The Wrath of Angels (Eternal Warriors Book 3)

by Vox Day

  “I don’t know, unless the Holy Grail is down there or something like that. But we’ve been running all over the south of England without finding it, so if nothing else it’s probably worth the trip to check it out.”

  They drove through the rest of the afternoon, stopping only for gas and to put the convertible’s top up as the sun began to go down and the wind grew increasingly cold. They stopped for dinner in a town called Cumbernauld; Derek was limping after almost six hours of keeping the gas pedal pressed to the floor. After a miserable dinner of hard sausage and dry bread, and they got back on the road again, Holli herself was beginning to wish that they’d rented a nice comfortable Ford Focus instead of the MG, as the little car’s feeble heater barely took the edge off the falling night’s chill.

  “You don’t need to put up with this, just do that angel thing you do and warm yourself up. Your lips were practically blue when we stopped.”

  “It’s not fair for you.”

  “Lots of things aren’t fair, blondie. Are you going to try to make your legs cramp too?” Derek smiled at her unexpectedly. “Hey, I appreciate the team spirit and all. But seriously, just make yourself comfortable and go to sleep, if you can. One of us might as well be fresh when we get there. Hey, Khasar?”

  “Yo!”

  “How much longer?”

  The archon was hunched over between the battery cover and the roof, although he’d unzipped the plastic rear window so he could sit up straight when he wanted. He peered at the directions that Derek had downloaded onto the Palm Pilot. “Looks like another four hours or so. It’s not that far—we could get there in an hour flying—but the roads are pretty twisty. We should get into Drumnadrochit right around midnight.”

  “So, why don’t we fly?” Holli asked. “Derek could ride on your back again, like we did at the Channel.”

  “I’d just as soon not risk attracting anyone’s attention. And if the sword is there, the very last thing we want to do is give those black spirals a reason to take a closer look at us. If they were tracking us the way they said they were, then they already know that I took you to the tourist sites. And what’s more natural than two kids wanting to see the Loch Ness monster?”

  “You know, if there really is a monster and it turns out she’s the keeper, I’m kind of hoping we don’t see her,” Derek said. Holli couldn’t agree more.

  She was sleeping soundly when Derek stopped the car in front of a three-story building set into the side of a hill. A rude shaking of her left shoulder jerked her unwillingly from the depths of a forgotten, but pleasant dream, and she groaned as her body reminded her that she’d fallen asleep in an uncomfortable position.

  “Are we there, yet?” she asked, blinking her eyes against the light coming out of the windows. Except for two of the upstairs windows, most of them were dark, but the lobby still appeared to be lit. “Sewerpost House?”

  “Severpost. It was this or the Loch Ness House, and I figured that would be too cheesy for words,” Derek said. “I had this picture of bed sheets with monsters on it.”

  “I don’t think you need have any fear of that here,” said Khasar, peering inside the lobby as he opened the MG’s little trunk. “You don’t see a pink hotel very often, do you?” It wasn’t really pink, though, more of a salmon, thought Holli, although it was hard to be sure in the darkness. She kind of liked the way the bay windows hung over the front door. She hadn’t expected this sort of mini-mansion so far out in the wilds of Scotland, not that she’d seen a whole lot of it since they’d left Cumberwauld.

  And if the outside of Severpost House was nice, the interior was even more delightful than she’d imagined. The walls, like the exterior, were salmon, with white moldings, and a little fireplace crackling merrily on the far side of the room. Then she frowned. There was no one at the desk, but two men were sitting in the overstuffed chairs positioned near the fireplace. They were talking quietly and Holli paid them no attention until the man seated on the right met her eyes and smiled knowingly. Too knowingly.

  “It’s about time you got here!” he called unexpectedly. He looked human, about as human as you could expect to find in England, but Holli was suddenly very sure that he was nothing of the sort.

  “Khasar, who’s that?” she whispered. “Do you know him?”

  “I’m afraid I do,” he answered. “I know him by many names, but the only one that you have probably heard is Puck.”

