Fallen Reign

by Nazri Noor

  He smoothed down the creases in his shirt, then swept his hair back out of his face. “This way is more fun. If I went the regular route, I’d have to wait for someone to open the door for me, then go up some stairs, or take that death trap you call an elevator. I like flying. Flying’s fun. You should try it sometime, Mason.”

  “Ha, ha. Very funny.”

  A wry smile was Raziel’s only answer. I never questioned his mysterious expressions and motives anymore. I just assumed it was all part of his portfolio, being the angel of mysteries and all. I swept up my notebook and some stray bits of paper, dug up all the pens I could find in my backpack, then dumped everything onto the kitchen table.

  Raziel bent over the mess and frowned. “This looks like the diary of a serial killer.”

  I grunted in annoyance. “Look closer.”

  He did, and his eyes widened in recognition. “Ah. These are protective glyphs and sigils, meant for warding.” He turned to me with a cocked eyebrow. “And how have you come about all this, then? You know even less about magic than you do about being an angel. Well, half of one.”

  “I paid attention in class, that’s how.” I stuck my chin out with a little bit of pride. “My old boss, Carver, he tried to teach us the basics whenever we had the chance, in between missions. Smartest man I know. Well, lich, technically. Being immortal means you have plenty of time to study up, I’m guessing.”

  “Smartest man indeed.” Raziel scoffed. “Before you met me, of course.”

  I was about to say something sharp in return, but a sudden whiff of something hit my nostrils, stopping me in my tracks. “Do you smell that?”

  Florian sniffed at the air, then frowned. “Cannabis, burning. Where is that coming from?”

  Raziel groaned. “I’ll give you two guesses.”

  Outside the living room window, leaning against the sill with his feet on the fire escape, Belphegor took another deep toke of what I had to assume was a joint. Demons probably messed around with some pretty exotic and certainly far more dangerous recreational substances.

  “You’re really good at following me around for someone who’s supposed to be so lazy,” I said.

  Without turning around, Belphegor took another long, inhuman puff. “Sloth manifests itself in many ways, nephilim. You should know that by now.” He glanced briefly over his shoulder, chuckling as smoke streamed out between his lips and through his nostrils, like a dragon. “I thought you’d be more comfortable with the concept, considering the hovel that you live in.”

  “That does it.” I stalked over to the window, pulled it up and open completely, and tugged on the demon’s jacket. “Will you get in here?”

  Belphegor’s eyes burned red when he glared at me, more fiery than the ember on his joint.

  “Please,” I said.

  “It’s California,” Belphegor moaned, no longer angry, just impetuous. “I thought this was legal here.”

  “Yes, maybe, but I don’t need the neighbors complaining about us stinking up their apartments. I’ve got enough problems as it is.”

  “Fine,” Belphegor spat, ever the teenager, wetting his fingertips with saliva and pinching out the joint. He looked up at me grudgingly as he tucked it into one of his pockets. “What? I’m saving it for later. Just because we’re demon princes doesn’t mean we’re made of money.”

  Raziel stood a little too close to the window, blocking Belphegor’s way into my apartment. “You also have an extremely unfortunate sense of timing. What are you even doing here?”

  Belphegor’s eyes trailed up and down Raziel’s body in a flash, his stare cold and cutting. “I could ask the same of you, angel. Are you bored and looking for something to do? Tired of practicing on your harp?”

  “I wish everyone would just drop the harp thing.” Raziel stamped his foot. “I’m not even that good at it,” he added under his breath. Then he threw me a quick glance before returning his attention to Belphegor. “I came because my attention was drawn by the warding sigils. The same as you, I presume.”

  Belphegor was already in the kitchen, hands planted on the table, his hip cocked as he perused my open notebook. “You guessed correctly,” he said distractedly. “Hmm. These are actually very good.”

  “Copied from his former employer,” Raziel said.

  “Ah. That would explain it.” Belphegor slipped his hands into his hoodie’s pockets, then favored me with a smirk. “So what’s the plan here, nephilim? Have you grown tired of our constant intrusions?” He stepped across the floor, coming a little too close to my face for comfort, his breath smelling of pot, and somehow, fire. “Tell me. Who do you like better, me or Raziel? Who’s your favorite?”

