by Debra Dunbar
“Why would he press forward on the contract with me missing and presumed dead?” I asked, my heart feeling like a lead weight in my chest. It was one thing being owned by an angel, but something completely different being owned by Ahriman. Dread of my future with the ancient demon wasn’t anywhere near the sick feeling I got when I contemplated what Gregory would think. I hoped he never found out. I hoped that I could somehow keep all this from him.
Dar tilted his head, looking at me with curiosity. “He’s the one who found you, who got me the elf buttons and sent me in to do the rescue.”
I shook my head, trying to clear the grim visions of my future with the demon. He’d offered me a good deal, including a considerable amount of freedom and added status for my household. He’d protected them when they were vulnerable. I needed to just get through the next thousand years and complete my contract. It shouldn’t be so terrible. So why was I feeling like I was on a short march to the guillotine?
“I need to take out Feille and help stabilize the southern elven kingdoms,” I recited woodenly. Maybe I could ask Ahriman for permission to do this. He should approve of an elf assassination, and if I worded the other request well, perhaps he’d allow it too.
“You’re in no shape to be taking out anybody right now,” Dar said, his tone unusually gentle. “Lie low, so no one knows how bad you are, and let the elves take out their own garbage.”
“Not when the garbage is about ready to spill all over our lands,” I argued, rubbing my face with my hands. “This is important. I can’t sit back and recuperate while he drains demons and enslaves us all.”
Again those glances, as if they thought I was a crazy invalid they needed to humor.
“Ni-ni, I know you want to kill him, but just wait a bit, until you’re stronger. Concentrate on regaining your abilities so you can fulfill the contract with Ahriman, and leave all this to someone else.”
The pair of them were pissing me off.
“I might not recover,” I shouted. “I’d rather go down fighting, trying to do something, than live the rest of my life helpless, trying to cover it up to keep my household safe.”
“You have time. Feille is not going accomplish this in a few months,” Dar urged. “Mal, I know you. This is not the end. You’ll recover and be the same badass little imp you were before. Don’t run off on a suicide mission right now. We need you. Your household needs you.”
He reached out to grab my arm, and with a movement that was purely muscle memory, I zapped him with a shot of energy. It was a disciplinary burst, as I’d do for a naughty household member, or a friend that had gotten out of line.
Dar jumped back—not because the tiny zap hurt, but because it was completely unexpected in someone as broken as I. I stared at my arm, my heart leaping with hope at the sudden appearance of tis ability. Not that this development would help much, unless Feille had a really bad heart and a faulty pacemaker. Wondering, I pulled energy from the air around me and tried to hold on. It was like trying to capture oil in cupped hands. The energy slid around, escaping my grasp and pouring back into the air, but in the end I did have a more than I’d been able to hold since my injury. It was better than nothing.
“See?” Dar puffed out his chest as if he’d performed a miracle. “We just need to get you pissed off and you’ll be good as new. Talk to Ahriman, recuperate then go after the elf guy later. Easy.”
I doubted it would be easy, but perhaps there was some truth in what Dar said. Taullian said two weeks, which wouldn’t give me much time to recover enough to begin my contract terms with Ahriman, let alone be in fighting shape. When I acted instinctively in anger, I made more progress than when I fussed over my injured areas and obsessively tried to use them. Maybe there were new pathways forming and I just hadn’t made the proper connections yet.
“All right,” I acquiesced. “Let me call Wyatt first, assure him I’m okay. Then I’ll go speak to Ahriman and discuss the timing on the terms and conditions of our contract.”
The pair of them breathed a collective sigh of relief.
“I have a message for you from your angel too,” Dar added, making a pained face at the word ‘angel’. “According to Wyatt, he has commanded ‘Eat me’.”
I choked back a laugh. How very Alice in Wonderland of him. Would I grow until my head hit the ceiling? Or perhaps the command was an erotic one. Leethu seemed to think so from her knowing smile.
