by Nazri Noor
“How dare you,” Raziel barked.
“Oh, man. Raz, you might want to start looking away when I’m in the shower, or most nights before bed. That’s my special alone time.” I clucked my tongue and winked. “If you catch my drift.”
He reddened, so much that I had to stop myself from laughing. “This is the thanks I get. Honestly. I come here bearing information – information that could prove beneficial to your cause, no less – and I’m treated like some common peeping Tom.”
I grinned at him. “Aww, you’re more precious to me than that, Raz. More important. A peeping Thomas.”
He stamped his feet. “I hate you both. If the two of you are done mocking me – I’m here to talk about Quilliam.”
Both Florian and I stopped chuckling. I straightened myself up, curious. Raziel grinned smugly and folded his arms.
“Ah, you see? Now I’ve got your attention.”
“Of course you do.” I set my coconut shell down, then cracked my knuckles, doing none of it on purpose, my body simply reacting appropriately whenever it came into contact with anything Quilliam-adjacent. “This is about some jerk who tried to kill us. What do you know about him?”
“Just enough to tell you that he isn’t as common an enemy as you might think. The man is an accomplished magus. That much is clear. But there is also the matter of his parentage. You told me that when he attempted to capture you – the fight with Mammon, correct? You told me that there was some mention of Quilliam being called a princeling, either by Mammon itself or Quilliam’s demon subordinates.”
The hairs on the back of my neck tingled. “Yeah. Princeling. The same word that some of you entities like to use for me. And I still haven’t quite figured that out.”
Raziel nodded. “Look it up in a dictionary and you’ll find that it is simply a term for a young prince, one who hasn’t come into the fullness of his role. That describes you quite well, Mason, especially considering how there is no true formality around your father’s title and station. There is no throne, no kingdom to rule. You are rightfully his heir, but a princeling in name only. This all loops back to the act of creation.” He pressed his hands together, smiling, his eyes practically glowing with excitement. “To building a kingdom of your own.”
“Creatio ex nihilo,” I said, almost automatically, the words already waiting at the tip of my tongue. “You don’t mean literally, surely?”
“Perhaps. Perhaps not.” Raziel shrugged. “But the fallen need someone to turn to, do they not? Imagine all the nephilim scattered all over the planet. You had zero understanding of who you were before all of this awakening business came along, the sigils on your chest, the arcane underground. Imagine how they would feel, lost and alone as they are.”
I looked down at my hands, then at Florian, who looked back at me with awe, and maybe a little pity. “I can’t handle that kind of responsibility.” My words came so softly that they surprised even me.
“And nor should you have to. But it’s something to think about, Mason. Ultimately, this would be your destiny. But you always have the freedom to choose. It’s in your blood. Rebellion is in your very nature, and I would be insane to try and stop it.”
“But what does all that have to do with Quilliam?” Florian plopped onto the floor, his body thudding heavily against the earth. It felt to me like he had a need to be grounded, like this information was overwhelming for him. I smiled flatly. Imagine how I felt.
“Ah, that’s the thing. In many ways, Quill is Mason’s opposite. We know little of the boy, but we do know that he has an impressive command of the arcane arts. It’s also clear that his parentage is not entirely human. This should be no surprise to you, but Quilliam J. Abernathy is part demon.”
“That bit I already had a hankering about.” I let my knees take me to the ground, arranging my legs across the grass as I sat. Just like Florian, I thought. I needed to be rooted to figure all this shit out. “But what about him being a princeling, and also part demon? What does that have to do with – oh no.”
Raziel tapped the side of his nose. “Precisely.”
Florian looked between us hurriedly, like he hadn’t yet made the connection. Then his eyes went wide as he caught up. “Oh. Uh-oh.”
I gathered my legs up underneath me, crossing them, my arms folded, like my body was trying to press itself into the smallest space possible. “He’s a child of the Seven.” I groaned, letting my head loll back as I stared accusingly at the sky. “You’ve got to be kidding.”
