his mangled book where it lay, but that was as much as could be done until a librarian could repair the damage. Hero lay on the couch unmoving, fading in and out of awareness, though every time he woke, his face turned toward the entrance to the stacks.
Finally, against Rami’s advice, Brevity took a few of Arlid’s folk and plunged into the stacks after Claire. Fool girl. It wasn’t safe, but the muse was frantic to find the librarian. She’d only grown more so after a discomfiting breeze had whipped through the stacks before dying down again.
The minutes had ticked by, but neither raven nor librarians emerged.
“How much more?” Leto asked, hovering by the desk. The boy had kept out of the fighting, but helplessness drained his features. The boy looked tired, scanning the death and destruction at the front of the Library. Several of the Library’s tall shelves had been damaged in the fighting, upended as much by the gargoyle’s own maneuvering as by Andras’s forces. The stacks cracked and groaned, leaning against one another like broken old men. Books, paintings, and other unwritten artifacts were scattered on the floor. Rami hadn’t allowed Leto even to help with pickup.
“That’s the last of them,” Rami said. He stepped back as Arlid approached with a blue-flamed torch. The smell drew a wince as she placed it to the bodies, but the magical fire sputtered and burned cleanly, smoke neatly drifting out the hallway to mingle with Hell’s usual ash- and anise-heavy air. Damsel and demon alike were ascribed to the elements. Rami said a silent prayer. To whom, he found he wasn’t quite sure.
“Was it worth it?” Rami muttered.
Arlid heard and arched one thick brow. “Beats me, Watcher. My kind slaughter each other, everyone gets up for sunrise again the next morning. Ask your librarians.”
“If they return.” Rami cast a look toward the still shadows of the stacks.
“They better. The little one took some of the flock in with her.” Arlid made it sound as if she would take it as a personal offense if the search party failed.
The fire did quick work, burning blue and clean, never straying toward the shelves of tempting paper nearby. They were just watching the embers when there was a pop and a familiar teenage yelp of surprise behind him. Rami sighed and turned to remind Leto not to touch anything.
The air left his chest in a rush.
A shattered star stood just beneath the arch of the Library doors. Uriel, archangel of the Heavenly Host, Face of God, proud, holy, eternal, stood straight as a blade in the chaos of the Library. Her fractal wings were fully unfurled, and razor blades of light scissored and lashed gouges into the door molding. By her side, Leto stood stock-still.
Perhaps due to the angelic fist clenched around his throat.
“Uriel!” Rami’s legs decided to work again and he jolted forward. “What are you doing?”
“What you should have done, the moment you entered this unholy place.” Her voice was silk over frozen stone. Uriel didn’t have a weapon, didn’t need one. Her pale fingers curled around Leto’s neck like a collar. It was threat enough. The whites of Leto’s eyes were wide, and his cheek twitched from the effort to breathe around Uriel’s grip.
Her hand tightened as Rami advanced. He frowned in confusion at the archangel. “How did you—”
“I followed you. Your fallen path was not so hard to find once you made me aware of it.”
“That’s— The threat is over now.” Rami raised his hand. It was difficult to keep the tremble out of his voice. “Leto is an innocent human soul. He’s not even damned—he’s Heaven’s now. We saved him. That means—”
“That means nothing,” Uriel snarled. Her arm shook for good measure, drawing a stuttering yelp from Leto. The light at her back splintered and doubled, growing from wings into a lashing scorpion tail. She was losing control. “Not when a Watcher, one of Heaven’s first creations, dear to the Creator’s heart, would turn traitor and help these things.”
“No one here is a thing. They’re human, or harmless spirits, or . . .” He trailed off, not quite sure how to describe Arlid’s ravens or the gargoyle. He caught leather-clad movement at the edge of his vision. Arlid stepped up behind him, hand dancing over her weapon, calculating the space between them and the angel.
His heart ached, already drowned in too much bloodshed today. He had to stop this before it turned foolish. “I haven’t betrayed anyone, Uriel.