“Oh Ni-ni! You have to get me an angel too. One who is not quite so scary, and perhaps doesn’t smack me against the wall like yours does to you. Hopefully, he will want me to eat him too.”
I had a vision of Leethu at a Ruling Council meeting and smirked. I’d send her after Gabriel just to watch him squirm. Considering Gregory’s command, I touched the red-purple of his spirit that networked through me like tiny roots. It had always been unresponsive, refusing to do anything beyond summon the angel to me. But now it couldn’t even do that. Did he mean I should devour it? He’d told me never to devour again, but perhaps this was an exception. Leethu and Dar watched me expectantly, but I was reluctant to attempt anything in front of them. I didn’t want them to see me devour and really didn’t want them or anyone else to know about the angel I’d stolen and kept inside myself for the last year. I trusted them, but this was something private.
“I promise I’ll find you both an angel to eat,” I said, running through likely candidates in my head. Gregory would kill me, playing matchmaker between our kind, ambushing some poor angel and subjecting them to the affections of my siblings.
The two left the room, excitedly brainstorming all the painfully delectable things they would do if they had an angel to ‘eat’, while I looked over at the huge communication mirror propped against the wall. It was three feet wide and six feet tall, with large colored stones to accommodate the bigger extremities of my first form.
My finger hovered over the milky-white stone, and I wondered what time it was. I’d had no idea in the dungeon, and hadn’t asked, or even had a moment to peek outside after I’d arrived here. It could be three in the morning for all I knew. But even if Wyatt was asleep, I knew he’d want me to call him right away. I would if our situations were reversed.
“Dar?” His voice was sleepy across the device—was he actually sleeping next to the mirror? Had he been afraid to leave it for the last three months?
“Wyatt. I’m here. I’m okay.” It was a bit of an exaggeration, but I had a feeling he’d consider my current state “okay.”
“Sam? Sam!” His voice cleared of sleep then choked with emotion. “Gregory told me you almost died, that he banished you to Hel and broke your bond to try and save you, but when we’d heard nothing from you, when even Dar didn’t know if you were alive or dead, we feared the worst.”
I felt burning in my eyes as my vision blurred. “It was a close thing, Wyatt. I won’t lie. I managed to survive, but the elves caught me and threw me in a prison for months. Dar did a jailbreak and I just arrived at my house.”
“We’ve been so worried. Are you all right? Did you fix whatever injuries you had?”
I took a deep breath, wondering how much to tell him. I didn’t want to worry him needlessly, it’s not like either he or Gregory could do much to help me right now. “I’m in my human form, but I haven’t regained the ability to change my shape or do much at all. Right now, I’m less than a Low. It’s going to take some time.”
Maybe all of eternity. And who knows if I’d ever be able to store energy so that I could fix and create physical forms outside of Hel, let alone recover any kind of defensive or fighting skills.
“Come home, Sam. We’ll take care of you until you heal. All of us.”
I wanted to. I wanted to feel his arms around me, see the girls, run with Candy in the woods, plot out my rental empire with Michelle. I wanted to see my angel. But there were things I needed to do first, and a commitment I’d made that needed to be fulfilled. Soon—if I survived, and if Ahriman kept his end of the deal, that is.
“Wyatt, did Gregory find out what happened to me? Did he tell you the elves were using their sorcerers in a pact with some angels to harvest us and divide us between them?”
He caught his breath, and I knew the angel had either not discovered what went down on Oak Island or had spared him the horrid details.
“It’s Feille, that asshole elven lord who had Diablo. He’s got a new magic fueled by demon energy and plans to take over all the elven kingdoms. He’s already conquered the southern ones. Then he plans to move against the demons and take all of Hel. He’ll chop us up, keeping some of us as batteries to fuel his magic, draining others, and sending shipments of us to a group of angels to use for breeding. I can’t leave until I stop him.”
