“So. All this is Skillit’s fault,” she snickered. Adding this little detail to the formula will really tweak Raphael’s temper. There’s nothing Mom hates more than blaming someone else for your mistakes. Can’t wait to see what she does when irresponsible little Josie throws that fuel on her fire.
Collin continued to stare at the stars.
“Well,” Josephine said as she stood. “It’s late, and I’m putting off the inevitable.”
“Which inevitable?” Collin asked as he stood.
“I’ve got a job to do and I have to get back to it. I hadn’t planned to stay anywhere near this long.”
“Oh, right. Sure. Of course.”
She could see disappointment in his eyes. Well, that at least feels good.
For a moment, Collin was unsure what to do. They had said so much. She had spent so much time talking him through his problems, he actually felt like he should be saluting her at this point.
“Ahoy there,” a voice called from the Celestial seas.
They turned to see someone in a small, inflatable boat, rowing toward them.
“Ah. There’s PaPa now,” Josephine said. “I guess they figured out where I was and came to pick me up.”
Beyond General David Pesagniya, another small rowboat with three individuals appeared.
Josephine and Collin watched David Pesagniya expertly catch the next wave, which brought him over the coral and to the shore. Collin was there to grab the bowline and pull him farther onto the beach.
“Thanks, son,” he said in a polite, militaristic voice, as he stepped out of his boat.
“Hello Josie.” He glanced back and forth between the two for a moment, and then looked directly into Collin’s eyes with an eagle’s intensity.
“Son. Could we talk for a moment?”
“Yes sir. Of course, sir.”
The second boat rode in on a wave. Josephine grabbed the bowline and pulled. A second later, Vegu-Aniel Odinero, Frank Haiguns, and Butler Metcalf stood on the beach. They, just like David, were wearing full battle armor.
Josephine cocked her head. If PaPa’s here to pick me up, and I’m just going to say a brief goodbye to Collin and leave with him, then why are those three here?
They did not greet her; rather they stood in line, at attention. Josephine opened her mouth to speak, but the sneaky expressions on their faces made her pause. “What’s going on, guys?” she finally asked.
“Oh, nothing, Ma’am. Just following orders,” they replied in one voice.
Josephine glanced at Collin and David Pesagniya. Pesagniya had his arm around Collin’s shoulder. It seemed clear he was giving him some sort of pep talk.
“Son. It’s one thing to have sex with some pretty girl you think is just a dress-shop owner. I know you do just fine with the Silly Little Seraphifs. An SAS Bird Colonel, especially one as intense and brilliant as that one over there,” he nodded his head toward Josephine, “can be quite a different matter. Now’s the time to rise to the occasion. You just have to forget about the thunderbolts, the eagle, and remember what she looked like out of uniform. Do you understand?”
Collin paused. “Uh. No sir. I really don’t follow.”
“Well, that’s okay son. I’m here to walk you through it.”
Josephine watched with increasing concern as David and Collin strolled toward her. Collin appeared confused again. She had seen that intense expression on the ancient general’s face many times before. She glanced back to the three who were still standing in a straight row — their eyes forward — now in a parade-rest stance.
“Josie,” Pesagniya said kindly. “I can see you’ve run into a bit of a hiccup here. Can you tell me what you think the main problem is?”
She pursed her mouth; her eyes darted back and forth between Pesagniya, Collin, then over to the three nincompoops. All three wore their poker faces.
“Sir?” she asked.
He let a few seconds tick by. “Okay. Yes. I think I’m seeing the general nature of the difficulty. You have to remember who’s in charge here. Like any good leader, sometimes you have to stuff down your personal reservations and get on with the program. You’re still the Theatre commander and right now’s the time to lead by example. Am I making myself clear yet?”
Her eyes widened.
“Okay, now Josie. You need to pay attention. Collin here is used to women who are a little less reserved and a little less shy. So, you need to give him some clear signals. Otherwise, he won’t know what to do. Are you understanding me yet?”
“PaPa. What’s going on?”
Josephine stretched toward the sky, the warm breeze caressing her nude body, willing away the scarlet of embarrassment from her face as she sat on Collin’s stomach. She waved goodbye to the conning tower of the command ship as it slipped beneath the waves.
