Blessed Death

by Amy Sumida

  “Damn, that's good,” I whispered.

  “Samael wouldn't refuse an invitation from the Devil,” Ira said. “Luke can wine and dine him.”

  “Maybe ask a few casual questions,” Sam added.

  “And keep Samael busy while Tagas sneaks us into Makhon,” I concluded.

  “I'll text my father.” Azrael pulled out his cell phone.

  “Do you think Luke will be okay with this?” Ira asked. “He'll have to entertain an angel who may be behind your attack.”

  “Dad would happily entertain Jerry himself if it meant he could bake a souffle,” Azrael huffed.

  Kirill and I looked at each other and nodded; the Devil loved a good dinner party.

  “And while you do that, I'm going to text Brahma,” I said. “I need to tell him about a dream.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Makhon was just as beautiful as I remembered. A thick forest spread out from the courtyard before the marble palace we had traced in through. Trees soared up as high as the slanted roof; their roots covered by glossy vines. Jewel-toned flowers added spots of color to the deep green, as did the ripe fruit hanging heavy on the branches. The last time I'd been to Makhon, it had been at night as well, and lanterns had been hung everywhere. This time, however, there were only a few lanterns hung near the palace steps; allowing the rest of the forest to fade into shadows. But with the lack of light, I noticed a glow on the horizon that I hadn't seen on my previous visit.

  “What's that?” I pointed into the distance as the rest of our recon group joined Azrael and I.

  “The Grigori,” Azrael murmured. “Angels who rebelled against Jerry and had children with human women.”

  “They're also pretty vicious.” Ted stared into the distance with us. “Jerry chained them with fire; said they were too dangerous to allow to roam free.”

  “But their ferocity isn't why he chained them,” Azrael protested. “They wouldn't obey, so they were punished.”

  “Wait... Grigori... children,” I murmured. “Are you talking about the Nephilim?”

  “That's right,” Azrael confirmed with an approving nod. “Half human and half god; the Nephilim were some of the first dual-souled beings to be born. But they were savage and had to be put down.”

  “You know that whole thing with the ark and the flood?” Ira asked me.

  “That was because of the Nephilim?” My eyes went wide.

  “It wasn't a world-wide flood,” Sam explained. “Jerry chained the Nephilim in a valley and then flooded the whole thing.”

  “That's kind of horrifying,” I whispered.

  “They were kind of horrifying,” Ira said grimly. “Something went wrong with those first births. The Grigori could be savage, but they weren't unreasonable angels. They loved humans and tried to help them. The Grigori leader—this angel named Samyaza—encouraged his men to give Atlantean technology to the humans. He believed that we had a responsibility to help the human race progress. It was through these interaction that the Grigori became entangled with human women, and formed unions.”

  “That sounds familiar,” I murmured as I looked at Odin. “With exception to the procreating with humans, that is.”

  Odin scowled and exchanged a heavy look with Trevor. Kirill had stayed home with Lesya, so it was only us and the Horsemen.

  “And just as with Krishna and the Hindus, the humans who Samyaza gave technology too couldn't handle it,” Azrael said. “It was a generous thought, but the human race needed to advance on its own.”

  I had updated the Horsemen on Brevyn's dream after I'd called Brahma. Brahma and Sarasvati were going to gather the Hindu Pantheon again to present this new tidbit to them. The dreams of children may not be the most reliable sources, but in the case of my son, they held weight. Brahma was pretty sure that the Hindus would listen this time.

  “One problem at a time,” Ira said. “Let's focus on our reconnaissance for now. When we get back, we can talk about Dvārakā.”

  “Fair enough,” I said.

  “Prince Azrael,” Tagas, the Angel of Music (not the phantom in the mask) came up the steps to greet us. “It's good to see you again. And you've brought the rest of the Horsemen; this is a blessed day indeed.”

  “Thank you for meeting us, Tagas.” Azrael went forward to shake the angel's hand warmly.

  “It's an honor.” Tagas waved back the way we had come. “But perhaps we should take this inside.”

