Page 57 of Metatron
Before I could act, a fist of force grabbed me and pulled, dragging me from the open cage and the angel, then lifting me into the air to dangle. I grabbed the fist I couldn’t see, my mouth working desperately to suck in a breath.
“Put her down,” Tron yelled.
“If you insist,” Satan stated, his hand flicking, which, in turn, tossed me. I slid across stone, coughing as I could suddenly breathe. While I pushed to my feet, Tron charged Satan, once more glowing. He slammed into the devil, and they grappled, Tron holding his own, but the sneer on the devil’s lips had me wondering if he toyed with my lover.
I had to help, but how? I lacked a decent weapon, and I didn’t see my hands doing much damage to a guy with god powers.
A rattling of the bars had me looking at the angel who stood in the door of her cage, eyeing me, reminding me what she’d tried to convey when we briefly touched.
“Give me the token.” She wanted the piece of Zilla buried inside me, a last-minute protection given to me by the cantorii. Getting it out would require some digging into flesh.
Big ouch, but the angel in the cage had been insistent, pushing her message to me so hard I couldn’t ignore it. I scrambled back to the cage, and as I neared, she extended her hands. I clasped them and stared her in the eye as I said, “Take the token. But be quick. I don’t know how long Tron can hold him off.”
Rather than reply, she lifted my arm to her lips, as if she would kiss the flesh.
Instead, her teeth sank in.
Chapter 17
Slam. He bounced the devil’s head off the hard stone floor, to no avail. It did no damage, no surprise since the deity he fought turned out to be both God and the devil, a devasting truth. How could they be one and the same? How had he never suspected? Yes, he’d seen something rotten inside Elyon, but he’d assumed it an illness of the mind. He’d never expected Elyon would turn out to be the personification of evil himself.
Then again, who better than the king of lies to perpetrate the biggest betrayal of all?
They rolled on the floor, and the devil, with his lips tilted in a smirk, gave him a turn smacking his head off the ground. Not that he felt it given he’d conjured a sturdy shield. Back and forth they traded useless blows—for now. He could tell the betrayer held back. Once he tapped into his power, Metatron would be finished. He probably deserved it, given it turned out he’d never been doing good, simply feeding a power-hungry demon.
His sudden dejection led to annoyance from the demon he fought. “I expected more from you. What a waste of potential.”
“It would have helped if we had a strong leader.” Metatron insulted him right back.
It hit home. The devil’s nose huffed smoke, and his eyes burned with baleful malice, but a being of pure evil knew how to strike. “Says the archangel who is responsible for handing over how many flocks to Hell? You abandoned five planets? Ten? More?”
Shame burned inside. How had he not questioned his orders? Why did he blindly obey? At the same time, what else could he have done? God spoke; they answered. They had no way of knowing they worshipped a lie.
It led to him being enraged, which, in turn, filled him with strength as he threw himself at the devil. His hands wrapped around a throat that wouldn’t squeeze. Their dueling shields prevented harm, but that didn’t stop him from trying.
Metatron punched and wrestled and grunted. To no avail. He couldn’t harm the demon, and he felt his strength ebbing as he burned through the suul in his system. His magic… A magic he’d have to replenish on Earth, while the devil simply pulled it from his unknowing HALO slaves.
A hint of blood in the air had them both stilling in their scuffle.
Francesca!
Metatron shoved away from the devil but didn’t move fast enough to avoid the kick that sent him stumbling and sliding on his knees toward a bubbling lava pit. Digging in, he slowed his momentum and regained his feet. He turned to see what transpired.
Francesca slumped by the angel’s cage, seemingly injured. While he couldn’t tell the extent from here, he could smell blood. The angel stood outside her prison, her mouth smeared in a bright wet red that chilled him right through. What had she done to Francesca?
The angel held out a clenched fist and stared at the devil who advanced on her, no longer looking so cocky. He tried cajoling. “Get back in the cage, Gaaya.”
Gaaya’s HALO flared bright, as did the fist she held out.
“Don’t you dare. It will go badly if you do,” the demon threatened as he sprinted the last few steps, squinting as the ring on her head got brighter and brighter.
Gaaya lost her blank expression to a wide smile, which grew as the light from her HALO and fist bathed her in radiance. A burning of his retinas forced Metatron to look away.
A soundless concussion went through the room, sending a shiver through him and the floor underfoot. In the distance, a siren went off, and the pools of lava in the room suddenly stilled.
Not a good sign.
On a more positive note, the devil suddenly ceased his advance and even backpedaled from a stretching Gaaya. She rolled her shoulders and dangled her arms. Tilted her head side to side before fixing Lucifer with a grin. She glowed, all over, but as for her HALO? Gone. And that scared the devil.