The Wrath of Angels (Eternal Warriors Book 3)

by Vox Day

  Puck bowed deeply to the Faery King, but there was something strange about the look on his face. Melusine caught it too; she glanced quizzically at Holli. Puck’s habitual expression of sly contempt was gone, and in its place was an uncharacteristic wistfulness, even regret. His next words were a complete surprise to everyone in the flowered chamber, above all, to the Faery King.

  “It pains me to say it, but I fear I may not ask you for anything, Oberon. For I am not your servant and you are not my king!”

  The diminutive spirit spread his hands, almost apologetically, and in an instant was transformed into a tall and lordly angel, clad in pale blue robes belted in gold. His white wings were high and arched like an eagle’s, and his rumpled hair was gone entirely, revealing a smooth scalp.

  “I am sorry to have deceived you, Oberon, but I knew you would not accept my guidance had you seen me truly. For as you see, I am yours no more; long ago I renewed my vows to a king with a prior claim on all that I am.”

  Titania raised a horrified hand to her mouth. The Faery King’s eyes darkened, and he shook his head in disbelief. The Court fell abruptly silent as an electric sense of danger filled the air while the two erstwhile companions stared at each other. For a moment, Holli thought Oberon might strike Puck, but then she saw his lips twitch beneath his beard, and then the king smiled broadly.

  “It is fitting. A trickster to the end!” The Faery King placed his hands on Puck’s shoulders. “If we must be enemies, then so shall it be, but would that all my enemies served me so loyally and well!” The two angels embraced, and Holli thought she saw Puck whisper something to his former liege lord. Certainly, Oberon was laughing as they released each other.

  Puck bowed again, then kissed the hand that Titania icily held out for him. The Queen, it seemed to Holli, was not half so forgiving. The renegade glanced at Holli, and for a moment she saw a flash of the old demon he had been in the half-smile that accompanied the wink he gave her. And the look on Khasar’s face was priceless. He looked as if he couldn’t decide to hug Puck or slug him one.

  Melusine was less uncertain. “I can’t even count on you to be evil!” she snarled angrily at him before vanishing in a cloud of red, sweet-smelling smoke. “You stupid, treacherous, unreliable, undependable son of a misbegotten snake!”

  Holli felt severely conflicted as she watched the lovely devil-girl disappear. She had the strangest feeling that they could have been friends, if only things were different. But they were on opposing sides, and in the end, that was all that mattered.

  Then the Faery King was calling to her. “Mortal maiden, is there not aught that we can do for you? Puck is not the only servant of the Most High to have done us great service. What would you have? Beauty to slay the world? Riches to buy it? Your secret heart’s desire?”

  Unsure if she could accept a gift from the fallen angel, Holli glanced at Khasar. He shrugged. Good enough.

  “Can you heal my father?” she asked eagerly. “He’s dying, he’s got cancer.”

  Oberon’s warm brown eyes clouded over. “No, child, I cannot. I am the master of my realm, but even here, the Crab heeds me not, I fear.”

  Holli swallowed hard, nodding to hide her bitter disappointment. She hadn’t really thought he could, but she couldn’t help asking anyhow.

  “And yet do not mourn overmuch, my dear,” Titania said cupping Holli’s cheek in her cool palm. “Death comes in time to all mortals, but you shall always be welcome in Albion, and though no man may know your deeds, the Faery Court shall sing of them until the end of Time.” She kissed Holli on both cheeks, then smiled as Holli did her best to imitate Titania’s own curtsy. “Fare you well, Daughter of the King.”

  Puck stepped forward to claim her, and she felt Khasar grab her other arm. She heard the assembled faeries begin to cheer them, and then, as the riotous colors began to swirl madly around her, she knew she had seen the glorious Court of Fairie for the first, and, almost certainly, the last time.

  Chapter 37

  Refuge

  But as for me, I will always have hope;

  I will praise you more and more.

  —Psalm 71:14

  Holli found herself sitting in the hard blue plastic shell of a stadium seat. She blinked several times before she recognized her surroundings. She was downtown, in the Metrodome, seated high on the upper deck between Khasar and the smoothly regal Divine angel whose real name, she realized, was very likely not Puck at all. At least, not anymore. Down below was not a football game, but a stage set up on the fifty yard-line, with a band playing soft music and an old man with white hair praying silently in front of the microphone. It was a church service of some kind, she realized. Then she recognized the man.

  “Why, it’s John David Collins! He was going to preach here, I remember. They must be doing the altar call.” Sure enough, there was movement around the edges of the field, as the first ten or twenty people began to approach the stage, followed by a growing stream of newly repentant sinners leaving their seats and going forward.

  Holli smiled at the heartwarming sight, which never failed to touch her heart, and turned her attention to Puck. “So, you were on our side all along?” she asked.

  “That I was,” he answered, with that same half smile she was kind of starting to like. He was rather more handsome than before, but there was still something about his expression that seemed to suggest that he regarded everything as some sort of inside joke.

  “Why?” Khasar finally broke down and demanded an answer. “What was the meaning of all that subterfuge? Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Oberon would never have trusted me if he knew I was on the other side. After centuries in his company, I couldn’t help but know exactly how he thinks. He would have gone straight for Maomoondagh’s throat and been defeated. He’s a decent enough sort as demon king’s go—I don’t know if he’d have even fallen in the first place if it weren’t for Titania—but he’s no friend to those who serve the Almighty. It was best to keep it secret.”