  We all went back into the palace and followed Tagas down a hallway, past the tracing room we had used, and into a formal dining room. We sat at a long, polished-wood table, on chairs upholstered in deep emerald tapestry. The room was Victorian; with wallpaper that looked as antique as the furniture and had a formal feel to it. It was spacious, but there were no windows; which I assume was why Tagas chose it.

  “Your text said that you had some concerns about Lord Samael,” Tagas said. “What kind of concerns?”

  Azrael looked uncomfortable.

  “We suspect that Samael might be involved in an attack on Azrael,” I answered for my husband.

  “I heard of the attack,” Tagas said, “and I'm very sorry that your retirement hasn't gone as planned, but I'm not sure why you would suspect Lord Samael.”

  “A parchment was delivered to the Virtues; it contained an order to attack me,” Azrael explained. “The order appeared to be from Jerry, but was not. Jerry had it investigated but there was no evidence left on the scroll; nothing to lead him to the culprit. To forge a parchment from Jerry, leave no trace behind, and get into the Seventh Heaven without anyone the wiser would be a great accomplishment for most angels, but an even greater one for a god. These parameters narrow down the suspect list. It would have to be a very powerful god or—”

  “An archangel,” Tagas whispered. “And given your history with Lord Samael, you were compelled to suspect him.”

  “That and the fact that it would make sense for another death angel to be offended by Azrael's retirement,” I added.

  “We just want to rule him out,” Ted said with a good-natured smile.

  “How can I help?” Tagas asked.

  “You keep watch over Makhon when Samael's gone,” Azrael noted. “So, you know when he's in residence.”

  “Yes.” Tagas nodded.

  “Has he left recently?” Azrael asked. “Say, a few days ago?”

  “He did leave,” Tagas said. “But I can't see how that proves anything.”

  “Have you noticed any strange behavior on his part?” Ira asked. “Or maybe outbursts associated with Azrael?”

  Tagas went solemn. “I have been witness to several such incidents lately. Lord Samael is furious that Azrael was able to leave his duties while he cannot.”

  “Why couldn't he?” I asked.

  “Samael is too closely tied to Jerry,” Azrael answered for Tagas. “He is the wrath of god and must be available for Jerry to unleash at any moment.”

  “Yes, precisely,” Tagas said. “However, Lord Samael may hiss and snap, but he rarely bites.”

  “Snake references,” I chuckled. “Nice one.”

  “Snake references?” Odin asked.

  “Samael is a snake-shifter,” I said. “Didn't I tell you?”

  “You may have.” Odin shrugged. “I don't recall.”

  “Tagas is right; Samael doesn't do vengeance; he has enough of that when dealing with Jerry's,” Azrael said. “I think we're wasting our time here.”

  “Hold on,” Ted said. “Samael was gone at the right time, and he's been heard raging about you, Az. If anything, I'm more inclined to think it's him.”

  “Search his home, if you like,” Tagas offered. “Though I agree with Azrael; this is a waste of time.”

  “Better to cover all bases,” Ira said.

  “You guys look through Samael's stuff,” Ted said. “I'm going to talk to the other angels.”

  “You're just going to walk around and ask the angels if they have seen Samael plotting against Az?” I asked.


  “Something like that.” Ted shrugged. “Except with finesse.”

  “It's not going to work.” Ira shook his head. “Those angels won't rat on their leader.”

  “We'll see about that.” Ted sauntered away.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  I had assumed that the palace we had entered Makhon through was Samael's. It was not. Samael didn't want to live in the same place where the angels of the territory—and there were a lot of them—trace in. That was simply too much foot traffic—or wing traffic, as it were. So, Samael lived somewhere nearby. Tagas led us around the edge of the sleeping forest, on a cobblestone path, to a more modest structure of pale green stone.

  “Aw, it's the color of his eyes,” I observed.

  “What about Lilith?” Azrael asked Tagas. “Did she go to dinner with Samael tonight?”

  “Lilith and Samael have been at odds these last few months,” Tagas said. “They had a violent disagreement, and then the Lady took some belongings and left Makhon.”

  “Lilith left Samael?” Azrael's eyes widened.

  “And you didn't think to tell us?” Odin asked.

  “Is it relevant?” Tagas looked more surprised than Azrael.

