For a little while, the only things being discussed were tea and food, but soon, once everyone had finished eating and drinking, the mood turned serious.
“I spoke with the astronomers,” Ahijah began.
“What did they say?” Remiel asked.
“They were suspicious at first. They thought it was an angel trick to get them to break some rules so they could be punished.” Ahijah shook his head. “Sometimes it seems as if there has been no progress made at all. They do not believe the order to slaughter them was rescinded, yet they cannot deny that none of the angels who have visited us have hurt them. We even had Vel drop by last week, and they hid from him, though they know who he is and that he wouldn’t hurt them.”
“Why was Vel here?” Samael asked.
“I don’t know. He didn’t say. He just came to see the village, and then he left an hour later. I didn’t think anything of it. He did get along very well with the priest in the church, so I thought maybe he’d dropped in to say hi.” Ahijah dismissed Vel’s visit with a shake of his head. “Anyway, the astronomers, once they got over their suspicions, took a look at the sky. They were rather shocked.”
“What did they see?” Samael asked.
“Well, when they told me, I admit I didn’t believe them.” Ahijah tapped a finger on the tabletop. “They said that there had been a hole in the stars. Now, I thought that was because of Eisheth being killed. So I didn’t think much about that. But then they told me that the hole had been filled. I took a look through one of the telescopes, and… it had.”
“Ah yes.” Samael leaned back in his chair. “I do recall that such was the case. God took Eisheth’s soul to her final rest, among the stars that she so loved. Now she is with her beloved constellations and they are with her.”
“Okay, so that’s expected, then? Good to know.” Ahijah looked relieved. “That’s one mystery solved, and I’ll tell the astronomers that. But there’s another mystery.”
“And what is that?” Samael inquired.
“You know the constellation of Aquila, where Semjaza was imprisoned?” As everyone nodded, Ahijah continued. “Well, it’s broken.”
“Broken?” Remiel echoed. “What do you mean, broken?”
Ahijah spread his hands in a gesture of helplessness. “The Glowing Eye Nebula is gone. Nothing is left of it. Just… space debris. Bits and pieces of rock and dust.”
Samael was confused. “But what does this mean?”
“The nebula is in the middle of the constellation,” Ahijah said. “It was the lock of the chains that held Semjaza’s prison secure. But it’s gone now. Something like that would have been noticed, and there’d be a huge debate going on among the humans who watch the skies. The fact that there isn’t suggests someone is hiding it.”
“Baraqiel and Kokabiel might know,” Remiel said thoughtfully.
“I hope so, for I confess I do not understand,” Samael said. “A part of the star system has been destroyed, is that what you are saying, Ahijah?”
“Yeah. Yeah, exactly. My people got very excited about that, and the historians went into the records that we keep in the basement in the church. Before anyone rushes off to Uncle Raz and sends him into conniptions about the safety of the books, it’s properly secured and climate controlled. Now, the historians found something in the histories, the books that we kept about our lives after Uncle Uri’s flood, when Noah beached his ark.”
“What did they find?” Remiel asked.
“It was a minor note, so small that if we weren’t looking for reasons why a nebula might be destroyed, we would’ve missed it.” Ahijah paused to pour himself another cup of tea. As he stirred in cream and sugar, he said, “It was just one line. But it was pretty intense.”
“It said, ‘When the nebulae begin to die, then it is a warning the walls will fall,’” Hiwa said.
Samael felt a sensation akin to an icy hand clutch his Grace. “That… is remarkably specific for prophecy,” he said.
“Is it prophecy, though?” Hiwa asked. “Or is it a warning? Because everyone seemed to think it was a warning.”
“That’s a good point,” Remiel said.
“Was there anything else about this in the histories?” Samael asked.
“Only that realities converging would be the biggest disaster since the expulsion from Eden,” Ahijah said.
“Nothing else?” Samael asked hopefully. “No advice on how to stop this from happening?”
“No.” Ahijah sounded frustrated. “The historians are still looking, and the astronomers are still watching the skies, but there’s been nothing else.”
