The Bone Cup

by L. J. LaBarthe

  “Is he all right?” Gabriel asked.

  “Yes, he’s fine. He’ll have a lovely collection of new scars when he heals up thanks to being hit with a magical weapon, but the scythe didn’t hit anything major. It looks worse than it is. He’s to rest and do nothing for the next few weeks. Change the bandages daily and cleanse the wound. I’ll give you something for that, and some medication for him. Make him take it, Gabriel. I know how much of a martyr he can be, and he has no damn reason to.”

  “You got that right, Raph,” Gabriel said.

  “Do I not get a say in this?” Michael asked.

  “No,” Raphael and Gabriel said in unison.

  Michael sighed.

  Chapter Fifteen

  NOW THAT he was assured that Michael would be all right, Gabriel looked up from his lover and took stock of their surroundings. The fight was over now, and a small knot of monsters were guarded by Uriel and Metatron as Tzadkiel questioned them. Raziel was nowhere to be seen, nor were six of the Seraphim, and Gabriel beckoned to Shateiel to join him.

  “Yes, sir?”

  “Where’s Raz?” Gabriel asked.

  Shateiel smiled. “He went upstairs to begin cataloguing the collection that Naamah has. He is keeping a firm hold on the Holy Grail.”

  “I should bloody hope so,” Gabriel said. “Let’s not lose it again.”

  “Indeed!” Shateiel’s emphatic reply made Gabriel grin.

  “So where’s Camael, Asaf, and Vel?”

  “Vel is being tended to by Israfel. He was speared in the thigh and it is quite deep. Asaf is with him, holding things for Israfel. They are keeping Vel immobile until Raphael is able to tend to him.”

  “I’m glad he’s okay,” Gabriel said. “But Camael. Where is he?”

  Shateiel spread his hands. “I do not know, sir.”

  Gabriel got to his feet. “Stay still,” he said to Michael. “Better yet, Sophiel, Brieus,” he called out and the two angels who stood with Tzadkiel looked at him. “Come here,” Gabriel ordered.

  “I do not need to be guarded, Gabriel,” Michael said with some asperity.

  “Aye, you do, ’cause I know you, and you’ll think you’re healthier than you are and try to do too much before Raph says you can. Plus, you’re grounded, so you’re staying there.”

  “Yes, sir?” Brieus said as he joined them.

  “You two, stay with Michael. If he tries anything heroic, sit on him.” Gabriel glared at Michael, who glared back.

  Raphael started to laugh. “Sit on him? Really?”

  “Hey, if you know another way to keep him here, I’m all for it,” Gabriel said.

  “Do you two mind?” Michael demanded.

  Raphael ignored the protest. “I could drug him,” he suggested.

  Gabriel thought about it. “Not yet,” he said. “If he gives you two any trouble”—he looked at Sophiel and Brieus—“get Raph to knock him out.”

  “Yes, sir,” Sophiel said. A smile was playing at the corner of her lips. “We will sit on him as well, as requested.”

  “Do I not get a say in this?” Michael said.

  A resounding chorus of “No” met that question, and Michael crossed his arms over his chest and pouted.

  “That was easy,” Gabriel said without any trace of sarcasm. “All right, then. Shateiel, you come with me. Bring the Seraphim too. Ondrass,” he called, “you and Adramelek, grab a few warriors and come with me.”

  The Archdemon quirked an eyebrow. “And where are we going, pray?”

  “To settle a hunch,” Gabriel said.

  He had no sooner gotten to his feet than he heard a snarl, a sound of pure rage and thwarted desires. He drew his sword, the blade whistling as it came out of the scabbard, and looked up into the enraged face of Camael.

  “Gabriel!” Sophiel had raised her arm and she and Brieus were leaning over Michael, who was struggling to get to his feet.

  “Get Michael away,” Gabriel ordered. “Raph, help them!” Even as he spoke, he raised his sword.

  Camael brought his own blade down, and it clanged against Gabriel’s with a loud smash and a shower of sparks. Gabriel held his ground, although his arm began to tremble as Camael used all his strength and some of his power to try and force Gabriel to drop his weapon. Standing as still as a statue until he was sure that Michael was out of harm’s way, Gabriel grit his teeth.

  “Why, Camael?” he asked as he stood, resolute and determined not to fall.