I felt his misery across the mirror. “I understand, Sam. You’re the Iblis, and this is something you have to do. Please call me at least once a day, though, and let me know that you’re okay. I miss you so much. When I thought I’d never see you again…” His voice choked off into silence, and I knew.
“I promise I’ll come home as soon as I can, Wyatt. I’ll either contact you myself or have Dar or Leethu call you if I’m unavailable.”
I heard him take a ragged breath and I closed my eyes, imagining his warm skin against mine, the feel of his breath in my hair.
“I love you,” I said.
“I love you, too,” he replied softly.
We held there, the line open, neither one of us wanting to break off. I still had Ahriman to talk to, my household to rally, Taullian to convince to fulfill my plan to let the humans go. But it could wait just a few more minutes while I imagined I was beside Wyatt, wrapped in his arms.
“I’ll drive down to Columbia Mall and have the gate guardian let Gregory know,” he finally said. “Amber can recognize her and can find the gate. That’s how I usually contact him, although he comes every few weeks to check if I’ve heard any news of you.”
“Thank you.” It was far more than I expected. I knew they disliked each other, but perhaps the threat of losing me forever had brought them together. “Can you tell him what I told you? And that there are more angels involved in this than the one I blew up at Oak Island? For his ears only. I don’t even know if I can trust the gate guardian with this kind of info.”
“I will, Sam.”
I took a deep breath, my heart aching. “I need to go talk to a few people then do some planning. I’ll call you tonight, or in the morning. Fuck, I don’t even know what time it is.”
“Five in the morning here. Although, I don’t know if time is the same where you are.”
“It’s close, usually within a few hours. Our days aren’t as consistent in length as yours are.”
Again we hesitated, and I reached out a hand to the mirror, wishing that I could reach through it and touch him, feel the sleepy warmth of his tan skin, the morning stubble on his cheeks.
“Talk to you soon, Sam. I hope I’ll see you soon. I love you.”
“I love you too.” I touched the milky-white stone.
My heart felt like someone had clamped it in a vise and my lungs were tight with sorrow. I stood for a moment and stared into the mirror at myself, having a private pity party. Unfortunately, I couldn’t indulge myself for long. I needed to see Ahriman. Thankfully he wouldn’t mind my half-naked, burned body and signed hair. Demons don’t put much stock in formality. Besides, in spite of my sudden rise in status, I was still an imp. He shouldn’t expect much in terms of physical presence from me.
With a sigh, I turned away and walked out my front door into the blinding, red heat. I had a long walk ahead without my wings and needed to get going if I hoped to be back home before nightfall.
15
Gabriel walked the paved street of Parral, invisible to the humans, his white wings extended to catch the warmth of the sun. On one side of the road, a series of cement block and adobe buildings stood in a straight line. This wasn’t a wealthy neighborhood, yet it wasn’t a ghetto. Working class, he would have said. Parked along the street were older-model cars with splotches of grey primer and mismatched tires. The wrought iron fencing guarding the houses from the public sidewalk and street was rusted and missing much of the decorative scroll work. Children’s toys were strewn across lawns like confetti, echoing the bright paint on the houses.
There was a shimmer of light halfway down the street in front of a yellow-block convenience store, and Gabriel saw an angel appear, walking toward him with purpose. He flared his wings in a subtle display of status toward the younger angel and waited to be addressed.
“Ancient One. I am greatly appreciative of the audience you grant me, although, I am perplexed as to why we are meeting at this particular location.”
Tura seemed nervous, looking about him as if he feared to be seen, even cloaked as he was from human view. Gabriel remained silent, allowing the other angel’s discomfort to grow as he watched. After a quick glance at the houses beside him, Tura’s eyes strayed across the street, at the broad, green expanse of park. Finally he wrestled himself under control, assuming a disinterested air as he faced the elder angel.
“I’m researching a matter for the Ruling Council,” Gabriel said, his tone casual. Why would Tura be bothered by this location? A café in Italy, a park in northern Mexico—why was he nervous? “A report that I feel warrants additional scrutiny.”
