Fallen Reign

by Nazri Noor

  Florian had clambered to his feet by then. He watched me warily. “Everything okay?”

  “Yeah,” I muttered as I scrambled for a pen. I scrawled Raziel’s name onto the paper, drawing a huge circle around it. “Yeah, don’t worry about. You okay? Did they hurt you?”

  “No, I’m fine. I’m not hurt at all. But you seem pretty agitated right now.”

  “I’m okay,” I said, my heart pounding, my ears filled with the rhythm of my own blood. “Don’t worry about me.” I held out one hand just as the golden dagger I’d requested from the Vestments appeared in mid-air.

  “Whoa, you’re definitely not okay. Mason, stop it. Stop!”

  I knew how communing with gods and entities worked, but I was never sure how it went with angels. Probably the same, right? Cast a summoning circle, and make an offering of blood. I stared at the little puddle of red welling up in the palm of my hand, exiting my skin through the slit I’d made with the knife. Okay, so maybe I cut too deep, too quick. Florian was right, after all. I was pretty damn pissed.

  In one swift motion, I turned my hand over, then slammed it against the sheet of paper.

  The lights in the apartment flickered. The thump of feet striking wood was all the proof I needed that Raziel had touched down in the apartment. He didn’t even have to come in through the window this time. I didn’t know if his body was incorporeal until it wasn’t, or if he fell from the sky as particles of energy that only solidified when they reached my living room. All that mattered was that I was angry.

  Raziel tutted as he stood over the kitchen table, observing my bloody handprint with an infuriating mix of awe and pity. “There are far less extreme ways to call my attention, Mason.”

  “Quit your bullshit,” I snarled, pushing myself off the table, wincing when I realized that I’d used my injured hand to do so. It left a wet, angry smear in the wood. “We just had a flock of angels bust in on us. They tied Florian up and then threatened me.”

  Florian rubbed his hands together. “I mean, it wasn’t that bad for me.”

  I glared at him, then at Raziel. “Well?”

  “Well, what?”

  I blinked at him, the absolute nonchalance of his expression just making my anger climb another notch on the ladder. “Who was the lady with the clipboard, and what did she hope to accomplish by bursting in on us while I was in the shower?”

  Raziel nodded sagely, his eyes on my chest. “Indeed. Either you did a poor job of toweling yourself off, or you might need another shower soon, considering how worked up you’re getting.”

  I hadn’t even realized I was sweating so much. “Because I’m pissed, okay? Don’t play games with me. This is not the time.”

  He nodded again, sighing. “I am not affiliated with the angel with the clipboard. Sadriel belongs to a group that takes a very special interest in your kind.”

  “You’re not telling me anything I don’t already know, Raziel.”

  “Calm down,” he said, his voice soothing, his open hands placating, two details that just ratcheted up my annoyance even more. “I can assure you that I had nothing to do with this. At worst, Sadriel was taking a census. She loves statistics, data. She’s the angel of order.”

  “How else would they know how to find me? We’ve warded this place wall to wall. ”

  “Warding magic is like all other forms of arcane practice. You should know that by now. It involves, well, practice, and growth. You may know a little from what your former employer taught you, Mason, but you are not a mage. Not even an apprentice.”

  “Then I’ll learn,” I growled. “I’ll learn so I can keep you and all the rest of your crew far, far away from me. I don’t know if I can even trust you anymore. You knew all along. You’ve been in cahoots with those winged crazies this whole time.”

  “That is unfair, and hurtful, and you know that.”

  “How do I know I can trust you? How do I know you’re not just a demon, or something worse, wearing the skin of an angel?”

  That was the only time Raziel returned my anger that night. “Loyalty and faith, Mason,” he roared. “Have I not shown you both in spades? I have done nothing but help you since the beginning. I – ”

  I don’t know what came over me then, my mind so convinced that Raziel had been playing me all along. My body took over, sending tendrils of permission and longing towards the Vestments. I spun as a mace appeared in my hand, whirling around in an arc to bring it crashing full against Raziel’s chest. Florian gasped, and he may have let out something that could have been a plea, or a warning. But when the mace connected, it didn’t come with the crunch of a blunt weapon against flesh and bone, but the clang of metal, like the sound of some huge bell.