  Camael sneered at him. “Why? You’re impure. You’re not a real Archangel. None of you are, except perhaps Tzadkiel and Samael. You’ve all been corrupted, tempted by pleasures of the flesh, gorging yourselves on a glut of food, alcohol, tobacco, and sometimes even drugs. So many of Heaven’s finest have corrupted themselves and yet pretend to be holy and pure. You do not deserve to remain as Archangels. Naamah saw that. She understood. Between us, we would have rid existence of you all and God would have been relieved of your presence. He would no longer have to hide in shame from you, because you all befoul His works.

  “And the humans you help and the monsters. All abominations, using powers they should not have for wicked, evil deeds. The woman in Congo, the man in North Korea, living lives of poverty because of some misguided hope that will absolve them of the crimes of using their powers for selfish ends. God punishes the wicked, Gabriel, and these beings are very wicked! They do not act out of selflessness, they do not think of the greater good or how best to honor God! Some of them do not even believe in Him!”

  “You set the fire in the Congo?” Gabriel asked. His voice was barely louder than a whisper.

  “Of course not, I couldn’t do that without being caught, and my motives were far more pure than any of yours.” Camael growled, and then he spat on Gabriel.

  “Oh, bad move,” Raziel said from somewhere at the back of the room.

  Gabriel lowered his sword a fraction and then swung it again, knocking Camael’s own blade aside. He swung his blade again and again, and each time, Camael met the blow with his own sword, in increasingly clumsy and desperate parries Gabriel easily brushed aside. Gabriel was furious now, and aware that his form was surrounded by a nimbus of bright silver light, the light of his power, the Rage of God. He advanced on Camael implacably as the angel gave ground, backing him step by step up against a nearby column. Then, so angry that he could barely speak, Gabriel dropped his sword and lunged, grabbing Camael and throwing him hard, so hard that he smashed into another thick stone column some ten feet away. The column groaned at the force of it, dust and plaster sifting down to decorate the floor. Gabriel advanced on Camael, who slumped at the foot of the column, stunned by the impact.

  “Get up,” Gabriel growled, grasping the front of Camael’s chain mail and hauling him to his feet. “You’re a traitor to all of Creation.”

  Camael stared at him and then spat on him again.

  Gabriel promptly smashed Camael into the column once more. “I can rip the memories and thoughts out of you without permission,” Gabriel said, his voice low and full of anger. “I don’t actually need you alive. So if you want to die and enjoy the rest of soul’s eternity in Hell, I can get to that sooner rather than later.”

  “You won’t kill me, Gabriel,” Camael said. He coughed a little. “You couldn’t kill one of your own.”

  “Do you not recall the General dealing with Semjaza?” Shateiel demanded.

  Camael sneered again. “Semjaza! The prince of the Grigori who broke all the rules of God and was imprisoned, only to escape! He was not one of us. He was a criminal. I did what I did for everyone, for the good of Creation and angelkind!”

  “You plotted with a succubus to commit evil deeds,” Gabriel said. “You used your knowledge of the Holy Grail to assist in its theft. You gave Naamah information about our plans, and you aided in the deaths of many and the enslavement of more. All of that is against the laws of God. All of that is punishable by death, as the punishment given to Semjaza illustrates.” He paused, just long enough
to get his burning anger under control. “And you tried to kill Michael, my bondmate, the chief Archangel.”

  “Seriously?” It was Tzadkiel. He came to stand beside Gabriel. “You do know, Camael, that as Archangels, we are the closest to God. He speaks and we hear His words before all others. If He was unhappy with us, we would know it. As His chief judge and Archangel of Judgment, I therefore declare you guilty of all that Lord Gabriel has accused you of. The punishment is death and the eternal imprisonment of your soul in Hell. I’m certain Lord Lucifer will have a fitting place for you.”

  “You can most certainly count on that,” Ondrass said.

  Gabriel shot a quick glance over his shoulder. Ondrass and Adramelek looked enraged and behind them, their demon soldiers looked angry and vengeful.

  “You brought everything to the brink of ruin,” Ondrass went on, walking up to stand beside Tzadkiel. “Your foolishness and Naamah’s pride nearly led to the destruction of all of creation, here in Purgatory as well as on Earth, in Heaven and in Hell. Is that your idea of a better world? Is that your idea of punishing the Archangels for what you perceive to be sins? Is that your idea of a bright reality that will make your God happy? Because if so, you are very sadly mistaken.”

