Fallen Angel

Chapter 15.1

Perhaps it was a trick of the reflecting moonlight on the lake. Perhaps it was only his imagination acting up because he was tired. But as soon as Grigori saw the winged figure appear in the sky above him, he knew the Master would want to know about it. He had barely seized into his pockets for the mirror he was given to communicate when the Prince of Hell suddenly stood at his side. With a finger to his lips, the man silenced Grigori before he could speak.

"Stay quiet, my friend. I am curious to see what Michael will do."

The pair watched the Lord Protector descend from the sky. He landed smoothly on the ground, folding his wings before his feet touched the grass, and strode towards the hidden entrance of the Sanctum. Grigori heard the Master hold his breath when the Archangel halted a few steps away from the veil that separated the human world from the Nephilim Sanctum below. Michael turned and seemed to look in their direction. Grigori saw his eyes narrow, focusing. Did he know they were watching? 
Cautiously, the servant glanced at his Master, catching a certain melancholy in those dark eyes. As if he was seeing a dear friend after being apart for years. Grigori knew they shared a history, but the Master had always made Michael to be a villain and traitor. Now, he was not so sure that was the entire story.
After what seemed like forever, the Lord Protector finally disappeared into the hidden tunnel. Grigori exhaled in relief, daring to breathe and move once more. That had been too close for comfort. 

"Master, how did you know?" he asked. "That Michael was on his way here, I mean?"

"I always know where he is," said the Master, his gaze still on the place where Michael had stood moments ago.

"Do you believe he has come to harm the girl?"

"He had no weapons on him. None that I saw, anyway. Most likely, Michael will try to get Gabriël back first. He doesn't realise he's wasting his time. Gabriël knows Michael will only offer death for his child. With me, there is life. His choice is already made." The Master faced Grigori. "Make sure you warn me when either Gabriël or Joan comes out of the Sanctum. This little talk with Michael might just be the final push they need to join us."

"Yes, Master."

Grigori bowed to the man in front of him before he vanished, just as swiftly as he had appeared. He stepped back, remaining hidden amongst leaves and shadows. Being alone didn't bother him. He had always preferred living a solitary life except... with them.
Knowing Alexandra and Alexei had enriched his life in a way that a thousand texts of wisdom ever could. He had loved them both. They'd been his dearest friends, but he saw the boy as a son. If only he could be sure Alexei had made it to the Heavens. His sisters and parents were imprisoned as slaves in the Circles, snatched up before they had reached the Gates to serve at every foul creature's behest. But Grigori had not seen the boy among them. It gave him hope. Hope that Alexei Nikolayevich Romanov, last Tsarevich of Imperial Russia, had at least found his peace.

***

Gabriël wandered the dimmed hallways of the Sanctum, restless and lost in thought. Anne had been kind enough to give him a room across from Joan's so he could be close to her. Close, but not with her. Pretences had to be kept for now. Only Anne and Thomas knew he was the father of Joan's baby, and Gabriël wasn't sure he wanted the other Nephilim to know. It might put them in more peril than they already were. He would have to discuss it with Joan. If she would only talk to him...
After they'd sent the message to Peter, they stayed a while in the library. Neither of them had said a word to the other. He had noticed Anne and Thomas eyeing them curiously, but they remained silent as well. When Peter wrote a quick reply that Raphael had received the message, Joan left, muttering a quick thank you and goodnight. Gabriël had followed her, but she stopped him outside her room, claiming she was tired and just wanted to sleep. Not wanting to press further, he had kissed her softly on her cheek and let her go. He had found some simpler modern clothes in the room, so he'd changed into a shirt and jeans before going for a walk to review their current situation.

Joan was so close, yet she seemed further away than ever before. She was wary of him. He couldn't blame her for it. If he had been stronger and stood up to Michael sooner, they would never have been separated. Perhaps they would still be in the Vale. Joan would have the support of her mother, and he would work with Raphael to find answers to the millions of questions he had now.
Instead, Joan felt like a stranger to him, and he had all but sold his soul to the Devil. The rune on his arm had stopped fading, leaving only the top part visible. The sight of it scared him. He hadn't completely forsaken himself, nor his vow, but it was only a matter of time now. Yet when he thought of the alternative, forsaking that part of himself seemed like a small prize to pay.