  “Fine, but you should have at least told me!”

  “Ah, but your actions would not have been half so convincing in that case, my dear archon. No, I’m afraid that leaving you in the dark was integral to our success. Prince Uriel agreed; he was the only one who knew the truth. Not even Captain Korvael or any of the other Shadowstalkers knew.”

  “Did any of them know what Maomoondagh really was?”

  “I’m still not sure that anyone does, save the Most High. The Mad One boasted of being a Son of Chaos, but I don’t think that’s entirely true. Titania told me that she eventually came to believe that he was not a single persona, but several. I think she may be right although it’s hard to imagine how a spirit could possess another spirit. However, I once heard rumors of a rite that was performed in Venice on the eve of the first millennium. An alchemist by the name of Prodius Marrone attempted to trap a demon inside a philosopher’s stone. If he was successful, and if there was already something sleeping within that stone, one can imagine what the result might be.”

  Khasar grimaced. “Like the Nephilim, only worse. I hope there’s no more of them.”

  “I doubt it. Alchemy has fallen rather out of fashion these days. Even so, we’d know how to deal with another now, thanks to that Derek.”

  “You found the sword?”

  “Maybe….”

  Holli was only half-listening to the angels’ conversation, but hearing Derek’s name caught her attention. Derek hadn’t been her friend, not exactly, but they’d been through a lot together and only now that she was back in the real world was the full impact of his death beginning to hit her. “Oh, Khasar, I wish he hadn’t done that!”

  She didn’t have to explain who she was talking about. Khasar put his arm around her and gave her a comforting squeeze. “Don’t weep for Derek, darling. He found precisely what he sought. He found purpose. A grand purpose. And his journey is complete, from raw hatred to the greatest love of all. He asked nothing more than to be us
ed as an instrument of the Almighty and a weapon against the foe, and the Almighty gave him the opportunity. And what a weapon he was! Every servant of God should hope to die so well.”

  “I know.” Holli brushed away a tear. “I guess that’s not the only reason I’m sad, though.”

  “What is it?”

  “I just… maybe it’s wrong, but I just really wish King Oberon could have done something for my father. That’s all I really wanted, was for Daddy to be healed. To be saved and healed.”

  Puck and Khasar exchanged a glance over her head, and Puck nodded. “Oberon’s writ may not run so far, but there is nowhere one can go that exceeds the reach of the Most High. In three days, let the three Warriors gather together and pray for healing, in the full confidence that their prayers will be granted.”

  “But I thought you said Daddy had to get saved first, Khasar, before he could be healed.” Holli’s heart leaped, but she was afraid to hope. “And he’s too proud, he’ll never do it.”

  Khasar’s only response was to smile broadly and point to the large screen behind the end zone. Holli looked over, and her eyes widened at the sight of a too-thin older man walking painfully forward, supported on either side by a tall, dark-haired young man and a blonde girl whose face was as familiar as her own. It was Daddy, and though he looked terrible and grimaced with every step he took, he did not slow down for as long as the camera remained on him.

  “That’s Daddy!” she shouted, leaping up from her seat and pointing excitedly towards the field. “It’s my Dad! Khasar! Do you see him there! Did you know?”

  But when she looked back at the archon, he was not there. He was gone. She whirled around to the left and Puck, too, had disappeared. Only then did she understand why they had brought her here, of all places. Overcome with the fullness of God’s boundless grace, mercy and love, Holli buried her face in her hands and began to cry.

  Four thousand miles away, a powerful black-armored demon cautiously approached a slender figure standing on the windswept edge of a steep precipice, staring over the dark sea at a colourful array of lights moving rapidly across the northern sky. The demon did no more than let its presence be known, for one risked more than mere displeasure in speaking first to a Princess of Hell.

  “Oberon does not wish it to escape my notice that the Wild Hunt rides again,” Diavelina said, mostly to herself, never taking her eyes off the rainbow-armored knights of Faerie. She said no more, and the demonic captain wondered if perhaps she’d forgotten him when she unexpectedly glanced back at him. “Well?”

  He fought the urge to cringe before the writhing fury in that black gaze. “Gog Sheklah has sent word at last. He orders you to stand down. There will be no invasion. It is felt that the risks are too high, now that the Faery King has returned to the throne of Albion and the Fae are united once more.”

  There was a long moment of silence, uninterrupted but for the sound of the waves of the incoming tide crashing against the jagged rocks far below. He had no desire to know what she was thinking, he was only hoping to be permitted to depart from her presence before she gave vent to her feelings.

  “Lucere is a coward and a fool!” she snapped. “Had I only the strength to defy him, I should give the order in his despite and see my legions take to the skies tonight.”

  Thank Hell for small favors! At least she did not dare open defiance. Still, the demon could not help glancing around the lonely outcropping, worried that someone might have overheard her treasonous words. Not even Moloch’s daughter might dare to speak so freely without consequence. But no one was about. He felt a moment’s relief, until she spoke again.

  “Tell Gog Sheklah that I hear, I obey and I wait… for now,” Diavelina said in a voice as bitter and as cold as the frothing sea. “But tell him this too. I will not wait forever.”

  closing time

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  There Will Be War Vol. III ed. Jerry Pournelle

  There Will Be War Vol. IV ed. Jerry Pournelle

  There Will Be War Vol. V ed. Jerry Pournelle

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  ath of Angels (Eternal Warriors Book 3)