“It is disquieting, though,” Ishtahar said, speaking for the first time since sitting down. “When Semjaza broke free of Aquila, we thought he had simply used energies and magics to do so. What if, when he did this, he also weakened the structure of Aquila’s own defenses? That is what concerns me. If Aquila is somehow weakened, perhaps Naamah destroyed the nebula in order to fulfill her own prophecy.”
Samael blinked. “My lady Ishtahar,” he said, “I had not even considered such a possibility. But it is entirely in keeping with Naamah’s personality. She would engineer things to suit what she required. She was ever manipulative.”
“That’s right, you had a fling with her, didn’t you?” Hiwa asked.
“Hiwa,” Ishtahar scolded, “it isn’t proper to ask such things of your uncle.”
Samael smiled at that. “It is all right, beloved Ishtahar. I do not mind the boy’s questions. That is, after all, how we taught them when they were children. Their questions led to our answers, which led to more questions, which is how we educated them.”
“Yeah, you manipulated us into learning stuff, whether we wanted to or not,” Ahijah teased. He bumped Samael’s shoulder with his own. “And we’re both of us damn grateful you did.”
“We all love you, Ahi, Hiwa,” Samael said.
“Don’t get all emotional, or I’ll be sick,” Hiwa warned. “I didn’t spend decades in the bratva because I yearn to hear the emotions of the world.”
“No, you spent decades in the bratva because you like a bit of violence and chaos,” Ahijah said.
“And those disgusting tattoos,” Ishtahar said. “My dear son, will you not please consider having at least a few of them removed?”
“No, Mama,” Hiwa said in a tone of voice that suggested to Samael that the two of them had discussed this before—frequently. “I need them. When I’m in Eastern Europe, they get me into places that I couldn’t otherwise get into. And right now, I think we’ll need that.”
“I wish I could say that it was not so,” Samael said, “but alas, yes, we will need your skills, Hiwa. If you do not mind, that is.”
“No, that’s fine. I like Russia,” Hiwa said. “You want me to nose around and see if any of my contacts have sold antiquities?”
“Yes.” Samael looked at Remiel. “What would they need to look for?”
Remiel considered it. “Basically, anything sold to a single buyer, a young buyer. Someone in his twenties. Or her twenties.”
“Got it. Oh, isn’t there a photo of the guy you’re looking for floating around?” Hiwa asked.
“Yeah, I forgot about that,” Remiel said. “Hang on a minute, I’ll grab it.” His eyes went distant and Samael could feel him reaching out with his power, stretching invisible fingers of energy all the way to Lyudmila’s building in Yerevan and the makeshift meeting hall that had once been an apartment. “Ah, there it is,” Remiel muttered, and a few moments later, two copies of a black-and-white photograph were on the table.
“That’s him?” Hiwa said, picking up one of the photos and peering at it.
“That’s him,” Remiel said.
“Hm. All right. I’ll take this with me when I go make my inquiries. Can I grab a lift, Uncle Sammy?”
“Of course, Hiwa. I would be happy to take you where you need to go.”
“Thanks.”
“So, tell us what Naamah was like,” Ahi
jah said. “I’ll show this photo around my people too, before you ask.”
Samael chuckled. “I fear you will find my words disappointing, young Ahijah. We did not spend long together. She was neither as intelligent and beautiful as Agrat or passionate as Lilith. Nor was she as loving and compassionate as Eisheth. She was often angry, frequently jealous of her sisters, and spent long hours telling me that she felt that she had been greatly wronged by them.”
Ahijah frowned a little. “She sounds like a bit of a downer.”
“Downer?” Samael echoed.
“Yeah, like… she could bring your mood down.”
“Oh, I see. Yes, she could do that. She also felt that I should be using my powers to take over Heaven and rule it, with her as my queen. I did not agree. And so we parted ways.”
“Did you tell the others about this?” Hiwa asked.
“No.” Samael looked down at the table. “Perhaps I should. But I find that I am ashamed to admit that I was taken in by her and allowed myself to be wooed by her. And there really is nothing that transpired between us that would be relevant to the situation we are currently in. I am as astonished as anyone else by what has occurred.”
