Blessed Death

by Amy Sumida

  “But neither of them happen to live within a hundred feet of Dvārakā,” Re went calm—deadly calm. “Nor would they have known the exact times when I would not be in Aaru. The evidence points to you, Sekhmet, and now that you mention your inability to trace into Aaru, I find myself considering you as well, Bast.”

  “Father!” Bast gasped. “I would never!”

  “Re,” I whispered. “Let's take a breath.”

  Re turned on his heels and glared me into silence. I sighed and looked away. This didn't feel right to me; the women looked wounded by their father's accusations; a true hurt that's not easily faked. But this was Re's call.

  “Search the house, if you want,” Sekhmet said scornfully. “The goggles aren't here.”

  “You've probably passed them on to your accomplices already,” Re said.

  “You're wrong about this, Father.” Bast shook her head sadly. “And when the truth is revealed, I expect you to make amends to both of us.”

  “If I'm wrong about this, Sekhmet can have her magic back,” Re said flippantly.

  “Hold on,” Kirill growled. “That vas in punishment for vhat she did to our daughter.”

  “She's guilty, Kirill,” Re huffed. “It doesn't matter.”

  “It does matter,” Kirill insisted, “because I'm not so sure of her guilt. Only you are, Re.”

  Re looked around at the rest of us, and his face shifted into pained shock.

  “Re,” I said gently as I stepped forward, “we're not saying that we're against you; only that we're not one-hundred percent sure that this was Sekhmet's doing.”

  “I am sure.” Re lifted his chin. “And you should trust in me.”

  “Tone it down, Sun God,” I said softly but firmly. “I trust you, but I'm not one of your worshipers; I don't trust in you blindly. I can think on my own, thank you.”

  “La-la.” Re sighed. “These are my daughters; I know them better than anyone.”

  “Then you should know that we'd never betray you!” Bast shouted.

  “Like Sekhmet never betrayed me?” Re shouted back.

  The women went silent.

  “Yes; you've broken my trust, and now, I don't know what to believe,” Re said sadly. “You're her twin, Bast; I know you would do anything for Sekhmet.”

  “Not this, Father,” Bast protested.

  “No; you'd only sneak your sister into Vervain's home to see Lesya after Sekhmet had tried to abduct the child,” Re said furiously. “But you wouldn't steal a pair of goggles. Oh no; that is beyond your morals.”

  “Do what you like,” Bast said tiredly. “But know that you've lost my respect today and hurt my heart.”

  Re paused; his golden eyes flickering for a moment.

  “What I'd like is for the both of you to sit your asses down and get comfortable,” Re finally said. “We're all staying here and watching over Dvārakā together.”

  The women looked at each other, shrugged their shoulders, and took their seats.

  “Go home and handle what you need to handle,” Re said to me. “I'll keep an eye on my daughters and Dvārakā. If I feel any energy shifts, I'll text you.”

  I hugged Re tightly, and after a minute, he relaxed and melted into the embrace.

  “I do trust you,” I whispered. “And I love you very much, Re.”

  “I know, La-la,” he whispered back. “I'm angry at my children, not you. You, I love more than sunlight.”

  I grinned and gave him a quick kiss. “Be careful.”

  “I am the Sun God, Re,” he said with a smirk. “I have no need to be careful.”

  “Let's get out of here before I punch the Sun God, Re in his shiny nose,” Trevor huffed.

  Chapter Fifty-One

  By the time we got home, we were exhausted. Despite my fast healing, walking through Jigoku and then watching my boyfriend berate his daughters—possibly falsely—took a lot out of me. I went straight to bed.

  The next morning dawned brightly through the archway of my balcony, and I woke feeling refreshed but unsettled. I slipped out of bed and into my robe to head out onto the balcony and take a deep breath of the cool morning air. My land was waking up; stretching in the sunlight and basking in the warmth like the cat whose magic sustained it. I could feel the tingles of energy permeating every leaf and stone. We were intimately connected, but not as intimately as I was with my husbands.

  I could feel Azrael's unrest.

