“I should point out that my visit with the Truth Breakers wasn’t my idea, it was Azazel’s,” I said with remarkable calm. “And if you hadn’t sent someone to rescue me, I would have died.”
“In fact, it was the Council’s decision to send you to the Truth Breakers. We didn’t know that the Dark City was part of Uriel’s kingdom.”
“Well, that’s all right, then,” I said, letting the sarcasm through. “Didn’t you think there might be an easier way to get the information from me?”
“No.”
God, he could be just as monosyllabic as Azazel.
“The bottom line is, if Azazel hadn’t turned me over to the torturers, they wouldn’t know anything about where Lucifer is. And don’t ask me—I don’t remember anything but … pain.” My ruined voice broke a little on that, despite my best effort, and I glared at Raziel. I wanted to glare at the man beside me, but that would mean I actually had to look at him, and I couldn’t trust myself to do that.
“They took that memory from you,” Azazel said from beside me.
“Is that why you sent someone to save me at the last minute?” I asked Raziel, ignoring him. “Because you realized they were the bad guys? Or because you figured they’d already stripped my memories of anything useful?”
I could see Azazel make some kind of gesture out of the corner of my eye, but Raziel ignored him. “I didn’t send anyone to save you. You’re a demon. Your well-being isn’t our concern—you were expendable.”
“Then who—”
“None of that matters,” Azazel interrupted. “The question is, what are we going to do now?”
Raziel’s eyebrows slammed together in displeasure. “I think you should answer Rachel’s question.”
I had the sudden idea that I wasn’t going to like the answer. No one else was volunteering the information—no one was saying anything—so I turned my head to look at Azazel.
It hit me anew, my longing for him, for the monster who’d delivered me to torturers. It was crazy and wrong, and I would die before he found out. “So tell me,” I said calmly.
The bright blue eyes, watching me without emotion. The gorgeously shaped mouth that had kissed me. The hands that had turned me over to the Truth Breakers without a moment’s hesitation.
“I brought you back.”
I froze, going through a mental litany of curses. I was just going to shut up now, before I found out anything else I didn’t want to hear. What was I supposed to do, thank the son of a bitch? I couldn’t move away from the insistent pressure of his thigh against mine, and knew that if I tried to leave the table, he’d simply force me back down. But I could move his restraining hand. I picked it off my thigh and deposited it on his own. He left it there.
“We have decided to follow the prophecy, since fighting it has only made things worse,” Raziel was saying, though whether to me or the others I wasn’t sure. “The demon Lilith will wed Asmodeus, king of demons, and together they will rule hell. They will raise Lucifer up from darkness, and they will beget a new generation of the Fallen.”
“But we know that’s impossible,” Allie spoke up. “For one thing, Rachel is no longer the Lilith. Her servitude is broken.”
“How do you know?” her husband said.
Allie ignored him. “As for Azazel, he’s only referred to as Asmodeus in a few obscure texts. Some people think he’s an entirely different demon.”
“I might point out that I’m not a demon.” Azazel’s voice beside me might almost have held humor, but I knew that was impossible. Besides, if he found anything about this funny, I’d hate him even more than I already did.
“On top of that, we can’t reproduce, so how they can beget a new generation of the Fallen is beyond me. The prophecy is just one of the twisted stories Uriel put about to torment the wives of the Fallen and sow discord among us. It’s wicked enough that we offered Rachel up to them in our desperation to find Lucifer. If you’ll remember, I was against it in the first place. And it not only didn’t help us, it gave Uriel the advantage, and in the meantime we lost our humanity.”
“My love,” Raziel said gently, “we’re not human.”
“Well, I am,” Allie snapped.
“In fact, you’re not.”
She glared at him across the table, and a lesser man would have watched himself. “Are you suggesting we offer Rachel up as a virgin sacrifice once more, even though she no longer has anything we need?”
“That remains to be seen. Asmodeus and the Lilith will rule—”
“Enough, already. She’s no longer Lilith, and we don’t know if Azazel ever was Asmodeus. Come up with a better reason.”
