The Builder's Wrath (The Legendary Builder Book 4) Read online

  “There’s more to fighting than that,” I said, staring at the hole. “We need to fix the gate for one.”

  “We cannot fix the gate. We have no resources.” She scrunched up her nose. “Though it should be better guarded. I only see one contingent there.”

  I looked but didn’t see anything at all. Was there really a contingent of angels there? Only, as I thought about it, I saw twelve menu orbs appear spread all around, and beneath them, the shadowy outlines of more women appeared. Interesting.

  “That’s amazingly good stealth,” I said with a whistle. “That’s quite impressive.” My hand when to Caliburn, so I could look at the ability, but Michelle gripped my shoulder, stopping me.

  “Your job is not to gawk, builder. It is to build.” She moved me around. “I will tell you what to do, and you will do it.” She met my eyes. “Or do I need to teach you a new lesson?” The way she said it chilled me.

  “No. It’s fine.” I sighed, turning off my curiosity as well as I could. Then again, it wasn’t that hard. Heaven was so ticky tacky that it wasn’t that interesting. Every building and structure looked like it’d been pushed out of a mold. Worse, it wasn’t even a pretty mold. It was all utilitarian and ugly.

  “So, what is the plan, exactly?” I asked Michelle, looking at her. “And are there other archangels here?”

  “There are. Why do you ask?” Michelle seemed confused, which was a first. Up until now, she’d had all the answers or at least the appearance of having them.

  “Um…” I touched my chest. “I am the Builder. I want the Heavenly Armaments and the marks. Speaking of which, I’d like yours too.”

  “What are you talking about?” Michelle shook her head. “You cannot use our marks nor our armaments. You are the Builder, not the Destroyer. They are not built to function for you.”

  “That’s not true,” I said, reaching up and pulling off the armament I’d gotten from Sam. “Do you recognize this?”

  “Yes.” Michelle nodded. “That is Samael’s Armament. The Cold Embrace of Death.” Her eyes widened. “Wait, did you take it from Dred?”

  “No.” I shook my head. “I broke the link between Dred’s Mark and Samael.” I waved a hand. “It was a thing. Then she crafted this for me.” I pulled up my shirt, revealing the mark of Death on my abdomen. “Once Sam gave me the mark, I could use the armament, but it doesn’t work that well.”

  “Of course not.” Michelle sighed. “Still, it is interesting.” She chewed on her lip for a moment. “We must speak with Raphael.” She nodded once, veering sharply to the right. “She will know.”

  “Raphael?” I asked, trying to keep up with her as she pulled me along.

  “Raphael is the Archangel of Providence. She is also the keeper of the archives.” Michelle frowned. “As much as I hate to use such a valuable resource in this way, knowledge is power and power is strength. We cannot forget that.”

  I wasn’t sure what to make of that, but as we approached a massive building, I felt my heart hammer in my chest. The place could have fit half the western United States. Could it really all be filled with knowledge? I found it hard to believe, but then again, this was Heaven. Nothing here made sense.

  “Come.” Michelle moved toward the door, which was when I realized she had released me. So far she had dragged me around, but now, as she approached the archives, she seemed hesitant. Interesting.

  I watched her for a heartbeat before following her across the sand to the door. When I reached it, I felt something buffet against me moments before I was flung backward across the ground.

  “Be gone!” The word echoed across the horizon, and as I felt it pulse inside my brain like a gong blast, the door opened to reveal a short woman with skin like coal and hair like spun copper. She was dressed in a long white lab coat over a white button up, red tie, and pleated navy skirt. She pushed her glasses up her nose and glared at Michelle. “How dare you?”

  “How dare I?” Michelle asked, raising an eyebrow. “Watch your tone, Raphael.”

  “Excuse me?” Raphael asked, one hand jerking out to point at me. “Am I the one who has brought a human onto the hallowed grounds of Heaven? Do you not remember what happened last time?”

  “I remember quite well, but this is different.”

  “It is not.” Raphael looked at me. “I might have believed you if he wasn’t cute.”