  I frowned at the lightening sky and then toward the tower where Azrael's bedroom was. I could just make out his window from my angle, and I noted the curl of his fingers over the ledge. Before I could call out to him, Az launched himself from the window and shot into the dawn.

  Midnight wings covered the rising sun, and I lifted my face to admire my husband's flight. He was bare-chested—dressed only in a pair of loose, cotton pants—and the amber light bathed his skin while it cast a halo around him that made him appear even more angelic. Azrael was breathtaking; muscles rippling and wings thudding through the air like the pound of tribal drums. But I could feel his pain, and the tears that sprang to my eyes weren't from witnessing his beauty.

  “Azrael,” I whispered. “How do I help you?”

  “Let go,” Odin said as he joined me on the balcony.

  I jerked and turned to him. “What?”

  “You want to help Azrael? Let him go,” Odin repeated. “He feels trapped; like a bird in a cage. You need to support his choices; whether they be to stay hidden here or go out and face his enemies.”

  “I...” I turned back to watch Azrael.

  The Angel of Death shot upward like a rocket until he could go no higher, and then he flung himself backwards to free-fall. The wind whipped his wings up around him; curling over Azrael like a shroud. I gasped and gripped the stone railing.

  “Azrael!” I shouted as I started to shift.

  “Hold on.” Odin grabbed my arm.

  Azrael tumbled for a few seconds and then spread his wings to catch the air. He hovered—looking down at us with a frown—and then dove. My heart was still returning to its normal rhythm—and the gold scales were still fading into my skin—when Az alighted on the balcony.

  “You scared me,” I whispered as Odin released my arm and quietly left.

  “I'm sorry, Carus,” Azrael said gently as he pulled me into an embrace. “I wanted to feel free for a minute.”

  I stiffened.

  “What?” He leaned back to look down at me.

  I swallowed roughly before I asked. “Do you feel like I've trapped you here?”

  “I don't hold you responsible for this mess.” He sighed. “But I do feel restricted.”

  “I don't want you to feel as if I'm imposing my will on you.” I stood back from him. “If you really want to leave the territory, you can, Azrael. You're a grown man; able to make your own decisions. I trust that you'll make the right ones.”

  “What?” Azrael blinked at me. “You won't try to stop me?”

  “I'll worry, and I'd like to go with you if you decide to leave, but I'll also support your decision,” I said. Then I lowered my voice, “I can't watch you fall again, Az. The Battle of Olympus still haunts me.”

  Azrael closed his eyes as if he were in pain. “I didn't think about that.” He opened his pale blue eyes to stare at me apologetically. “I didn't think at all; I just needed to feel.”

  “It's okay; you didn't know that I was watching.”

  “I should have sensed you.” He scowled. “I'm just so wrapped up in myself lately.”

  “And that's okay too, Az.” I took his hand. “It's about you this time; you're allowed to be wrapped up in yourself. It's my turn to be supportive of you. Let me do that; tell me what you need.”

  “I...” Azrael squeezed my hand as he thought about my question. “I don't know, Carus. I agree with you; I shouldn't leave this territory. But the cowardice of hiding here is haunting me, and the inaction is driving me insane. Ironically, I felt more alive in Jigoku than I have in days.” />
  “It's not cowardice,” I said. “It's prudence. You have no idea what you'll have to face next. First it was the Virtues, then the Principalities; what if it's a band of archangels next? I'm sorry you feel freer in Hell than you do at home, but it's only temporary.”

  “I know all of this,” he said. “But the feelings persist. And there's something else; I can't get rid of the doubt.”

  “Doubt about what?”

  “That this isn't about me,” he said. “I know you said it's all right to focus on myself, but I think that's what our enemies want. They want us to focus on me so that we miss the bigger picture.”

  “That wouldn't surprise me.” I grimaced. “But we've been looking at every possibility we can think of, and still, we can't find a connection between these incidents... beyond that of death magic.”

  “We need to investigate more death gods,” Azrael started to say, but he was interrupted by Ted, who came running out onto the balcony.

  “Someone set the Grigori free!”

