“That part actually is just for you.”
I grinned and we continued through the halls in silence. Unlike the Host and our internal quarrels keeping us mostly on Earth, the Choir had moved significant portions of their operations to Heaven. They had brought heavy machinery from Earth through enormous portals. Some materials came from Earth, some were native to Heaven, and some were a fusion of both worlds. Their architecture was reminiscent of some rather imposing governmental buildings. If I had to guess, it was brutalist in style, which I found perfectly fitting for the Choir.
We finally arrived at a door without any markings or nameplates distinguishing it from any others we passed. Caleb knocked and a voice from within replied immediately. “Come in.” Inside, seated at a desk that looked carved from a single piece of stone, was a Cherub by the name of Bartholomew. Each time we had met in the past, I had shamed, embarrassed, or outright defeated him. I’d forced him to offer the surrender of the Choir to me. This angel had many reasons to hate me, and not one to like me. I blinked as he rose and gestured at a pair of chairs in front of his desk. “Please have a seat, Dominion, Marquis.”
I sat as requested. “I feel like I’ve walked into the twilight zone, some mirror universe,” I said. “No one’s tried to kill me, angels are showing me respect, this chair is the most comfortable thing I’ve ever sat on, and you said please. I know I was assured safe passage, but please tell me this isn’t an elaborate trap, Cherub Bartholomew.”
“Seraph,” Caleb said softly.
“My apologies. Congratulations on your advancement, Seraph Bartholomew.” Opening up a promotion opportunity for him might have been a small point in my favor. Probably not.
He stared at me over his desk. His face was lean, angular, and calm. Like Opheran, he was graying a bit more, but age hadn’t made a strong claim on his features yet. “Thank you, Isaiah Bright of House Asmodeus Intelligence. Gatekeeper. Conqueror.”
“I’m not technically Intelligence, just a special advisor assigned there for logistical reasons. Just want to be clear. No misunderstandings here.”
Bartholomew stood up and I tensed. “Marquis Isaiah Bright, on behalf of the Angelic Choir, I extend our gratitude for your assistance. You saved the life of Dominion Caleb DeMarco and his charges, at significant risk to your own life and wellbeing. Your selfless acts to save innocent lives will be remembered. Thus, the Choir honors you.” He inclined his head slightly toward me.
I sat, frozen in surprise. To my side, Caleb had also risen and bowed slightly at the waist toward me. “Please, don’t.” I lifted my hands and waved for them to sit. “I’d like to believe saving innocents is something both of our races would do, given the chance, regardless of the circumstances or relations between our people. I don’t deserve anything special.”
Both angels sat before Bartholomew clasped his hands on the desk in front of him. His eyes sharpened as he stared me down. “Accept our thanks, halfblood. That’s all you’re getting from us, nothing more.”
“Oh, good, this is more like the Choir I know and love. I was getting afraid I really had crossed dimensions.”
“Many of our warriors would rather die before putting their life on the line for you and your kind.”
“I know. Your people follow orders. Never mind the cost in innocent lives, right?”
“We remember how you ended the war.”
“So do I. And you know what? If I had to do it all over again, I’d do the same thing.” Bartholomew’s gaze narrowed. If the Consortium and Syndicate weren’t guaranteeing my safety, he’d probably have launched himself over the desk at me. “We were at war, a war you started. You took advantage of every single rotten excuse you could to justify it. You, yourself, tried to kill my Prince and me during negotiations under a flag of peace in a sanctuary.” I stood up and leaned on his desk. “You encouraged Victor.” It took a lot of effort to keep my voice steady as I said his name, and even more effort not to spit on the desk.
“I did nothing of the sort.”
“Don’t give me that.” The Seraph remained seated and stoic as I did my best to loom over him. “You don’t have to bullshit me, Barty. I know the real reason why you started the war.”
“Do you think so, demon?”
“You were afraid.” One eye twitched ever so slightly. “Maybe not you, personally, but the Choir was afraid the balance of power was going to shift against you, maybe permanently. You were afraid the Host would do unto you what you wanted to do unto us. You thought the only way to save your people was a first strike.”
