Ramiel

The waiting was the worst part, or so Eita hoped. In the plan to fight Ramiel, his role came at the end. It was Sammy who had to face Ramiel in the beginning, goad him into accepting a one-on-one battle, and then lead him into the ambush. It was her neck on the line the entire time, and Eita wasn't even privileged with the opportunity to watch it happen. All he could see was the area around him that had been staked out for the coming moment – low ground on a disused rail line between an industrial cannery on one side and an electric substation on the other. The best part, according to Azalea, was that it was hard to see into from anywhere people actually went, but that also meant that there wasn't much to see out of the weed-strewn tracks.

Eita simply had to wait. Once she had Ramiel's focus on her, Sammy would come through. As he turned over every step of the admittedly simple operation in his head, Eita looked up to the sky. Remembering what the battle between Sammy and Raphael had looked like at a distance, he managed to catch a glimpse that things had already begun.

That wasn't according to plan. Sammy and presumably Ramiel clashed in the air, and though she wheeled and raced this way and that, the other angel was always hot on Sammy's heels. The idea had been to flee at once, and keep some distance, but blow by blow the dogfight continued.

As Eita watched, he wanted to scream, to beg Sammy to break off the conflict. She could run to the ends of the Earth, if that was what it took, as long as she didn't die here and now. But it was pointless. Even if his voice reached her, it would just reach her enemy as well. It would give away that Sammy didn't stand alone.

And so Eita waited, and watched. Then, there was a bright flash, and the two figures were flung away from each other. At that, Sammy dove in Eita's direction.

Eita steeled himself. Transference, the Angels' Kiss, was shocking in ways both more and less profound, but there was room for neither doubt nor guilt. The moment Sammy reached him, Eita had to be ready to fight.

Coming in fast, Sammy landed hard. She flared her wings as she touched down, but still her knees buckled, and her shoes skidded as she barreled forward, digging divots in gravel and skipping other railroad ties.

Eita took a deep breath and stepped up. He lowered his head, and in his mind began to hear the words she'd spoken before, the ritual that would give him the strength to fight.

Sammy skipped all of that. Instead of noble words and a kiss on the forehead, what happened was a frantic collision and a forceful kiss on the lips.

The greater shock came anyway. For Eita, it felt like a fire was kindled in his blood, racing from his heart, like a thunderbolt struck his spine and raced along his nerves. He had no time to reflect, or even think on the gesture, as the surge of power, more intense than before, ripped through him.

Sammy, not entirely able to come to a stop, fell to her knees a split second after contact. Eita sank to his knees as well, desperate to catch his breath. As he did, awareness spread. Every vein, every nerve, could feel with the new power that thrummed through it.

It would only last a moment, he knew, less the more of the borrowed power Eita needed to exhaust, but as the shock faded, it felt as though the weight of the world faded with it.

As Eita struggled back to his feet, Ramiel descended, gracefully drifting down from the sky to alight upon the tracks.

“So,” Ramiel said, “You've run to your meddler to die.”

Sammy said nothing, She staggered to her feet, drawing her regalia sword again from its crystal form.

Eita's fingers tightened around his weapon of choice. An aluminum baseball bat didn't seem much better than the length of pipe he'd had at hand last time, but now there was a difference, and it meant the world.

“I showed you mercy the first time,” Ramiel said, leveling his spear at Eita, “but if you interfere now, it will not end the same way.”

“You're right about that,” Eita said.

Ramiel took the meaning, and dove forward.

Rather than moving with unmatchable speed, though, Eita found himself operating on the same level. Ramiel might still have been faster, but not by much. Eita stepped aside from the lunge, and swung away. As he did, he let that raging power, that made the world so light, flow into what he was holding. It wasn't aluminum that slammed into Ramiel's chest, but the raw weight of the power Sammy had given. That was the most Eita could do, imbuing something at hand with what he'd been given, but it was more than enough. Involuntarily, the angel gasped, and as Eita jumped back with the force of the blow, Ramiel as well spun away, flaring his wings to steady himself.

“You sly worm,” Ramiel gasped, “Transference?”

“No more talking,” Sammy replied. Sword in hand, she advanced.

All three combatants knew that it was a matter of time. If Ramiel could wait out the Transference, leaving Eita as nothing but an ordinary mortal again – a time that might be measured in heartbeats depending on just how much Sammy had given – he won. Thus, the angel took a defensive stance, crouched low, lashing out with short, careful strikes to fend off both angles of attack.

Eita and Sammy circled around him. They couldn't afford to be too methodical, but all the same, they couldn't underestimate Ramiel, not give him the room to take to the air..

Eita tried to pace himself carefully. One strike had taken a good deal out of him. Compared to the raging force that continued to burn, the tips of his fingers felt cold, and a first hint of the weight of the world had returned to Eita's shoulders.

How many more attempts did he have? And how many heartbeats circling around Ramiel would cut into that number? They hadn't had the time to practice, for Eita to get a feel of more than how to imbue a blunt instrument as a weapon.

There was no sense in waiting to find out. He glanced at Sammy, and for a second, their eyes met. She lunged, and Ramiel responded. Half a beat late by design, Eita ducked in and swung for Ramiel's leg. Even as he parried Sammy's strike, he twisted, trying to avoid or interpose the haft of his spear, but it was too late. The bat struck again, delivering another imbued strike. There was an audible snap as the Angel's leg bent unnaturally and flecks of golden blood sprayed from broken skin.

The weight fell on Eita harder, so much that he could feel his movements slow. Hopefully, that would have been enough.

Ramiel struck the end of his spear against the ground to steady himself and regain his footing, but for a second, that left him open, and Sammy didn't hesitate. Her silvery sword found home, piercing Ramiel's chest as she ran him through.

To kill an angel, Penny had told him, you had to destroy their head, their heart, or the connection between the two. Anything less than a perfect strike wouldn't do.

There was a terrible sound, a wailing noise like howling wind shrieking though grating metal. Ramiel's halo expanded and rose, spinning and somehow twisting in on itself. The light, the color drained from Ramiel, or were ripped from him surging into the Halo's wing, causing his body to convulse. He contorted as though unseen hands meant to fold him like oragami, and Sammy's sword, embedded in his chest, shattered with one last, sorrowful chime.

Then a pillar of golden light shot into the sky. What was left, a charcoal mummy, slumped to the ground before slowly crumbling into ash.

There could be no doubt, Ramiel was dead.

“I don't think any of the others could have missed that,” Sammy said, “We should leave. Now.”