Remiel looked thoughtful. “How long were you with her, Sammy?”
“It was so long ago,” Samael said. “We did not measure time as we do now. I would estimate it was perhaps a month. Maybe two.”
Remiel canted his head slightly to one side. “Yeah, that probably really isn’t long enough to get a good bead on what she’s really like. We know she’s manipulative, I don’t think we need you to talk about past intimacies for that. We know she wants to rule and that she’s greedy. We know that she resents her sisters. There’s no real reason to bring this all up again, I think.”
Samael was relieved. “Thank you, Remiel.”
“No charge,” Remiel said. “Later, though, I might ask you to do me a favor.”
Samael chuckled. “Of course. Anything you wish.”
“Not to say I always want something when I give you my opinion,” Remiel hastily added, looking at Hiwa and Ahijah, who were staring at him with incredulous expressions on their faces. “Just that we’re going to be busy and I might be who knows where, so Sammy, I ask—no, I beg—you to look after my beloved.”
Ishtahar made a small noise. “Your beloved is not helpless,” she said.
“I know, love. But your partner is completely paranoid, so prevent him from getting an ulcer and going gray.”
Ishtahar threw her hands up. “You are very silly, sometimes,” she said. “But all right, for your peace of mind.”
“I would be honored,” Samael said. “Perhaps, too, I can take some time to get to know the Nephilim here and let them know they are truly safe and free.”
Ahijah looked at him, tears in his eyes. “Uncle Sammy,” he said, his voice choked, “I really, really appreciate that.”
“Think nothing of it, dear boy,” Samael said. “So, Remiel, will you take this information to the rest of our Brotherhood, and I will go with Hiwa?”
“Sure, no problem.” Remiel touched two fingers to his forehead in a salute.
“But first,” Samael said solemnly, “I need something.”
“Of course. What?” Hiwa asked.
“Another slice of pie,” Samael said.
Ishtahar started to laugh. “That is absolutely no trouble at all, dear Samael.”
“Wonderful,” Samael said. “Thank you.”
Chapter Seven
“WHERE SHOULD we begin, my lord?” Markus asked Ondrass.
Adramelek was about to interject, to say that hadn’t they already decided on Hong Kong, when he felt the touch of Lucifer’s mind on his. He held up a hand and listened as his lord and oldest friend asked him to return to Hell.
“I have to go,” he said as Lucifer’s voice left his mind. “I’m needed in Hell. I don’t know how long I’ll be gone, so start without me, and I’ll find you when I return to Earth.”
Ondrass was looking concerned. “Is everything all right?”
“I don’t know.” Adramelek considered it. “I assume something has come up that needs my attention. It could be nothing,” he said, trying to sound reassuring. “In any case, make a start while I’m gone.”
“All right.” Ondrass pulled a fedora hat to him with his power and set it on his head at a rakish angle. “Let’s go to Hong Kong, Markus.”
Adramelek grinned at him. “You look like such a stereotypical gangster, Andy.”
“Andy?” Ondrass raised an eyebrow so high that it seemed to reach his hairline. “And one does one’s best. Go to Hell, Adry. We’ll meet you in Hong Kong.”
Adramelek laughed and vanished, ’porting straight to Lucifer’s castle. He emerged in Lucifer’s private suite, decorated in cream, silver, and white, with a bouquet of red roses in a crystal vase atop a white marble fireplace.
“Lightbringer?” Adramelek looked around the room, but it was empty. Puzzled, he walked through the pair of french doors that opened from the sitting room into Lucifer’s bedroom and stopped short.
Lucifer Morningstar sat on the floor with his head in his hands.
Adramelek moved without a thought. He quickly crossed the room to Lucifer’s side and sat down, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. “I’m here now,” he said. “What’s the matter?”
Lucifer took a deep breath and looked up. His bright blue eyes were glassy. “Things are coming to an end, old friend,” he said. “I am mourning the loss of the old.”
“What’s ending?” Adramelek felt a stab of fear in his chest.
