Darksiders: The Abomination Vault by Ari Marmell Read Free Book Online Page B

is
that
doing here?” The voice was gruff, powerful, clearly accustomed to instant and unquestioning obedience—but it also quavered, ever so slightly, with repressed agony.
    “A pleasure, Lord Abaddon,” Death replied.
    The greatest warrior the White City had ever produced sat upon a chair of ivory-hued hardwood, gripping it so tightly that the armrests had cracked. Shoulders and chest seemingly large enough to uproot a small mountain were encased in gold-trimmed armor so heavy that most angels couldn’t have lifted it, let alone worn it. The square jaw, framed by an unkempt mass of the angels’ traditional platinum hair, was distended in a furious scowl that seemed quite capable of
chewing
through the defensive walls.
    A pair of angels stood, one to either side of the great general, tending his injuries. With balm-soaked cloths and foul-smelling unguents, they prodded—ever careful, ever gentle—at their commander’s face.
    And it was, indeed, that face that drew Death’s attention. Vicious gouges marred the flesh from forehead to cheek on both sides, and a crimson-soaked bandage completely hid the angel’s right eye.
    Or, to judge by the concave flex of the blood-stiffened fabric, the empty socket that had once housed the eye.
    That Abaddon was conscious, let alone functional and rational, was enough to impress even the impassive Horseman.
    Azrael stepped between them, speaking softly but swiftly. A few emphatic gestures, a few barked questions, and Abaddon grudgingly nodded.
    “All right, Horseman. Azrael’s convinced me we’re on the same side of this—for now.”
    “How magnanimous of you.”
    The general grumbled, low in his throat. “Tell me what you know.”
    “Less than you do,” Death said. “I know of the attack, up to the appearance of the brass warriors. Beyond that …” He shrugged.
    “There’s little to tell beyond that,” Abaddon said. “Theygave us some trouble, and I lost some good soldiers, but we rebuffed them.”
    “Did you?” Death asked him. “Are you certain?”
    Abaddon’s glower returned, stiffer even than before.
    “We did,” Azrael said, stepping in. “I know what you’re asking, Death, and I can assure you, the garden was not breached.”
    “Hmm. I’ll need to see for myself. Once I’ve returned, we can—”
    “No,” Abaddon growled.
    While, at the same time, Azrael said, “The way is barred.”
    “Then unbar it.”
    “I’m sorry,” Azrael told him, and it sounded as though he genuinely meant that. “I understand how important this is to you—”
    “You cannot
possibly—
”
    “—but we cannot risk it. The enemy may still be watching. To lower the defenses, even for a moment, might grant them the opportunity they require. I won’t do so, not even for you.”
    “I know my way to the gate,” Death said, his voice dangerously calm. Only the blazing fire in his eyes, stoked brighter than Azrael had ever seen it, suggested the growing fury within. “Do you believe your wards can keep me out indefinitely if I choose to break them?”
    “Not indefinitely,” the scholarly angel said softly. “But long. Long enough for our common enemy, whoever he may be, to move to whatever the next stage of whatever plan he’s following.”
    “And you’d be fending off the forces of the White City at every moment,” Abaddon said. “
After
having had to kill every one of us present just to begin.”
    “Myself included,” Azrael added.
    Death’s mask couldn’t hide his scowl. “You? You’ve never been a warrior, Azrael.”
    “Neither am I remotely helpless on the battlefield, as you well know. Would you really pit yourself against all of Heaven merely to confirm with your own eyes what I swear to you is true? When I’ve no reason to deceive you?”
    The general’s two attendants fell back, seemingly pushed away by an almost palpable clash of wills. Three of the most potent beings in Creation watched one another, each considering what the other might