by Jenny McKane
Again, Sunny’s words were met with silence.
“There’s no option left,” Eron said. “She’s turning, and she needs to be ended before she does.”
“I disagree,” Sunny shot back, suddenly annoyed at the Power’s assumption that Selah’s life wasn’t worth fighting for. “I think if she can be turned into something, she can be turned back. She just needs the right help.”
Eli scrubbed his hands down his face and massaged his temples with his fingers. It seemed like nobody but Tesah and Eron were comfortable with the fact that Selah was going to die soon.
“I think the idea has merit,” Metatron said, turning to Selah. “Do you know anybody you can seek out in your realm that could possibly help?”
Selah hesitated to speak and Eron jumped on the opportunity.
“You cannot set her loose in the demon realm,” he said, growing angrier now. “It’s already unbalanced and in turmoil. And you’d send a newly turned death eater loose?”
“She’s not newly turned,” Gideon barked, the strain obviously too much now. He’d been holding back, possibly because he, too, was under scrutiny. Not as much as Selah was, but he’d been convinced he was on the way to turning into a monster, too. “She’s sick.”
“My mother’s tribe, if they’re still alive, had a powerful healer in their midst,” Selah said, finally speaking up. Her voice was lifeless and sad, but she was at least trying.
“No,” Tesah said, interrupting her.
But Selah, for as weak and lifeless as she was, either didn’t hear the Power or ignored her. “When I was a child, a sickness swept through the shadow realm and turned almost a quarter of the population into ravagers—eating their own kind,” she said. “It was a manipulation of magic that had gone seriously wrong and by the time it reached my mother’s people, most of the Shadow Realm had fled. But there was one healer, a strong magic worker, who had driven the magic from the afflicted. There’s a chance she’s still there.”
“Would you know how to get back there? Even with things as they are now in the Shadow Realm?”
Selah nodded slightly.
“I’d know my way back, yes,” she said, her gaze softening and her focus drifting. Was she remembering something from her past?
“I won’t allow it,” Eron said, standing. He made a move like he was reaching for a weapon on his belt, and with it, the room erupted into chaos.
“Don’t you dare,” Gideon said, jumping up. Metatron and Eli were on their feet too, with Metatron trying to diffuse the situation.
“We won’t make any decisions tonight,” the archangel said quickly and loudly. “Everyone calm down. We have a little time to come to a rational decision, but we need to calm down.”
Eron glared at Metatron, his jaw tense and ticking with frustration, but he finally blinked and stormed from the room, marching out the front door and slamming it shut. Tesah stood and turned back to the group before joining him.
“Make your preparations, demon,” she said, addressing Selah. “Your time is limited.”
With that, she followed Eron and slammed the front door closed. The sound of their car racing out of the driveway and down the street punctuated the close of their impromptu meeting.
“Well, shit,” Metatron breathed out in frustration.
Exactly.
*****
It didn’t take long for Gideon and Metatron to come up with a plan. As soon as the Powers were gone, Metatron sprang into action.
“Sin,” he said to the cambion. “Do you have contacts that can create a portal nearby?”
Sin shrugged. “For the right price, probably,” he said.
It was good enough for Metatron, who nodded.
“Pack whatever you need,” he said to Selah. “Be ready in 10 minutes. Sin, get on your phone and find us a portal. I’ll have money in your bank when you have the price. Eli, ready the vehicle.”
Sunny stood, her mind racing. Was Metatron getting Selah out of harm’s way before the Powers decided to act? It certainly seemed so.
For her part, Selah didn’t argue. She looked over to Gideon, who gave her a slight nod, then woodenly walked up the stairs to her room. Sin was up and pacing as his fingers flew over his phone, texting and messaging as fast as he could.
“What’s the plan?” Eli asked Metatron.
“You, Sin, and Gideon are going into Chicago to find Selah a portal,” Metatron said. “It’ll give Sunny and I a chance to discuss a few things related to Gabriel.”
