by Nazri Noor
Priscilla’s last “Ook” before she nodded at me was filled with approval.
“Once you’re done with that, you scoop out the meat and eat it,” Artemis said. “Then you can use the shell as a drinking bowl.”
“That’s pretty clever,” I said.
“Coconuts are amazing. Every bit of the plant is useful. Swiss Army knives of the plant world.”
Priscilla pulled a second coconut out from under her apron, turning away to deliver it to Florian when Artemis called her again. Priscilla wheeled on us, screeching another wordless chastisement. Call this a hunch, but from her body language – and the fact that she was wearing an actual apron, you know, like a cook would – my guess was that she was eager to get back to the kitchen before whatever she was making burned. I peered over to the copse of trees where she’d come from, finally spotting the curls of smoke rising from behind them. Geez. Did she have an entire gas range in there somewhere?
“I’m sorry!” Artemis said. “I just, could you freshen my drink? Yes. Another piña colada would be perfect. Yes. Thank you, Priscilla. I love you, Priscilla. Aww, don’t be mad.”
Priscilla took off, trampling across the grass towards an understandably frightened Florian. It took a little while, but Artemis and I watched as she chased him, tackled him to the ground, then gently offered him the coconut, smashing it open for him the way she’d done for me.
“Priscilla,” I said softly.
Artemis nodded. “Yup.”
“Priscilla the gorilla.”
“That’s right.”
I watched as Priscilla loped off back to her workstation, disappearing once more into the undergrowth. Somewhere from the trees, I heard a blender whirring.
26
We broke for lunch a little after that, mostly plant-based dishes lovingly served by Priscilla. She trotted out of the foliage, her arms loaded with grilled fish, a large bowl of something that looked like mashed tubers, a smaller bowl of freshly made salsa, red rice, and juicy pomelo segments and boiled bananas with syrup for dessert. She arranged them on the dining table I’d built, passing out banana leaves to use as plates.
Florian was ecstatic. I’d never really paid attention to his diet before, but it stood to reason that a dryad would be titillated by some good old natural organic food. I couldn’t complain, either: nutty mountain rice so beautifully textured you could eat it on its own, the fish so fresh, sweet, and flaky. Priscilla hovered near the table, her hands clasped together as she expectantly watched us eat.
“This is delicious,” I told her. “All of it. Absolutely delicious.” I kissed the tips of my fingers, which I hoped translated sufficiently well for Priscilla. Apparently it did. She covered her mouth as she grinned, flopping her other hand at me from the wrist, as if to say, “Oh, stop.”
Artemis’s domicile, in short, truly was a step away from paradise. I could see myself living there and loving it, all this access to quality fresh food, clean running water, and not to mention proximity to an ancient, powerful goddess who was very much interested in keeping her subjects happy and well-fed.
Hell, I could even get used to the weather. I was on a break from throwing together more of the furniture and went up on a low hill, hoping to catch a breeze against my body, and almost stumbled when I found Artemis already standing there. She was surveying her domain – more specifically, the fruits of our day of labor.
“Yes,” Artemis said approvingly, her hips pushed into her waist, sunlight glinting off of her shades. “This is just the ticket.”
I wiped my hand across my forehead, taking in the view. “It’s certainly something, all right.”
She smiled as she stared off. “It’s starting to look a lot like home. This was what my domicile looked like before, you know. I want every biome possible smashed into the same place, so I can keep all my little lovelies in the same dimension.”
I plucked my T-shirt out from under my waistband, wiping at the sweat trickling down my chest and stomach. “Your lovelies?”
Artemis turned to face me, lifting her sunglasses to look me in the eye. Correction, she did do a very quick, cursory sweep of my sweaty torso. I flexed my muscles and puffed up my chest, a little proud of myself. Hey, it’s the small things, okay?
“Yes, my lovelies,” she said. “Goddess of the hunt and all that. You think that Priscilla’s the only fauna we’ve got in this place? Think again.” She pointed a finger far out across the horizon, indicating a penned-off zone filled with what I presumed were different kinds of animals. “It’s the whole reason I wanted to rebuild my domicile in the first place.”