  “He’s right,” Gabriel said.

  Camael sneered at him again. “Trust you to agree with an Archdemon.”

  Gabriel backhanded Camael and had the satisfaction of seeing blood splash onto the floor. “As Saint Tzadkiel has decreed, so it shall be. Samael!”

  “Yes, Gabriel?” Samael was there, tall and silent, his blood-spattered armor mute testament to the savagery of the fighting that he had been involved in.

  “Tzadkiel has decreed, so it must be,” Gabriel said.

  Samael nodded and reached out one hand. He placed his palm on the forehead of the struggling Camael and his blue eyes, so vibrant, became intense as he exerted his power, the power of death. Beneath the touch of Samael’s hand, Camael began to scream and writhe, begging incoherently for God to save him, to bless him, to give him exaltation for doing the right thing and to punish the wrongdoers.

  There was a flash of bright white light and then it faded away to leave only the corpse of Camael against the column. Samael lowered his hand and said in his deep, rich voice, “It is done.”

  The silence that fell over the room was somber. Gabriel turned away, seeking Michael with his eyes. As soon as he found him, Brieus and Sophiel on either side, Raphael behind him, and the Venatores in front of him, some of the tension drained from Gabriel. Michael gave him a small nod, and Gabriel nodded once in reply.

  “You did the right thing, sir.” Everyone turned at the voice. It was the young man who Gabriel had guessed was Naamah’s son. “I’m Arthur,” he said. He held what looked like a baseball bat in his hand and the young woman beside him held a poker. “And this is my sister, Morgana. This angel, this… Camael, did you say his name is?”

  “Aye,” Gabriel said.

  “Camael, then. He and our mother have done terrible things. They made us go up to Earth and kill innocent people. They made us steal things. They killed our friends here in Purgatory, and Camael helped our mother enslave some of the monsters to serve her. He’s as bad as she was.”

  “He and our mother did a lot of bad things,” said Morgana. “So he had to pay.”

  “Mother’s dead. At last,” Arthur said. His voice was emotionless.

  Gabriel pursed his lips. “You want to live here, right? In Purgatory? Well, once Raz has got all his books and stuff and moved them where he wants them, we’ll destroy this place and you can go and live in peace out there.”

  Shateiel nodded, coming to stand nearby. “It is the best and kindest decision, I think, sir. They are good souls. They are just angry, hurt, and upset at how they and their loved ones have been treated.”

  “Aye.” Gabriel looked away. “Asaf and Vel are going to take this hard too,” he said to Shateiel in an undertone. Tzadkiel had moved to draw Samael aside, and the two were in deep discussion in hushed voices. Ondrass and Adramelek had withdrawn to stand with the rest of the demons, and they too were in deep conversation. Only Shateiel remained by Gabriel’s side, facing the dead form of Camael.

  “I fear they will,” Shateiel agreed.

  “I’ll give ’em some time off. Maybe Remi would take them back to the village in Brazil to spend some time with the Nephilim there and with Ish.”

  “I think that is a very kind suggestion, sir. That is a good place for a soul and heart to recover from sorrow and despair and loss.”

  Gabriel smiled a little sadly at his lieutenant. “You speak from experience?”

  “Not personal experience, merely observation. Hiwa, for all his bluster, is a kind man, and Ahijah has always been compassionate. The Nephilim are gentle and give freely without a thought for themselves, and Ishtahar, well. She mothers us all, I sometimes think, sir.”

  In spite of the situation, Gabriel found himself chuckling. “Ain’t that the truth.” He turned to Arthur and Morgana who stood hand-in-hand, staring at him. “How do you feel now that they are all dead, young ones?” he asked them kindly.

  Arthur and Morgana exchanged a long look and then turned to him. “Better,” Arthur said. “I think it will take time for us to fully move beyond the losses of our dearest friends and companions, but we can make a start now. Can we stay in Purgatory?” The last was asked in a plaintive little voice.

  “Aye,” Gabriel said. “There’s no reason to haul you up to Earth or anywhere else. Purgatory’s your home.”

  Morgana smiled. She dropped the poker and rushed over to Gabriel, stood on the tip of her toes, and planted a kiss on Gabriel’s cheek. He was astonished at this exuberant display of affection and looked down at her smiling face in surprise.

  “What’s all this?” he asked.