At Gabriel’s name, Eli’s eyes darted over to Sunny briefly.
“Got it,” was all he said.
The plan was in motion before the 10 minutes were up and Selah numbly shook Metatron’s hand as Sin was leading her to the waiting vehicle.
“Good luck, Selah,” Metatron said. “I’m sorry we can’t offer you more help. Once you hit the demon realm, you’re on your own. Best of luck to you.”
Sunny wasn’t certain, but she swore she almost saw a tear in the demoness’ eye. After a brief, unreadable look to Sunny, Selah turned and was out the door. Gideon glanced behind his shoulder at Sunny and gave a slight nod before leaving as well.
When they were gone, Metatron leaned back in his chair at the large oak dining table and scrubbed a hand over the salt and pepper scruff on his face, sighing.
“Sin was right,” he said slowly, not really paying attention to Sunny. “So many complications.”
Knowing there was about to be a “talk,” she sat across from him after making herself a cup of tea. The steam billowed up in wispy tendrils while Sunny waited out the archangel.
After a few long moments, Metatron pushed himself up from the back of the chair and folded his hands, placing his elbows on the table. He looked like he was about to broker a deal.
“You want to see him?”
It wasn’t exactly how Sunny thought they were going to start their conversation, but she was hoping to see Gabriel eventually. She assumed it would be after he woke up, though.
“Is there a reason I wouldn’t want to see him?” she asked, waiting.
Metatron narrowed his eyes at her a moment before looking away.
“Gabriel cares about you more than he’s ever cared about a human,” he began, surprising her again. “He doesn’t have the soft spot for mortals that I have, and while he never abuses or neglects humans, he’s always kept a healthy emotional distance. But ever since he pretended to be some college student at a Podunk community college in the Pacific Northwest, I knew something was off.”
Taking a slow sip of the tea, Sunny listened and didn’t ask the litany of questions that were beginning to pop up in her mind. Why would what Gabriel was doing in Seattle be different? What possible connection could he have to Sunny other than her ability to help him investigate Camael through Gideon?
“Gabriel is more of an internal affairs kind of guy in the angelic realm,” Metatron said. “He’s usually stayed well enough away from the human world and he’s vigilant about keeping the angels safe from the Fallen. Gabriel’s usually aware of an angel’s desire to fall even before the angel is—he’s that good.”
“So why the interest in the human world?” Sunny couldn’t help herself. Gideon always told her she needed to work on her listening skills. “Why me?”
“Gabriel’s position—the monitor of the Fallen, comes with a few on-the-job perks and drawbacks,” Metatron continued. “Mostly, visions. He can see things from far out and that helps him know which angels are on the verge of committing serious acts against their nature and orders. And they help Gabriel with his more unofficial role—one that he hopes he’ll never have to perform as long as creation exists.”
That last part was a bit spooky and Sunny set her mug down.
“And that role is?”
“You’ve read the Bible, right? At least heard some of its more famous stories? Do you know what role Gabriel usually plays when he visits people in the Old Testament?”
Her mind raced through biblical triv
ia.
“Messenger,” she blurted out when she remembered. She grinned, proud of herself.
Metatron nodded, giving her a small smile.
“We like to call him the Herald as it were,” he replied.
Sunny frowned. “Herald,” she tried the word in her mouth before the next question popped up. “Of what?”
The archangel in front of her took a deep, centering breath as he looked up to the ceiling before continuing. “Of the apocalypse, Sunny.”
Chapter Twelve
As she stood studying the shell of what used to be Gabriel, small pieces of the enormous puzzle they were facing were beginning to materialize. They weren’t exactly fitting into place, by they were materializing.
Gabriel’s quest. The apocalypse. Demons running chaos in Hell. Angels causing demons to run chaos in hell. Portals opening. Portals closing.
