I can’t let all those people die just because there’s a chance of something going wrong. I unlatch the ladder and drop it down the side. They need to get out of there. They are now almost literally the low-hanging fruit in this war.

Our people scramble to the edges of the nets, some of them climbing over each other. There are as many people who fall into the water trying to escape as there were people who were taken by the monster.

The water churns again, and another sixer jumps up from the water. The distance they can jump is astounding. It greedily grabs people with its six jaws and drags the screaming, squirming people down below, into the depths.

‘Come on! Get back up here!’ I wave to the nearest people on the nets. They may be safer on the battlefield than where they are now.

As people begin climbing back up, I run through the chaos to the other escape routes around the bridge and lower the ladders. People begin streaming up the ladders as soon as they’re in place.

The music stops.

We all look up. Even the angels and locusts pause midfight to look. What now? When this is all over, I never want another exciting moment in my life ever again.

Someone in a white suit flies above the stage. It’s Uriel. His wings look off-white in the bright artificial light with a web of stark shadows.

My ears ring from the lack of sound. I peel back my headphones.

‘The trial by contest is over.’ He speaks in a regular voice, but in all this silence, it sounds like he’s shouting. ‘Raphael has proven himself a traitor. I am now the undisputed Messenger.’

Just as he says that, someone screams. A sixer climbs over the edge of the bridge. People back away as soon as they see the six heads with the seventh lying limp on its shoulder.

An angel near the sixer crashes onto his knees. His face is turning red, and he’s sweating. Blood dribbles out of his mouth.

Another sixer climbs over the other edge of the bridge.

More people scream as they frantically try to get away from the sixers, but we can’t go far on our bridge island. We herd together like frightened animals.

Two locusts near the sixer begin coughing. Then choking. They try to flap their wings, but they tumble to the concrete.

Blood begins dripping out of their mouths, their noses, their eyes. They make pitiful mewling and choking noises as they writhe on the bridge.

It’s the apocalyptic pestilence.

Chapter 66

66

‘Raffe!’ I try to get his attention. ‘Get off the bridge! These monsters have angelic plague!’

A low-flying angel falls out of the sky, moaning like his insides are churning. Blood drips out his mouth, ears, nose, and eyes as he writhes on the concrete.