Demon

by Kristina Douglas

  I lay down with human men, always on top of them. My sin was asking questions, and my punishment was great. I lay down with human men and used them because they wanted me to, and I felt nothing.

  And I lay down with a fallen angel, and felt too much.

  I kept my eyes half-closed, watching the woman as she moved around my bed. She was pretty, wearing a brightly colored dress that swirled around her ankles, and she looked happy. Had I finally found a place where people could be happy?

  There was color everywhere—the blue of the sky outside, the rich brown of the woman’s hair, the rainbow dresses she wore. I hadn’t realized how much I’d missed color during my sojourn in the Dark City.

  Day turned into night and then into day again. At times I dreamed my enemy, my betrayer, was there watching me, and I wanted to cry out. But when I opened my eyes he was gone. It was only a nightmare.

  I remembered everything. I remembered him. And I remembered how to hate.

  “You’re awake, aren’t you?” the woman said, her voice low and musical. I considered ignoring her, but she’d tended me so carefully that I knew I had to answer.

  I tried to speak, but no sound came out of my throat. For a moment I wondered if my voice was gone forever, torn away by my screams, but then a rusty sound emerged. “Yes,” I said, shocked at the gravelly sound.

  “That’s good,” the woman said cheerfully. “Don’t try to talk any more. You tore your vocal cords, and the best thing you can do is rest your voice. I’m Allie, and this is Sheol. Home to the Fallen.”

  The Fallen what? But I knew the answer. One of the fallen angels had saved me, circumvented Azazel’s execution order.

  “You’ve been sick a very long time,” she continued, taking my hand in hers, the hand that didn’t have an IV in it. “But I’m happy to say the worst is over, and you’re well on your way to a full recovery. It will take time, but you’re getting stronger every day.”

  Good to know, I thought hazily, sliding down in the bed. She still held my hand, and for some reason I didn’t pull away. I’d never liked being touched, but this woman calmed me, soothed me. Healed me. The way I had calmed, soothed, healed the barren women of the world.

  “There are about forty of us here, men and women. My husband is Raziel, the leader, and I’m sort of chief cook and bottle washer. I’m the healer, the shoulder to cry on, the voice of reason occasionally, though my husband would disagree with that. You’re safe here, I promise you that. There’s no way Uriel, or Beloch, or whatever he was calling himself, can get in here. This is sacred ground, and he’s not allowed. And none of his nasty little bullies can get in either. No one’s able to reach us unless we invite them in.”

  “Like vampires,” I whispered.

  Allie suddenly had an odd expression. “I guess you could say so. But bottom line, no one can bother you here.”

  I thought of Azazel. Was he still in the Dark City, enjoying the fruits of his betrayal? Or had my rescuers killed him during the attempt to free me? Come to think of it, how did they know I would need freeing? Hell, they were angels, albeit fallen ones; they could probably know anything they damned well wanted to.

  I was getting tired, and I pulled my hand free, resting it on my stomach. Big mistake. I moaned in pain, snatching my hand back. My entire stomach felt like someone had carved their initials—

  I had a flash of exactly what the Truth Breakers had done to me, with their blades and their hands and their fingernails, and my stomach twisted in horror. “I need to sleep,” I croaked.

  Allie nodded. “I understand. You don’t need visitors right now.”

  Visitors? Who would be visiting me? I didn’t know anyone here. I closed my eyes, shutting her out, the calm voice, the soothing touch, the healing presence. I wanted nothing and no one. Just sleep.

  AZAZEL HAD LOST TRACK OF time. He sat by the water in the darkness, silent, knowing he could do nothing to help her. He simply had to wait, and waiting was torture.

  Torture, he mocked himself. He remembered torture, remembered his time at the hands of the Truth Breakers, centuries ago. He had survived, but just barely, and he had strength and endurance far greater than mere mortals. And no matter what Rachel was, the body she inhabited was human, and therefore vulnerable.