This was suddenly so much more than merely stopping Camael from wrecking a few cities—despite his delusions of grandeur in thinking he could overrun the world—this was stopping an apocalypse on a global scale.
Gabriel had hair shorn close to his scalp. It was gray and colorless, despite the fact that he had sandy blonde hair normally. There were scabs and newly formed scars on both sides of his face and his nose was so crooked, she was certain it was broken. His lips were scaled and chapped and his skin—it was gray and sickly. The dark circles under his eyes spread nearly to his cheeks and despite the fact that his eyes were closed, and he was not conscious, this was not a restful sleep he was in.
His collarbone protruded from the shirt he wore, and his wrists were frail and thin. There was no muscle left to his frame.
She sucked in a breath and knew that Metatron was gauging her reaction to seeing Gabriel. What did he want from her?
“Imps didn’t do this, did they?”
It was obvious, but she had to say it.
“No.”
“This is bigger than a pack of imps. This is bigger than demons, isn’t it?”
“Yes.”
Sunny blew out a breath and closed her eyes.
“Inside job?”
“I believe so.”
Fuck. This was bad.
“Do you have suspects?”
“No.”
Super bad. Bottom-of-the-barrel bad.
It was then that Sunny noticed Gabriel’s hand, remembering Metatron mentioning it that first afternoon they brought him back. Sure enough, it was clenched shut and from what she could see as she leaned closer to inspect it, long nails grew from his nailbeds directly into the skin, where it’d grown over and scabbed around the parts of his fingers that dug into his palm. The hand was sealing itself shut.
“There’s no way to open his hand, is there?”
Metatron shook his head.
“And you think you’re going to find something in there, don’t you?”
“I think what we find in his hand will tell us everything we need to know about why he disappeared,” Metatron said. “And more importantly, it will tell us a lot about who had him captive.”
Right—because whoever was keeping Gabriel wanted what they couldn’t access in his hand.
“Is he some sort of angelic safety deposit box or something?” she asked. Sunny wasn’t trying to be glib, but there’d be mention of magic and angelic abilities behind this hand thing.
“Like we mentioned earlier, the archangel in Gabriel is protecting whatever he’s grasping in his hand right now. It shut his body down to survive whatever torture he was enduring for as long as it could and concentrated all of his life force on making that hand stronger than a titanium safe.”
She studied the planes of his clenched fist again. From where she stood, it looked like a normal fist. There were no scales or protruding bones that had suddenly turned metal.
Sunny straightened and looked right at Metatron.
“Do you think we’re headed for an apocalypse?”
The question hung between them for a long moment.
“I think Gabriel believes we are and my brother is never wrong,” Metatron said. “Now, are you asking me if I’ve seen any seals breaking? No. Horsemen? No. But Gabriel must have had some vision that clued him in on a quest while you were in the Shadow Realm retrieving Gideon. Something developed recently, and we need to know what.”
Switching subjects, Sunny asked Metatron a question that’d been bothering her for a few weeks now.
“The Powers aren’t necessarily on our side, are they?”
He shook his head without pause.
“Not at all,” he replied. “They’re operating on their own set of instructions and there’s no grey in what they’re tasked with. They will not take into consideration the value of a friendship, a human or demon life, or any other sentimentality when they’ve decided to take action that aligns with their orders.”
Sunny moved a step away from Gabriel’s bedside and leaned back against the wall, her mind racing to take in everything she’d just heard.
“And that’s why you sent Selah away? You knew they were going to kill her soon?”
He mirrored her position and crossed his arms over his chest as he leaned against the wall.
“I knew they’d made up their minds before they left tonight. I’m fairly certain there’s an enclave of Powers nearby—it’s where they keep disappearing to. They’re such sticklers for hierarchy, rank, and orders that they’re likely checking in with their ranking Power for their next move,” he said. “They’re not much for free will or thinking for themselves, but that’s what makes them such good enforcers. It also makes them a liability when dealing with the human realm, as there’s nothing but shades of grey in this world.”