“How about this one,” Azazel said from beside me. “Uriel believes that prophecy, whether it’s true or not. It unnerves him, frightens him, and there’s not much that can frighten the archangel. And frightened creatures make mistakes. If he believes he has something to fear from us, he’ll go straight for where Lucifer is entombed, and he’ll lead us there.”
“So what do you suggest we do?” Michael demanded. “Sit and wait? Wait for him to uncover Lucifer and destroy him?”
“He can’t do that. He can’t override the Supreme Being’s edicts, which is why he hasn’t destroyed us. We live in the curse placed upon us by an angry and vengeful God. Uriel’s not divine.” Raziel’s voice was measured.
“Even though he thinks he is,” Allie said. There was a ripple of laughter around the table, which astonished me. I wouldn’t have thought these grim creatures capable of laughter.
“So what do we do?” Michael repeated.
“The answer is obvious.” Azazel’s cool, deep voice almost seemed to vibrate within me, he was so close. “He will attempt to wipe out the first threat. He’s already tried it and failed, which must gall him. If he believes the Lilith and Asmodeus are truly mated, he will panic. The threat of the union is at least twofold: not only that we will find Lucifer, but that we will beget children and the curse will be broken. If the Fallen can have children, then our numbers increase, and we grow stronger.”
I was speechless with outrage, and by the time I found words Michael had already overridden me. “And you will reign in hell. Uriel has joined heaven and hell, so if he believes the prophecy, he will fear that you will reign over his own kingdom.”
“The Dark City?” Azazel said. “He can have it.”
“And if you bond, you will find Lucifer and raise him, and our army will have a leader,” Michael added, his voice tight. “It sounds like a good plan.”
Michael, the warrior angel—of course he’d think anything involving battle was a good plan. Once more I opened my mouth to protest, but no words came out. It was my damned voice. There still wasn’t much to it, and any stress or heavy breathing shut it off entirely.
“It’s not without its risks,” Raziel said. “But as far as I can see, it’s our best option. Are we all agreed? Azazel and Rachel will mate?”
I pulled away, knocking my chair over as I went. Azazel could have stopped me, but he let me go, and I ended up with my back against the wall, literally and figuratively.
Finally I found my voice. “Hell, no.”
C HAPTER N INETEEN
THEY ALL JUST LOOKED AT ME AS if I’d grown a second head. “You heard me,” I said fiercely. “Hell, no.”
Azazel’s eyes were on me, unreadable as always. “Why have you suddenly become so squeamish? We’ve already done most of it.”
Heat flooded my face. “Yes, you fucked me on Beloch’s orders. You see how far that got us.”
Damn, everyone’s eyes were moving between Azazel and me as if this were the world’s best tennis match. That, or a soap opera.
“I disagree. I found it most instructive,” he said in his cool, emotionless voice. “It proved we’re physically compatible.”
“Not anymore,” I snarled.
Allie jumped in, thank God. “Azazel, you haven’t thought this through. You can’t risk mating with her. It’s too dangerous.”
<
br /> “He already has ‘mated’ with me, didn’t you hear him? And why should it be dangerous? I’m not a praying mantis—I don’t bite the heads off my partners once we’re finished. Even if they deserve it,” I added.
Allie shook her head. “You don’t understand. And really, you don’t need to. This is simply too dangerous for Azazel to attempt. He knows he can mate only with his chosen one. If he mates with a casual partner, he could die.”
I had no idea what the hell she was talking about, but everyone else in the room seemed to understand. I stood there, wishing I hadn’t jumped up. Now I felt foolish and vulnerable, the only one in the room standing. I was being too emotional—it had always been one of my failings.
“She’s right,” Raziel said finally. “You can’t risk it.”
“It is no risk,” Azazel said. “I choose her.”
There was dead silence in the room, shock mixed with doubt. I opened my mouth to announce that I sure as fuck hadn’t chosen him, then wisely shut it again. Spouting off wasn’t getting me anywhere.
