by Michele Hauf
Approaching the hulking mass of demon sprawled at the sea’s edge, Blackthorn slowed and bent over Ashuriel the Black. He tapped the demon’s solid carapace. It clanked like a rusty old pickup truck.
Blackthorn smirked.
“When you’re dead no one pays you the respect you deserve when you’re alive. I did respect you, despite your penchant for theft. You made the world a little better—”
Struck by the sound echo of a pulse, the psychopomp leaned forward, putting his ear close to the demon’s chest. Once again, the metal chest resounded with a clank, much like a heartbeat.
“No. This is not right.”
Eden had witnessed the Sinistari master kill himself to release the souls he’d stolen. He’d taken his life to allow those souls to finally move on.
It had been beautiful to witness. And devastating.
He’d done it for her.
Still on the rain-slick grass before the decimated villa, Eden sat on her heels and shook her head. She’d never see him again. Never touch him. Never see his gorgeous multicolored eyes. Never know his kind regard. “Ashur!”
She didn’t want to exist without Ashur. How could she walk through life without him at her side? How could he do that to her?
And yet she would not deny she had become so much stronger over this past year. After a devastating blow and losing her fiancé, Eden had begun again. She should not allow this blow to topple her.
She would not.
Truly, Ashur’s sacrifice had been a selfless gift. Not a soul walking this earth could be so generous.
He’d given up his prizes so they could go on to their final rest.
A waver of brilliant light flashed behind her. The intensity of it stung her eyes. She did not turn around and closed her eyes because she knew who stood near.
“You are correct. It was the most selfless act I have witnessed in a long time. Especially from the Sinistari.” The familiar angel’s voice said from behind her, “No, don’t turn around. I am in all my glory this time. Wouldn’t want to burn your eyes out.”
“Ashur sacrificed, and for what? He’s dead now,” she said.
“You would prefer he’d kept those souls prisoner for another thousand years?”
“No.” And yes, if it would have given her one moment longer in his arms. Even if those arms were black steel. Because now she knew, had he held her once more, she would have felt his heart beat against hers. “He said he did it for me. But it doesn’t feel like it. It hurts so badly, Raphael. I want him back.”
“Just as you wanted to hold your baby in your arms?”
“That’s not fair.”
“It’s the same kind of love. You and Ashuriel share the same obnoxious desire for love and family.”
“Nothing wrong with that. It’s something I could never give him, though.” Her heart thudded against her rib cage and she sucked in her lower lip.
“I sense what you really need to know,” the angel said. “The child would have been born afflicted with holes in its heart, and dependent upon life support for what would have been a short life.”
She looked up. The sky was gray from the rain, but a beam of sun fought for exit between the thick clouds. It was stupid to question why God would let that happen. Eden was smarter than that.
“I wasn’t meant to have a child. Not a human one, at least. I can accept that now.”
“Can you? And what about letting Ashuriel go? It is the same kind of sacrifice.”
“I’m thankful for the time I had with him,” she managed, though the tears rolling down her face wet her lips, and her words wobbled. “But why do I have to make the same sacrifice twice? I love him.”
“Love is exquisite, or so I’ve been told. And look at you. Able to see beyond the outer costume and into the demon’s soft, black heart. Good on you, Eden. You’ve come a long way since the miscarriage.”
“It happened for a purpose,” she said. “I would have never been happy in that life.”
“Your daughter’s soul resides Above.”
“A girl? I never knew. Truly? She’s in Heaven?”
“She’s there, Eden. Take peace in that knowing.”
“I will. Thank you.” Tears streamed freely down her cheeks. They were not sad tears, but more joyous than she could imagine. Something wondrous had come of her experience with Ashur. She could now fit that one missing piece from the puzzle into place. A daughter. “So what’s next?”
The angel spoke. “You are still marked as Fallen bait. It may have been an oversight for me to request Ashuriel slay you. As you said, many more muses exist—killing one would have been fruitless. You have my apologies. Zaqiel may be gone, but others will follow.”
“I’ll face that hurdle when it arrives. And you needn’t apologize. You’re just trying to keep the entire world from falling apart.”
“One does try. I must go then.”
“That’s it?”
“What more do you want? You’ve already received the greatest gift a Sinistari could ever grant—his very life!”
So she had been the selfish one. The realization pushed Eden forward onto her forearms, staring down at the grass. “I asked too much of him.”
“Silly girl. Don’t beat yourself up about it. Yesterday is the past. One minute ago is the past. You must learn from it, but not cling to it.”
“I can do that,” she said softly. “I will do that.”
She had the picture she’d painted of Ashuriel. It was a pitiful replacement, but it would remind her of the wonderful days she’d learned to love and trust again.
“By the by,” the archangel said, “you may like to know, since Ashur did commit such a selfless sacrifice he wins a human soul. Angel rules, and all that bother.”
