The Only One

By Meg Collett

In the final installment of the popular End of Days series, Heaven belongs to a mad tyrant, and Michaela is losing her battle to save a dying Earth.

But the tides are turning.

With Gabriel’s fallen army, Michaela finally wages war against the holy angels. But she must take care of the Watchers once and for all. Her best friend, however, has his own vengeful plan for the Watchers.

From the moment Lucifer tore her wings from her back, Michaela has sacrificed everything for Heaven. But there is one last sacrifice she must make.

And it’s the greatest one of all.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Meg Collett
• Release date: Jun 30, 2014
• ISBN: 9781311795915

Book preview

The souls. They clamored for him, calling his name like hungry children. He heard them inside his mind and felt their urgency in the press of the wind. They would not be ignored. It wasn’t a deafening noise, just whispering voices begging for their deliverance. The pull of a soul slipping away from its dying human was like a spool of thread unraveling in his head. He followed the gossamer string until he found the end, and only there would he find a temporary relief.

And there, as the Angel of Death, he delivered the soul from its body. It took its place in his massive, breathing wings. The souls there shifted away, murmuring and welcoming the new soul into its place, where it revealed itself as a long, sleek opalescent feather.

Loki wasn’t meant to harbor these souls. Heavenly carrier angels were supposed to deliver them to Purgatory for judgment. That, of course, was only a fond memory from better times well in the past.

The new weight was a mere flutter of added pressure, but Loki felt it all the same. The souls wore him into an exhaustion so deep it bent his bones and slowed his blood. He was hollowed and hallowed, borne into the ground and arching through the skies.

He was infinite and losing his grasp on himself. He was becoming less and less and more and more with each new soul.

Another thread unraveled in his mind. Another death. Another human to add to the collateral damage of a holy war. Loki closed his eyes and transported himself to that soul, to deliver it into an unknown world where angels fought a civil war and souls hung in the sky like a reluctant rain.

2

Far away from where Loki roamed the Earth collecting dying souls, another death ritual was being performed: a funeral.

Isaac St. James—father, husband, and previous Keeper of the Descendants of Enoch—had died two days ago. Lying in a bed with each hand being held—one by his wife and one by his son—he’d been surrounded by the angels he’d spent his life protecting. His death would have been considered a good one in a time of war if not for the infection that had made his last few moments anguished. Isaac’s final gasping words were of his love for his wife and an apology to his son.

Clark didn’t do well with goodbyes or apologies, even if he’d craved his father’s approval all his life. When he’d finally received it, Clark had clung to his father’s hand and willed the weathered warrior back to life. It hadn’t worked, because eventually everyone ended up in the ground. One way or another, you had a hole pitted in the earth with your name on it. Unavoidable. Inescapable.

Depressing as hell.

Clark pulled himself back to the present. He willed himself to stop thinking about his father’s death, even though the feat seemed impossible as he watched his father’s funeral commence down in the Descendants’ cemetery. The sun had set long ago, but Clark kept his sunglasses on. Not that he’d needed them during the day. The sun was completely hidden now beyond the shaded veil of souls awaiting their judgment. They’d waited a long time, accumulating and overflowing Purgatory’s edges, before Loki had stopped taking the souls skyward and nestled them in his wings.

The bare tree limbs above where Clark hid in the woods scratched as they shifted in the night’s frigid breeze. The moon wasn't visible behind the souls, but it gave off a milky luminance that made the scene in the cemetery look like a dream. Or a nightmare.

His father lay in a glossy wooden casket beside a gaping grave lit by oil lanterns. The Descendants of Enoch, the earthly human protectors of the angels, had gathered in huge numbers for their previous Keeper’s funeral. Only Liam, the new Keeper, and a handful of trusted Descendants still loyal to Michaela knew Isaac had died from an infected bite wound by a hybrid—a half-angel, half-human soul experiment created by Lucifer. Everyone else thought Isaac had died of a heart attack inside the Descendants’ compound. Liam’s lies were good enough to cover Isaac’s secret return to the Descendants, where he would have the proper burial of a Keeper.