  That wasn’t there before. I hooded my eyes to protect them from the brilliance of the blazing golden shield in Raziel’s hand, the one he used to deflect the blow of my mace. But more blinding was the divine sheen of the golden armor that now encased him, head to toe.

  “You attacked me,” Raziel said, the soft sorrow in his voice such heavy contrast to the impervious radiance of his armor.

  “I needed to know how you would react if I did,” I said through gritted teeth. “If you’d drop the act and show your true self to me. And look what it taught me. You can use the Vestments yourself, too.”

  Raziel sneered at me, the expression more intimidating than I expected as he smashed his shield forward and knocked the mace fully out of my grasp. The mace slammed into the far wall, then disappeared as it fell to the ground. One of the neighbors banged on the wall, yelling angrily in words I couldn’t understand.

  “Creatio ex nihilo,” Raziel said. “I created these armaments out of nothing, the way I tried to explain to you at the park. You possess a glimmer of these gifts too, Mason. All I have done is help you become better, stronger. I only meant to show you your power, to teach by example. Why would your enemy want that? Is that not proof enough of my loyalty?”

  “Maybe you’re grooming me to become stronger because you know you can use me someday, to take advantage of my trust.”

  Raziel stammered, but whatever he meant to say never made it past his lips. I hated that I could have been right, that his eventual betrayal might have been the truth.

  “Then you never lied to me?” I said. “You never had any ulterior motive for seeking me out? I always wondered, you know, ever since the day that the glyphs burned themselves into my skin. Why did you come? Why you, of all people? Beelzebub wanted a piece of me. Literally. You said so yourself, Prince of Gluttony and all. But what do you want from me, Raziel?”

  Raziel’s lips twitched, though they remained closed, like he was being very, very careful to pick his words. Out of my peripheral vision I could see Florian huddled on the couch, wringing his hands. I knew we were freaking him out. Raziel and I were probably his only two friends in the world. But I had to know. I wanted answers.

  When Raziel finally sighed, it was as if his body deflated. He lowered his hand, his shield disintegrating into golden dust as he did. The suit of armor followed, melting into the ethers.

  “Samyaza, your father – he was one of us, once. Before he became Grigori, before he fell from heaven. I couldn’t help thinking that maybe he could have stayed among us if he hadn’t been so rebellious, if he’d only had some kind of guidance.” Raziel shook his head, staring at the ground. “You are a different breed, Mason, unusual even compared to your own kind, and there are those who would think to corrupt you. I thought that you could use a compass, someone who could teach you the things you needed to navigate the oddity of your life. So you wouldn’t fall any farther than your father did. So that you could take up his mantle with pride.”

  I bared my teeth at him. “And then what? Serve heaven, work with the very people who threw my dad out, with the people who want me exterminated on principle?”

  “I never said anything of the sort,” Raziel said, his hands stretched out. “You must believe me. I meant to show you what I knew, to teach you wh
at you needed. Your path through the universe is yours alone to forge. Have I not given you the freedom to choose, with every step of our friendship?”

  My lips curled at the sound of the word. Hah. Friendship. “You could have told me all of this from the start, Raziel. You’re no better than Belphegor, or Beelzebub. You’re no better than the demons.”

  He flinched at that, his face creasing with hurt. “I understand that you are furious with me now, Mason. But know that I will come when you call for me. You may send me away, but the others will keep coming. Again and again, and they may never stop.”

  “You said I was entitled to free will. Then this is what I’m choosing.” I picked up the sheet of bloodied paper, the one with the circle and Raziel’s name hastily scrawled onto it. I crumpled it up, then let it fall to the floor. “I choose to go this alone.”