That was the whole deal with her sneaking around the arboretum and reactivating the tether to her dimension, then. See, the entities of earth decided at some point in time to band together, depending on their respective spheres of influence. The gods of darkness and the moon formed what was known as the Midnight Convocation. Artemis was a charter member, once, but was cast out for helping humanity – for helping Dustin Graves, specifically – and unintentionally enabling the permanent death of one of their number.
The Convocation didn’t just excommunicate Artemis from the organization. They stripped away huge plots of her domicile, too, leaving little, if any space for her to keep her huge menagerie. In her own words, Artemis was like a cat lady who’d been thrown out of her cat lady house. She needed some place to stash all her woodland friends. For a minute I wanted to jokingly ask if she could summon them by singing, if the mice and birds got together to stitch dresses for her, but quickly decided against it. I couldn’t risk her docking my pay, or skewering me with those arrows she liked to point at people so much.
“So let me ask the obvious, stupid question. Won’t these animals just kill each other? I’m pretty sure I see a cheetah in there.” I placed my hand over my eyes, scanning the distance. “And is that a wolf?”
“Three wolves,” Artemis said irritably. “And don’t you think I’ve planned for that? Give me some credit. My babies don’t die here, nor do they experience pain. Anything that gets eaten just heals together and gets back up again.” She coughed into her hand, speaking extremely fast. “Plus I get to hunt as much as I want and no one gets hurt.”
I nodded. “Now that makes a lot of sense.”
“Also Priscilla helps manage some of the more problematic ones.”
“Manage?”
“Wrestles them if they get too bite-y. Anyway, nothing to worry about. I’ve planned for everything. Obviously.”
I scratched my stomach absently. “Okay, but if no one dies, then they run the risk of overpopulation. There’s nothing to stop them from reproducing in the dozens. Soon enough this place will be overrun with, I dunno, mice and bunny rabbits. Just a matter of time.”
“Then let them come,” Artemis bayed dramatically, throwing her arms out. “I want this realm to be filled with fur babies. All of the babies.” She pushed her hands into her waist, her hair drifting in the wind, like a superhero. “I am the craziest cat lady of them all. Bring it.”
I pursed my lips, nodding in agreement. “I respect that. You’re owning it.”
“Now, listen. I’m going to need you boys to come in for the next week, maybe longer, depending on how much work still needs doing. So here. Take this token. Easy way to keep in touch. Careful, it’s sharp.”
She dropped a little triangle of metal into the palm of my hand. I peered at it closer, recognizing it as an arrowhead. My forehead creased. “So do I cut myself with this to call you?”
“No, dum-dum. Well and good, blood is always useful for communing with us, but this makes things more straightforward. As long as it’s on your person, you can keep in touch with me.”
“Sweet,” I said. “But whatever happened to cellphones?”
“This is easier for me.” She watched as I slipped the arrowhead into my jeans pocket. “You’re pretty trusting there, aren’t you? What if that thing is actually an alien mind control device?”
I rolled my eyes. “Do
your worst. That’s probably still better than dealing with the things that follow me around already.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Ugh. Demons?”
“Angels, too.”
“Eww. I couldn’t tell you which was worse.”
“Tell me about it.”
“Now get back to work. And tell the man-dryad to show a little more skin.” Artemis patted her thigh, like she was reaching for her wallet in the pocket of the jeans she wasn’t wearing. “Mama wants her money’s worth.”
27
If there was one thing to be grateful for at our crappy apartment – crapartment, hah – it was the actual existence of hot water. I couldn’t remember the last time a hot shower felt so damn good, but I stood under the spray for a long time, letting the water wash me clean. It might have had something to do with the satisfaction of putting in an honest day’s work.
