“The Archangel Gabriel to be presented for the court of judgment,” a seraph said with a sweeping bow in the Aethere’s direction once everyone had regrouped and settled down, but the assumed calm was just a pretense. Everyone was terrified, and Gabriel had no doubt the rumor was spreading through Heaven, ensuring the animosity toward Michaela.
The remaining Seraphim gripped the gold chains that encircled Gabriel’s hands, feet, and neck as he stood. They were braced as if they expected Gabriel to attack any moment. Instead, he stood still. The only thing that moved was the vein in his forehead.
He refused to think about Michaela killing Molloch. He didn’t care if it was true or not. If it was, she had good reason to kill him, Gabriel was certain. And if Molloch had tried to hurt her, Gabriel would kill him again if it were possible. The only feeling Gabriel experienced at the news of Molloch’s death was that he needed to find Michaela as soon as possible. To do that, Gabriel had to keep his anger under control so he could leave this room, find Zarachiel, and get back to Earth.
“And, Gabriel, to what do you confess from your existence?” Abel asked, like he relished the words.
Raising his head, Gabriel’s stare landed, searing and unflinching, on Abel, and the angel’s slight smile disappeared. “I confess to an existence of duty and honor, serving Heaven as messenger and warrior.”
“So you speak not to the attempted invasion of Heaven?” Abel asked.
Gabriel didn’t bother to respond.
“Nor do you speak to the fall of the other angels in your choir?”
Gabriel bit the inside of his cheek to keep from yelling. The pain cleared his thoughts, but blood, warm and metallic, flooded his mouth. “Ophaniel, Zarachiel, Uriel, Simiel, Raphael, and I did not fall,” Gabriel said, but Abel went on as if he hadn’t spoken.
“Nor the plot to take Heaven for yourselves? Or to the fall of your own General?” Abel paused.
“She did not fall.” Gabriel’s voice carried up to the heights of the chamber even though he hadn’t spoken any louder than a fierce whisper. Abel’s eyes narrowed.
“But how can you know if you don’t feel her?” an Aethere across from Abel asked, which made Abel scowl.
Gabriel took deep, steadying breaths. The endlessly white room seemed to spin as if the Aethere rode a merry-go-round, their black cloaks blurring as they sped around. The sensation made him nauseous. It was the transition making him sick and shaky, but he still resented the weakness.
“Of course you can’t, which only means one thing—she has fallen. She denounced her creation the moment she went over the edge’s wall in Molloch’s arms, and will receive her punishment in an eternity of fire and suffering upon the End of Days,” Abel said.
“He must have taken her,” Gabriel said. The muscles beneath his sweating, tanned skin bulged and twitched against his restraints. The Seraphim shifted nervously.
“It was relayed that she willingly went over that wall with Molloch, who has also been condemned as fallen and possibly killed by the very angel he protected, but I’ll play along. Maybe she was pulled over the wall forcibly. Then where is she?” Abel gestured theatrically. “No one can find her, or at least so it appears. So what has become of Michaela?” His voice lowered. “I think you and your Archangels are hiding a fugitive. I think you know exactly where she is.”
Gabriel held back the angry yell that seared him from the inside. More than anything he wished he knew where she was. The need to find Michaela was like cinderblocks tied to his ankles dragging him down to Earth. He heard her scream, over and over in his mind. By sheer will, he kept his knees from buckling.
“And if Michaela killed Molloch, well, we find ourselves in an even worse situation. Who is to say she won’t come for us next?” Abel’s words were met with gasps of fear from the Aethere around him like they hadn’t thought of that already. Electricity sparked about the air near every angel’s wings.
“You don’t know what happened,” Gabriel said. His throat was so thick, his chest so tight, he barely managed to get the words out. He couldn’t tell if it was the anger or the sickness almost making him pass out.
“Does it matter? An angel might be dead. How can any of us be certain she didn’t kill him in cold blood?”
“She wouldn’t do that,” Gabriel said.
“It’s your word against a slew of misdeeds, leaving us to only judge the evidence. During her reign, Michaela doled out severe punishments. But she was the General, and her rule was absolute. Yet, she has committed an act of treason far beyond any precedent. Because of such, we find ourselves struggling to respond with equally dire punishments. Is this what you believe, my brothers?”
Abel looked at the other Aethere seated around them. Everyone nodded with a conviction borne of fear and a lack of backbone Gabriel recognized in all of them. Abel sighed heavily when he looked back at Gabriel.
“At this time, any angel of association to Michaela will receive a maximum punishment to match their maximum sins. As leader of the Aethere and Heaven, I have the power to send souls to either Heaven or Hell according to my judgment. I am prepared to do whatever it takes to save Heaven.”
“You can’t punish me. I have done nothing wrong!”
“We can,” Abel looked to the other Aethere like he needed their assent, but Abel was the one who ran the show now. “And we will.”
Gabriel shouted in frustration and hauled at the golden chains, his desperation giving him strength through the sickness. The other Aethere shrunk in their seats, terrified, watching as the Seraphim worked to contain him.
A panic built in Gabriel’s bones as he struggled against the Seraphim. Abel remained silent, his head bowed, as he considered a judgment. Gabriel could not afford a punishment with Michaela missing.
“Gabriel, your judgment has been received.” The Aethere sat back on the benches with relief, but only Gabriel heard the hint of joy in Abel’s words. Abel let out a mighty sigh as if the burden of delivering Gabriel’s judgment weighed heavily on his soul. “For the sin of sedition and allegiance to the fallen legion, you are to be banished from Heaven,” Abel began. The Aethere murmured in agreement. The Seraphim didn’t bother to hide their fear as Gabriel tensed, the air around his tightly tucked wings snapping.
“For the sin of cavorting to commandeer Heaven and for hiding the known whereabouts of the traitor responsible for such a heinous and ridiculous plan, you have received the punishment of…” Abel paused, his eyes flaring neon. Gabriel caught the slightest scent of sulfur in the air. “Eternity in Hell.”
“You can’t do that!” Gabriel yelled. The Seraphim surged forward like they had a prayer of holding him. He slung them off like ragdolls. More poured in through the door from the hall outside. “You can’t just send me to Hell!”
“Brothers, do you not agree this is the safest solution for now?” Abel asked, his brow creased in worry he didn’t feel. The other Aethere nodded, never looking at Gabriel, who spat on the ground at their feet.
“Lucifer will not allow this!”
“I believe Lucifer will love to have an Archangel to play with in Hell. Take him away now.” Abel motioned to the Seraphim, who gathered up their chains, confident with double their numbers. Gabriel was hauled toward the door. It took all of his remaining strength to pull the Seraphim up so he could speak to Abel one last time.
“You better pray Molloch isn’t dead. You better hope that angels can’t die.” His words were a snarl. His eyes burned like lava inside his skull as he stared down Abel. “Because if there’s a way or even the slightest chance, I’m coming for you.” As they yanked him away, Gabriel had the satisfaction of seeing true fear on Abel’s face.