  Even then, when Raziel’s gaze dropped, I could have told you that I believed so very fervently that he was still deceiving me, that he was still lying. His mouth opened briefly, as if he meant to say something more. Instead he lifted his head to the ceiling in silence, disappearing in a fleeting pillar of light. I blinked to clear the dazzle out of my vision, and he was gone.

  Raziel was gone.

  29

  “That window, right up there,” I told Florian, pointing at the outside wall of the retirement home. “That’s Leonora’s room.”

  Quilliam frowned as he looked between the two of us, his face illuminated only by the sliver of moonlight spilling through his car’s windshield.

  “And you’re quite sure that you can handle this?” Quill said.

  “I’d trust Florian with my life,” I told Quill, very seriously. I realized in that moment that I meant every word.

  Florian smiled, broadened his shoulders, and jabbed a thumb in his chest. “Leave it to me, boys. Don’t you worry about a thing.” He nodded at me once, then left the car, creeping slowly towards the home.

  “So he’s a dryad, you say?” Quill asked, one eyebrow raised. He wasn’t wearing sunglasses this time, possibly a result of me criticizing them at our encounter with Monica Rodriguez. “Must be a rare breed. Never heard of male dryads.”

  “Me neither. But listen, he’s good at his work. I’ve seen him control these vine things and rip people apart. Um, not that he’s going to do that to Leonora.”

  The plan was for Florian to get as close to the facility as possible, then send one of his sentient tendrils to snake up the building’s walls and infiltrate Leonora’s room. From my last visit with Quill, we already knew that she liked to keep her window cracked open a little, which was just enough space for Florian to send in one of his vines. Then he’d just need to poke around on her dresser and grab a hairbrush or one of those peinetas Monica talked about, and we’d be twenty thousand bucks richer.

  “It might have been prudent for us to secure an invisibility cantrip for your dryad friend,” Quill said, rubbing his chin. “This place is pricy, and I’m sure they’ve covered their bases with cameras, no blind spots. But too late for that now.”

  I clapped Quill on the shoulder. He looked at my hand with suspicion, and maybe a little horror, like he wasn’t comfortable or used to being touched. I retrieved my hand and cleared my throat.

  “Relax,” I said. “You don’t worry about blind spots when you can blend into the foliage. Florian can turn into his own walking ghillie suit. Look.”

  I turned to the home to point Florian out to Quill when I realized that I couldn’t even pick him out among the garden plants anymore. With his abilities slowly returning, Florian could very easily camouflage himself in a natural setting, adjusting the shade of his skin, even sprouting leaves and twigs where necessary.

  “Huh. Well, I’ll be damned. Can you see him?”

  Quill squinted at the garden. “Hmm. No, actually. That’s quite impressive. But wait. Ah. I see a vine, creeping up the walls.”

  It was the only sign that Florian was even out there. Now, hear me out. I’ll be the first to admit: stealing from the elderly? Not my proudest moment. But I was over all of the Rodriguez family drama. Whichever of the two brujas was telling the truth didn’t matter anymore. I just wanted my money.

  My heart thumped when I caught a glimmer of light from the window. Florian had retrieved something shiny, and the vine he’d sent up was racing down the walls, returning to – well, wherever the hell he was. I kept my eyes open as I waited for him to reappear, and I marveled as his body materialized from out of the shrubbery. He wasn’t there, a moment ago, then suddenly he was, dark jacket and jeans and everything. Florian jogged towards the car, a huge grin on his face as the vine trailing behind him receded into his body, but not before depositing his bounty in the palm of his hand.

  Cool air rushed into Quill’s car as Florian opened the door and slid in, beaming proudly. “Did it. Did you guys see? No sweat. In and out, like a shadow.”

  Like taking candy from a baby, an analogy that only made me feel worse. But for comparison’s sake, pretend that the baby can also use magic to hex you to within an inch of your sorry life. Florian reached over my seat and my shoulder to deposit his ill-gotten goods in my hand: one shiny, pearlescent peineta, complete with a few loose strands of Leonora’s hair.