  What he’d gone through long ago would have killed a human three times over. He didn’t know how Rachel had managed to survive, but it had been a close thing. Another five minutes and she would have been gone. And he didn’t know how he could have borne it.

  He felt her approach. The Source, Allie, the woman who had taken Sarah’s place. The woman who had been Sarah’s friend, even for such a short time, and had Sarah’s blessing. Sarah hadn’t had an angry, resentful bone in her body. She would be ashamed of him.

  He started to rise, for the first time showing her that courtesy, but Allie gestured to him to sit and took the seat next to him, staring out at the sea. He held his breath. She had come to tell him that she had done her best, but that Rachel had died. Died in pain, hating him.

  “She’s going to be fine,” she said softly. “She’s sleeping now, but she was awake for a while, and even able to talk a bit.”

  Azazel started out of his chair, but she put her hand on his arm, her gentle touch staying him. “She’s not ready for visitors,” she said. “And before you see her, we need to talk.”

  His old animosity reared up. “What about?”

  “You need to understand what kind of shape she’s in. What she remembers and what she doesn’t.”

  Her skin felt like ice, and he turned his face away to look at the dark, churning water. “Tell me.”

  “She remembers everything. In bits and pieces, but I’m not sure how clear she is.”

  “Everything?”

  “She knows she’s Lilith. She remembers her curse, and what she had to do to work through her penance. Unlike the Fallen, it doesn’t appear that her curse is eternal, and someone has finally released her. At least, it seems like it.”

  “It couldn’t be Uriel. He still wanted to destroy her.”

  “Uriel wants to destroy anyone who has ever sinned, and that includes most of creation. After he wipes out humans, he’ll probably find a way to discover sin in animals. There’s nothing to stop him.”

  “Nothing but us,” he said in a low voice. “What else does she remember?”

  “She remembers her curse in fragments, and it sounds as if it’s not quite what the scrolls have led us to believe. Which isn’t a surprise—the scrolls were written by a bunch of misogynistic old men who used any excuse to denigrate women.” She made a dismissive gesture. “And don’t start giving me shit about the problem with bringing humans into Sheol and that I’ve got a bug up my ass about women’s rights. The Judeo-Christian tradition is pretty lousy toward women, and anyone with a brain knows it.”

  “Are you accusing me of not having a brain?” he said in a mild voice. “I do know it.”

  “Oh,” Allie said, deflated. And in the darkness, Azazel found he could feel amusement. “I imagine she’ll tell you what she remembers, and the truth about her curse. Eventually.”

  “ ‘Eventually’?”

  “Her memory of the last few years is as spotty as her memory of her ancient history. But she remembers you. She remembers that you staked her out for the Nephilim, but for some reason changed your mind. She remembers that you had sex with her, and then immediately handed her over to the creatures who almost killed her. But she doesn’t remember that once again you were the one to save her. Why is that?”

  “I have no idea why she doesn’t remember. It’s of little importance.”

  “Don’t try to dodge me. You gave her to those butchers. Why did you save her?” In the past Allie had given him a wide berth, but the last few years had strengthened her inner power, and she was no longer afraid of him. Not afraid to challenge him, to ask the hard questions, to take him to task if need be. Things had definitely changed.

  “I changed my mind.” His ton
e made it clear that he wasn’t going to discuss it further, and she shrugged.

  “You’ll need to give her a better reason than that. When she’s ready to talk to you, that is. Shall I tell her you saved her?”

  “Given our recent history, I doubt she’ll be impressed. I’ll tell her myself if I decide she needs to know.”

  Allie nodded, then lapsed into a meditative silence. Strangely enough, he felt comfortable, sitting in the darkness with Raziel’s wife, watching the tide roll in. He could feel the last of his resentment slipping away. Sarah was gone, and the best way he could honor her and what they’d had together was to let go, move on.

  He closed his eyes, and for a moment he could almost feel her hands on his shoulders, her lips brushing a kiss on the top of his head, her heavy silver braid brushing against him. He kept his eyes closed, soaking in the benediction, and then she was gone.