  “It could be,” Azrael said gently. He gave Tagas a pointed look and added, “Depending on what they were arguing about.”

  “Oh!” Tagas blinked rapidly. “You think that perhaps Lilith was protesting an attack on your person?”

  “Lilith is a Luke supporter,” Azrael said. “She would never condone an attack on me.”

  “Wait.” I held up a hand. “Samael—the guy who is a staunch Jerry-atric—is married to a Luker?”

  “What did she just say?” Tagas gaped at me.

  “My wife has a delightful tendency of making up words.” Azrael chuckled. “I believe she is trying to be humorous by labeling the supporters of Jerry as Jerry-atrics and those of my father as Lukers.”

  “Oh, I see,” Tagas murmured as my husbands chortled.

  “Jerry-atrics,” Odin repeated. “I have to admit; that's clever.”

  “Thank you,” I said. “But no one has answered me. Why is Samael married to someone who supports Luke?”

  “Love conquers all.” Tagas shrugged.

  “Though it has made their relationship rocky,” Azrael noted. “Their children supported my father as well, and they became demons after the war ended.”

  “Shiver me timbers!” I declared. “No wonder Samael doesn't like you.”

  “I told you that he had his reasons,” Azrael said dryly. “And it also happens to be the reason that Samael and Lilith fight a lot. I think we're reading more into this than is warranted.”

  “That's why I didn't mention the argument.” Tagas nodded. “The Lord and Lady of Makhon argue often.”

  “But it doesn't usually result in Lilith leaving the Fifth Heaven,” Sam said. “Not from what I've heard.”

  “You're correct, Lord Samuel,” Tagas agreed. “Lady Lilith's exodus is unusual.”

  “So, it must have been an argument of note.” Sam looked at Azrael grimly.

  “Let's just get this search over with, and then we can try to find Lilith,” Odin said before Azrael could get upset.

  “So be it,” Azrael huffed. “Tagas, you may join us to supervise or you may leave so that you're able to claim ignorance.”

  “I'll take the ignorance, Lord Azrael,” Tagas said. “Just make sure to leave everything as you find it.”

  “Of course.” Az shook Tagas' hand. “Thank you for your help.”

  “There is only one place where you may find evidence of Lord Samael's innocence or guilt,” Tagas said before he left. “His study. Samael keeps journals regarding every important event in his life.”

  “That's convenient,” Trevor said.

  “He is a historian,” Tagas explained. “One of the forms he takes is covered in eyes. Lord Samael cannot help but watch, and when you see as much as he does, you tend to want to record it.” Tagas bowed and left.

  “Covered in eyes?” I whispered in horror.

  “It's not something you want to see,” Azrael said with a grimace. “Come on; let's find his study.”

  We all went into Samael's unlocked and unwarded home. I thought that was rather trusting, but then if you live in Heaven, theft isn't really an issue. Still, it made me doubt that we would find anything incriminating there.

  Locating the study was easy enough; we found a wood-paneled room that looked straight out of a Dickens novel. The furniture was hand-carved, the carpet deep green, and the drapes were a depressing mauve. It was sinister in the dark, but as soon as Az clicked on the desk lamp, a warm glow made it welcoming and even cozy.

  Azrael sat in a high-backed leather chair behind Samael's desk and started rooting through desk drawers. The rest of us went around the room to search through the bookshelves that lined nearly every wall.

  “Are these all journals?” I asked as I perused the neat rows of identical leather books; each one labeled with a year. “Whoa; this one says 38 AD.”

  I started to pull out the book, but Odin stopped me.

  “We don't have time to read through the angel's life,” Odin pushed the journal back in. “We have no idea how long Luke will be able to delay Samael.”

  “Yeah, okay,” I huffed in disappointment.

  “I found his current journal,” Azrael said as he lifted a book up for us to see.

  “Well that was fast.” Trevor went to peer over Azrael's shoulder.

  “It was in the center drawer.” Azrael shrugged as he perused the entries. “Here's the fight. It says 'Lilith and I had a terrible argument, and she has gone to stay with our third daughter, Gello.”

  “Gello is Lilith's daughter?” I asked in shock.