  “That isn’t it at all, Raphael.” Michelle sighed. “We require information.”

  “Of course you do.” Raphael took a step back into the building, and for a moment I thought she might close the door on Michelle’s face. “He cannot come in.”

  “Fine,” Michelle growled, and it was crazy because I’d seen Michelle show more emotion in the last few seconds than I had in all the time until now.

  “Very well.” Raphael stepped outside, shutting the door behind herself. “I would ask why this time is different, but I know you do not know because you are dumb.” Her gaze moved to me. “Justice may be blind, but that blindness is often dumb. There’s a difference between the letter of the law and the soul of the law. She’d know that if she studied for a single second.”

  “Raphael, I do not wish to have this argument with you now. I have many things to attend to.” Michelle paused. “I do have a question, or I would not be here.”

  “Ask your question,” Raphael huffed, crossing her arms over her chest.

  “Why has he been able to use Samael’s armament?” Michelle gestured to me. “He has her mark as well.”

  “Oh, that’s easy.” She looked at me. “Tell me, what is your legitimacy with the item?”

  “Legitimacy?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

  “Oh, another dumb one. Awesome.” Raphael rolled her eyes. “When you look at the item, it should have a legitimacy stat. Tell me what it is.”

  “Um…” I swallowed because I’d never seen a legitimacy stat on any of my items, but then again, I’d not looked at this particular item since I’d gotten Caliburn. Reaching down, I gripped the hilt of my sword and opened the menu for the armament.

  The Cold Embrace of Death

  Type: Earring

  Durability: 1,300

  Defense: 1D5

  Legitimacy: 25%

  Enchantments: Armament of Death

  Ability: Ethereal Armor– Allows the user to coat his body in Ethereal Armor that absorbs three times the user’s health in battle before being destroyed.

  “Twenty-five percent,” I said, trying to hide my surprise as I opened the new stat.

  Legitimacy – The user’s ability to harness power from a faction other than his own. By building up reputation with opposing factions, the user can increase his legitimacy, allowing him to harness a greater percentage of an item’s power.

  “Right, okay.” Raphael gestured at me as her eyes moved to Michelle. “So he can use about twenty-five percent of Samael’s power. If he raised his legitimacy, he could do more, but as it stands, he can only get that. Still, it’s better than nothing.”

  “So this means that we can increase his strength by giving him our marks?” Michelle asked, staring at me. “This is excellent news, even if your legitimacy is low.”

  “Um… in theory.” Raphael looked at me. “I’m guessing something happened to Samael’s bond with the Destroyer, yes?”

  “Yes.” I nodded.

  “It is as I thought.” Raphael sighed. “I do not know how easy it will be to break those marks here. Down there, she will experience a debuff based upon being in Hell where the Builder’s power is strongest. Here he will be unlikely to break those bonds, at least without increasing his affinity.”

  “Oh.” Michelle nodded, dismissing the idea. “Well, let us move on then.”

  She turned and began to walk away, and as I glanced at Raphael, wondering whether or not I could get the archangel to tell me more, she smiled at me.

  “It’s okay. You can come back later, Arthur. You intrigue me.” Raphael glanced at the Armament of Death. “Samael was a
good friend.”

  “He will not have time for your poking and prodding. He is busy.” Michelle stopped and waited for me. “Come. Not all of Heaven is as nice as this.”

  7

  Michelle was right. The rest of Heaven was a fucking pit. I wasn’t sure how I hadn’t noticed it before, but it became immediately clear as we left the Archives and headed back toward the zillions of barracks. From a distance they had seemed okay, but as we approached, the full extent of the damage became clear.

  Most of the buildings were dilapidated, and while I wasn’t sure how much of that was from neglect and how much was from the Darkness’s forces running roughshod inside the town. The wounded were another matter.

  They were fucking everywhere. It was like the stained problem back in Hell, but almost worse because they were hurt.

  “You need healers,” I said as we passed yet another broken down building. This one looked like it had been lit on fire for a while. Inside ten angels lay on the charred floorboards inside, blood staining their bandages crimson. “A lot of healers.”

