raphael, because she’ll be the only one to follow you when you fall. Perhaps you’ve forgotten that you don’t have your Watchers anymore.’
Uriel gives me a knowing look. I can tell that he knows Raffe didn’t just pick me as a joke. ‘You have until sunrise to collect your team before we meet to decide on the contest.’
He flies out of the crowd with his usual entourage following in a burst of fluttering wings. The angels buzz with excitement as the crowd dissolves toward the main building of the aerie.
A few of Uriel’s guards corral the two remaining hellions and stuff them back into their cage. They also lock Beliel in with them.
But they leave me alone on the field. It must be because I’m Raffe’s second, whatever that means. I roll my shoulders, trying to ease the tension.
Raffe glides down to me. His snowy wings are wide and frame his statuesque body perfectly. The edges of his feathers are downy, giving him a soft glow in the light.
I still can’t believe he has his wings back. They look amazing on him. Perfect in every way, except for the notch that I cut out of his wing when I first met him. I assume the feathers will grow back in over time, and all traces of me will disappear off him.
I want to say something about his wings and thank him for keeping me alive, but I don’t want to be overheard. I can tell that he sees it all in my eyes anyway, just as I can see him wondering how the heck I got here. I suppose I have a special talent for showing up where I shouldn’t be.
As the last of the angels fly away, Josiah lands beside Raffe. His unnaturally white skin matches Raffe’s feathers.
‘Well, that was an unexpected choice for a second,’ says Josiah, watching Raffe with his red eyes.
Raffe gives him a grim expression. ‘What are the chances that we can recruit a decent team?’
‘Very low,’ says Josiah. ‘Whether they back him or not, too many are convinced Uriel will win. If he does, he’ll make sure that anyone who opposes him will fall, and no one wants to risk that.’
Raffe’s shoulders slump. He must be exhausted after the operation.
‘How are you feeling?’ I ask.
‘Like I flew on my wings a month before I should have.’ He takes a deep breath and lets it out. ‘Nothing I haven’t done before.’
‘How many will Uriel have on his team?’ I ask.
‘A hundred maybe?’ says Josiah.
‘A hundred?’ I ask. ‘Against the two of us?’
‘You’re not actually going to be fighting,’ says Raffe. ‘No one expects it.’
‘Oh, so a hundred against just you. Why do you have a second if you’re supposed to have a team with you?’
‘It’s traditionally meant to make sure that no one stands alone,’ says Josiah.
He glances at Raffe with sympathy. ‘No one declines the honor of being second, but it’s completely optional as to whether someone joins a team for a trial by contest.’
Seeing pity in Josiah’s eyes makes me want to kick something. Raffe helped me, but now I can’t help him. A girl who can’t fly can’t play in angel games.
I look at the cages on the field. The two remaining hellions are attacking each other and fighting around Beliel. They probably would have shoved me in there too if Raffe hadn’t named me his second. How long would I last in there?
‘Uriel’s right,’ says Raffe. ‘I don’t have my Watchers anymore. I can’t count on anyone stepping into their duties.’
‘The warriors still talk about them, you know,’ says Josiah. ‘No group has come close to being the elite fighting team that the Watchers were. They’ve become legend.’ He shakes his head. ‘What a waste. And all because of—’ He looks at me with some hostility in his eyes and bites off whatever insult he was going to call Daughters of Men.
‘Don’t blame the women for the angels breaking your own stupid rules. Their women didn’t even break any rules, but they got punished anyway.’
‘The Watchers would still be here if it weren’t for the Daughters of Men,’ says Josiah. ‘We lost our most elite group of warriors because they married your kind. The least you can do is have the decency to—’
‘Enough,’ says Raffe. ‘The Watchers are gone and arguing about whose fault it is won’t bring them back. The only question left is, can we find a substitute?’
‘Where are they now?’ I suspect they’re still in the Pit, but who knows? I think what I saw in Beliel’s memory was from a long time ago.
They both glance at Beliel. He’s swatting at the hellions who are squabbling near his shoulder. They fly away from him to hang on to the bars and stare at us.
No, not at us.
At my sword.
The Pit hellions want to go home. However bad it was there, it had to have been better than being caged, waiting to be killed.
Home.
‘What if we could go into the Pit and get the Watchers?’ I ask.