Demon’s Fall

by Karalynn Lee

  * * *

  “Kenan?”

  He leapt to his feet and whipped around to see Jahel standing at the back door.

  “You’re back!” He went to her and pressed her to him fiercely, ignoring his bruised body’s protests. When he drew back, he took in every detail of her face, wondering at how he could have already forgotten how lovely she was. No, he had remembered, but she was even more achingly beautiful actually standing before him.

  She was looking about the wreckage of his home with horror. “Was this because of me?” She touched his face. “Are you hurt badly?”

  He ignored her questions to ask his own. “Why are you here? You were supposed to give the soul back to the girl.”

  “I did return it,” she said.

  “And you didn’t stay to guard her?”

  She looked away. “To what use? I failed before.”

  He embraced her, as much to hold her as to comfort her. “You took a soul from a demon, and gave it back to the mortal it belonged to,” he said. “You’ve done more than any other angel.”

  She smiled despite herself. “What do you know of angels’ feats?”

  “I know that angels rarely venture even once into Hellsgate,” he said. “You’ve done it twice now.”

  Her face grew grave again. “Kenan, I came back because I still need your help.”

  He had been hoping for different words. He tried for lightness. “Not another soul?”

  “No,” she said. “When I first came here, I didn’t come by myself. I didn’t know the way. I was searching for the path when I ran into Gidon, and he told me he could guide me to Hellsgate. And he brought me here. But I don’t know what happened to him, and I can’t leave without knowing he’s well.”

  He wondered what mortal would have agreed to take an angel into Hellsgate. But he was hardly one to question. He, a demon, had gotten caught up in Jahel’s quest. “Gutter-wing, I don’t make a practice of rescuing people who can’t survive in this city.”

  “You’ve already started,” she said. “You rescued me.”

  What wouldn’t he do for her?

  She must have seen his face change, for she kissed him. “Thank you, Kenan.”

  He sighed and held her loosely against him. “Why didn’t you tell me about this earlier?”

  “You hadn’t freed me, earlier.”

  He couldn’t argue with that. “So how did you and Gidon get separated?”

  “We came when it was dark. We entered a yard of some sort, behind a building. I heard a ringing from inside, and when I went toward it, a net fell over me. It burned, and I couldn’t get it off.” She shivered at the memory.

  “Sticky sin,” he said grimly. Anathema to those of Heaven. “It’s like your holy water, but infernal in nature. Do you remember what the building looked like?”

  “I barely got a glimpse of it,” she said. “I lost consciousness. When I woke, I was in the cage in the market.”

  “I’ll have to find the merchant who sold you,” he said. “He’ll be able to tell me where he got you from, and that might lead me to your guide.”

  “I want to come with you,” she said.

  He hesitated, but she was the only one who would recognize her friend. “You’ll need to wear a cloak. If anyone realizes what you are, fly away as fast as you can.”

  Her mouth tightened, but she nodded.

  Even his longest cloak couldn’t cover her wings, so she ended up draping a sheet over herself and pinning it closed with a brooch. It would fool no one looking for an angel, but there were enough hunchbacked and winged demons to at least keep people from recognizing her at first sight. It seemed to work as they walked toward the market.

  She moved stiffly as they wended their way between stalls and tents. There was a frenzy beyond even the norm. Ill tidings hadn’t dampened trade, only made demons and humans alike more frantic to buy what they needed in case the city closed. He tried to see the market through her eyes: demons of strange shapes, hooved and horned; the cacophony of voices that could never match an angel’s lilt; men and beasts chained. And here, too, an angel had been held captive. No wonder she didn’t care for this place.

  They came to the spot where the merchant had been before, but a snake charmer sat there instead. The market vendors often shuffled about, fighting for the best positions from which to catch buyers’ interest.

  “He might not even be here today,” Kenan said, but Jahel caught at his arm.

  “Wait,” she said, and cocked her head.

  Then he heard it too, the unmistakable crack of a whip. He exchanged a rueful glance with Jahel, both of them remembering the sting of that leather, then went to find the man who wielded it.

