Page 153 of Grave Revelations

“Who would do such a thing?” Raphael whispered.

Gabriel strode forward, sniffing the air. “It is dark magic, but not the Fallen’s.”

“How could it be? The Fallen is slain,” Phanuel said.

“I was slain once.”

Camael wrinkled his nose. “You were resurrected. Father would never forgive Samael.”

Phanuel moved to the edge of the camp and looked over his shoulder. “This was but one of many camps our brethren discovered on their hunt. Whoever has done this has a personal vendetta.”

Camael nodded his agreement.

“Where are our brothers and sisters?” Gabriel looked around the pocked, burned landscape, seeing no seraphim among the death and despair.

“Zadkiel led them on a quest to find any remaining human souls and move them to safety,” Phanuel said.

Gabriel nodded. He had been right to suggest Phanuel. He had a mind for strategy and knew which sibling was best suited to each task.

The ground shook, and they all turned as a murky indigo form straightened from his dust cloud, and Mahazael stared them down. “Brothers.”

They threw up their arms, Gabriel forming an air shield in front of them.

Mahazael stepped forward. “Please. I do not come to fight.”

Phanuel nodded, lowering his arms. “Why have you come, prince?”

Mahazael’s face twisted in pain. “It’s Azrael. He seeks to finish what Samael began. He wishes to wipe the humans out once and for all.”

“And you, foul being. Where stand you?” Raphael demanded.

“I wish only to take Circe and go.”

Gabriel and Phanuel traded glances, nodding to one another. They tasted the truth in his words.

“Give up your throne, brother,” Gabriel said. “In good faith.”

“I cannot,” Mahazael said. “I am all that stands between Azrael and all the power he channels.”

Camael opened his mouth, but words died on his lips as a blanket of thick gray smoke pooled from the earth and wrapped around Mahazael’s inky form. His eyes bulged, and he slumped to the ground. A new form appeared in his place, stepping over his crumpled body.

Azrael pulled smokey mist around him, redirecting it at them, and in moments, they were wrapped in a fog so thick they could see nothing in any direction.

Camael cried out, and Gabriel whipped his head left, searching for its source. The cry became a scream, and Gabriel heard someone hit the ground not five feet away.

“Expand!” he shouted, letting his form grow, stretching up. As he grew, he beat massive wings, reaching for the sky, but the fog moved with him, and bolts of white lighting streaked through the clouds.

Raphael’s outline was starkly illuminated against the dark sky as lightning speared him, and he fell several feet before righting himself.

That moment of brightness had shown him Azrael’s shape, and Gabriel surged forward, sucking in great lungfuls of air until some of the fog had cleared.

He expelled it up into the cavernous night sky, sucking in once more to clear his path.

A streak of light surged toward him, but he was ready; holding up his hand, Gabriel caught the bolt, flipping it around so the sharp end of sizzling electricity cleaved the remaining fog, and he charged ahead.

Azrael turned and evaporated moments before Gabriel reached him, spearing empty air.

He swung around, scanning the partially obscured skyline.

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