“Now Collin,” she said as she looked down at his smiling face. “I realize I’ve been way too subtle with you. I should have known better. I know we’ve been through our ups and downs and our misunderstandings. But for the past three and a half freaking hours, this is what I have been trying to get you to do.”
“Oh. No, Ma’am. I thought you were still mad at me.”
“I told you I still wanted to be lovers with you. Right? What does a girl have to…”
In a swift, spontaneous motion, Collin leaned up, pulled her closer, and rolled her onto her back. Then, even more unexpected, he hopped up and casually walked over to his clothes.
“Hey? What’s wrong? Where are you going?”
Her heart fell, as she watched him pick up his clothes. But instead of redressing, he picked up a single sock, slapped it against his leg a couple of times to knock off the sand, and carefully folded it as he walked back.
He calmly knelt in front of her. “Open,” he said as he held the sock five centimeters from her mouth.
She opened her mouth and he stuffed the sock in. “Josie, the dress-shop owner. Colonel Josephine P. Doulmahel. Fathers, Mothers, Godfathers, Godmothers, Sisters, Cousins, Rivals, Rival’s sisters, Rival’s mothers, Planet-slayers, My mistake, Your mistake, Skillit’s mistake, Princess, Angel, Artisan, Goddess. Whatever! You just talk too damned much.”
Salvington, Capital of the Nebadon Local Universe
Mansion World VII Celestial Sphere
On Salvington, Queen Magdalene of Nebadon looked over the top of her desk to her best friend, Archangel Lady Sipheria. With a flushed face, Magdalene picked up a broad book and began to fan herself vigorously.
“Phew,” she said. “Is it my imagination or did it suddenly get really hot in here?”
Sipheria, gazing upon Oceania, smiled to herself. She blew him a kiss. Good job, Davie. Good job.
Chapter 53
Let the Punishment Fit the Crime
I love my children. I especially love my Guru Patanjali because of the doorway to absolute power he opened for me. Still, like any useful deities, Nephilim, and especially Demigods who you make into planetary rulers, they can become quite self-absorbed and thickheaded. So periodically, you have to hit them hard enough to get their attention and remind them of who their true God really is.
—Lord Smigyl, The God of Light
Elysium
Rickey Reinhardt sprinted down the hallway with five guards struggling to keep up with his long legs. He was told that Lord Smigyl was once again near Patanjali’s room.
Seconds later, Rickey arrived. And seconds after that, the other guards caught up with him. Rickey placed his left hand on his weapon as the guards opened the door. Rickey marched in while the guards took up protective positions.
Lord Smigyl was lounging comfortably on the sitting room’s sofa. On one side was Kati, perfectly relaxed and natural while sitting there quietly, wearing nothing but dainty lingerie. Smigyl had his head turned, speaking casually to the green-skinned Dek who sat on his other side. At the balcony stood, as best Rickey could identify by their backs, Kuko and Castor. The other women were sitting around just as before.
/> “Ah, yes. Colonel Reinhardt. We were just speaking about you,” Lord Smigyl said with a smile, and then gestured with his right hand. “Please. Pull up a chair and join us.”
Rickey turned to his guards and gave a small nod. They left, closing the door behind them. Rickey grabbed a chair and sat down.
Smigyl’s voice was animated yet quiet enough so that Patanjali could not hear. “Kati was just telling us how you responded to Patanjali after learning of his attempted assault on Madame Kiena. Beautiful. I can just see it now.”
A new groan came from the bedroom. Smigyl tuned his ear toward the balcony, feeling the Ether. “Yes. They are applying my special recipe.” He opened his eyes and looked at Kati. “You’re on,” he said.
Kati jumped to her feet and bounced to the bedroom doorway. “Hi lover. Are you happy to see me again?”
“Fuck you, you ugly…” Patanjali’s voice, drifted off.
Smigyl could feel it happening.
“No. Stop. Please. Something’s wrong…it hurts.”
Hurt? Smigyl thought to himself. Not yet, my rebellious son. But I promise you, quite soon, it will hurt. And in a few days, I will send up another poultice. Then you will feel the difference between hurt and agony.
