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What use was it to deny anything? I was supposed to be tried for treason in order to fall and reunite with Azazel. It was just—the timing was all wrong!
“Who helped you with breaking the demon out?”
I lowered my eyes, my gaze falling to the gray stone floor. “No one.”
Raphael uttered a soft snort. “You couldn’t have done this on your own. You must have had an accomplice. Who was it?”
The betrayal I felt whispered the idea to give Naamah up like she’d done with me. Quid pro quo. Why should I protect her when she’d thrown me to the wolves?
With my mind’s eye, I saw the destruction in New York again, the wailing humans half-burned to a crisp, the slaughtered man in that convenience store, his guts spilled over the floor. I saw hounds roaming the streets, killing indiscriminately, men, women…children.
That was why.
As much as I wanted to lash out in my anger and resentment, as much as I felt the urge to hurt Naamah by snitching on her in turn, I wouldn’t risk the safety of Earth for my own petty revenge.
I shook my head. “I worked alone.”
Raphael made an unhappy sound, and he proceeded to grill me on different aspects of the escape, but I held firm and didn’t move from my story. I remained silent on things I couldn’t well explain without telling on Naamah, like how I’d been able to incapacitate all those guards—they’d found the darts but hadn’t been able to analyze what substance had been used, and I valiantly refused to enlighten the archangel.
His frustration at my obstinance and continued silence on important questions got so bad that his power slipped its leash more than once and charged the air to the point of pain. I flinched and gritted my teeth, suffering through it, until he finally saw the futility of this interrogation and stormed out. His angel subordinate left with him, and I was once more alone in the dimly lit room.
Maybe they’d keep me here for an indefinite period of time, continuing to question me in the hopes that one day I’d break. Or would that be considered torture, too, in some way? They could well have some leeway in how they interpreted that rule.
I didn’t know for how long I sat there, lost in the spiral of my own thoughts, until the door opened again, and Ithuriel stepped inside with three more angels and extra sets of chains.
Without a word, she unlocked my manacles from the restraint that bound me to the floor, brought my arms to my front, and relocked the shackles. Immediately, she fastened the new chains to the manacles around my wrists. Two angels grabbed a chain each and took position on my left and right.
“Get up,” Ithuriel barked at me, then turned on her heels and marched out.
The two guards flanking me yanked on the chains and pulled me up and forward, the third angel falling into step behind us.
I didn’t even ask where they were taking me, a weird numbness descending on my heart and mind.
Outside the soul stable, Ithuriel paused and turned to me. “All right, traitor. We’re going to fly now, and you’ll have to keep up unless you want to be dragged through the air. Those chains will stay on. If you try anything, we’re allowed to use brute force to get you back in line.” She flashed me a smile that was reminiscent of a shark. “On a personal note, please do try something.”
I gulped and shook my head.
She gave the command to move out and then extended her wings and launched into the air. My guards and the third angel did the same, and I hastened to magic my wings into place and take off as well.
I didn’t quite make it in time and ended up being dragged upward by the chains locked to my manacles, swinging wildly for a few seconds until I caught the breeze with my wings and leveled out in between the two angels holding on to the chains. My wrists and arms ached, the metal of the shackles biting into my skin.
We flew for what felt like hours, the muscles in my back screaming, until Ithuriel finally started a descent. I scanned the landscape underneath us and frowned. I knew this place. This was Gabriel’s estate.
My heart beat high into my throat as we made our way down to a courtyard that was, apparently, the typical choice of architecture to feature a gate. This portal stood on a dais within the square, its currently empty frame in the style of a gothic doorway, slender columns topped by a high-reaching, pointed arch.
Next to the gate, several angels were waiting, among them Raphael, as well as Gabriel himself. We landed in a flutter of wings, and Ithuriel and the others greeted the archangels with proper respect to their own ranks. I sank down on my knees and bowed my head to the floor, gritting my teeth at the habit.
“Chaya,” Raphael said as I got to my feet again. “You have been found guilty of the crime of treason. As punishment, you will be stripped of your wings and the God-given grace within you, and cast out onto Earth, to roam the mortal realm far from the blessed power of our Lord. May the eternal banishment be payment for your sins.”
I inhaled a trembling breath. Even though this had always been part of the plan, sudden dread about the process gripped me tight. We’d talked about it, I’d gone over it in my head a dozen times, and I knew it was the only way to resume my life with Azazel, and yet…it felt so weighty, so final, and a part of me—likely the one powered by divine energy—recoiled at the thought of being thrown out of this realm, my connection to the divine severed forever.
Commotion to my right made me look up. Next to Gabriel, someone moved to the front of the line of witnesses, and I sucked in a sharp breath as I recognized Naamah’s face. She angled her head toward Gabriel and murmured something that sounded like, “Allow me to say goodbye.”
He nodded, and she stepped up to me.
I stiffened when she leaned in, but she wrapped her arms around me, her power a soft buzz against my skin.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered in my ear, so low only I could hear her.