  Chapter 32

  Forgotten Waters

  I pray him, send a sudden angel down

  to seize me by the hair and bear me far,

  and fling me deep in that forgotten mere,

  among the tumbled fragments of the hills.

  —Alfred, Lord Tennyson, Launcelot and Elaine

  “Well-met, my dear archon.” The treacherous, or just possibly not-so-treacherous angel—Holli no longer knew what to think—smiled as he ushered them to an adjoined pair of rooms he’d already arranged for them. “By the last worm-ridden plank of Noah’s precious tub, what took you so long? We’ve done all the pony rides, trod all the paths worth treading and daresay I’ve improved my handicap by a good dozen strokes over the last two weeks. I was perilously close to taking up bridge—another two days and I fear I would have given in to Miss Polly’s blandishments.”

  Puck glanced at Derek. “Miss Polly being the proprietress, you understand. Lovely woman, but shockingly obsessive about card games. My advice is to flee if you see her approaching with anything remotely resembling a deck of cards in her hands.”

  “How did you know we’d come here?” Derek demanded.

  “Where else would you go? Once your companion figured out where the sword was, and did I mention what a dreary long while that took? Why, I couldn’t imagine that the archon would take his mortal pets anywhere but here! And even if I was wrong, I was hardly likely to miss you cruising about the lake and annoying its most famous resident.”

  “Am I correct in assuming that this is your long-lost liege?” Khasar ignored Puck’s prattle and addressed the other man, an older, bearded gentleman who appeared to be human, except for his eyes. They were like calm pools of ancient wisdom, albeit pools tainted by something that seethed angrily deep beneath the surface.

  “It is better if my name remains unspoken,” said the other, who Holli belatedly realized must be the mysterious Oberon for whom they’d been going to all this trouble. He didn’t look like anyone special, but by now she’d learned that looks could be even more misleading in the angelic world than in the human one. “Archon, please accept my apology for any deception in which my loyal servant has perpetrated on you. The situation being what it is, I believe our separate interests lie in parallel… for now.”

  “For now,” Khasar agreed. He still looked annoyed, though. “I find it very difficult to believe that you managed to play a member of the Sarim for a fool.”

  “Prince Uriel?” Puck’s face betrayed astonishment. “He’s hardly a fool. And if you think about it, he’s been doing precisely that to a former member of that august institution with some degree of regularity for quite a long time now. But let bygones be bygones, that’s what I always say.”

  “I imagine you say it a lot,” Khasar said dryly, but even though he shook his head, Holli could see his tension evaporating. “Did you know the sword was here from the beginning? Why didn’t you tell me? And why did you wait for us?”

  “I didn’t,” Puck answered. “At least, I had no intention of doing so. And while I’m not entirely sure that the sword under the lake is the correct one, I am sure of one thing. There is a sword there, and the monster guarding it has no intention of letting any angel walk off with it. We all tried, and dear old Nessie remained completely unmoved by even our most passionate appeals.”

  Derek turned to her and silently held up a hand. Without saying a word, Holli slapped it and accepted the tacit compliment. It was nice to be proved right, although Puck’s unexpected appearance and the fact that he’d figured it out a lot faster
than her did burn her a little bit. Of course, he had the advantage of about a million years on her, so, if you took that into account, she’d actually done pretty darn well.

  “Who is we?” Khasar asked.

  “An old friend of mine, by the name of Melusine, for one. And for the other, it’s someone who should prove very useful if our mortal friends here should manage to sweet-talk the sword from that unreasonable miser of a monster down there. The Lord of the Sword his own bad self, Prince Jehuel, formerly of the Sarim, speak of the devil.”

  “Did you just say Melusine?” Holli demanded. She wasn’t sure she’d heard the demon correctly. “I think I’ve heard that name before.”

  “It wouldn’t surprise me, considering what she’s told me about you. She’s your brother’s Temptress. Actually, now that I come to think of it, Jehuel has been yours for the past few months. But don’t hold it against him. He’s incredibly bad at it and in fact, if you’ve been feeling a little more saintly of late, that’s probably why. That royal wretch couldn’t tempt a starving dog to eat a pound of freshly ground hamburger!”