“Do they know about the possibility of an Armageddon? It seems like they’d be more focused on that than trying to find a way to stop Camael with you and Gabriel?”
“The different choruses of angels don’t share intel with each other,” Metatron said. “For the most part, anyway. There are shifting allegiances among them, but it’s rare and always tentative at most. So, what they know through their own sources—I don’t know. Hell, they might even have a suspect or two in mind that I’ve never considered, and they sure as shit won’t share that with me.”
“Great,” she said with a sigh. More complications—just like Sin said.
“Don’t get it wrong, Sunshine, the Powers are not our allies and there’s a part of me deep down that worries they might even be our enemies before this little rodeo is done,” Metatron said as he checked his watch. “You should try to get some sleep. We’re going demon hunting tomorrow to slow down some of those portals and I’m not sure how long it’s going to take the guys to get back.”
Sunny gave a short laugh.
“Kinda ironic that you’re trying to find demons on the right side of the fight to send Selah back through and then in the morning we’re going hunting for demons creating portals to bring Hell over here.”
Metatron scrunched up his face.
“Yeah, I guess so,” he said with a shrug. His normally cheerful demeanor was more troubled than usual. There was more weight to his personality than usual. And as much as she knew she should get some sleep, she had just one more question for Metatron before she did.
“Do you think it’s odd that I keep have dreams about nox demons and that’s exactly what Selah is morphing into? Do you think it’s related?”
“Hell yes, I think they’re related,” Metatron said without hesitation. “The nox isn’t a demon in the truest sense of the word—they’re servants. Some exist in the angelic realm, too, but they’re much more rare. It’s a misclassification to call them demons, though. They’re something much more terrifying. Better yet, they serve something much more terrifying if the legends are true.”
“What do they serve?”
Sunny wasn’t sure why the question blurted from her mouth so easily—she wasn’t certain she was ready for the answer.
“Death,” he said. “The nox supposedly serve Dea
th itself.”
“Why are they called demons, then?” She’d heard the term used by Eli, Gideon, Sin—hell, even the Powers had used the terms nox and demon interchangeably.
“Semantics, mostly. The creatures, when they aren’t serving death, are supposed to go dormant. Some don’t and behave more like the worst demons that side of Hell,” he said.
Sunny was putting the obvious together now, as she’d been reluctant to do previously.
“So, Gideon and Selah are on the verge of transforming into a nox, and Gideon’s saved—why?”
She knew the answer already, she just needed Metatron to confirm.
“Archangel parentage,” he said, doing just that.
“And I’m dreaming about a very specific nox stealing people from their daily lives,” she said. “And Hell is being thrust into chaos by a usurper that seems to have no idea what he’s doing?”
Metatron was quiet for a moment, his mind following the path that Sunny’s was following.
“Camael is the most powerful archangel out of all of us,” Metatron said slowly. “At least he was. Now that he’s fallen, I’m not sure.”
“But he’s not powerful enough to control the nox, is he?”
The archangel shook his head. “No, he’s not Death,” he replied.
“So, it might be reasonable to assume that hints of Death rising from the grave, forgive the pun, Camael running loose in Hell, and Gabriel’s premonitions of the apocalypse aren’t necessarily coincidences?”
“Shit,” Metatron blew out a breath. “No, I have no reason to assume that anything at this point is a coincidence.”
“Have you ever met Death?”
The question hung between them a moment.
“Death is more like a weapon—more than a person. It’s resurrected every few thousand years and wipes out most of the population in all the realms and acts like a reset. Suffice to say, it hasn’t been seen in any of my lifetimes and I’ve no memory of who Death currently is,” Metatron explained. “Death is neither angel nor demon, and when the world is balanced and all things are equal, Death is neither good nor evil—it serves its purpose using the tools at its disposal. Sometimes a famine, sometimes its death eaters. But it consumes souls and then retreats when its job is done.”