  Chapter Fifty-Two

  The Grigori, who had been imprisoned by Jerry, were rampaging through the Heavens; reveling in their freedom. But instead of heading upward toward the Seventh Heaven and Jehovah—as you'd expect angry angels would do—they had moved downward toward the Third Heaven: Shehaquim.

  The angels who lived in Shehaquim were already armed for battle; gathered around the Garden of Eden to protect the Tree of Life and the Tree of Knowledge which grew in the center of the garden. There were two tracing points into Shehaquim; one was within Azrael's palace—behind the Garden of Eden, and then there was a public access point within the mountains that separated Shehaquim from Hell. The latter was the point the Grigori were marching through.

  “Put out a call to all angels,” Azrael shouted to Michael as we raced down the steps of Azrael's palace to join the other angels.

  “I already have,” Michael said. “The tracing point is being blocked by Grigori.”

  “I'll unward my tracing point; redirect them there.” Azrael hurried back inside.

  I stared out across the expanse of open field between the eclectic homes of the angels. Rivers of wine, honey, oil, and milk flowed down the center of the vast meadow; straight into their respective pools inside the Garden of Eden. The Garden's seasonal quadrants surrounded the golden Tree of Life with its plum-colored, soul fruit, and the silver Tree of Knowledge with its crystalline, tear drop shaped fruit. Both trees shivered with the approach of the Grigori as if they knew they were in danger.

  “Put out the call,” Michael said to Raphael. “I'm going to try to reason with them.”

  “Reason with the Grigori?” Raphael's black eyes went round.

  Michael didn't bother to argue; just shot up into the sky. He flew a few feet beyond the Garden, and then called out across Shehaquim in a roaring voice, “Samyaza! Stand down; we are not your enemies!”

  “This is the cost of our freedom, Michael!” A booming voice answered. “We will not hesitate or apologize for paying it. Your kind have kept us in chains for centuries!”

  “At the Jehovah's command!” Michael shouted back. “Take out your fury on him, not us.”

  “You could have had our allegiance, had you been the one to cast off our chains!” Samyaza cried. “But another has claimed our debt, and we shall pay it here before we destroy the Atlantean who calls himself God of Gods.”

  “Someone sent them here,” I said to Thaddeus.

  “Yeah; I heard him,” Ted growled as he looked at the other Horsemen.

  “The tracing point is open,” Azrael declared as he joined us.

  Several angels strode out behind Azrael and joined their brethren before the Garden of Eden. Swords were grimly pulled free of their sheaths, and wings were outstretched as the angels prepared to take the battle to the sky. So far, the Grigori were walking, and that gave me hope. If they had been eager to get this fight over with, they would have flown the distance.

  “They're stalling,” I whispered in revelation. “Then I shouted, “They're stalling! They're not here to hurt Shehaquim; they're a fucking distraction!”

  The angels standing before the Garden of Eden turned toward me in surprise, but they held their position; unsure as to what my assessment meant. Michael alighted on the steps beside me.

  “A distraction for what?” Michael asked.

  “I don't know,” I said. “But I do know that we're needed somewhere else. Ask the Grigori who released them.”

  Michael nodded and shot up into the sky again. This time, the Four Horsemen went with him.

  “Samyaza, who released you?” Michael called out.

  The Grigori marched steadily over the field without responding. More and more of them poured out of the mountain gate, and the vibration of their march carried up the stone steps to me.

  “Sariel, I carried your daughter's soul to Heaven!” Azrael shouted. “You owe me a debt as well, and I'm calling it in. Tell us who unchained you!”

  “Mot!” A Grigori on the ground shouted immediately.

  I didn't blame him; I wouldn't want to be indebted to Azrael either. But then I realized what had been said. Mot; the angel I was supposed to investigate, but had forgotten about during my trip to Jigoku, had released the Grigori. Of course he had to be the one responsible.

  “Mothman,” I whispered as I looked at my husbands in shock.

  Samyaza—who was evidently the Grigori leader—flew down to punch Sariel in the face. The Grigori went skidding across the grass, but then he got up and shook it off. The march continued.

  “Turn back or we will advance!” Azrael shouted.