Or as proper as it could be. Clark snorted, causing Michaela to glance at him. The shadows from the tree limbs traced jagged lines across her pale face. Iris, his mother, squeezed his hand on the other side of him, her hitching breaths condensing in the air. The Archangels’ powerful presence amplified the stillness of the night and the haunting quietness of the graveyard, prickling goose bumps along his arms. They all stood hidden in the trees, watching from afar as the Descendants lowered Isaac’s casket into the ground.

They couldn’t go any closer or risk being seen. Clark was a Descendant deserter, an accomplice to Michaela’s sins. Michaela was the traitor of Heaven—the liar, the betrayer. Iris was a Nephil meant to be hunted and extinguished. They were all fugitives, yet they were the only ones fighting to save the world.

It is all bullshit, Clark thought. He wanted to stand proud at his father’s funeral, but instead he cowered in the shadows. He was over the running and hiding. The anger built inside of him, making his palms sweat and his head ache. To distract himself, he looked around.

The cemetery was forlorn, eerily quiet on this night. The gravestones looked like the tips of fingers poking up from the ground. Clark pictured hundreds of giant hands just below the crust of Earth, waiting to reach up and grab a person who walked too close. He’d always hated graveyards.

As he watched Isaac’s slow descent into the earth, Clark realized he hadn’t cried yet.

He hadn’t cried when they’d put Sophia in the ground, either. Her slot in the Nephilim’s crypts was tight, even for her small, enshrouded form. Blessed and fragranced white cloth had been wrapped tightly around her body, tight enough for Clark to see the outline of her face. She could have been asleep or merely resting. At any moment, he expected her to take a deep breath and bat away the gauzy material covering her face. She’d laugh and hop down to take his hand. Her skin would be warm and soft. Maybe she’d even kiss him in public for everyone to see. No secrets. No death. But that was just a dream. Sophia was gone.

Her soul remained in her body just like thousands of other Nephilim souls tucked away in the crypts, waiting for the time when their souls could be delivered home to Heaven.

The Archangels, Iris, and Clark had left the next day to deliver Isaac’s body to the Descendants. They’d left behind Iris’s hidden community of Nephilim to stay and guard the few human survivors living in the Nephilim’s underground shelter.

Clark would give anything to go back to the peaceful Amish farm on which the Nephilim had hidden. Things were bad then, but they weren’t awful. Not like now.

Michaela took Clark's other hand as if she sensed his growing despair. If the funeral had been the proper burial of a Keeper, Michaela would have spoken the ancient final words above Isaac’s grave. Instead, she was stuck hiding in the woods and watching as Liam took his place beside the grave.

Liam cleared his throat. Tonight marks the night of another fallen soul.

Tonight, Michaela whispered, marks the night of another fallen soul.

The repeated words tingled in Clark’s ears. From the corner of his eye, he saw silent tears falling down his mother’s cheeks. Isaac would have a proper burial after all. Clark clutched Michaela’s hand, thanking her in the only way he knew.

It is an ending full of Light, Michaela spoke, her voice the only thing Clark heard in the stony silence of the woods. Back in the Descendants' cemetery, full of weeping willows and angel statues, the important council members of the order tossed dirt into Isaac’s grave. It tumbled inside and rang off the wood, making Clark cringe every time.

This ending is merely temporary as the Light brings a new beginning, a new form of life, as Isaac’s soul is delivered to an everlasting resting place where he can stand side by side with the angels he protected.

But there would be no everlasting resting place for Isaac’s soul until Michaela wrested back control of Heaven.

Faith in one’s duty is never an easy burden to bear. Michaela’s voice cracked. Gabriel leaned forward enough to brush his chest against her back as if his mere presence gave her strength. Perhaps it did, because Clark had to look away. The action reminded him of Sophia, a memory cutting through his gut like a serrated knife. The Keeper of our ancient order bears a tiring weight that is heavy on one’s shoulders. Isaac St. James bore that weight until the very end, where he has finally found relief.

The angels thank him, Liam started, his voice ringing across the cemetery to the woods.

We thank him, Michaela said over Liam’s voice, for protecting us.

And the angels will guide….

And we will guide him to his peace and rest, protecting his soul as he protected us. For eternity, Isaac will be safe. Welcome home, dear Keeper.