  “Yes,” Azrael wouldn't meet my gaze.

  “What am I missing?” Odin asked.

  “Well”—I smirked—“Gello is Holly's best friend, and she was also Azrael's first crush.”

  Trevor chuckled. “Diggin' on the demon girls, eh?”

  “She's a lovely woman,” Azrael huffed defensively.

  “Named after a jiggly dessert,” I added with a giggle.

  “Now, that's not fair, Vervain,” Ira chided me. “Gello couldn't possibly be named after the gelatin dish; she was born centuries before its creation. The dessert must have been named after her.”

  “For obvious reasons,” Sam added with a jiggling motion around his chest.

  We burst out laughing; all except for Azrael, who only rolled his eyes.

  “Yes, fine,” Azrael said. “She's a curvaceous woman.”

  “She's the Jessica Rabbit of demons,” I said. “And I mean that in the nicest way possible.”

  “And you have a similar form, Carus,” Azrael said with an appreciative smile. “Now, can we get back to this journal?”

  “Sorry, Az.” Trevor thumped Azrael's back. “Does it say why they argued?”

  “Not precisely,” Azrael read further. “Just that it was a monumental issue. Samael has a talent for being overly descriptive without saying much at all.”

  We all stared at each other tiredly; Samael was looking more and more guilty.

  “There you are,” Ted huffed as he came into the room. “I just talked to an angel who said that he saw Lilith leaving in a huff; Samael and her had—”

  “Yeah; we know.” Ira rolled his eyes. “I think we have all we're going to get out of this heaven.”

  “Time to go to Hell,” I declared.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Gello had a little place down the street from Cid's house in the Inferno district. Evidently, Hell had a suburbs. Not too surprising when you consider what life in a suburb is like. But this suburb was full of mansions, and the metropolis it skirted was formed of ice blocks. I don't know if that made it better or worse than those in America.

  “This is fucking creepy,” Trevor whispered as we stood at an iron gate in front of Gello's house.

  The sky was a normal
indigo, but there was a clear line in the distance where it shifted to burnt cinnabar. Oddly enough, the rusty sky was lighter and brighter than the night sky in the suburbs of Hell. Most of Luke's Hell existed under that wounded sky, and now that I was thinking about it, I realized that it was always dimly lit; neither night nor day. But there in Demonville, the sky had darkened as it should, and the night was lit by vintage iron streetlamps. The streets and sidewalks were immaculate; with neatly manicured trees lining the lanes. Couples ambled by holding hands, birds cooed in the trees, and crickets chirped. Night-blooming flowers—planted in the flower beds to either side of Gello's gate—perfumed the air. It was all so painfully normal.

  “There are cars in Hell?” I asked Azrael.

  “Only in the Durbs,” he said. “Dad won't allow them anywhere else; he says it ruins the ambiance.”

  “The Durbs?” Odin asked.

  “The Demon suburbs,” Azrael explained as he hit the button on a panel set into the wall.

  “Of course,” Odin rolled his peacock-colored eyes.

  “Azrael!” Gello exclaimed after her face appeared on a little screen. “Whatcha doing here, darlin'?”

  “I need to talk to you... and your mother,” Azrael said. “Is she there?”

  “Yeah.” Gello frowned; her poison-green eyes crinkling at the corners; the shade of her eyes was darker than Samael's but they still reminded me of him. “Why do you want to talk to my mom?”

  “It has something to do with the Virtues attacking me,” Az said gently. “Have you heard about all that?”

  “Yeah; that shit is fucked up,” she growled. “Come on in, honey. If we can help, we will.”

  The gate buzzed and parted for us. We strode up a winding drive, past a red Ferrari, to the front door of a Gone With the Wind mansion. Elaborate gardens stretched out to either side and back from the house; lit by more iron lampposts. The front door opened before we finished climbing the steps, and Gello came out to hug Azrael. She was thankfully in her human form instead of her winged, cloven-footed, barbed-tailed, demon one.

  “Vervain!” She hugged me too. “It's good to see you.” Her gaze traveled over the rest of the group. “And the fucking Horsemen?! This is the best day ever!” She hugged each of the men. “What has it been; like forty years?”