“Correct. Quilliam is a princeling because he is an heir to a crown. If his parent, whichever of the Seven that happens to be, should somehow perish – close to impossible, considering how desperately and violently the princes cling to their power – then he himself will ascend to their station.” Raziel looked at the grass, like he was considering joining us on the ground, but then he looked at his white jeans and thought better of it.
“Imagine that.” Florian’s eyes were still huge, his mouth hanging open as he paused. “Quill, one of the Seven.”
I punched my knuckles into the grass. “What a nightmare.”
“Agreed,” Raziel said. “Which is why I would caution the both of you to be very, very careful in your dealings with him.”
Too late, I thought. We slashed his tires and ruined his book. “See, that’s part of the problem now. I was led to believe that Quilliam was in possession of Laevateinn all along. Now we’re in a rut. Dead end, like.”
“The game’s not over yet.” Florian pointed at the sword, then the staff. “We’re two out of three, but that counts for nothing if we don’t retrieve the thing that Loki actually wants.”
“Ugh.” I collapsed on the ground, spreading my arms out and yawning as I stretched. “In the morning, please. It’s been such a day.”
“Agreed.” I turned to find Artemis, who clapped her hands twice, shutting off the sun. Her domicile immediately went dark as night, lit by a perfect moon and a canopy of stars. “Bed time, everybody. Lights out. Also, be sure to – well, hello there.”
“Uh-oh.” Raziel looked to me, then to Florian, wet eyes reflecting the stars as he silently, desperately begged for help. Hah. He was going to have to field this one. Served him right.
Artemis sidled up to him, one hand tucked into the pocket of her denim cut-offs, the other reaching across Raziel’s back and coming dangerously close to his neck.
“Listen,” Artemis said. “I thought we talked about this.”
Raziel gulped.
31
Just some cheesy snacks, Artemis said. That was all she really wanted, a proper offering each time Raziel crashed the party. I thought it was amusing that she didn’t demand any such sacrifices from Sterling, but they knew each other through their encounters with Dustin Graves.
That counted for something, I suppose, but it was far likelier that Artemis just didn’t like Raziel very much. He’s like that one guy who always shows up unannounced, then drinks all your beer and stays around too long, even after the seventh hint you’ve made about having work in the morning.
Granted, Raziel didn’t drink beer or truly overstay his welcome, but you get the point. I only found it frustrating that his little information excursion didn’t really help us in any meaningful way. Sure, I guess it was good to know that Quilliam was this weird, dichotomous reflection of who I was. I appreciated getting a better understanding of why he was such a giant cockhole. That aside, though, we still had no leads for finding Laevateinn.
“We’re stumped.”
I sighed, resting my chin in my hands, my elbows on my knees as Florian and I sat on the sidewalk just outside the Nicola Arboretum. It was late the next afternoon, nice and balmy out in Valero, though gloomy for me on the inside, because despite the lighthearted sort of celebration we had in the domicile the night before, we were still pretty stuck as far as Loki’s sword was concerned.
He raised an eyebrow at me. “Stumped. Is that supposed to be you ripping on me for being a plant perso
n? Because I can’t decide if it’s offensive or not.”
I shrugged. “Bad choice of words, I guess. No offense meant. Though I’m not sure how offense could be taken in that situation, either.”
“Wow,” a third voice added. “Oh wow. Do the two of you always have such scintillating conversations?”
Our heads turned at about the same time. I frowned, then openly groaned when I found Belphegor standing behind us.
“Ugh. What do you want now?” I made sure to roll my eyes as I looked away from the demon Prince of Sloth.
“Is that any way to thank the guy who led you straight to Mistleteinn? Where’s the gratitude? Where’s the respect?”
Florian ignored him and joined me in solidarity, facing the street in silence. But Belphegor started squeezing himself between us, trying to get his own little section of butt real estate on the sidewalk.