  The cage held a gryphon this time, a proud, magnificent beast undiminished by the bars that held it. Both the lashing of its lion’s tail and the screech from its eagle’s beak spoke of its fury.

  “How dare he?” Jahel clenched her hands.

  “It’s your capture we’re concerned about,” Kenan reminded her, and drew her behind him. He approached the merchant before she could.

  The merchant didn’t seem to recognize him. “A fine beast for you, sir? Gryphons are fierce fighters.”

  “Actually, I bought an angel from you,” Kenan said. “I was wondering where you got her.”

  “There aren’t any more to be found,” the merchant said. He turned away, dismissing him as a potential customer.

  Jahel made a noise of protest, and the merchant’s eyes narrowed as he looked over Kenan’s shoulder. “You. And you’re not chained.”

  “Yes, I’d like to know how that collar was put on her,” Kenan said, trying to salvage some shred of propriety.

  “It was already on her,” the merchant said flatly. “I assume the smith who sold her to me did it. He built the cage, too.”

  “That was the ringing sound I heard,” Jahel said, grabbing Kenan’s arm. “A hammer striking a forge.”

  “Which smith?” Kenan asked the merchant, remembering their fruitless quest for the dressmaker’s shop.

  “He’s a weaponsmith. Are you sure you want to bother him the way you’re nagging at me?” The merchant crossed his arms.

  “Just tell us,” Jahel said.

  The merchant smirked at her. “And what can an angel do to me?”

  She took a step forward, then turned and yanked the cage door open.

  The gryphon sprang out. It screamed and whirled on the merchant, but he lashed at it with his whip and it took to the air with a powerful leap. The beat of its wings threatened nearby tents while Kenan and Jahel covered their noses and mouths against the rising dust. With a last defiant cry, it flew off, the chain trailing behind it in the air.

  “You bitch!” The merchant aimed his whip at Jahel, but Kenan lunged forward and it wrapped around his arm instead of hitting her. Kenan gritted his teeth against the pain and got a good grip on the whip, then jerked it out of the merchant’s hand.

  “Don’t touch her,” he said, and the merchant paled, stepping back and nearly falling through the wall of the neighboring tent. Kenan unwound the whip from his arm with deliberate movements. “Now, where is this smith?”

  The merchant swallowed. “You can find him over—”

  The ground shuddered, and there was the sound of an explosion. Kenan turned to see a great cloud of dust and smoke rising several streets away.

  “There?” he said wryly.

  The merchant, stunned, only nodded.

  Jahel was already running that way. She cast off the sheet and her wings spread. The wind rustled her feathers, and then she was flying.

  Kenan followed on foot, dodging those who had stopped to gape at the sight of an angel flying freely through Hellsgate. They were too shocked to form into another mob, but it would only be a matter of time.

  He knew when he reached the right place, even without Jahel standing out in front. The building was a ruin, a pile of smoking timbers and fallen stones still obscured by hissing steam. Kenan loo
ked at it helplessly, knowing that no one could have survived that. There was no trail to follow from here.

  “Kenan, it’s Edom!”

  Jahel had spotted the demon-horse standing off to one side. His body was tense and his eyes wild, and a cruel muzzle strapped over his head kept him from speaking. When she approached him, he reared and lashed out with his hooves.

  She retreated, but slowly, murmuring reassurances. When she reached Kenan, she whirled around and demanded, “Is that all you do in this city? Capture those with free will and chain them?”

  “This role was decreed,” Kenan said, but he felt sick as he looked at the stallion. “And it was no denizen of Hellsgate who did this. It was one of the Horsemen.”

  There was movement from the collapsed building as another beam gave way, and the remainder of the building groaned. And through the new flurry of dust that arose, Kenan could see the silhouette of a man with wings.

  The angel who emerged from the steam threw back broad shoulders and studied them with a pleased air. In his hand he held a broadsword of mottled metal that unsettled Kenan’s stomach when he tried to focus on it. But his most striking feature was his wings—they were red, the same shade as Edom’s hide.