Smigyl, Indra who was still disguised as Hister, Kuko, and Castor all stood in the bedroom doorway, still out of Patanjali’s sight, watching Kati as she did her routine.
“AHHHH.
“NOOOO.
“MAKE IT…
“AHHH.
“YAAAA.”
Smigyl glanced at Kuko. She smiled back appreciatively. “See. Told ya this was a good formula.” Then he casually wandered into the room.
“Ah, yes. Patanjali. I’ve been wanting to see you. How are you?”
“AHHH.
“YAAAA.
“AHHH.
“YAAAA.
“Excuse me?” Smigyl said as he turned his head sideways.
Hister, Castor, and Kuko strolled in.
“Why are you screaming at me?” Smigyl asked, looking genuinely bewildered.
“YAAAAAAAAA.”
“This is all very rude, my son.” Smigyl turned to address Hister. “Have any of your children ever greeted you thus?”
“No, my Lord. I, too, do not understand this rudeness,” Hister said with his thick Dek accent and straight face.
“I wanted to introduce you to the royal ambassador from the Deks, but all you do is scream at me? And here are Generals Kiena and Mayhew to give their regards as well.”
“AHHHHHHHH.” Patanjali’s eyes jerked from one individual to the next.
“Now, you see here.” Smigyl walked over and gave Patanjali a little slap across the face, and then took a few steps back so he could continue to take in the symphony of the whole room. “I have never been so humiliated. What has gotten into you?”
“AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH.”
Shorinam jerked against his bonds while trying to shout through the rubber ball in his mouth. Although Smigyl clearly comprehended the meaning behind every mumbled utterance, he ignored Shorinam.
“Well, that just does it,” he said, glaring at Patanjali. “Since Rahu has turned out to be such a disappointment, I had been discussing with Lord Indra the possibility of making you Eden’s Planetary Prince in my absence and in place of Rahu. But now it seems that you too have lost all respect for me. All you want to do is insult me in the presence of honored guests.”
“AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH.”
“Have you nothing more to say?”
Patanjali, now nothing more than a wild, tortured animal, struggled against his bonds. He heard every word Smigyl uttered but was unable to do anything but scream.
“Very well. If you too cannot be trusted to represent the dignity of my office, I will have to find another suitable candidate for Eden’s Planetary Prince. Someone I can trust to do more than betray me or scream at me.”
Smigyl put his fist to his chin and rested his head upon it. “We need someone who is more concerned with defeating the Azakamani than satisfying his…”
His face lit up. He snapped his fingers. “Got it. Perfect. We don’t need a Planetary Prince. What we need is a Planetary Princess.”
He looked at Indra, Castor, and Kuko.
“Of course,” Indra said. “Lakshmi is on Eden. Why not Lakshmi? Why not a Planetary Goddess?”
Smigyl nodded while Patanjali screamed in the background and Shorinam mumbled. Kati did her best to keep up her act, but was laughing more than moaning.
“Colonel Reinhardt,” Smigyl called out. Rickey had been standing in the doorway at a polite distance, silently awaiting his cue. He quickly came forward with a rubber ball exactly like the one in Shorinam’s mouth. He stuffed it into Patanjali’s mouth, bowed, stepped back, and resumed his position in the doorway. Patanjali slipped into the same non-existent status as Shorinam.
As Smigyl continued to think about Lakshmi, his smile fell. “Well, actually, maybe Lakshmi isn’t the right choice after all. Of course, I love her with all my heart, but she does tend to prioritize personal satisfactions over war. For that matter, she doesn’t know crap about war. And from what I can tell, her Pharisees are only useful in funding wars, not winning them.” Smigyl put his left hand over his mouth, massaging his lips as he wandered around the room.
“I would like to have all our various troops prepared, coordinated, upgraded with all the latest technologies, and ready for war against the Azakamani as soon as I return from Salvington. So we don’t need just any ol’ Princess.” He looked back to Indra, Castor, and Kuko. “We need a Princess who knows warfare as well as diplomacy.” He counted on his fingers. “Logistics, weapons development, diplomacy, global information, and intelligence systems. She would have to know strategies and how strategies translate into tactics. She has to know how to develop and use propaganda. She must understand that undermining and demotivating the enemy are just another important part of the entire warfare equation.”