  Over my shoulder, I threw Raziel an apologetic glance before I answered. “Neither. You’re both a pain in my ass.”

  It was clearly Raziel, of course, if I had to pick. He had his quirks, but he’d been with me from the start, teaching me what he knew about my condition and about heaven’s machinations. Also, at least his presence didn’t come with the sticky, weed-scented sense of dread that accompanied every single one of Belphegor’s unwelcome visitations.

  “So what is the aim of all this, then?” Raziel said, his voice sounding convincingly hurt, picking up on my ruse. “Do you hate us now? Is that why you’re setting up more wards around the apartment?”

  “Look,” I said. “You guys are a different matter, but you know how much it bothers me that just about every supernatural entity in Valero can find me without so much as turning their head. It’s like everyone’s got my number and I have no way of killing the signal. This is going to have to be the patch I slap over the problem while I work out a different solution to stay safe.”

  “Curious,” Belphegor said, looking across the kitchen table once more. “And you truly believe these little scribbles of yours will be enough to ward off the demons your enemy keeps sending after you? Do you think they’ll be enough to hide you from another prince?”

  He snapped his fingers, and one of the blank sheets of paper burst into flames. Florian dashed to the table, scooped up the flaming parchment in both hands, then dumped it in the sink. It wouldn’t be the first time his weird dryad physiology had helped us, and I knew it wouldn’t be the last. He turned the faucet, putting out the fire as he gave Belphegor a long, hard scowl.

  “You’re going to need something a little stronger than what you have now, unfortunately,” Raziel said, nodding sympathetically at Florian.

  Belphegor snickered. “For once, I agree with the angel. Your master might have taught you some neat little tricks, but nothing nearly good enough to protect you from the things you truly need protecting from.”

  “I guess you guys are right,” I said, sighing as I slipped into a chair at the table, paging through the notebook. My eyes drifted across a particular design, and I cocked my head, studying it. I lifted my notebook in both hands, holding it up to show Raziel and Belphegor. “What about this one? Do you guys think that this’ll do the job?”

  Belphegor’s eyes glazed over with a frightening mix of fury and terror when he saw the sigil in my notebook. Raziel let out his own horrified cry, a keening shriek quite unlike anything I’d ever heard him utter. In a pillar of crimson fire and a flash of golden light, the two entities disappeared, banished from my shitty yet now slightly better protected apartment.

  Florian stared at the spots where the demon and angel previously stood, then looked at me. “What the hell was that?”

  I showed him the design in my notebook. “Carver’s variation on the Seal of Solomon. Pretty nifty stuff for scaring away infernals and celestials, if only temporarily. I needed a break. Wanted them out of my hair.”

  “Won’t they be even more pissed off when they come back?”

  “See, ideally, I’ve just bought us enough time to find a way to keep them out permanently. We’ll let Raziel in on a case by case basis – like a stray neighborhood cat – but I’m sure we’ll find something general-purpose to keep the apartment wa
rded for a good little while.”

  Florian joined me at the table, watching me look through my notes and helpfully copying out any sigils and glyphs that I pointed out as potentially useful. But not five minutes into our study session, my phone began to ring. I checked out the name on the screen and let out an instinctive groan.

  “Ugh. This sucks. We can ward this place as thickly as we like, but that’s not going to stop all of them. I keep forgetting that there are other ways for the entities to bug us.” I raised my phone, showing the screen to Florian. “Look who’s calling.”

  Florian furrowed his forehead. “Dionysus? Oh, shit. He must be calling to ask about the wine. Stall him. I’ve only got like ten jars of the stuff ready.”

  “Right, right,” I said, taking a deep breath to settle myself, so I’d sound all nice and calm when I spoke to the god of wine. I picked up the call and put it on speaker, pasting the best smile I could muster on my face. Quick tip I picked up from Dustin. They can hear you smile over the phone. “Dionysus,” I said boldly, but not too cheerfully. “How can I help you? Florian says he’s still working on the wine.”