“For good or for ill, I know not which, now,” Lucifer muttered almost to himself. Then he sighed. “Adramelek, you are my oldest and most loyal friend. And that is why I am telling you this. You know what the plan the old man upstairs and I agreed to is. The Archangels are beginning to work it out—slowly, to be sure, but steadily. It won’t be long until all of them have figured out the truth.
“And that’s a double-edged blade. While the plan is sound, in theory, Naamah could still destroy everything that God and I have worked toward. Her corruption of two-thirds of the Grail is like a wound. I can feel it festering in my Grace, just as God can feel it in His own center. The Earth is repairing herself as best she can, but this wound is psychic in nature, not physical, and it’s growing. If she manages to corrupt the last part of the Grail, then I fear that I will cease to exist… and so will God. So neither of us will be able to enjoy the results of the deal we have agreed to.”
Adramelek scowled. “No,” he said. “You’re not going to die, Lightbringer. I won’t have it.”
“How will you stop it?” Lucifer demanded.
Adramelek took a deep breath. “I’ll sacrifice myself if I have to. Naamah will be stopped, I promise you that. And this peaceful new future that you and God worked out, because you’re both tired of war and fighting, well, that’s all very nice and lovely, but frankly, of no concern to me. You are of concern to me, Lucifer, and I’ll be damned all over again if anything happens to you.”
Lucifer stared at him, eyes wide. His expression was, Adramelek thought, the most surprised he had ever seen Lucifer, even in the days when they had both lived in Heaven, debating the rule of God and the edict that humans were more special than angelkind. They might have been created by God’s thought, but each angel was unique, each one had evolved according to their experiences over time.
One thing all of angelkind, Fallen and not, shared, however, was a trait that existed in every single living being in existence: stubbornness. And Adramelek was stubbornly refusing to let Lucifer die.
“You cannot stop Fate, beloved Adramelek,” Lucifer said in a soft voice.
“Why not?” Adramelek thrust his chin out pugnaciously. “Where is that written, pray? Because that’s bullshit.”
Lucifer blinked. “Pardon?”
“Well, it is. Fate said Semjaza was going to stay in his prison in Aquila forever, and look how well that worked out.
Fate also said that angelkind were never supposed to love or feel pleasures of the flesh, and, well. Look around.” Adramelek snorted derisively. “Even our most sanctimonious Archangels can feel that.”
Lucifer began to chuckle. “That’s a good point. I suddenly don’t feel quite so scared.”
“Good.” Adramelek leaned back against his lord’s bed. “Lightbringer, you scared the living crap out of me, you know.”
“Sorry.” Lucifer shifted around to face Adramelek. “I didn’t mean to do so, you understand.”
Adramelek waved that off. “I know. This Grail business is making us all feel and do things that are out of character.”
“That is true enough.” Lucifer pursed his lips. “I caught Ba’al weeping in the Hellhound kennels. He was too ashamed to seek me out, he said. One of the Hellhound puppies had died, and he was very upset about it.”
Adramelek was astonished. “I had no idea Hellhound puppies could die.”
“They can—under extreme circumstances. Anyway, I revived the animal. It’s devoted to Ba’al now. I gave him the day off.”
“This is fucked up,” Adramelek said. “I sound like Uriel, but dammit, he’s right. The Grail shouldn’t be having this effect on everything. I hope Lilitu and Agrat can get a way into Purgatory so we can deal with Naamah sooner rather than later. I want to eat her liver.”
“With fava beans and a nice chianti?” Lucifer asked.
Adramelek grinned. “Maybe not. But you know what I mean.”
“I do.” Lucifer hesitated a moment. “Thank you for coming, Adry.”
“Nothing to thank me for, Lightbringer. That’s what friends are for, right?”
Lucifer nodded. “Indeed.”
It hung there for a moment, Adramelek wondering if there was anything else Lucifer needed, when the next thing he knew was the sensation of soft, cool lips against his own. He was so surprised that he didn’t react, stunned into immobility.
“Lightbringer?” Adramelek murmured.
“I… I don’t know what came over me,” Lucifer said. He moved back a little. “It seemed… as good a time as any.”
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