“Azazel, her blood will poison you,” Allie said gently.
“If I am wrong, perhaps. But I am not. Consider the prophecy.”
“If you believe all the prophecies, the world should have ended a dozen times already,” she said stubbornly. “You don’t really believe that you and Rachel will reign in hell. Only Uriel does.”
“Yes. And Uriel will know when we mate. When I take her blood. Only then will we—”
“Wait a minute.” I pushed away from the wall. “What’s all this about blood?”
“Sit down,” Raziel said, an order, not a suggestion. I didn’t want to, but Azazel took my wrist and yanked, ungently, and I was crammed in beside him again. This time his hand held both my wrists beneath the table, and there was no escape.
“I can explain this to her when we are alone,” Azazel said, but Raziel made a dismissive gesture.
“Explain it to her now,” he said.
Azazel was watching me, his expression impassive. “Very well. When we fell, we were sentenced to eternal damnation, with no hope of redemption. We were cursed to watch our loved ones grow old and die; there would be no children, and we would ferry the dead between this world and the next. But when the second waves of angels followed us, they became the Nephilim, abominations.”
“I remember,” I muttered, trying to yank my hands away. His long fingers about my wrists might as well have been manacles.
“The Supreme Being added a new punishment. The Nephilim, the abominations, could only go out in the dark, and they would survive on flesh.” He hesitated for only a moment, then continued, “The Fallen are the blood-eaters. We must survive on the blood of our chosen mates, or, if one of us has recently lost a mate, the Source provides enough to keep him healthy until he mates again.”
“What’s the Source?” God knows why I asked that stupid question, with all the absurdity washing over me.
“I am,” Allie said quietly. “I am married to the Alpha, and I provide the blood for those like Azazel and Michael, until each finds his bonded mate. It’s a complicated process, and a mistake can be fatal. Only my blood and that of his chosen is safe for one of the Fallen. If he tries to drink from anyone else, he sickens and often dies.”
“God,” I muttered. “As if this weren’t crazy enough, we get vampires too.”
“Blood-eaters,” Allie said gently. “From the Bible.”
“Seriously?” For a moment I was genuinely distracted, wondering where in the Old Testament the vampires lurked. Where was the Book of Twilight, between Proverbs and Psalms? And then things became clearer. “My blood? You think he’s going to drink my blood? Are you out of your mind?”
“I agree,” Allie said. “You’re grasping at straws, Azazel. If she is your bonded mate, we all would have known it. If you agree to this, you’ll kill both of you.”
“Uh, explain that,” I broke in, my voice sounding even rougher. “You said my blood would poison him.”
Allie said nothing, and Azazel continued, “If you aren’t my chosen mate, there’s the possibility that I might drain you before I die. In some circumstances the need becomes more and more powerful, uncontrollably so. It happened a few years ago, with Ephrael.”
“We can’t afford to risk Azazel,” Raziel concluded.
Not to mention me, I thought grimly. “No.”
At the same time, Azazel said, “Yes.”
“You can’t make me.” This came out sounding like a playground taunt, but I was past caring.
“I could,” Azazel said smoothly.
Before I could protest, Raziel broke in. “No, we can’t make you. Indeed, there is no question but that the body and the blood must be freely given. If you say no, the discussion is at an end.”
Dead silence reigned again, making me feel guilty and edgy. “It’s not as if the fate of the world is hanging on this,” I protested.
The expression on Allie’s face gave me the answer.
“Azazel,” Raziel said, “you must find another partner. Clearly you are mistaken in thinking Rachel is your chosen one. You must look elsewhere.”
“No!” I looked around me, not able to believe that protest had erupted from my damaged throat. It had nothing to do with rational thought. The idea of Azazel claiming another sent a white-hot rage through my body. Which was another surprise.
“I beg your pardon?” Raziel said.
I wouldn’t look at Azazel. I knew his expression would register triumph, and I couldn’t bear it. “I said no,” I repeated. “You don’t have time for him to find some hypothetical chosen mate. It’s like looking for true love—it never shows up when you go searching.”