  “Oh, this isn’t about the wine,” Dionysus said, his voice high and happy, pretty much how he sounded all the time, anyway. “I’m calling to ask if the two of you would like to make some extra money on the side. Nothing big, you see, but good, honest employment that needs strong arms.”

  Florian and I exchanged careful glances, then nodded in agreement at the same time. “You’ve got my attention. Keep going.”

  “Excellent,” Dionysus trilled. “Now. Are you any good with construction work?”

  25

  I didn’t think that Florian and I would be finding ourselves in gainful employment so soon, especially not from an entity. More surprising than that, though, was the job site. Dionysus was only calling us as a favor for someone else from his pantheon. There was a reason Artemis was snooping around the Nicola Arboretum that one night. I should have put two and two together.

  Dionysus told us to go to the botanical gardens, and he even had the grace to sound a little surprised when I guessed the meeting place ahead of him telling me. This time we visited in broad daylight, at about ten in the morning. The sun was up, the Nicola Arboretum as pretty in the sunshine as it was at night. Just as lovely, though, was Artemis, goddess of the moon and the hunt, as she waited for us by the little stone statue of a fox.

  When the coast was clear, Artemis gestured in the air around us, and a shimmering green portal in the shape of a huge leaf materialized near the statue. She ushered us through impatiently. Florian was a little more enthusiastic about stepping in than I was.

  There really shouldn’t have been cause for me to worry. I’d interacted with Artemis in the past, and she fell neatly into the category of entities I’d consider friendly. But new things still made me nervous, you know? Especially when they involved interdimensional travel. I kind of have a sensitive tummy when it comes to that stuff.

  But we passed through the portal into Artemis’s domicile, and all of my anxieties, along with the lingering coolness on my skin from the dewy air of a California morning, melted cleanly away. Her domicile was hotter, more humid, just like a vacation on a tropical island. It was really, really sunny, too.

  “So I’m the goddess of the moon,” Artemis said. “Big deal. I like to keep things bright in my domicile most hours. It’s nice, you know? Change of perspective. Plus it’s good for all the vegetation.”

  And oh, the greenery. Artemis’s home was a jumble of rainforest, tropical jungle, and winter woods, just a mashup of trees, grass, and flowers from wildly disparate corners of the world, as if thrown together by someone with little to no understanding of how climates worked. But that was part of the job, as it turned out.

  “You,” Artemis said, pointing at me. “I’ve got some of that modular Swedish furniture sitting around. The kind you build yourself. Just unbox them and throw ’em together.”

  I tried not to look so excited. The truth was that I enjoyed working with my hands and building things. I embodied my name better than I actually thought. Plus the idea of it being so plain and mundane and so very humanly normal was hugely appealing to me.

  “There’ll be more, actual construction work when you finish,” she added. “Stuff you’ll properly need some tools for. You did bring tools, didn’t you?”

  I looked down at myself, blinking. “Dionysus didn’t mention anything about that. I can improvise, unless you want stuff that needs nails in it.” I could probably find acceptable substitutes for most construction tools somewhere in the Vestments, but nails? They would disappear the moment I left, meaning anything we built would just fall into a pile of planks and debris.

  “Never mind,” Artemis said. “This isn’t a one-day job, anyway. I’ll give you money for supplies, just make sure to shop for what you need before you come over the next time.”

  The hairs on the back of my neck bristled. Next time? There was already a guarantee of a next time. I felt a little silly, being so excited about sawing stuff apart and hammering other stuff together, but again, this was something I could do that didn’t involve slaying demons or hiding from angels. It was a welcome fucking change, I’ll tell you that much. Plus it meant money. I liked money, just as much as I liked having food in my belly, and a bed to sleep in at night.

  “And you,” Artemis said, pointing at Florian. “You’re gonna help rehabilitate all the plant life in this dimension.” She gestured beyond the closest thicket of jungle. Past all the green, the domicile was mostly barren earth and empty space. “Anything will grow in this soil,” Artemis said, stabbing her finger down at the ground. “Anything. So go nuts.”