Tura’s wings twitched as if he didn’t know where to place them, belying the polite expression of interest on his face. “A report? Can I assist in any way?”
Gabriel reached down to pick up a stone. “No. It is not a matter that concerns one of your level.”
Tura lowered his eyes, flushing slightly at the insult, his hands beginning to mirror the nervous movements of his wings before he clenched them into stillness.
“Speak,” Gabriel commanded, tossing the stone across the street and into the grass of the park. “I have no time for idle conversation.”
The other angel watched the stone’s trajectory before turning his gaze back to Gabriel. “We are almost ready to present before the Ruling Council but need additional demons to complete our research. We’d prefer to show our august leaders high-quality results, but all we have in storage is from Lows.”
“What are you requesting of me?” The only demon Gabriel had met in the past few decades was the Iblis, and she was an imp. “I don’t have a supply of demons tucked away somewhere for you to use.”
“We would like the assistance of a liaison from your choir. Someone to facilitate the supply through the gates and to transfer it to Aaru.”
“Why do you need my help for that? Isn’t there someone in your enterprise that can do this?”
A wry smile lit Tura’s face as he shook his head. “The process for angels to gain permission for repeated trips is prohibitively long, and we’re reluctant to journey here illegally, especially given the recent, shocking deaths. You have angels assigned to the Grigori. We’re hoping you could request one of them do this as a small, side duty. It would not require a burdensome amount of time.”
Gabriel considered the request. It would violate no angelic law. Even assigned to Grigori service, his choir was still under his command. He would just need to choose which of his angels would be most suitable. “I will arrange for one of my angels to meet you here at nightfall.”
Tura’s face was a mixture of relief and anxiety. “We are most grateful, Ancient One.”
“When would you like to schedule the presentation before the Ruling Council?”
Tura chewed on a lip thoughtfully. “Would two rotation cycles be sufficient time to call the meeting?”
Six days. Odd how he was automatically translating into earth-time. Old habits were so easily revived. “Will you be demonstrating or presenting an actual offspring?”
“Noooo. I think it best we discuss the project at a high level.”
Gabriel frowned. Why wouldn’t they want to solidify their case with some proof of success? Nothing would sway the Ruling Council like seeing a ne
wly created angel. Unless Tura lied, and the whole thing was a farce to stir up volatile emotions in Aaru that were currently barely contained.
“Have you truly been able to perform a successful formation? Did the creation survive in or outside of Aaru? Was it stable and worthy of the effort?”
“We have produced successful formation that would survive in Aaru until it can develop enough to manifest a physical form. But since we have the very lowest of demons, the offspring is not worthy at this point. We hope to try next for something even an archangel would be proud to call his own.”
Lovely rhetoric. Gabriel sensed he told the truth, but that there was something lurking behind the angel’s words.
“I want to see proof of creation, ensure this is a possibility before I schedule a meeting.”
Tura schooled his face in an expression of regret. “Right now the offspring has not been suitable. Everything we created was destroyed. We need higher-level demons before we can present anything to one of your stature.”
Gabriel frowned. Unsuitable. Because it was of a Low? Or in spite of Tura’s assurances earlier, had there been Angels of Chaos produced? Neither sat well with Gabriel. What criteria had Tura and his partners used to decide on life or death for a newly formed offspring? It bothered him this angel had made that determination. It bothered him that Tura showed no remorse, no hint the decision had cost him any moral pain.
“I thought you had a steady supply of these demons. What happened?”
The younger angel shifted, again darting a quick look around him. “The humans facilitating the exchange proved unreliable. Our supply chain was temporarily disrupted while we replaced them. It was a brief setback, and we are due to receive higher-level demons as soon as the next rotation cycle.”
“Then why can you not produce a sample of your success at the meeting? It should only take a moment once you have the demon essence you desire.”
Tura shifted his wings. “Please understand, Ancient One, we do not wish to promise this only to present an unacceptably low angel, or worse yet… one of them.”