A tiny, muffled sob escaped Iris’s mouth. Her body curled over like a leaf in autumn, wracked with the sinking weight of her husband’s death. She didn’t wipe at the tears streaming freely down her face.

Back in the cemetery, the grave was nearly full. Michaela wrapped her arm around Clark’s shoulders, and Iris slipped her trembling hand around his waist as if he was the one that needed to be held up. Only then did he realize he swayed like the limbs above them. From behind him, Gabriel rested his arm on Michaela’s back as the other Archangels linked their hands together.

It was a time for grief, but Clark was the only one not thinking about his father. Instead, his thoughts shifted away, rising far above their heads and into the heavens. Somewhere up there sat the angel responsible for this destruction and sadness. Abel of the Aethere choir had started this awfulness by framing Michaela for an attack on Heaven and making a deal with Lucifer. He would die for what he had done, along with his Watcher angels, the henchmen of Heaven.

From now on, Clark’s existence was devoted to making them pay for all they’d cost him.

The unwanted marks on his arms, the Watchers’ secrets, burned with his anger. His entire body fried with the vengeance scorching through his veins.

This was it. This was the end.

The end. The end. The end.

3

The words were spoken, and the grave was filled with a heaping pile of loosely packed dirt. The moon’s miniscule light faded even more behind a bank of dribbling clouds. The cemetery emptied as the Descendants made their way back inside the compound, their progress marked by the bobbing of lanterns and quiet, mournful murmurs.

Michaela stared across the gravestones and crosses. Soon, no one was left but those who stood behind her in the woods, as if Isaac’s funeral had never happened. Done and forgotten. She shivered.

Gabriel wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her against his chest. His familiar smell—smoke and hardwood—helped to ease her mind. Every inch of his chest was hard, defined muscle, but she relaxed into him like she could pour her tired bones through his skin. His lips were warm on her forehead.

She met his eyes, dark pools against the backdrop of night. The words for how she felt escaped her. She was heartbroken, happy, guilty and every other emotion ripping her in different directions.

Gabe, she said, floundering.

I know. He pressed her tightly against his chest.

The others slowly drifted into the woods. The quiet crunching of twigs on frozen ground signaled their nearly silent departure. She needed to go with them, but she couldn’t bear to step away from Gabriel.

I can’t believe he’s gone, she said, whispering as though Isaac could hear her.

He was a good man. Gabriel spoke the words into her hair, rustling the strands and sending a chill down her spine. He massaged circles into her lower back, easing the tense muscles.

Neither of them knew what to say after that. When Gabriel had first signed his soul over to Lucifer, Michaela had been afraid of his black eyes. Now she found them entrancing, completely captivating. She watched as his passion darkened them even more.

He wrapped his other hand around the back of her neck, pulling her to him. As soon as their lips touched, Michaela’s stomach flooded with a warm, tickling sensation. In the days since Lucifer’s death, they hadn’t had much alone time. She gripped his thick shirt with her hands, pulling herself up on her tiptoes and deepening the kiss, sucking on his bottom lip the way he liked. A deep hum resounded from the back of his throat, rewarding her efforts. His hand crept down until he cupped her backside. He squeezed, making Michaela’s eyes pop open in surprise.

Mine, Gabriel growled against her mouth.

A laugh bubbled up her throat. She smiled, their lips still touching. The newfound joy she experienced in that moment threatened to drown her. Not so long ago, she’d thought it impossible to feel this way. Chasing at the heels of her happiness was a familiar, crushing fear.

I love you so much. Is that wrong? Her question was shaky, terrified. She’d rather stand against all the Watchers in the world than think about losing Gabriel.

Gabriel cupped her face, his gaze seeking out every ounce of fear in her eyes. We make the rules now, Michaela. You and me. Forever I’ll love you.

Forever. Michaela had considered the concept of eternity a lot lately. Their forever was tired directly to her ability to keep the Seven Seals from the Aethere. The seals were the only way to truly end the world. Her eyes darted to Isaac’s grave. Only she and Liam knew the location of the seals’ final resting place. Protecting them and winning the war was the only way Michaela could ensure her and Gabriel’s eternity. What’s going to happen to us?

