find in the garden, James had not been among them. She thought that he had to be back on Earth, maybe waiting for her in Oymyakon.
Finding his body left her feeling empty. Stupefied.
“There you are,” said the voice, no longer distant.
Elise couldn’t react with the shock she knew that she should have felt. She was numb as she looked over her shoulder and saw Metaraon watching her with annoyance.
“He’s dead,” she said. It sounded like someone else was speaking the words.
“Yes, he’s dead. He’s been dead for longer than you think.” Metaraon strolled around Elise, one hand hooked in his pocket, as if he were taking a casual walk in a park. “You can run all you like. You might even escape—you’ve done it once before.” He spoke without looking at her. He was watching the slabs, the lake, the mist. Everything but Elise. “But escape changes nothing. I’ll keep dragging you back here until you do what you’re intended for.”
Elise pressed James’s clammy hand to her lips. She heard Metaraon stop walking behind her, but she didn’t face him. She wasn’t afraid of him killing her. She was certain that he could do it—if anyone were capable of ending her miserable life, it would be him. The Voice of God. The highest of angels.
But death’s oblivion suddenly sounded welcome, and she knew that he would never be that merciful.
She lifted her eyes to Metaraon.
“Is this real?” Elise asked. She had to know.
He lifted an eyebrow. “What do you think?”
Yes, it was real. Of everything that she had been seeing in the garden, of all of the dreams and illusions, she knew that this one thing was genuine. It was too horrible to be anything less.
Metaraon continued pacing. “Your entire existence is due to me,” he went on. “A debt is owed. This isn’t over until you’ve paid it out.”
She set James’s hand on his chest, then stood to face Metaraon. “This is already over,” Elise said.
“Because of that?” he asked, gesturing toward James’s body. “The priest?” He smiled unkindly. “Doesn’t that hurt, when someone you love is taken from you so cruelly and needlessly? Doesn’t it make you angry ? Would it make you want revenge if I told you that He was the one who had done it?”
She lifted her chin and stared him down.
Elise had killed angels before. She was the Godslayer, and meant to kill creatures more powerful than Metaraon. But she had no urge to kill him now—not Metaraon, and not God.
It didn’t matter. James was dead.
“It’s over,” she said, softer than before. A single hot tear rolled down her cheek, dangling from her chin.
Metaraon swept it off on his thumb. She clenched her jaw and stared at him as he lifted the tear to inspect it. The fluid stained his skin black. Elise was crying demon ichor instead of real tears.
His lips drew into a frown. “No. It’s not over until I have decided it’s over.”
He seized her by the throat, so swiftly that she couldn’t have reacted even if she had wanted to fight back. He strode toward the amber lake, dragging her at his side, and Elise’s feet scraped over rocks.
The angel slammed her to the shore. Elise strained against him, trying to remain sitting upright, but he bowed her spine back inch by inch. She could hear the sap slopping underneath her, a stinking primordial sludge that hungered to suck her under. It wet her hair and dragged her head back.
A familiar sense tickled at the back of her mind, and a voice whispered to her: Come find us…
“Forget the priest,” Metaraon said. “Find the door. Pass through.”
“Fuck you,” she said.
He shoved.
Elise’s skull cracked into the rocks. A wave of sap swept over her face, crawling over her forehead, sweeping into her eyes. It stung against her tear ducts. Then it surged up her nostrils, and she inhaled.
The blood of the Tree rolled down her throat to fill her lungs. Her muscles jerked. She tried to cough.
Metaraon shoved his arm into her
Finding his body left her feeling empty. Stupefied.
“There you are,” said the voice, no longer distant.
Elise couldn’t react with the shock she knew that she should have felt. She was numb as she looked over her shoulder and saw Metaraon watching her with annoyance.
“He’s dead,” she said. It sounded like someone else was speaking the words.
“Yes, he’s dead. He’s been dead for longer than you think.” Metaraon strolled around Elise, one hand hooked in his pocket, as if he were taking a casual walk in a park. “You can run all you like. You might even escape—you’ve done it once before.” He spoke without looking at her. He was watching the slabs, the lake, the mist. Everything but Elise. “But escape changes nothing. I’ll keep dragging you back here until you do what you’re intended for.”
Elise pressed James’s clammy hand to her lips. She heard Metaraon stop walking behind her, but she didn’t face him. She wasn’t afraid of him killing her. She was certain that he could do it—if anyone were capable of ending her miserable life, it would be him. The Voice of God. The highest of angels.
But death’s oblivion suddenly sounded welcome, and she knew that he would never be that merciful.
She lifted her eyes to Metaraon.
“Is this real?” Elise asked. She had to know.
He lifted an eyebrow. “What do you think?”
Yes, it was real. Of everything that she had been seeing in the garden, of all of the dreams and illusions, she knew that this one thing was genuine. It was too horrible to be anything less.
Metaraon continued pacing. “Your entire existence is due to me,” he went on. “A debt is owed. This isn’t over until you’ve paid it out.”
She set James’s hand on his chest, then stood to face Metaraon. “This is already over,” Elise said.
“Because of that?” he asked, gesturing toward James’s body. “The priest?” He smiled unkindly. “Doesn’t that hurt, when someone you love is taken from you so cruelly and needlessly? Doesn’t it make you angry ? Would it make you want revenge if I told you that He was the one who had done it?”
She lifted her chin and stared him down.
Elise had killed angels before. She was the Godslayer, and meant to kill creatures more powerful than Metaraon. But she had no urge to kill him now—not Metaraon, and not God.
It didn’t matter. James was dead.
“It’s over,” she said, softer than before. A single hot tear rolled down her cheek, dangling from her chin.
Metaraon swept it off on his thumb. She clenched her jaw and stared at him as he lifted the tear to inspect it. The fluid stained his skin black. Elise was crying demon ichor instead of real tears.
His lips drew into a frown. “No. It’s not over until I have decided it’s over.”
He seized her by the throat, so swiftly that she couldn’t have reacted even if she had wanted to fight back. He strode toward the amber lake, dragging her at his side, and Elise’s feet scraped over rocks.
The angel slammed her to the shore. Elise strained against him, trying to remain sitting upright, but he bowed her spine back inch by inch. She could hear the sap slopping underneath her, a stinking primordial sludge that hungered to suck her under. It wet her hair and dragged her head back.
A familiar sense tickled at the back of her mind, and a voice whispered to her: Come find us…
“Forget the priest,” Metaraon said. “Find the door. Pass through.”
“Fuck you,” she said.
He shoved.
Elise’s skull cracked into the rocks. A wave of sap swept over her face, crawling over her forehead, sweeping into her eyes. It stung against her tear ducts. Then it surged up her nostrils, and she inhaled.
The blood of the Tree rolled down her throat to fill her lungs. Her muscles jerked. She tried to cough.
Metaraon shoved his arm into her
Similar Books