  And go nuts he did. By even the end of the first day, I was sure that the Nicola Arboretum would pale in comparison to all the space Florian would manage to fill up with all sorts of greenery. It just looked so damn impossible, grape vines growing right next to coconut trees, which themselves were huddled right next to pine trees, all of which teetered on the edge of a sandbar. I sidled up to him partway through the process, elbowing him in the ribs.

  “Be sure not to drain all your power,” I murmured. “Gotta save some of that to make Dionysus’s drinks.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” Florian growled, eyeing the piles of furniture that I was still working my way through. “You just worry about your half of the job.”

  I’ll be honest, it was tougher than I thought, mostly because of the heat. I’d stripped off my shirt by the time I finished building the sixth chair, stuffing it under my waistband. By the looks of it, Artemis had bought enough stuff for a dining table that could seat ten, several bookshelves, and a computer table. I looked around the domicile, wondering where the hell she was even supposed to stash all this stuff. Oh. Oh, man. Was she expecting me to put up entire structures, like huts and stuff? That was way out of my wheelhouse, but the prospect and the challenge got me all kinds of excited anyway.

  But with the heat and the expenditure of energy came a natural need for rest, and hydration. Lots and lots of it. Neither Florian nor I had thought to prepare anything for refreshment, much less any snacks or food. Rookie mistake. I went looking for Artemis, finding her swinging gently on a hammock tied between two coconut trees, huge sunglasses covering her eyes.

  “Hey, Artemis? Sorry to bug you about this, but I guess we weren’t really aware of the scale of the job. We kind of didn’t bring any water.” I scratched my forearm, searching the grounds. “Is it safe to drink from that stream over there?”

  She stretched out on the hammock like a cat, sighing. “Of course it is. But I’ll do you one better.” Artemis sat up with some effort, balancing a coconut shell in one hand. “Do you boys want cocktails?”

  “I really shouldn’t be drinking at all. Plus I don’t think we should drink on the job. Construction work and everything. Water’s fine, really. Do you have, like, mugs we can use?”

  “Don’t worry about it,” Artemis said, waving di
smissively. She cupped one hand over the side of her mouth, calling out towards a copse of tropical trees. “Priscilla.” Nothing. She pursed her lips, cupped a second hand to her mouth, like a megaphone, then yelled louder. “Priscilla!”

  The treetops shuddered, birds went flying out from among the vegetation, and I swore I felt the earth tremble, just a little. I wasn’t sure what I was expecting, but a full-sized gorilla came stampeding out of the undergrowth, eyes wild and mouth frothing as it screeched, tearing its way directly for Artemis, and the hammock, and me.

  It was wearing a frilly pink apron.

  The creature called Priscilla came to a stop just feet away from us, then pushed its huge fists into its waist. Then it started hooting and jabbering, specifically at Artemis. I realized that it – that she was complaining.

  “I’m sorry,” Artemis said. “Yes, I know you’re busy cooking, but – okay, yes, but we have guests and – right, right. Sorry. Listen, could you fetch the boys a couple of coconuts? Yeah, just split them open. They can drink the juice out of the shells, then – yes, that’s right. Yes. I’m sorry.”

  Priscilla turned to me with an unimpressed glare, then produced a young green coconut from somewhere under her apron. I reached out to take it, but she snatched it away.

  “Ook,” she said.

  “Um. Sorry.”

  “Ook ook.”

  Priscilla approached a nearby rock and smashed the coconut against it. Somehow the coconut split into two neat halves, its whitish juices dripping out of the seams. Priscilla thrust the mess out at me, and I accepted gratefully, the shell smooth and cool in my hands.

  “Ook,” she said, pantomiming and instructing me how to drink the stuff, holding an invisible bowl up to her lips.

  I did as I was told, spilling some of the coconut water down my chin and the front of my chest, but getting most of it in my mouth soon enough. It was cool, and sweet, and delicious, the most refreshing thing I’d tasted in ages. I could feel the energy returning to my body.