  Holli was so stunned, she had no idea what to say. And then, she could feel herself blushing. Imagine what these demons knew about her! Her Tempter had to know her most secret thoughts, he must even know—no, it was too embarrassing to even think about it! How could she possibly look them in the eye? Puck was grinning at her; the amusement in his eyes only made her blush more.

  Khasar was surprised at the news too, although he was considerably less distressed. “Prince Jehuel has been a Tempter—her Tempter? You’re kidding me! No wonder I couldn’t find him. But why? And how?”

  “Melusine iced his predecessor—she can be a difficult minx, believe you me—and she gave him a battlefield promotion of sorts. Lest you think it was some sort of brilliantly nefarious plan ala the purloined letter, rest assured, it was mere happenstance. In fact, if I understand the story properly, his principality consisted of a single tree when she first came across him.” The demon laughed out loud. “Once you get a chance to know our prince, you’ll see why that’s so funny.”

  “Perhaps, although I rather doubt we share a taste in humor. But I must tell you, Puck, the Mad One’s Eyes have been at our heels for the last month. We found Excalibur, thinking it was the sword for which we searched. Fortunately, Wayland informed us that we’d been mistaken after three black spirals took it from us.”

  “Never worry about them, archon. They’ve been combing all of England for weeks looking for your humble servant, not to mention my friend here. That was why I dared not contact you. But leave them to me. What is of more concern is how to get these young mortals past that ill-tempered beast in the loch.” He nodded at Holli. “Her power-up is a nice touch, but it won’t avail us much in the circumstances. If angels could get past her, Jehuel would have sheathed that sword in the usurper’s chest weeks ago. Believe me , we haven’t been sitting around here for our health’s sake.”

  Derek was sitting on a chair poring over a map of Loch Ness. At Puck’s mention of the monster, he spoke up. “That lake is pretty big, did you find the sword just swimming around in there?”

  “My, a dedicated young fellow, aren’t you,” Puck walked over to the map and placed his finger on a little black icon. “There’s an old castle right there, less than two miles away. In the old bailey, there’s some steps that lead to an underground passageway that leads beneath the loch. I’m pretty sure that’s how the sword was brought there by mortals in the first place.”

  “But there’s a problem, obviously, or you’d just have us walk there.”

  Puck nodded. “Indeed, there is a challenge that requires surmounting. At some point in the past, the tunnel collapsed, leaving most of it under water, or if you prefer, nonexistent. There appears to be a door of sorts, beyond which lies the sword, so that may well be dry but I can’t really say. Nessie took exception to my having a closer look, unfortunately. To be specific, she ripped my arm off, the little pest.”

  Holli gasped, horrified, but Puck only smiled and flexed his fingers on both hands. “Oh, but we are a hardy sort, we angels. Don’t trouble your pretty little head over the cruelty of my lot, darling. I am the perfect heroic stoic, or do I have that the wrong way round?”

  “How can a monster like that mess with demons like you?” Derek looked suspicious, and he jerked his thumb at Khasar. “He beat down a whole pack of werewolves by himself. How is this friend of yours supposed to deal with the big bad witch king if the two of you can’t even deal with a single monster without help?”

  Puck smiled thinly, and his eyes flared red. How had Khasar ever been fooled into thinking this evil spirit had repented of his no doubt countless sins, Holli wondered. “It is amazing, human child, but I vow you tempt me into giving you the opportunity to discover that for yourself. But no, I remain strong and pure for the noble, or more precisely, regal, cause. As to the monster, Nessie is no mere child of the Twice-Fallen, she is instead a naiad of sorts, though her mind now is little more than a beast’s. Unfortunately, it takes no great genius to defend one’s environs; fish and insects do as much.”

  As they pondered that, the false angel waved a hand. “And yet, I forgive you. See, archon, the good influence you have on me! The children are tired and they must sleep, for we have a big day tomorrow.”

  Holli didn’t like the mocking curl of his smile, nor the triumphant look in his eyes. Neither did Khasar, for the archon’s lips turned white as he pressed them together, saying nothing as Puck and his demonic liege lord exited the room.