Indra and Smigyl exchanged understanding looks. Smigyl continued his analysis. “That means she’ll have to be more than just multi-lingual. She’ll have to know all the delicacies of Eden’s primary languages. She’ll have to be tough enough to command Nazz and Kshatriya alike, and subtle enough and persuasive enough to encourage The Children of Luminosity to incarnate among the enemy, the Azakamani, well ahead of any outside military attack — not to mention having all the incarnation delivery pathways set up within Azakaman. What we need is a warrior Princess.”
Smigyl looked around the room as he again lost himself in deep contemplation. “Someone even better than Vazkri. And not just any warrior Princess. On top of that, she has to be a warrior Princess as deadly to the Azakamani in the physical as she is to the Valkyrie in the Celestial.”
Smigyl’s face lit up. “I must be blind.” He glanced upward, giving his head a little shake of disbelief. “As fate would have it, here she is right in front of us.”
His eyes fixed on Kuko. Kuko slowly twisted her head, her eyebrows furrowing.
“Well, Kuko? Wattaya say?” he asked with a voice so light-hearted, so casual it could have been a dear old friend offering her ale. “Ya wannabe Eden’s Planetary Princess until I return from Salvington?”
And before Kuko could think, she said, “Sure. Why not?”
Chapter 54
Falling Through Space
Like so many other galaxies within Nebadon, Shangri-La was filled with good just as much as it was filled with evil. It was just the way of things in the realms that later became known as Hell.
—Raphael
Waters of Orvonton’s Master Spirit
En-route from Uversa to Edentia and ultimately Eden
Raphael continued to fall through the vast open spaces between the Local Universes. Fast asleep. Good, she thought as she reached into her backpack.
She had been a young Tertiaphim when she made her first trip from Ninveth to Nebadon. As was the case with most instructional classes for th
e advanced Seraphic Choirs, there was a diverse mix of Omniaphim, Tertiaphim, Seconaphim, and Supernaphim. At least one advanced Supernaphim was there to oversee and protect the entire class from the harsh forces between Local Universes — forces that could be difficult to see, predict, and navigate. If not properly respected and negotiated, these forces could be painful, even deadly.
Raphael remembered the exhilaration she felt when she first entered the powerful pull of the upper harmonics of the Shukra and saw Nebadon looming ever larger before her.
Since then, exhilaration would fill her whenever she saw Nebadon.
But not today.
After becoming fourth level Tertiaphim, she had honed her ability to instinctively read the state of even the finest energy circuits and easily set the trim of her wings to enter the deepest flow and maintain the fastest possible acceleration. At the same time, she was able to apply the least amount of mental and perceptual bandwidth. After becoming Supernaphim, the entire process was subliminal.
But not today.
As Raphael fell through space, she followed the song of Isaac. The song of Isaac would guide her into Nebadon, where she would look for the Sea of Glass within the relatively large Shangri-La Galaxy. From there, she would proceed to Edentia, Satania, and finally to the troubled Material realm of Eden where she would deliver the packages tucked away in her backpack.
An Angel’s wings were designed to be sensitive to vibration. If she wanted to travel to Nebadon’s Cosmic Center, all she had to do was adjust her wing’s vibratory nature such that it had maximum resonance with the song of Isaac. Once those adjustments were made, she could turn off her intellect and allow her wings to naturally, automatically guide her.
For Raphael, nothing felt natural today. Nothing felt automatic.
During this long flight, she was unable to still her mind. Her mission, as well as the potential outcomes disturbed her. She sardonically chuckled at the thought of some religious and mythological descriptions of the Seraphic Choirs. Angels aren’t a bunch of bliss-ninnies, constantly singing their praises to God while leaping about in an orgy of rapture. I wish. Quite the contrary. Angels worry. We pray. And since the outbreak of Lord Smigyl’s rebellion, we worry a lot. We pray even more.
Lilith: Eden's Planetary Princess (The Michael Archives Book 1) Page 42