  He opened his eyes, to discover they were wet and stinging. He blessed the darkness, but he knew Allie could see anyway. He cleared his throat. “Shouldn’t someone be checking on her?”

  “Gretchen is there. I wouldn’t have left her if she hadn’t stabilized. You know that, Azazel.” Her voice was only faintly accusing.

  He deserved it. “Yes,” he said. He had to say it, and for some reason it didn’t gall him. Perhaps it was Sarah’s blessing. “Thank you, Allie. Thank you for saving her.”

  He half expected her to make light of it, but she simply said, “You’re welcome.”

  “Raziel wonders what will happen to her.”

  “She belongs here. She’s like a newborn—this is her new life, her memories, old and new. We’ll find a way to work her into the community.”

  She didn’t ask him if he minded. It was no longer his decision. He’d ceded leadership to Raziel and gone on his quest, his quest to destroy the Lilith. Now he was simply one of the Fallen. And she would be here. Hating him.

  “As it shall be,” he said, using the old words.

  “As it shall be,” Allie murmured formally. She glanced over her shoulder. Raziel had come to join them, standing behind them, and the two of them shared a smile, the sort of secret communication he’d once had with Sarah, and he waited for that flash of anger, of jealousy and rage for all that he had lost.

  It was gone. Washed clean. Astonishing, when it had ruled his life for so long.

  Allie glanced up at Raziel, and he nodded, putting his hands on her shoulders as Sarah had once touched him, leaning down and placing a kiss on her head. The parallel should have disturbed him. Instead, it began to warm a very cold place inside him.

  “You’re weak, Azazel,” Allie said after a moment. “I can feel it. You’ve been running on sheer nerves. It’s been much too long for you, and you know it.”

  He shook his head. “I’m not ready to go up to the house or go through the ritual.”

  “No need,” she said. And held out her slender wrist.

  He glanced up at Raziel in surprise, but Raziel simply nodded. “You need it,” he said.

  It was against the laws of Sheol to partake of the Source without the full ritual, but now Raziel made the laws. And things were already changing, with Rachel, with him. He wanted to fight the clawing need, to reject this woman, but he couldn’t. His need was too strong. He took her wrist in both hands, hesitating a moment. And then bit, delicately, as his fangs extended, and the blood was thick and sweet and healing.

  He stopped before he was sated, careful not to push things, and released her arm with the traditional words of thanks.

  “Are you certain you’ve had enough?” she asked, as both healer and Source. He nodded, feeling the strength course through him, filling him with steely power. “Then I’ll go check on my patient.”

  As she moved back to the house, he realized that at some point she’d attained the perfect grace that went with being the Source. He could see it and admire it now.

  Raziel took her abandoned seat. “I take it you don’t hate her anymore. That’s a good thing, brother.” He followed Azazel’s gaze out to the sea. “And you’re at full strength now, I presume. I have a question for you. Allie has decreed that Rachel will stay here. Does that mean you will leave?”

  He thought about it. She would hate him, and the sight of her would bring a deep, inexplicable pain. A pain he wasn’t going to run from. He’d run from pain for long enough. “No. I will stay.”

  Raziel nodded. “Good. I suspect we’re going to need you. I take it the Truth Breakers were unable to unearth her memories of Lucifer?”

  “According to Uriel, they succeeded, for all the good it does us. We were fools to think he would actually pass the information along. And that would have been the first part of her brain they scrubbed clean.”

  “Naturally. It doesn’t matter. She stays.”

  Azazel nodded, rising. “I’ll be in soon.”

  The sky was inky dark, the moon barely a sliver. He soared upward, past the clouds and mist that always enshrouded Sheol, into the clear, cool night. The stars were pinpricks of light, and he banked and turned, feeling the wind rush past him like fingers through his hair, kissing his face, and he thought of Rachel far below. He had to let go of her, release her as he had released Sarah.

  He pushed upward, higher and higher, and the air grew colder. He could see his favorite perch down below, on the edge of the cliff, but he’d sat and brooded long enough. He was pulsing with the energy Allie’s blood had given him, and he wanted to glide and soar through the sweet-smelling night air, dancing on the wind.