“Scooch over,” he whined. I glowered at him as he pressed in, his clothes smelling of weed, the air surrounding his body way too warm to be human. He wriggled his way into place, sighing happily as he stretched his arms out and draped them across our shoulders. I shrugged, but Belphegor was blessed with unholy strength, even in the guise of a scrawny, pot-smoking teenager.
I smacked my lips, already annoyed. “And to what do we owe the pleasure? How can we help?”
Belphegor grinned widely, a worrisome expression considering he was normally so relaxed, more like apathetic. “But you’ve helped so much already.” He turned to Florian, gripping him by the shoulder and rubbing vigorously. “Look at all that you’ve done for our flowery friend over here. Florian’s a functioning member of society now. You’re really living up to your end of the bargain, Mason.”
Florian scratched at his hair, and I got the distinct impression that he was trying to avoid my gaze.
“Well, almost.” Belphegor scratched the end of his nose. “Sorry about all those bottles of wine you made getting blown all the way up.”
“Right,” I said, watching him warily, removing his hand from my shoulder. “Which is why we really need to get this business with Loki and Laevateinn over and done with. The sooner I get paid, the sooner I can vanish into the cracks. What can you tell us about the sword?”
Belphegor’s face dropped, and he gathered his arms into himself, crossing them and sulking.
I blinked at him, confused. “Was it something I said?”
“Come on,” he moaned. “I’ve helped the two of you so much already. Do you realize how little I actually do? You measure your time in days. I do one thing a month. Okay? One thing. And that was my quota.” He folded his hands behind his head, sighing as he stretched. He lifted off the sidewalk, brushing off the underside of his jeans as he continued to give me a long, drawn-out sulk. “Now it’s time for me to relax. Besides, it’s not like I know anything about the other sword.”
I stared at Belphegor long and hard, waiting for a subtle shift in his expression, but there was nothing there. Granted, demons were mostly liars, demon princes being actual professionals at it. And this was one of the Seven, no less.
“You know the worst thing about this?” I rubbed the bottom of my chin as I watched him. “Whether or not you’re withholding information, it sucks that there really isn’t anything we can do about it.”
Belphegor shrugged, his mouth hitching into a little grin as he winked at me.
“Don’t buy the act. He doesn’t know anything.”
I turned my head towards the direction Belphegor bared his teeth, only to find the last person – well, angel that I was expecting. “Sadriel? What are you doing here?”
She tapped her pen against her clipboard, walking in a slow, deliberate circle around Belphegor, who stood there wrinkling his nose at her and seething. “Trying to prove my worth, perhaps. No, I suppose that’s an exaggeration, Mr. Albrecht. I’m here to help where demonkind clearly cannot.”
I followed Florian as he got to his feet. I wasn’t quite sure I liked where this was going. Sadriel was circling Belphegor like a shark. Was she insane? He was one of the Seven, and she was just some rank and file celestial bureaucrat, as far as I knew. So maybe she had a managerial position, like she told me all that time ago. She still wasn’t a seraphim, or an archangel. Not as far as I knew.
“So you caught me.” Belphegor folded his arms, rolled his eyes, and huffed. “I’m not holding shit back. I really have no idea where this other sword is.”
“But I might.” Sadriel pushed her pen against her cheek, smiling smugly.
“Whatever you’re trying to accomplish here, Sadriel – why?” I still wasn’t convinced that she was doing anything out of the goodness of her own heart. That was one of the most important things I’d learned about the entities: the celestials, the infernals, the gods of earth. There was no such thing as purity of good or evil, not as far as I’d encountered. Everything was hopelessly gray when it came to the supernatural.
“I am hoping to prove, Mr. Albrecht, that I am a more capable ally than you thought. I am attempting to demonstrate that I do not necessarily mean you harm. You are, as I have tried so very hard to explain, a curiosity for our department. An active nephilim. It would be a shame to see you perish, with the fullest extent of your abilities unmeasured, unrecorded. Such a pity.”
Data. That was what Sadriel wanted. Numbers and lines and charts, things to measure. As long as I knew she wasn’t out to kill me, then fine. I nodded, dropping my arms to my sides – exposing myself.
