SILAS

  What the hell just happened.

  My vision's blurry. My ears are ringing. My cheek is pressed against something hard and cold. I can smell it too, bits of it hovering in the air like chalk dust. Shattered cement.

  With a grunt, I get up onto one knee. I used up my shields with that fall. I can feel my Nanobit reserves flooding in to replace them. And I need it, too, if I'm gonna keep fighting. There's still a good deal of energy left though. Hopefully it's gonna be enough.

  Everything's slowly coming back into focus. I'm in a big, open place. A place I've definitely been before. The main hall of the Cloister.

  There's some kind of congregation gathered in the middle of the hall. Women. Children. Old men.

  Or at least, they used to be gathered. Most of them are already rushing toward the doors. Probably, in part, because there's a giant hole in the ceiling.

  "How many times are you gonna trash this place?" Revenant says, standing with his back to me, surveying the situation.

  "Hey, it's not like I'm doing it on purpose," I mutter.

  I get to my feet.

  Most of the group have already fled through the side doors, looking to get to a sealed chamber with clean air. Others are still standing there, transfixed.

  Not sure I can blame them. Because there's an angel standing on the platform at the back of the hall, facing them, his wings spread wide, glowing in the light of the sun coming in through the hole in the roof.

  Some of the Cloister-dwellers are even getting down on their knees, holding their arms up in supplication, even as they begin to cough and writhe from the toxins coming in from the outside.

  "It's here!" Someone yells, almost screeches. An older man near the front of the group. Reverend Corfield. "An angel! A herald from God! Our faith has been rewarded! Our time of tribulation is over at last!"

  The Reverend's eyes are wide, his face screwed into an expression one might easily mistake for terror. Fear and terror and awe.

  There are a few 'amen's' from the crowd, loud and boisterous and terrible. Some of the people prostrate themselves, foreheads pressed against the cold cement. A small child stands over one of them, tugging at their clothes and crying, not understanding. No one here understands.

  That is, until Gavin shoves Corfield. "That's no angel! That's a HERALD, from SERAPHIM! The enemy!"

  Gavin is bare-chested for some reason, with bleeding cuts all across his body, and a bloody knife in his hand. Which is weird and perplexing in and of itself,

  The former head of the Watch pushes Corfield out of the way as he rushes toward a camo backpack nearby. He pulls out a rifle, feeds a mag into it, and points it at the HERALD. The muzzle flashes. Gunshots crack and echo in the hangar. Quick, automatic bursts.

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  One of Gavin's guys, Renzo, follows suit, firing at the HERALD from his position behind the rest of the congregation.

  That seems to do the trick. People start screaming again. The people disperse completely, heading for the exit. In the kerfuffle, I spot Evelyn Keller, jogging to keep up with the rest of the group.

  I also see--such a brief glimpse I almost think it's my imagination--Daimon picking up Gavin's camo backpack and winking directly at me before disappearing into the crowd.

  I can't follow him. He's clearly still in a weakened state, compared to before. I'll get to him later. I can't afford to just walk away from the HERALD.

  Speaking of. Gavin and Renzo's bullets might as well be NERF darts. They keep glancing off of the HERALD's body in bright flashes and sparks. The HERALD doesn't care at all. He stares down at the riflemen, while the rest of the crowd continue to filter out of the hall.

  WHY DO YOU FLEE? The HERALD says, raising his arms, holding his flaming sword aloft. THERE IS NOTHING TO FEAR. THE GOD OF JACOB ABSOLVES YOU OF YOUR SINS. HE WILL PROTECT YOU AND KEEP YOU.

  Yeah, the people aren't listening. If anything, the screaming has intensified, and they're running faster than before.

  There's a lull in the gunfire. Both Gavin and Renzo have emptied their magazines. Renzo loads another mag. He aims at the HERALD, but doesn't pull the trigger. I guess he's figuring out that conventional weapons aren't going to work on this thing.

  Gavin ejects his empty mag, then casts his eyes around for the camo backpack. Only, the pack is gone, of course.

  Snarling, he drops his rifle and pulls his bloody knife from where he'd wedged it in his belt. "Feel to intervene anytime, ya fucking rustbucket."

  I summon a new copy of my katana--sheathed, attached to my belt. "You're not talking to me, are you?"

  His eyes cut sideways to look at me. "Who else would I be talking to? You're the one that brought this thing--"

  Something breaks in me.

  I turn my legs into coiled springs and burst forward across the floor. When I come to a stop there's a crack in the concrete under my feet. I grab Gavin's arm--the one holding the knife--and twist it into a hold that makes him grunt as I tilt his torso forward. He drops the knife, which bounces and rattles as it hits the floor.

  "All those people," I say, under my breath. "All those dead. And for what?"

  I break his arm. Feels--and sounds--like snapping a toothpick, thanks to the strength I still have from Overcharge.

  He doesn't scream. He just slumps, falling onto his knees, cradling his arm.

  "Now what was the point of that?" Revenant says.

  I don't answer.

  For a second, I think Renzo is going to shoot at me. But he seems to think better of it. He's got his rifle trained on me though. Like I'm the problem, here.

  Whatever.

  I turn, facing the HERALD. He lowers his arms. Shakes his head as he steps forward off the platform, alighting on the concrete. How like humanity. Always running from God.

  "They're not running from God," I say, stepping backward as he eases in my direction. "They're running from you."

  What's the difference?

  "I'm pretty sure there's a big difference."

  Renzo steps in front of me, helping Gavin to his feet, guiding him off to the side.

  For once, Gavin doesn't say anything. Doesn't even make a sound. Doesn't even look at me.

  I get this twinge of guilt. This squirmy feeling in the pit of my stomach. But then I think about the things Gavin did, in this very room, and the feeling completely disappears.

  The HERALD takes a wide stance, wielding his flaming sword in both hands. What is God, Silas?

  He knows my name. Unnerving.

  I don't answer. I just watch, and wait.

  Everyone has their own definition. Do you want to hear mine?

  He moves a bit to one side. I do as well, mimicking his movements, one hand on the hilt of my sword, ready to draw.

  God is the wind. God is entropy. God is that pit in your stomach that won't go away, that certainty that one day, everything you love will disappear. God is--

  He lunges.

  --everything that cannot be denied!