  Miss Polly’s passion may have been bridge, but she served them what Holli and Derek had learned by now was an uncommonly decent breakfast at an incredibly indecent hour. Sausages and eggs, followed by toast and marmalade, as well as sardines which both of them quietly pushed to one side, unsampled. There was even orange juice, although it was a pale, almost tasteless liquid that was unworthy of the name. But at least they would face the day with a full tummy, Holli thought, feeling stuffed to the gills, and the sensation took a little of the edge off her nerves.

  The merest glimmer of sunlight had not yet begun to pierce the gloom of the early morning. The darkness cast a solemn shadow over their undertaking, and Holli felt as if she were girding for battle as she slipped her feet into the hiking boots that either Khasar or Puck had magically obtained for her. Underneath her sweater and jeans she wore a sports bra and running shorts just in case she had to ditch the angel mode and swim like a normal human. She didn’t know what would happen if Nessie ripped off her arm, in either form, and she absolutely didn’t want to find out. Truth be told, though, she wasn’t keen on seeing just how cold the lake was either. She’d never realized Scotland was so far north; even Minnesota had warmer summers.

  Urquhart Castle was actually a little closer than Puck had told them, and it took less than an hour for them to hike there over the grassy hills. The first rose-gold rays were licking at the edges of the horizon when they reached the crest of the last hill and caught their first glimpse of the castle sprawled out across the green promontory, looming majestically over the lake. It wasn’t as massive as some of the medieval fortresses they’d seen, but it was an impressive sight nonetheless.

  The castle was a series of half-crumbled old structures, though rather more solid than Holli had been expecting, and was surrounded on three sides by the dark waters of Loch Ness. As they followed the three angels across the old drawbridge it occurred to Holli that the tall tower on their left, perched nearly on the water’s edge, would have been a pretty good place from which to keep an eye on everything nearby. Like the sword and its hiding place? Maybe.

  “You know they’re just waiting for the right moment, and then they’ll stab us in the back and take Chrysaor,” Derek hissed in her ear. “Why are we going along with them?”

  Holli shrugged. This quest was starting to make less and less sense the further they went, not that it had ever made much sense from the start. “Weren’t there supp
osed to be those two other angels, or demons, rather?”

  “Yeah, what happened to them?”

  They had their answer soon enough, as a hatefully gorgeous demon-girl with a short red pageboy sashayed her way down the bricked path from the watchtower, followed by a tall spirit who was wearing a ridiculous gold lame cape like he was about to go onstage or something. Melusine, no doubt, and Prince Jehuel. But he looked more like a magician than the Lord of the Sword.

  “Who dresses him, Prince?” Derek whispered. “No wonder the doves were crying!” Despite herself, Holli giggled. But she stopped giggling fast when the devil-girl parked herself in Holli’s face and wrinkled her lip scornfully.

  “Well, this is seriously irregular. Robin, do correct me if I’m wrong, but isn’t mixing mortal blood and angel fire generally considered grounds for a good swift kick out of Heaven’s good graces?” She met Holli’s eyes, and Holli realized that this was one evil that was easy to hate. “Oh, don’t give me that, little girl. I know everything—and I do mean everything—about you and the rest of your wretched family!”

  Hate, hate, hate, hate, hate! Holli thought a vicious string of not very nice words at her. Who did this demon-bitch think she was?

  “There’s no time for this,” Puck broke in as Melusine began to open her mouth. “As much as I’d like to indulge your little love-fest, we have common interests at stake at the moment and I’d very much like to get on with it before the castle staff shows up and wonders what this boy is doing wandering about the premises. Khasar, this is the angel Melusine and Prince Jehuel, once of the Sarim and one-time Prince Regent of Rahab. Melusine, Prince, the archon Khasarotjofee and his mortal protégés, Holli and Derek. And as you may note, Mel, shadowstalkers are a little more wont to stretch their interpretation rules than their less creative brethren, which may prove to be quite handy here. Follow me.”