  “That is not what we need.” Michelle tossed a sidelong glance at me. “We need to be so strong we cannot be hurt.”

  “Sure, right.” I sighed. “You keep saying that, but you can’t get stronger if you’re dead.”

  “Battle weeds out the weak.” Michelle looked at me for another moment, and while she wasn’t annoyed with me yet, I could tell that was going to change if I kept it up. Images of being doused in a volcano over and over again filled my mind, and for a moment, I kept my mouth shut.

  Only as we passed more injured and more burnt out, halfway condemned buildings, I started getting pissed. This wasn’t right, wasn’t fair.

  “We need to help these people.” I stopped and put my hands on my hips. “Now.”

  “No. We must make those who are strong, stronger. We have no time to waste on this chaff.” She gestured at an angel who had one bloody arm wrapped against her chest.

  “You’re wrong.” I glared at Michelle. “It isn’t a crime to get hurt in battle. Hell, if we hadn’t healed you, we wouldn’t even be talking because you’d be dead.”

  “Be that as it may—”

  “No.” I shook my head. “I will not ‘be that as it may.’” I pointed to the woman. “She could be you. Hell, she could be the most powerful angel here. We should heal them.” I gestured around. “This whole town is a slum. Why aren’t you fixing this?”

  “I already told you that we cannot.” Michelle crossed her arms over her chest. “Must we have this conversation again?”

  “Yes.” I glared at her. “This is almost worse than Hell. It’s like you took a well-oiled machine and ran it into the ground.” I threw my hands into the air. “I’m not doing a damned thing until we get some healers here.”

  “And how would we do that?” Michelle raised an eyebrow at me, and for a moment, I thought she might be placating me, but when she waited for my response, I realized she really wanted an answer.

  “Um… we get some from Hell?” I shrugged. “If you don’t have any, that is.”

  “We cannot allow demons and the fallen to set foot on our hallowed shoes. It is unacceptable.” She snorted. “As if.”

  “Are you being serious right now?” I asked, barely resisting the urge to throttle her. I might have done it, but I didn’t want to fight here and now. I wanted to help these angels.

  “Yes.” She waved a hand. “This conversation is over. Think of another way, and I shall entertain it. Until then, we will carry on with my plan.”

  I wanted to argue, to come up with a way to make everything work, but I couldn’t. Hell, as I pulled up the stats for the woman, I felt my gut sink. For one, she had no healing trees of any kind, but for two, I couldn’t even heal her injuries with experience because they weren’t considered flaws.

  “Arthur, come along.” Michelle slapped her thigh in a way that pissed me off. “We have much to do.”

  “What other archangels are here? Can one of them heal?” I asked, looking at Michelle.

  “Theoretically.” She paused for a moment. “But it is unlikely.”

  “Tell me, or I’m not moving. I’ll just go back to Hell and take my chances.” I crossed my arms over my chest.

  “Mammon misspoke when she said we had no healers.” Michelle sighed. “But she was not wrong when she said we could not heal our own.” She gestured at the injured angels everywhere. “Our battle medics can do simple things, but nothing to this extent. The best thing for our people it to take care of them until they heal on their own.” She gritted her teeth. “It is not normally this bad. We were just attacked by the Darkness a few days ago.”

  “You’re dumb.” I shook my head before hitting my chest with the flat of my hand. “I am the Builder. I can modify the healer’s stats. Take me to them, and let me see what I can do.”

  Michelle stared at me for a long moment. “I have been trying to do that this entire time.”

  “Why didn’t you say that?” I snarled, moving toward her. “Let’s go.”

  “I do not wish to tell you my every thought. It is enough for you to know that I consider all options.” She held her hand out to me. “Do not think me unkind or uncaring. Neither of those are true.”

  “Fair enough,” I said, taking her hand and her skin felt cool to the touch. Only as she squeezed my fingers, I felt something from her I never had before.

  Pain.

