Page 21 of Legacy of Chaos

The reminder that Gabriel, an angel of vengeance and death, was a hundred times more powerful than Poria did not sit well, and Gabriel rode another stab of electricity.

Poria had better hope Gabriel’s sentence for helping Azagoth destroy Sheoul-gra was a long one because the second he was freed, he was going after the bastard.

Poria paraded Gabriel through the halls, where other Thrones mocked and scorned him. One even spit on him as if it was medieval Europe, and he was being taken to the headsman for a public execution.

Gabriel added all of them to his revenge list for when he was released from whatever punishment they’d give him. Assuming he was found guilty. But he doubted that would happen. He was a senior Archangel, chosen by the Creator himself to serve as one of Heaven’s elite warriors. Archangel orders came to them through Metatron, and even the Angelic High Court wouldn’t take a soldier of his caliber out of service for long. Not when Armageddon was nigh.

Nine hundred-plus years nigh, which sounded like forever to beings with short lifespans. But a thousand years was a flash in time for angels and many demons. A snap of the fingers. A flap of the wings.

He moved with purpose, spine rigid and expression neutral, but he committed every face to memory as Poria perp-walked him to Zaphkiel’s doorway. As they approached, the cloudy, opaque opening vibrated, turning glittery before disappearing. They entered Zaph’s office, a remarkably stark and boring white room that sometimes had furniture, other times not. Today, not.

Zaphkiel stood in the center of the featureless white space, controlled by his mind, so he could have chosen to make it aluxurious palace or a wilderness retreat. But nope. The angel’s office space was as unimaginative as he was.

Thrones were so. Damned. Boring.

He looked over at the Celestial standing off to the side, his pale lavender wings tucked behind him, his hands clasped in front of his blue military tunic.

“Hey, Hut,” Gabriel said. “Been a while.”

Hutriel, a senior Virtue and an angel of punishment, appeared bored. Or maybe it was just the perpetual stick he always had up his ass. His nickname, Rod of God, fit him. “Not long enough, scumbag.”

“Aw. You haven’t changed at all. Still a rod.”

“Enough,” Zaphkiel barked. “Gabriel. Thank you for coming.”

“Of course,” Gabriel said. “How could I turn down your invitation? Oh, right. I couldn’t. What the fuck do you want?”

“Your Ordeal begins tomorrow.”

Well, if that didn’t just drop a wedge of ice into his belly. Gabriel was confident he’d get a slap on the wrist. But he’d expected the trial to begin later. Much later.

“Why tomorrow?”

“Because the sooner you’re dealt with, the sooner all angels will accept that the Thrones are now in charge.”

Ah. So, not all of angeldom was happy with how the Thrones had wrested control from the Archangels.

“Did the public catch wind of the fact that you’ve imprisoned every Archangel and are harnessing their powers to keep Reaver shackled?”

The expression on Zaph’s face said that, no, the general population wasn’t aware of that little detail. “Reaver doesn’t need to be shackled anymore. He’s immobilized with grief.”

The reminder made another block of ice drop into Gabriel’s stomach, splashing acid all the way to his heart. Reaver, the onlyRadiant in existence, an angel of extraordinary power, had been rendered comatose after his mate, Harvester, had been driven through an inoperative portal.

“If you hadn’t staged a coup and shaken Heaven all the way to its pearly white gates, that wouldn’t have happened.”

“We didn’t force Harvester to enter the Gaiaportal. She made that choice on her own.”

“You think shechosedeath?”

“We don’t know that she’s dead. Just that her mate bond with Reaver was broken.”

“And that her blood rained down on the Temple Mount. Doesn’t sound survivable to me.” Gabriel rolled his shoulders and worked out a kink in his neck. “So, why am I really here? You didn’t drag me down here just to tell me the trial starts tomorrow.”

Zaphkiel strolled over to one of the white walls. As he approached, the wall turned transparent, revealing a view of the pristine, Heavenly city of Catali below. Sitting on a vast, verdant plateau like a crown of gold, ivory, and gemstones, Catali shone under an azure sky. Glistening bubbles—angelic homes—floated over ivory structures below that contained more homes, offices, and whatever else anyone wanted them for.

And threaded between the structures, rippling streams and frothy waterfalls flowed through tranquil forests made of all the trees found on Earth. It was a reminder to angels that Heaven belonged to humans as well, and angels were obligated to pass through the Heavenly membrane to the Other Side, the First Heavenly plane, where the humans resided. Keep up appearances and all that.

Zaphkiel clasped his hands behind his back and gazed outside. “What do you know about the Gehennaportal?”

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