  “Well done,” Quilliam said, his voice genuinely pleased and congratulatory. “I must admit, you wildly surpassed my expectations.”

  Florian, ever eager, smiled even wider. “Aww. Thanks, man.”

  I would have liked to tell you that the rest of the trip to Monica Rodriguez’s house was uneventful. I would have liked to say that Quill drove us at an easy, casual clip, that we turned over the bits of hair we’d stolen, and went on our merry, separate ways.

  But the sound of screeching filled the night, like a banshee awakened. Shortly after, not far from the old folks’ home, something smashed into the roof of Quilliam’s car. Something huge, and heavy, and strong.

  Leonora had sent something to chase us. The terrible screeching repeated, and this time, four spines penetrated the roof of Quill’s car, tearing through metal and fabric like knives through butter.

  Quilliam screamed. “My car!”

  “Keep driving,” I screamed back. “For the love of God, keep driving.”

  “It’s coming in,” Florian said. “Pull over so we can get out and fight it.”

  “Make up your fucking minds,” Quilliam shouted.

  Cold air rushed in from above us as the creature on top of the car tore a huge hunk of the roof away. In the distance, metal clanged as the discarded roof smashed into the street. But far closer by, so close I thought I heard it just next to my ear, came a hoarse, croaking voice. I looked up, shuddering, to gaze into the face of the beast Leonora had conjured – not at all expecting to see the transformed face of the bruja herself.

  “Mijos,” she said, through a wide mouth crammed with far, far too many fangs. “Why are you running from Tia Leonora?”

  30

  For a scant few seconds my mind lingered on the possibility of calling out to Raziel, of seeing if he would even respond. He’d show up and use some of his angel magic to blast the thing that used to be Maria Leonora Rodriguez right off the face of the planet, and then we’d be home free.

  No, I thought, grinding my teeth, even as the bruja leered with its red eyes and gave me a huge, hungry grin. I made my bed, and I was going to lie in it. We just needed to deal with this problem, then I would be set. Half of the money was going to buy me my freedom. The other half could go to rent and to Florian. I just wanted to live my life, damn it.

  But first we had to get the monster out of our hair. Quite literally, in Quill’s case, since Leonora had gotten her talons entangled in the snarls of his shoulder-length shag. He was screaming his head off, hardly driving in a straight line for fear of, well, quite literally losing his head. I reached out to the Vestments, wondering what the hell I could even find to fight with in such close quarters. My mind settled on a little burst of inspiration courtesy of Raziel.
I cursed under my breath, still in denial of how much he’d taught me and continued to teach me despite my insistence on severing ties. A sheen of divine light appeared around my hand, solidifying into a golden gauntlet.

  I punched Leonora in the face.

  Blood, saliva, and broken fangs sprayed over the dashboard, showering both me and Quill in a rain of debris and gunk. But that did the trick. Leonora disappeared as the car careened onwards, her screeching carrying into the distance as we left her in our dust.

  We carried on in silence, Quill breathing in stutters through his nostrils. I wasn’t sure how much farther he drove before he slammed his foot on the brakes.

  “What are you doing?” I said. “Just head all the way to Monica’s place. We get to the Rodriguez house, hand over the peineta, collect our pay, then let the two witches deal with each other.”

  “This isn’t the last we’ll be hearing from Leonora. We need protection.”

  Quill stood up, his head and part of his torso comically poking through the makeshift sunroof, and placed one hand on what was left of the top of the car. His mouth moved quickly, his words too soft for me to understand, but I was willing to bet that he was creating a force field. He spoke one last word.

  “Arma.”

  A red gleam washed across the car’s surface, then immediately faded as the shield settled over it like a protective film. Not a bad idea, and I’d totally forgotten that duh, of course Quill knew magic – we met in the Black Market, after all. A scribe, just like he explained.

  “Was that Latin?” I asked.

  “Barely. Actually, it’s a modified – wait, how does that even matter?”

  “Well, excuse me, sorry for asking. Is that going to be enough to protect us?”