Gabriel pressed a soft, sweet kiss against her lips. Nothing but good things from now on.

At his words, Michaela shook her head fiercely. Don’t say that! It’s like a curse. Happiness like this can’t last.

Gabriel clenched his teeth, flexing his jaw. His hair was longer now, the bronze strands shifting in the night breeze. He was breathtaking, staring down at her with his eyes full of passion and power. He may have the black eyes of the fallen’s General, but he was hers. It will last. I will make it so.

His words were an oath to her. He stepped back and took her hand. With one last glance over her shoulder at the cemetery, Michaela followed him into the woods. She walked with a slight limp where the holy angels had destroyed her leg. The bones were still mending, and it was possible Michaela would always have a tilt to her step.

It didn’t take them long to reach the cars they’d hidden on the side of the road where the remaining Archangels—Raphael, Simiel, Ophaniel, Uriel, and the broken Zarachiel—stood with Iris and Clark. Iris hugged her son and kissed his cheek. The door of Clark’s Chevelle stood open with the engine rumbling. When his mom released him, Raphael shook Clark’s hand.

Michaela’s heart clenched. She pulled Gabriel forward, jogging the remaining distance between her and her best friend. Clark! What are you doing?

They’d planned on leaving right after the funeral. It wasn’t safe to stay so close to the Descendants’ compound since they were still hunted fugitives. Yet something about the way Iris hugged Clark looked like a goodbye, and it made Michaela’s palms sweat.

Clark looked at her, his blue eyes snapping and electric with anger, which died down when he saw her anxiety. I need a break. He heaved a giant breath. I need to be alone.

Michaela didn’t hear the normal humor or sarcasm in his voice. Instead, his words were laced with a barely contained rage. He took another step closer to the car.

I’m coming with you. Michaela tried to go around the side of the car, but Gabriel held on tightly to her hand, keeping her in place.

No, Clark said, surprising Michaela. I’m going alone.

Clark had left her once before. He had gone to Hell with Gabriel so Lucifer could teach him to use the marks on his arms. After touching the Apocrypha, a book of ancient Watcher magic, the ink had permanently etched itself into Clark’s arms, leaving him with an unstable, uncertain ability to use the magic. But Clark couldn’t control his powers, and he’d ended up killing Lucifer. When he had voluntarily left with Gabriel, she’d feared she would never see Clark again. That same feeling was back now.

Too bad, she said, her voice snapping. I’m coming. She had no intention of letting him go alone after his father and Sophia had just died. He needed her.

Back off, Michaela, Clark snarled. I’ll meet you back at the safe house in a couple days.

Michaela recoiled like she’d been slapped in the face. He’d never used such a harsh tone with her. Her feet stilled, and she stopped trying to pull away from Gabriel as Clark ducked into his car and slammed the door. The engine revved; the tires spun against the frozen grass. Then he was gone, rocketing down the road.

It’s okay, Iris said, meeting Michaela’s eyes. He needs time.

But should he be alone after this? What if he does something stupid? she asked. Gabriel tucked her against his side, the motion instantly easing her hurt feelings.

Iris smiled sadly. Clark is always doing something stupid. He just needs to handle things in his own way.

Michaela nodded numbly. She was an Archangel, strong and powerful, but she needed Clark’s friendship to feel whole. She wanted to heal him like he’d healed her. He’d brought her back to life with his friendship, and now she could do nothing for him. It broke her heart.

Are you staying here for a while? Gabriel asked Iris. His words pulled Michaela out of her thoughts. Suddenly, she realized how devastated and wan Iris looked.

Iris nodded like her throat was too thick to speak. I’ll stay for a bit. I just want to be … with him for a little longer, she managed.

Do you want one of us to stay with you? Ophaniel asked in her sweet voice, her blonde hair like golden threads glimmering even in the scant moonlight.

I’m fine, Iris said before Ophaniel pulled the Nephil into a hug. Seeing how her Archangels had embraced Iris, a Nephil, warmed Michaela’s heart and made her feel better.

You’ll meet us back at the safe house? Raphael asked as he squeezed Iris’s shoulder. It was his attempt at offering comfort; he’d never been much of a hugger.