“What?” She almost spun about but stopped when a flash of brightness made her wince. “Does that mean…?”
“Yes. You’ll be seeing him soon enough.”
“He’ll be human? Completely?”
“Yes, and wearing the same old costume that put your heels above your head the first time around. Only this time it’ll be all human, no steel heart or talons and horns. But I thought you liked that look?”
“Will he know me?”
“He will. But he will quickly lose memory of his Sinistari service. As it should be for any former angel condemned to serve time as an earthwalker.”
“Condemned? He won’t think that, will he?”
“How can he? He’ll have no memory of what he once was. Joy to you, Eden Campbell. See you when you arrive Above. That is, if you don’t change that trajectory before your demise. Oh, and here.”
Dethnyht appeared on the grass before her.
“The fact that Six still walks this earth is a tempting lure to the remaining Fallen. You might want to teach Ashur how to use that thing. Oh, and keep your distance from vampires.”
“I will,” she answered breathlessly. “If you could teach me how to recognize—”
The angel’s presence receded like a warm sun slipping away.
Eden stood and scanned the vast grass field before the villa but saw no sign of Ashur. He’d won a soul, and he couldn’t have been aware of the prize when he’d been determined to sacrifice for her and the souls.
“Ashur!”
No answer. Perhaps he was up at the house?
Clasping the huge weapon to her chest, Eden ran toward the villa. Only when the damaged walls reminded her of the battle earlier did she slow her approach. Instinctively she held the dagger with both fists wrapped about the hilt, prepared to stab.
A stone from the wall broke loose and clattered across the cobbled driveway. The entire north corner was a loss. She could see her bed from the ground.
Lowering the dagger, she sensed no others inside. She’d developed a weird sense for Fallen and their sweet scent. She prayed that sense only developed further if, as Raphael had alluded, others would be after her in the future.
“Eden!”
She spun about and droppe
d the dagger on the stones with a clank. There in the field stood Ashur. He wore only jeans. His arms were spread out to catch the light rain along his arms.
She ran, her bare feet slipping in the grass, and when she lost her balance, it was to fall into Ashur’s arms. He spun her about and hugged her so tightly she thought he would break her.
“You’re alive,” she said.
He set her down and bracketed her face with his hands. “Of course I am. And you. Look at your eyes. They’re so green.”
“They’ve always been green.”
“Not like this, Eden. They are like the grass, with depth and sparkle. Wow. I never realized before.”
“When you were demon you could only see black and white and a little bit of color. The world must look incredible to you.”
“My senses were not attuned for the earth,” he answered, obviously still in grasp of his history. “I love you. I didn’t want to die, but I wanted you to know the souls were free. I had to do it. Yet how am I here? I should be dead.”
“You sacrificed selflessly. You won a human soul from Raphael. A soul that could have been yours so long ago.”
“Maybe I was waiting for the right soul mate to come along to share it with me.”
She beamed. “We can be together now. Forever. On this earth.”
“Will you have me?”
“Yes, oh, yes.”
“No matter my…” He paused, searching for something, then shook his head. “Not sure what I was going to say. Seems like I thought I had…horns, or something odd like that.” He grinned a goofy, dismissive smile. “God, you’re so beautiful. It’s like I haven’t seen you for a thousand years. What happened to the villa?”
“Lightning storm,” Eden summoned quickly. He must have been thinking about his past. A past that was rushing away from him faster than the rain poured from the cloud.
“Hell. It did a number to the place.”
“Don’t worry. We can sleep in the downstairs bedroom tonight. Then fly back to New York tomorrow.”
“Yeah, New York. I must have to return to work…”
“You don’t have a job, lover. You’d been traveling the world when we met. I want to do more of that with you.”
“A traveler, eh? Works for me. Do you think we need to clean up that mess or can we go inside and find a dry place to make love first?”
“Mess? What mess? Let’s go dry off, lover. And then we can start the first day of the rest of your life.”
Epilogue
Antonio drew his finger down the list of fallen angel names the Fallen had provided to Bruce. Before him, lined along the wall, were the eight paintings Eden Campbell had created. He’d copied the sigils from each of the angels, and that paper sat beside the list of names.
He wasn’t sure if any of the names would match the sigils, but he would try them all, in all combinations.
He tapped the first name. “Juphiel.”
Dipping his finger in the ewer of blood near his elbow, he then began to trace the first sigil up the glass sheet he’d laid over the desk. A black candle flickered but did not snuff out.
The moon was full. The summer wormwood was in bloom. The blood had been provided courtesy of a virgin born on this very day eighteen years ago.
“I summon thee,” he began to whisper in reverent tones. “Juphiel, the Fallen….”
ISBN: 978-1-4268-5667-9
ANGEL SLAYER
Copyright © 2010 by Michele Hauf
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