Come on, don’t make fun of me. I realize it’s strange, but the little bits of my life where I’m not being hunted by entities are some of the most precious. But just to be safe, I made sure to soap myself up facing out of the shower stall. You never know. Back when I lived at the Boneyard, we learned pretty quickly that entities liked to show up when we were at our most vulnerable. Couldn’t tell you about the number of times we’d been literally caught with our pants down.
And considering how frequently I was being followed by supernatural unsavories, I figured it was a safe bet to keep one eye open, even when lathering my hair up with shampoo. Rinsing was another deal entirely, though. The stinging was a killer, sure, but watching the shower curtain for the telltale silhouette of some dude with a knife was way more important. I mean, that would be the actual killer.
Joke’s on you, though. We couldn’t afford a shower curtain.
I twisted the faucet off, giving a long, satisfied sigh as the last of the water burbled down the drain. After stepping over the puddle the shower formed on the bathroom floor, I managed to negotiate the rest of the toilet tile to reach my towel, giving myself a cursory drying before wrapping it around my waist. I stepped out from the steaming warmth of the bathroom, ready to rush into my bedroom and throw on a fresh change of clothes to avoid the apartment’s ambient chill. But what I found in the living area stopped me cold in my tracks.
“Ugh,” I grunted. “Angels.”
Five of them, to be exact. You could always tell from the overworked perfection of their faces and bodies, like the people upstairs in charge of crafting their vessels were obsessed with making them just ever so slightly better than humans. Looking at an earthbound angel head-on was like throwing yourself straight into the uncanny valley.
The shortest one, who still stood a good way to six feet, wore the guise of a beautiful woman with shoulder-length hair dressed in a smart pantsuit and killer heels. She wore glasses, perfect for judging me with, and she brandished a pen and a clipboard the way a warrior might carry a sword and a shield. The other four angels stood behind her like a retinue of bodyguards, all meat and muscle and frowning faces.
“Mr. Albrecht,” she trilled, her pen hand going to her waist as she cocked her hip.
Ugh. One of these. I tightened my towel around my waist, thoroughly annoyed about having to stand there dressed like that, but if I had to deal with the cold, then they would have to deal with me being half naked.
“Who are you and what do you want from me?” I droned, totally aware that I was being rude, and not caring in the slightest. I lifted my chin, broadening my shoulders and sticking my chest out, making myself look bigger, like a pufferfish. Even then I could barely compare in size to one of the four angel bruisers the clipboard lady had brought along, but sometimes it’s all about the attitude.
Also the Vestments. Dear God, was I glad to have the Vestments.
“We’re only here to talk, Mr. Albrecht,” the woman said, her eyes trailing down to my chest, drawn there by the agitated glow of the sigils on my skin. “There’s no need to be so defensive.”
“You’ll excuse me for being so hostile,” I said, “but it’s been a long day for me, and I’m pretty sure I didn’t invite any of you in.”
“Ah. That rule is for vampires, I believe. We can come in whenever and wherever we please.”
“That’s not very polite.”
She shrugged. “It is, however, extremely convenient.”
I frowned at her, scanning the apartment for the symbols Florian and I had papered all over the place. The sigils we’d used had worn off, and the wards we put in weren’t good enough to keep angels away for very long. Speaking of we, where the hell was –
“What the hell have you done to him?” I roared.
Florian was trussed up on our couch, restrained with multiple passes of gold chain around his body. He stayed there in complete silence, unmoving, but otherwise unharmed.
“It is only a temporary measure,” the woman said quietly.
“This is completely unnecessary and totally humiliating for him. Get him out of those restraints. Now.”
Contrary to everything I said, though, Florian looked perfectly content to be tied up in chains. He also had what looked like a golden ball gag stuffed into his mouth. I frowned, willing him to make more of an effort to look distressed and abused. He was probably getting off on it somehow. His gaze was distant, his eyes serene, like he was thinking about what we should have for dinner.
“Again,” the woman said. “This is simply a precaution. We know that you have a propensity for consorting with dangerous entities, Mr. Albrecht. And with earthly abominations as well.” She turned to Florian, wrinkling her nose.