I heard Caleb shifting in his chair, but I didn’t look away from the Seraph. His expression was the very model of calm restraint. “Are you quite finished?” he asked.
“I want to make my point clear, Seraph. You’d have done it too. If you were in my shoes, you’d murder thousands of demons in cold blood if it would save your people and you know it. You tried it. Don’t you dare sit there and judge me for doing the same exact thing for my people.”
“Do you think saving a few children balances the scales?”
“Do you think that’s why I did it?” I smiled at him as I sat back down to drive him just a little crazier. “Hell no. I helped Caleb because it was the right thing to do. I said I’d like to believe your people would do the same, but your people wouldn’t, would they? This is a shitty thing to say and I’m sorry to say it, but I truly think the Choir would let innocents die before you lifted a finger to help us. I’d love to be wrong. I don’t think I am.”
The Seraph took a deep breath before responding to me. “I don’t like you, halfblood.”
I leaned back in the chair. “I don’t really care. I don’t like you either, but I do respect you for the things you’ve done. Walking through Heaven was like walking through a botanical garden. You’ve done amazing things here. I’m a little jealous.”
“Are you?” He leaned forward on the desk. “We’ve created a new home for ourselves, including some of the comforts we’ve grown used to on Earth.” He gestured to a laptop sitting on his desk. “Electricity, from solar panels, and we’re experimenting with geothermal and hydroelectric. We have running water to almost all of our homes. Our first farm produced enough food last year to feed all those who call Heaven their home, and will produce even more this year. Each one of our people has a role to play. Our future is secure, halfblood, even if the humans drive us from their world completely. Can you say as much for your own kind?”
“Of course not,” I said. “And we both know it. You also know no matter how you spin it, both our races rely on imports from Earth to keep up. It’s not as if you can construct computer equipment here, or make those cranes and backhoes I saw out there. If the humans drove you out, you’d be sitting here with all this human technology and no way to make more of it. You’ll be alive, but you’d be starting from the Iron Age almost as much as we would.”
“Being alive is the important part,” he said. “Given enough time, we can recover and match the humans.”
“Are you kidding? What are you going to match them on? There are seven billion of them and less than a hundred thousand of you. They have millennia of technology behind them and you have bits and pieces here. It’d take you a hundred years or more just to catch up to where they are now, and where are they going to be by then?” I tapped my fingers on the armrests and looked over at Caleb. “Give me a hand? You know what I’m talking about.”
“He knows humanity, Seraph,” Caleb said. Bartholomew’s glare turned to the other angel. “And I know them as well. We take so much for granted, but how many of our people have the knowledge to create those things? We have plumbing and solar panels and more here, but we lack both the knowledge and the equipment to make pipes, transistors, batteries. We’ve spent too long in symbiosis with humanity to create our own advances.”
“Symbiosis is the wrong word,” I said, drawing both of their eyes back to me. “Symbiosis implies co-dependence. Humans don’t depe
nd on us at all. We’re parasites as far as they’re concerned. We’ve been living off them ever since the end of the First War exiled our races.”
Bartholomew sat back in his chair and clasped his hands again. “Even so. Our people have prepared for the worst case. If such case comes to pass, you will die. We know how hostile Hell is. Your weather, your atmosphere, nothing on your world favors life. You’ll be lucky to survive one winter, let alone a hundred.”
“Never underestimate the resilience of demons.” I was living proof of that. “Our races diverged for a reason: surviving Hell. We’re not going to die, that’s silly. We’re going to be in worse shape than the Choir, I’ll freely admit that, but what are you going to do about it? Come to Hell and start another war? We both know a third Celestial War will bring both our races to the brink of extinction, and we know your vulnerability. We know exactly who to go after.”
“You dare threaten-“
“I’m not threatening anything, I’m telling you we have contingency plans in place for another war, just like you do,” I said with a sigh. “We’re not going to start anything. The Host isn’t interested in Heaven, we’re not interested in conquering you, and we’re certainly not interested in bleeding for it. Let’s just agree on one thing, Barty. Just one simple thing. Neither of our races wants another war right now.”