  “You’re very kind,” she said. “Mother said you were horrible, but she told us lots and lots of lies. Auntie Aggie and Auntie Lilith told us lots of truth. We can see they were right. Do we have to stay in this house? Can we go back to our real home right now?”

  “Yes, of course,” Gabriel said.

  “Thank you!” Morgana turned to Arthur. “Home. We can go home finally.”

  Arthur’s eyes were glassy with tears, Gabriel saw. “At last,” Arthur said.

  “Gabriel, I’m borrowing your Seraphim,” Raziel said from the other side of the room. “I need some help getting all the books and whatnot up to my lab in the Land of Light. Once everything has been removed, burn this building to the ground and salt the earth.”

  Gabriel and Shateiel exchanged a look, and then Gabriel nodded. “Okay, Raz,” he said.

  “Good. This place is an abomination.” Raziel gestured to a knot of half a dozen Seraphim to follow him and then marched toward the stairs, heading toward the upper levels of the house.

  Chapter Sixteen

  IT HAD been a week since the fight in Purgatory. Liam and Baxter sat in a secluded part of the gardens that were attached to the large mansion house that was home to the Venatores apartments. Liam leaned against a tree and Baxter sprawled on the grass, absently picking at fronds as the sun shone down and birds sang above them.

  “It feels a bit anticlimactic,” Liam said.

  “What’s that, Trigger?” Baxter looked at him.

  “Well, a week ago, we were fighting monsters and fuck knows what in Purgatory. Now we’ve finished with that, burnt down a house, and opened up the gates between dimensions as they were meant to be. All pretty amazing, yeah, but now here we are, in the backyard, doing nothing.”

  Baxter laughed. “Would you rather be hip-deep in mud, fighting demons and never having any R and R? Enjoy the break, love. There’ll be something new to deal with soon enough. It’s us, after all. Michael’s elite fighting force and Gabriel’s pet demon trackers and Necromancer. Something’ll come up.”

  Liam smiled. “I guess. I didn’t think of it like that.”

  “I think”—Baxter grew serious�
�“there’s going to be a lot of changes. I have no idea what they’ll be, but something’s going to happen now, and there’s going to be some crap to go along with it. Not everyone likes changes or even knows how to deal with them. Especially if they’re really ancient, like angels.”

  “Like Camael was?” Liam pursed his lips and answered his own question. “I never really spoke to him that much, but I would never have thought he’d be a traitor.”

  “Why?”

  “Why? Because he’s an angel, of course. One of Gabriel’s Seraphim.”

  Baxter sat up. “Lucifer was an angel, too, once. The chief angel, Angelique told us. He was the first one made, and he was God’s favorite. So if God’s favorite can have a tantrum and start a war in Heaven, why should a regular angel like Camael be immune from having a tantrum too?”

  “I guess. But Camael didn’t just have a tantrum, he wanted to change everything about all of existence,” Liam said.

  “So did Lucifer,” Baxter said. “In the end, though, it doesn’t really matter. I guess what’s important is that everyone’s happy now, and Raziel’s like a kid in a candy store with all those things he found in Naamah’s house. I heard from Riley that Raz has his friend Penemuel helping him go through it.”

  “The Grigori?” Liam quirked an eyebrow. Then he shook his head. “Weird. I’m not sure I can deal with all the changes, either, and I’m not an angel.”

  “Like what?” Baxter looked at him in concern. “What can’t you deal with?”

  “Well, this working with demons thing. All my life, I’ve been told that demons are bad, that we have to hunt them down and kill them. And okay, sure, I know that some of them didn’t fight during the Seventy Years War, but a lot of them did. So now, suddenly, I have to accept that a good quarter of them, including some Archdemons, are the good guys, even though they’re demons from Hell and have their own agenda? I can’t wrap my brain around it.”

  Baxter laid a hand on Liam’s knee. “Yeah, okay, I can see how that would be a hard one. But you know, and better than any Venatores, I think, that there’s no such thing as a world in black and white. There’s gray, too. Lots and lots of gray. Angelique and Lily have a theory, and I think they’re right. God and Lucifer are working toward the same goal. Angels and demons are capable of independent thought and opinion and sure, some of them aren’t going to agree with that goal. But most of them would, because most of them are old, and they’re tired of war. Angelique and Lily think that the end game isn’t the destruction of everything, like the Apocalypse would be, but the beginning of an eternal peace. And isn’t that worth fighting for?”