  “Gidon?” Jahel started forward, then stopped. “Your wings…”

  “I am War,” he said, and there was an echo of power in his voice that left no doubt.

  “This is your friend?” Kenan said, aghast. “You didn’t say he was an angel!”

  “What else could he have been?”

  “You said you were looking for Hellsgate in the mortal plane when you met him.”

  “No, I was in Heaven’s library, hoping to find a map.”

  He seized her shoulders. “This angel tried to open the Scroll of Revelations. He came to Hellsgate to flee the wrath of Heaven, and somehow he pulled you into the whole mess.”

  “No,” she said, her face pale. “That would be madness. Gidon was trying to help me. He saw how upset I was over the loss of Lisha’s soul, and he suggested we come here to find it. He guided me.”

  “He lured you here. Where you were captured.”

  War laughed.

  Kenan faced him, determined to wrench Jahel from her denial. “You arranged that trap for Jahel.”

  “Of course. I brought her to Hellsgate, where I planned to come anyway. It was easy to cause ill will toward angels among the demons. I thought they would have killed her already. And none of the Heaven-born would stand for the death of one of their own. Then war.” He breathed the last word.

  “Why play these games? If you are War, you need no petty ruckus.”

  “I was awaiting my sword. For what is War without his weapon?” He smiled and lifted his blade. “Hellfire-forged, and quenched in holy water.”

  So that had been the cause of the explosion—the two elements didn’t mix well. And neither material would have troubled War overmuch. The Horsemen were beyond the restrictions that held back angels or demons.

  Kenan wondered how he had convinced the smith. Perhaps the chance to make the world’s most dread weapon had been too sweet a call to resist. But he looked at the rubble and knew that the sword’s maker was no longer a concern.

  War made a circle with his sword. There was an echoing movement about them.

  Kenan realized that they were ringed in by demons who must have also come to see what had caused the explosion, or followed Jahel. But now they were all in War’s thrall, their gazes fixed upon the gleaming blade, a stillness to their faces.

  “Perhaps it is a petty ruckus,” War said. “But it pleases me, as any conflict does. Since you stand with the angel, you may die with her.”

  He sprang upon Edom’s back. And they fit together somehow, the angel and the demon-horse, as glaring red as the sunset they were about to bring down upon the world.

  There was no hope of catching him as he rode off, and what were they to do if they did? The circle of demons closed about them and drew tighter. Those in beast shape were growling. Kenan eyed the horned demon closest to him, trying to figure out if he could manage to wrestle away his axe.

  Two winged shadows blotted out the sun.

  “Another angel!” someone called out, and a chorus of bloodthirsty cries arose.

  “You will leave them be,” a woman’s voice said with such force that the demons drew back.

  It was Lilith and Baraqiel. They must have seen the explosion and come to investigate, only to find another mob to disperse. But this time the demons were driven by War himself, and they dared to stand against the First and an archangel.

  They were doomed, of course.

  Kenan took advantage of the distraction to snatch away the axe and swung it wildly. He grew busy defending himself and Jahel, determined to acquit himself better this time, but sometimes he would catch sight of a blur to the side—and then a demon would collapse, gurgling. Lilith moved so quickly, it was easiest to track her by seeing where others fell before her. Baraqiel used his sheer size and strength to strike them down. But Kenan noticed that they pulled their blows, avoiding killing anyone. They wanted to stop war, he reminded himself, not start it. Their restraint didn’t keep them from scattering the horde of demons.

  When the last of the demons had fled, Lilith and Baraqiel landed before Jahel and Kenan.

  Jahel gasped at her first clear sight of the archangel. “Baraqiel!”

  “You’ve gone astray, Jahel,” he said, but he sounded tired rather than angry.

  Kenan made obeisance to Lilith. “Thank you again, First.”

  “We must stop meeting this way,” she said. She looked at Jahel searchingly, then turned to Kenan. “This is the one?”