“Rachel, a chosen mate is a Fallen’s true love,” Allie explained.
I squirmed. Nothing like digging the hole deeper. “If he goes searching, he’s even more likely to find the wrong one, and he could die,” and damned if my broken voice didn’t crack on the word die.
“Then what do you suggest?” Raziel’s voice dripped sarcasm. “We just wait for the world to end?”
Shit. So it was all coming down to me? I felt as if I were suffocating, all the millennia crushing me, and I couldn’t breathe. “I need to get out of here,” I said in a panicked voice, which of course could barely be heard. “Please. I need to think.”
The hands around my wrists released me, and I moved before he could change his mind, pulling away from the table. No one tried to stop me, and I ran from the room, practically falling in my haste to get away.
The sun was shining through the eternal mist that covered Sheol. Everyone was in the council chamber—the only living things outside were the seagulls wheeling and mewing overhead. I walked down to the water’s edge, staring as the waves crested and spilled toward me.
I knew now why I was afraid of the ocean: I had been drowned by a man I thought loved me, hundreds and hundreds of years ago.
I made myself sit on the sand, watching the roiling water as the tide came in, closer and closer. So the fate of the world came down to me? I would have laughed if it weren’t so damnable. Why did it have to come to this?
I hadn’t smothered babies. I hadn’t lured men to their doom. But I had done other reprehensible things in my rage as the Lilith. I was a storm demon in ancient Mesopotamia, whipping up wind that buried towns and all their inhabitants in sand. I had brought down hurricanes and typhoons and tornadoes; I had rained destruction on those who had hurt me over the years. Once I’d escaped from my sexual servitude to the demons, my rage had been monumental, and I had visited it upon everyone.
I had penance to complete. On the one hand, the entire world might be destroyed and an evil old man would triumph. On the other hand, I could pay for my sins and save the world, simply by having sex with a creature who made my bones melt, no matter how much I hated him. I wanted him just as much as I wanted him dead, and no common sense seemed to talk me out of it. In truth, I might not be his chosen one. But whether I liked it or not,
he was mine.
The answer was clear. It might kill him, which was fine with me. It might kill us both, which was, oddly, equally acceptable. But I knew it wouldn’t. I knew the truth, though I refused to face it head-on.
The only thing I didn’t like was the blood part.
I rose. The tide had come in far enough to touch my bare toes, and they tingled, flexing, almost drawing me in. I pulled back, though. I was afraid of the ocean, I reminded myself. Afraid of drowning.
I walked back into the house, kicking the sand off my feet as I went. I could hear their voices raised in argument, too many people talking at once. I pushed open the door, and everyone fell silent.
My eyes went to Azazel’s. His face was impassive, pale, and beautiful. He already knew the answer. I looked away.
“I’ll do it.”
AZAZEL WATCHED THE CONFUSION ABOUT him with a calm he hadn’t felt in years. He wasn’t going to think about when, or how, or why. He distrusted prophecies. But he knew this was meant to be.
The assembly room had emptied quickly after Rachel’s blunt announcement, with Allie and the women spiriting her away and the other Fallen heading off. Only Michael and Raziel remained. Michael, the warrior, the loner, who seldom mated and subsisted on the bare minimum of the Source’s blood. He had that lean, hungry look, his hair shaved close, his muscled, tattooed arms tight with anger. Raziel was looking equally disturbed, ready for another kind of battle. Azazel knew what was coming.
“You needn’t bother trying to talk me out of it,” he said. “The decision has been made.”
“You can change your mind,” Raziel said. “We’ve barely made do without you for most of the last seven years. I don’t know what we’d do if you died.”
“You have a death wish,” Michael said in a rough voice before Azazel could argue. “We’ve all seen it.”
Denying it would be useless, even if he could. And these were the two men he trusted most in the world. “Had a death wish,” Azazel corrected him. “And you’re a fine one to talk of death wishes, Michael. You storm into any battle you can find—it’s a wonder you’ve survived so long.”
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