  An endless rush of pain and misery. This was her fault, and she knew it. She hadn’t been strong enough, and now she was worried those she’d sought to protect would turn on her. It was why I was here. To back her play, to keep them strong to fight the Darkness, and right now, I wasn’t helping. I hadn’t noticed it before, but all around us, I could see the injured tittering about my defiance.

  Heaven needed to be strong, and I was fucking it up.

  “I’m sorry,” I said, louder than I needed to. “I should not have presumed to know everything about Heaven or your leadership.” I nodded. “Take me to your healers.”

  “I’m glad you’re starting to understand.” She released my hand, and as she moved, I could see thanks in her eyes. I wasn’t sure how she’d conveyed so much with only a brief touch, but she had nonetheless.

  “I still think you’re a bit wrong though.” I moved beside her, careful to keep my voice low enough so no one else would hear me. “You should take the help from Hell if they offer it.”

  “You are wrong.” Michelle looked at me. “Trust me on this above all other things.”

  “I will for now, but I think it’s wrong. The Darkness is the enemy. Hell is not.” I sighed. “But it’s your show. I don’t even work here.”

  “That is where you’re wrong, Builder.” Michelle stopped in front of a large building. “We are here.”

  “Here?” I asked, looking over the structure. It was about three times the size of the other buildings but was as equally unadorned.

  “Yes.” She marched up to the doors and pulled them open.

  The first thing I noticed was the stench. Like blood, shit, and vomit. I staggered backward, and as I did, Michelle furrowed her brows.

  “What is this?” she asked, and as she spoke, I saw a figure in the middle of the room rise. She took a step forward, and I realized she only had one wing. The other had been shorn off, and she dragged it toward us.

  “All are dead, Michelle.” The voice that spoke was low and melodious, like a female James Earl Jones. “We pushed them back, but it was obvious this was their goal from the start.” The woman stopped in front of us. Her entire body was covered in dried blood, and as she looked at me with her one good eye, she laughed. “Welcome to Heaven.”

  8

  “Uriel!” Michelle exclaimed, showing more emotion in that single word than she had in all the time until now. “What has happened to you, to our battle-clerics?”

  “Jophiel,” the bloodied woman replied right before she shoved the shorn wing into Michelle’s chest. “She
has happened.”

  “That… that isn’t possible.” Michelle swallowed hard, hands instinctively reaching to grab the angel wing against her chest. As her fingers closed around the bloody feathers, Uriel pushed past her.

  “You must be the Builder.” Uriel looked me up and down, her good eye taking me in. She wasn’t that tall, standing only about my height, but she looked built. Her body was all lean muscle, and what was more, she had that intrinsic feel of danger I’d seen many times walking by thugs after dark. “It is good to meet you before I die.” Her green eye flashed. “That seems melodramatic. I am far from dead.” She smirked. “That isn’t even my wing.” She threw her head back and laughed, howling like a crazy person. Then her hands went back to the nub where her one wing had been torn from her body. “I can’t seem to find mine though.” She frowned.

  “Whose wing is that?” I asked, suddenly confused. “And why do you have it?”

  “Why?” Uriel tapped her chin with one stubby finger. “That is the question, now isn’t it. Wish I knew the answer.” She smirked again. “Not true. I know the answer, but it is far from a good one. Truth be told I wanted it, so I took it.”

  “You wanted a busted angel wing?” I asked, suddenly confused.

  “Uriel, who owns this wing?” Michelle said, turning to look at the one-eyed woman.

  “I own the wing.” She smacked her thighs and laughed again, her green eye flashing with delight. “I took it with my own hands.” She held them up and clapped them together. “I ripped it from that stupid bitch’s body when I found her within.” Uriel snorted. “Thought she could take me, just ‘cause I was down a wing. Well, I showed her. Took her damned wing.” Uriel smiled. “Fair trade, I think.”

  “Okay.” I clapped my hands together and looked Uriel over. Only, as I did so, I realized I couldn’t see her menu. That was a bit odd. “Say, what’s wrong.”