  Kenan nodded.

  “You said you had freed her.”

  “She returned to find the angel who came with her. Gidon.”

  Baraqiel’s voice went soft and dangerous. “So he’s the one. Jahel, what have you to do with this?”

  “He used me,” she said, sounding bewildered. “He wanted my death to spark a war. I can’t believe—no.” Her hand flew up to cover her mouth as she faced some memory. “Before all this, I remember him joking once that we should just end the world, so that Heaven would rule it all.”

  Kenan stared at her. “But he couldn’t have known that!” There were several prophecies that spoke of the ways the world would be ravaged in its ending, but the final outcome was only written in the Scroll of Revelations. The thoughtless angel might have brought doom upon them all with his assumption.

  “Gidon was foolish for his own sake as well,” Baraqiel said. “The Horsemen don’t spring full-fledged from the scroll. The opener becomes one. That’s why it takes seven openers—one to manifest each stage toward Armageddon. But it takes time for the aspect to become fully fledged. He won’t be overly dangerous as long as he doesn’t have his accoutrements.”

  “He has a sword,” Kenan said. “A demon smith forged it for him, and quenched it with holy water.”

  The look that Baraqiel and Lilith exchanged told Kenan that his news was dire indeed.

  “That’s probably why he came to Hellsgate in the first place,” Baraqiel said. “Bringing Jahel was only a side scheme.”

  “The war will begin soon,” Lilith said softly.

  “It can’t be inevitable,” Kenan said. “Can’t we restore him to the scroll?”

  Lilith looked startled, then thoughtful. “Can you get it?” she asked Baraqiel.

  “I have it,” he said.

  “You brought it to Hellsgate?”

  “I knew it would be needed one way or another, with one of the seals opened,” he said. “But even if we have it here, how will we use it to get him back in it?”

  Jahel said, “Let me speak to him.”

  “He isn’t Gidon anymore, child,” Baraqiel said to her. “You should return to Heaven and gird yourself for the coming battle.”

  “Still, let me stay.” She gave him a pleading look. “I was part of his scheme. It’s a matter of honor.”


  The archangel hesitated, then nodded brusquely. “Know that there’s little chance we’ll be able to seal him away again, though. The Horsemen aren’t a force easily stopped, never mind reversed.”

  Seal him away.

  Kenan thought of how the explosion of hellfire and holy water hadn’t affected War. A holy seal and sticky sin would present no more difficulty. And where else would Gidon have gotten such a seal?

  “Jahel,” he said. “He must have used the same seal—the one that was once set upon the Scroll of Revelations—on your collar, to keep any demon from undoing it.”

  Her eyes widened. “We could use it to bind him again.”

  “You have the seal?” Baraqiel demanded.

  “At my home,” Kenan said, and for the second time it was a frantic dash back to his house. On the way he saw that there were already fires starting, smoke wreathing the taller buildings and shouts in the distance. War was wasting no time.

  The other three flew there and arrived before him, but he found them standing in the middle of the room, looking at the chaos helplessly.

  He went to the corner where Tiras had thrown the seal and crouched. The seal had thankfully landed so that he could read the embossing. Shamgar War Abaddon, it said in the same ancient script that spelled out the true names of souls. There were still clumps of sticky sin on it.

  “Here it is,” he said. “We can’t touch it, though. Tiras had to take it off Jahel. And it burned him badly—I can’t ask him to do that again.”

  “It has to be in contact with the Horseman’s skin,” Baraqiel said. “At the same time as the scroll.”

  Jahel knelt by Kenan and reached toward the seal, then snatched her hand back before she even brushed it. “I can’t,” she said in frustration, but she tried again. Her fingers hovered over it for a long moment, and then she sighed and pulled back. “I remember how the sticky sin on the net seared me.”

  Kenan could feel its power ripple over his hand when he made the same attempt. It prickled, promising agony if he dared come closer. He couldn’t force himself to push past that near-tangible aura.

  “Can we get rid of the sticky sin?” Jahel asked.