  He moved farther out over the ocean, where the waves rolled on top of the water in little ruffles of foam, and he turned, spun, and plunged downward, hitting the icy water in a smooth, clean dive that barely disturbed the surface.

  He went deep into the bracing salt sea, and he felt its healing power rush through him, making him whole once more. He breathed in the water, letting it fill his body, his lungs, then moved upward to breathe in air again. He dove once more, and the dolphins were there, the ones he knew. They welcomed him as one of their own as they swam through the currents, turning over in the pleasure of the water, swimming with their friend with the odd fins.

  He lost track of the time he spent in the water. The sun was coming up by the time he tired of it, and he pushed upward again, high enough into the air that the heat dried his clothes so that they were stiff and salt-encrusted, and when he landed lightly on the beach, Michael was waiting for him. Michael, the fighter, who never would have let the Truth Breakers take Rachel.

  “Welcome back,” he said. “Raziel says you’re here to stay this time.”

  “I am.”

  Michael nodded. “We’ll need you. The few Nephilim that are left are gathering. Turns out the dumb bastards finally realized they could fly.”

  “Wonderful,” Azazel said grimly. For a moment he remembered chaining Rachel in that deserted house in the Australian bush, and he felt sick. In the end, he’d saved her, he reminded himself. He’d saved her twice.

  Because he’d tried to kill her twice. He’d been so terrified of a prophecy that he’d been ready to sacrifice her without finding out who and what she really was.

  “You’ll be ready to fight?” Michael asked.

  He thought of Rachel, lying in the hospital bed, so close to death. He thought of the guilt that smothered him. Exactly what Uriel would want. He needed a distraction, and he needed it now. “I am ready to fight,” he said.

  C HAPTER S EVENTEEN

  THE DAYS PASSED. EACH DAY HE asked Allie if Rachel was ready to see him, and each day she said wait, until he thought he’d go mad with it. Once he faced Rachel, he could let go. The prophecy was clearly false, broken. He had been able to turn her over to the Truth Breakers with no hesitation, even if he hadn’t been able to keep from coming back for her. He hadn’t meant to do that. He’d had the vain hope that they would be merciful, but one look and something had cracked.

  He’d feel that way toward anyone. Torture was an abomination, and it w
as little wonder he felt guilty for handing her over. And he had no excuse for shoving her up against a wall and having sex with her before they took her. He hadn’t been able to stop himself, and he’d told himself that if he could come inside her and then give her to the Truth Breakers, then the prophecy must be a lie.

  And so he had. He’d proven what he needed to prove, and whatever knowledge she had wedged in her brain about where Lucifer lay trapped had been extracted and stolen. Uriel had it now, though presumably he’d already known it in the first place. When the Supreme Being had passed the reins to the last archangel, he’d ordered him to watch over the universe he’d created. There was no telling what the details were.

  Uriel had seized his new role with a vengeance, wielding ancient power to smite evil wherever he could, sending plagues and floods and fires and devastation wherever he saw fit. Some humans saw it as God’s curse; more enlightened ones declared such tragedies the law of nature, to be endured with God’s help. They had no idea that God’s minion had visited disaster upon them.

  Just as he’d fed on Azazel’s own fear that he was doomed to spend eternity as the mate of a horrific demon. And Azazel had been fool enough to let him.

  He was tired of waiting. He was doing his best to get along with Allie, but she was still a strongminded female who was slowly turning the laws of Sheol upside down, while Raziel watched carefully, seldom restraining her. She ruled the infirmary; she ruled the house and the women. She was the Source for the unmated Fallen, she was omega to Raziel’s alpha. But he was getting tired of her shit.

  He was perched on the outcropping, high over the ocean and the vast building that housed the Fallen. The moon was shining down, mirrored by the dark sea, and he suddenly surged upward into the dark sky, then settled lightly on the damp sand. The time had come.