“What, him? He’s a nature spirit! How abominable could he be? He’s a free-range, organic, gluten-free, farm raised dryad. Read: harmless. Where’s the corruption in that? Let him go.”
The clipboard angel looked between the two of us, the edges of her lips curled up into a sneer. “It is not up to me to judge the company that you keep, Mr. Albrecht. Your comrade will only be restrained for the duration of this conversation. For security’s sake, you see. We’re merely stopping by to make sure that you haven’t been stepping too far out of bounds.”
“Too far out of – so what, you people are keeping tabs on me now?”
I folded my arms across my chest, noting the glow of my tattoos on the far wall. I didn’t need anyone to tell me that my hackles were fully raised, but I had to be careful, too. Any kind of fight involving these celestial meatheads would be extremely one-sided. I’d just end up with a busted face and a trashed apartment. I didn’t like either of those outcomes.
“We’re only ensuring that your behavior falls within acceptable limits. There is a very small number of active nephilim across the planet, and we like to keep an eye on everyone.”
“Wait.” That took some of the wind out of my sails. “So there are more like me?”
“The vast majority of nephilim on earth – that is, the offspring of our fallen brethren and human women – are what we refer to as dormant cases. Limitations were placed on the abilities of the Grigori when they were cast out from upstairs, after all, and those limitations normally extend to their spawn.” She narrowed her eyes at me. “Normally.”
“So the other nephilim, they’re not like me.”
“Correct. Heaven has spared them for their relative harmlessness. They are still perceived as aberrations upon the great plan, to be sure, but are otherwise inoffensive. You, on the other hand, present a unique problem. Suffice to say that I belong to a task force meant to supervise you for your own good.”
“What task force is that?”
The angel straightened up, apparently inconvenienced by the fact that she had to answer more of my questions. “If you must know, I belong to the Department of Extracelestial Angelic Delinquency.”
My forehead wrinkled as I worked out the acronym. “DEAD. That’s your department’s name? Are you kidding me? This is some bullshit.”
She nudged her glasses up her nose, the warmth dropping from both her face and her v
oice. “You may not like me, Mr. Albrecht, and you may not trust me. But know that I am one of the few people upstairs standing between you and complete annihilation.”
Something in her tone made me believe her. Then there were factions of angels, too, and at least one of them believed in keeping the nephilim around, which was a damn sight better than the first angels I ever met, who were hellbent on terminating me and wiping our kind off the planet.
“But why are you doing this?” I said.
“Enough talk,” the woman answered. “For now, consider my curiosity piqued.” She rapidly ticked off a number of items on her clipboard, then, glancing up, snapped her fingers. With a series of tinkles and clinks, the chains binding Florian’s body slid to the ground and disappeared. He rubbed at his wrists and his arms, looking a little crestfallen.
“You can’t do this to people,” I said. “I’m going to follow this all the way up the chain of command. That’s how this crap works for you celestials, right? Your damn hierarchy? I’ll find your superior, tell them about your shenanigans.”
The angel’s mouth was in a tight, straight line when she looked at me, but she grinned as she pressed her clipboard to her chest. She paced closer, her heels clicking on the ruined parquet of my apartment, the brash confidence of her body language making me way too uneasy.
“Mr. Albrecht,” she said coolly, her face far, far too close to mine. Her breath was like sweet mint, and the smell of your taxes sitting in an envelope, waiting to be posted. Orderly, in other words, yet sinister. “I see that you’re threatening me by asking to speak to my manager.” She brushed one hand under her hair, flipping it behind her as she walked away. “Just so you know?” she said over her shoulder as a shimmering portal appeared in our kitchen wall. “My name is Sadriel, the angel of order. And I am the manager.”
28
Sadriel and her goons stepped through the portal and vanished. I went out on the fire escape, still mostly naked, staring up at the darkened sky for – God, I don’t know, for a sign of the angels as they took their celestial elevator back to their great big office in the clouds. Then I rushed to the kitchen table, throwing myself at the pile of papers still scattered there, looking for a sheet that was blank.
