Page 74 of Vanish Into Light

“Well.”

Beck sneered – to hide the hammering of his heart. “Don’t worry, Archangel. I won’t disappoint you.”

Morgan blinked again. “You never do.”

He turned, snapped his wings together with a spray of droplets, and stalked toward the open mouth of the hallway – the ancient gaze of heaven following him.

SIXTEEN

They raided a house in Queens. Another in the Bronx. Found a gleaming silver candlestick, and an old-fashioned silver fountain pen. Beck wore the vest that Rose fashioned for him, and he shielded himself with his wings, and the ops were efficient, successful, and distinctly less theatrical.

Rose lived with a constant worry, now: a lump in her throat, a hitch at the bottom of every breath. Beck knew more than he was telling, and something was coming, something big, and she could feel the ticking of a clock in the back of her mind, counting down.Tick-tock, tick-tock.

It rained constantly, now, and tonight was no exception, wind gusts driving sheets of water against the windows, the air inside the mansion cold and humid. The candle flames swayed, but held, their light flickering off the four shards Beck had laid out carefully on the dining table: the pentagram, the lion, the candlestick, the pen.

Morgan reached forward to hover a fingertip over the pen – but didn’t touch it. “There’s one more,” she said. “The fifth.”

“Yes, and the hilt, I imagine,” Beck said. He stood opposite her, the silver gleaming between them, and Rose didn’t miss the glance he darted to the conduit, the fractional tightening of his jaw, the flick of his tail tip along the floor. “Raphael will have it.”

Distracted watching him, it took a beat before the words registered. Rose said, “You think so?”

He nodded. “He trusted parts of it with others – probably in the hope that they would lose them and wind up scattered to the four winds. But he wouldn’t trust anyone else with the linchpin.”

“Is there any chance he wanted us to find it?” Lance asked.

Beck blinked, but his gaze didn’t lift. “It’s a distinct possibility.”

“What?” Gavin huffed. “This guy tried to kill us before, you know. And now we’re gonna go along with what hewantsus to do?”

Beck finally lifted his head, his gaze distant, only partially focused on Gavin. “Think of it this way: he might want us dead, but in this instance, our goal aligns with his.”

“And what is that goal?” Tris spoke up. He didn’t sound strained and whiny the way Gavin did, but the leap of a muscle as his jaw clenched proved that he was running out of patience with this whole endeavor. “We’ve found the sword pieces.” He gestured to the table, unimpressed. “And you say Raphael has the last part. Fine. What then? How that does that make all of this” – thunder boomed overhead, punctuating his point – “go away?”

“Yeah,” Gavin said.

Gallo didn’t say anything, but he pressed his shoulder into Tris’s, and that was where his loyalty lay. Rose thought of him –had thoughtof him? – as a friend, but he would side with Tris, now, every time.

Beck surveyed them all a moment, mouth twitching sideways. Hand poised above the lion amulet, he said, “This is the sword that drove Lucifer to hell. A hell that he currently doesn’t occupy.” The candlelight threw shadows that jumped along his throat, as he swallowed. “We need the sword to put him back there. Where he belongs.”

“You want us to find Lucifer, and send him back to hell,” Tris deadpanned. “That’sactuallywhat you want.”

“I want Michael to do it.”

“Where is he?” Gallo asked. “And where is Lucifer?”

Beck showed his fangs, but he didn’t smile. “They’re probably closer than you think.”

“What–” Lance started.

And Beck’s head snapped around. His wings opened, and his tail lifted. He growled. “Someone’s here.”

Morgan flung her head back, too, eyes huge, and pulsing blue. She pressed her small hands to the tabletop, between the silver tokens, and her voice went deep and resonant when she said, “Demons.”

“What?!” Gavin shouted, whirling.

Rose’s heart stopped, and then started again at a gallop. Her favorite knife appeared in her hand, though she didn’t register drawing it, and she sought Beck’s gaze in the wild moment before she turned, before she heard the shattering of glass in another room.

His eyesglowed, electric gold and narrow-pupiled in the candlelight, his face carved with harsh shadows, fangs long and ready as he bared them. He lookedeager. He locked gazes with her, for the span of one too-fast heartbeat, and gave her the subtlest of nods.

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