“Do whatever it is that you think needs to be done.”
She smiled curtly, her heels clicking as she approached. “With pleasure.”
Sadriel placed one smooth hand against my forehead – not exactly what I expected – and I stood there, noting the warmth of her skin, which was at least closer to human than Belphegor’s raging ambient temperature. Her hand smelled of flowers, the kind that you can never remember the name of, but that your mother loved so much.
“I sense it. This gift from Arachne. This – Veil of Surveillance, was it? Something’s wrong.”
Belphegor chuckled. “Sure is. It’s tainted. I don’t know why I didn’t notice before.”
My head jerked at the sound of his voice. “Are you serious? Wait, what do you mean tainted?” I yelped when Sadriel forced my face back into position, making it so that we were eye to eye. “Hey, watch the face. And the neck. And the everything else.”
The Veil had melted right into my face, all over my eyes. Could the two of them detect it from the lingering magics of Arachne’s gift?
“Hush, Mr. Albrecht. This blessing she gave you was meant to locate a missing sword, yes? The truth of the matter is that Arachne has done quite the opposite. The Veil of Surveillance is a misnomer. She has ensorcelled you to become blind to Laevateinn’s presence.”
Florian gasped. “Why would she do that? What was the point?”
A second hand clasped me by the chin, and I almost flinched away in surprise. Sadriel stepped even closer. What the – where were her pen and clipboard? How many hands did this woman have?
“I need your consent, Mason Albrecht. Allow me to modify the enchantment.”
My mouth gaped for a couple of beats as I searched for my answer. “Will – will it hurt?”
Belphegor cracked his knuckles and paced closer, taking a deep toke of the vape pen he produced out of nowhere and coughing as he chuckled out a cloud of thick mist. “This I gotta see.”
“Jerk,” I muttered. “Okay, Sadriel. Do what you must.”
She whispered words I couldn’t understand, every phrase of the celestial language sounding like a strain of the sweetest music, the world’s most perfect song. The pads of her fingers pressed against my skin. Sadriel spoke one final word, my heart shivering at the beauty of it.
Then my brain caught on fire.
Sadriel’s hand flew to cover my mouth as my head lolled back, as I screamed from deep in the pit of my stomach. I could only see white, ivory fire burning my vision all the way from the back of
my eye sockets. Then the white flame cleared, and I could see again. I wiped at tears that had fallen suddenly, my hand shaking as it found my skin glazed with cold sweat.
Florian’s hand grasped me by the shoulder and squeezed. “Are you okay there, buddy?”
I nodded, no longer in pain, but uncertain, and afraid. Sadriel reached for me again, and this time I really did flinch. She gazed into my eyes and blinked. “Do you see now?”
My lashes fluttered as I struggled to focus on whatever it was she wanted me to find. It was like seeing through my own eyes for the very first time.
“Boring,” Belphegor said. “As if he didn’t already know.”
I glowered at him. “I really, truly don’t.”
Belphegor rolled his eyes again, then snapped his fingers, disappearing into a pillar of crimson fire.
Sadriel placed her hands on my shoulders, turning me in place and guiding me around. She pointed down the street. “If you were to follow this road all the way to its end, Mr. Albrecht, where would it take you?”
My eyes narrowed as I struggled to focus, and there it was, a red line as thin and delicate as thread, running all the way down the street. “Silk Road. It’ll take me to Silk Road.”
“Very good. And what lies beneath? Think hard.”
My blood ran cold. “The Black Market.”
Florian’s eyes were hard as he stared between the two of us. “Are you sure about this? Is this true?”
I blinked, my eyes searching the far horizon as they scanned through the mists of the Veil of Surveillance. “Laevateinn. She has it. It’s with Beatrice Rex.”
32
There’s no feeling in the world quite like the rush that comes when you kick a door open. My blood was surging on the walk all the way to Silk Road, down through the Black Market, all of the anger boiling inside of me culminating into a point on the heel of my foot.