  The Grigori marched on resolutely.

  But then a horn blast cut across the Third Heaven, and all the angels went still; Grigori or otherwise. The sound was eerie; a mournful yet wicked call that sent shivers over my skin. I knew it immediately; I had heard it once before in another heaven; when Azrael had marched beside his father. And now, the Horn of Hell echoed across Shehaquim.

  Out of the Gate of Hell poured a wave of demons. At their head rode Lucifer on the back of Salem, the dragon. Salem guarded the Hell gate, but he must have run off to warn Lucifer when the Grigori arrived. Bless his beautiful heart.

  The emerald dragon lifted his head and roared as he raced across the grass toward the Grigori. Behind Satan and Salem rode the Holy Spirit—who also happened to be Queen of Hell—upon a shimmering white steed. The horse seemed ethereal; galloping over the ground as if it were floating. Next to the possibly-floating horse, Samael flew with Lilith, and on the ground beside them ran several demons; one of whom was Gello. I'd seen Gello's impressive, demon visage before, but I had no idea that her mother could transform into a flying, snake woman. The lower half of Lilith's body was a giant snake, while the upper half boasted a pair of acid-green, leathery wings. Intimidating was too weak a word to use to describe her.

  Then Satan lifted a ram's horn to his lips and blew. The second sounding stopped the Grigori in their tracks.

  “You called Luke?” I asked Raphael in surprise.

  “Mike said to call all the angels.” Raphael smiled smugly. “Luke is still technically an angel.”

  “Good call,” I said and laughed. “Literally.”

  “Advance!” Michael shouted as he flew forward.

  The Angelic Host—some of whom were still streaming into Shehaquim behind us—shot into the sky and rocketed toward the Grigori. The Grigori drew into a circle; crouching their giant forms as they laid their wings flat along their backs. They hadn't intended to fight, but now that they were faced with a battle, they wouldn't back down either. If they did, they'd go right back into chains.

  I saw the determined and desperate look on the Grigori's faces and suddenly thought of Krishna; in hiding for all these years. Both the Grigori and Krishna had been imprisoned—in a way—for trying to help humans. Their help may have been poorly timed and may have ended up damaging more than helping, but they had set out to do good. They had set out to
share their knowledge and help the human race advance instead of taking advantage of it as the other gods did. They had done so at great peril to themselves, and that kind of good didn't go away; no matter how long you chained it.

  “Stop!” I shouted as I shifted into weredragon form and launched into the sky after the Host.

  I sped toward the front of the angelic army and then past it. The angels gaped at me—several floundering midair—as I landed before the Grigori. Salem came to a dirt-errupting halt several yards away; the Army of Hell stumbling to a halt with him.

  “Stop!” I shouted again. “We are all being manipulated. No one here actually wants to fight each other. Am I wrong?” I stared down the leader of the Grigori; Samyaza.

  Up close, Samyaza was terrifying but oddly attractive. The Grigori were easily eight feet tall, and I had no idea how they managed to mate with humans. Not only were they giant, they were also thickly muscled; to the point where they made Odin look short and slender. I could see a fierce beauty in them, but their years of imprisonment had left lines of fury and madness etched across their skin. Welts from burning chains were branded into their wrists and ankles, and their faces were hollowed by starvation.

  “Who are you, woman?” Samyaza asked as he stepped forward menacingly.

  “She's my daughter-in-law!” Luke cried as he rode Salem over to us.

  “She's my wife,” Azrael said as he alighted beside me; his scythe held at the ready.

  “I'm the Godhunter,” I added, “and I have no quarrel with you Grigori. But I believe the one who freed you is plotting against my friends, my family, myself, and the entire human race. Why play his game when you could just walk away?”

  “We cannot walk away, you foolish woman,” Samyaza snarled and then swung his head to face Luke. “When have you started letting women rule you, Lucifer?”

  “Vervain speaks on her own behalf, not mine,” Luke said. “Although, I have to agree with her; I have no quarrel with you, Samyaza. I'm here to protect my son. You are only the latest threat against him. His enemy is cowardly and sends others to do his dirty work.”