Iris nodded mutely, her eyes searching out Michaela’s again. Gabriel finally released his hold on her. Michaela limped her way to Clark’s mom on stiff legs. I’m so sorry, Iris. I wish I could undo all the bad things that have happened.

Iris pressed her warm, weathered hand against Michaela’s cheek. Michaela didn’t know what having a mother felt like, but she thought her relationship with Iris was pretty close. I have faith in you, Michaela. You’re the only one who can make things right again.

The tears came easily like they were so prone to do lately, but Michaela pushed them back down with a heavy swallow. Okay, she said, hoping the word contained more confidence than she felt.

You will. Iris stepped away and looked at the group. I’ll see you all in a few days.

Her smile was sweet and serene, but her eyes were pools of sadness. They watched as she disappeared through the trees, her feet silent and sure on the wood’s floor. The angels waited until she was far away before they spoke again.

Okay, let’s go. We’ve got things to do. Raphael clapped his hands as if he needed to get their attention. He didn’t. They’d been waiting for this moment for days. They were ready to plan another attack against the Aethere.

Raphael didn’t wait for them to respond. Like the flash of a whip, his wings beat the air and he surged upwards, disappearing into the sky with Ophaniel and Simiel following. Uriel closed her arms around Zarachiel’s silent, bent form. The place where his wings should have been was an empty shadow. Abel had not been kind when he’d cut out Zarachiel’s wings to get back at Michaela.

Michaela’s own back was a mass of scars, but she tried not to look too closely at Zarachiel for fear he’d think she pitied him. She did, but she didn’t want him to know it. They hadn’t spoken since she’d stayed with him in the Descendants’ orchard right after he’d been thrown out of Heaven. Uriel had kept him hidden away from the other Archangels, her lashing anger better than any guard dog. Michaela knew it wasn’t just Uriel that kept her away from Zarachiel. It was her fear, her cowardice. She didn’t know what to say to him.

Ready? Gabriel asked.

As I’ll ever be, Michaela said through gritted teeth. Flying in someone else’s arms was awful. The panic set in when her feet left the ground. Her back flared with a scorching heat, and her vision swam.

Look at me, baby, Gabriel whispered in her ear, pulling her out of her fears. Just look at me.

She opened her eyes, not even realizing she’d squeezed them shut. She found Gabriel’s face inches from hers. His eyes rose to the sky around them, his short hair ruffling in the wind. He cradled her like she was the most precious weight he’d ever held.

Immediately, her heart eased. Her lips found the tan, slightly sweaty skin of his neck. Unable to resist the urge, she nibbled. Gabriel dipped them, causing her stomach to flip. She laughed, the sound bright in the dark sky. In his arms, Michaela allowed herself to enjoy flying again, knowing she was safe with him. Smiling, she nestled herself against his chest.

But it didn’t take long for the fear to find her happiness. The snake, a remnant of Molloch’s dark soul that would forever be a part of her, hissed, tightening its coil around her spine. Everything ends. Happiness never lasts. Nothing is forever. Her smile faltered, and she held on even tighter.

4

The safe house in Kentucky wasn’t far from the Descendants’ compound, especially when flying straight through the air. Gabriel stayed close to the others, but not too close. They flew near enough to help if attacked, but far enough away to not draw attention to themselves. Everyone knew it was a possibility that they could run into holy angels or Watchers patrolling the skies.

When Gabriel set Michaela down in the clearing near the cabin, a surge of memories overwhelmed her. This was the same cabin where Clark had brought her after he’d found her torn apart in the cave. Michaela looked around and recalled the days of her agonizing recovery. She shuddered as she remembered the horror and crippling guilt she’d felt when Clark told her the Aethere were labeling her a traitor and had banished Gabriel to Hell. The clearing looked different now. The trees, once heavy with leaves, were bare, and the lush green grass had shriveled, brittle and dead. A winter haze filled the air, even though it was summertime. The little house looked like something supernatural, especially when the other Archangels landed around them.

Home, sweet home, Simiel said. He tried to sound cheery, but his voice echoed in the silence.

Gabriel remained beside her as the others started toward the porch, sensing she didn’t want to go in just yet. Not surprisingly, Clark had left the cabin unlocked after their departure