“Of course your people don’t. You know you’d lose.”
“Don’t be so sure.”
“You don’t have the Horsemen now.”
“Like I said, we wouldn’t need them now.”
“Please,” Caleb said. “This is not why we’re here, Zay.”
“You’re right.” I sighed again. This was pointless, but Opheran had ordered me to give it a shot. “Seraph Bartholomew, in addition to accepting the honor from your people, I am here as a diplomatic envoy from House Asmodeus. High Prince Opheran extends his hand in friendship. Our House believes putting our past differences aside in the face of the threat from the Eternal Conclave would benefit both our people. To that end, I have authorization to provide an active link to House Asmodeus Intelligence data immediately, as well as act as a liaison for joint offensive actions. Furthermore, Houses Leviathan and Belphagor have assured us they will extend their own offers to the Choir if good faith is shown.”
Bartholomew stared at me across his desk, mouth slightly open, then spun his chair around. “Look out there, Marquis,” he said quietly. Floor to ceiling glass allowed a view out across the fields and streams of Heaven. I stood and walked around his desk to gaze out across the magnificent greenery. We’d never be able to replicate it on Hell, and I doubted Earth had many comparable views. “Do you see the fenced off field to the right?”
“Yes,” I said. Blasts and pits scarred the field he pointed out, while all around it was verdant life. A pedestal seemed to be under construction at one side of the fence. It looked like the beginning of a monument.
“It is our reminder,” he said. “Those are the scars of the First Celestial War. That is why our people can never work together. Those scars, those blights are from when the blood of angels and demons mixed. We preserve that destruction amongst the beauty to remind us why we are who we are. Our heritage. Our history. Our duty. Do you know what my role in our hierarchy is, Marquis?”
His sudden question took me by surprise. “Not exactly?”
He turned his chair to face me. His face was no longer calm. His veins were popping as if he was enraged, but his eyes were sad. “I oversee the repopulation efforts of the Angelic Choir.”
I stepped away from the window. “What?”
“Do you know what I spend my days doing?” he asked, gesturing at the computer on his desk. “I spend hours reviewing our records, sifting through our population, working to determine who is the best and brightest. I determine who deserves the first chance to reproduce and pass their lineage on. I consider requests to marry or have children based on love and affection, and approve or reject those requests based on duty and maintaining our genetic diversity. Some of our people may see their bloodlines die with them because I judge them less worthy to breed than others. I alone make the final determination of their fate.”
“That’s a heavy responsibility,” I said.
“Heavy,” he said. “Heavy doesn’t begin to describe it. I bear the responsibility for whether our race flourishes or withers. As the humans would see it, I am practicing eugenics, Marquis. Yes, I see how you react to the word. The word carries the weight of millions of human lives. Now imagine if all humans heard of our eugenics program. Imagine what propaganda they would produce. Imagine the hatred it would create.”
“It has negative connotations, yes, but it’s not inherently terrible,” I said. “I, for one, think it’s the right thing to do under the circumstances.”
“Your support, as the one who caused said circumstances, is appreciated,” Bartholomew replied dryly. “But your view is split, one part human, one part not. For all your voiced support, your body language showed nothing but disgust. Do you think humans with less knowledge than you will be sympathetic to our plight?”
“Probably not, but it doesn’t mean it’s wrong. If humanity found itself on the brink, they’d probably do the same thing. I know the Host would.”
“But they aren’t, and thus they would claim some level of moral superiority over us.” The Seraph smiled thinly. “Of course, the Choir has always done this, to a lesser extent. Exceptional individuals are strongly encouraged to find equally exceptional mates. Arranged marriages are uncommon, but not unheard of. Sometimes they are for potential, sometimes for diversity, sometimes to bind two families closer together.”
Kyla came to mind. I hoped she was all right. “The Host is no stranger to diplomatic arrangements. They’re probably more important to us than they are to you.”
“I have no doubt of that. So, now we scramble to find and hold on to any potential we can. The children you saved, those with angelic heritage? Those who are halfblooded or more are in my records. When they come of age, I will offer them the choice to become full citizens of our Choir, or they will be returned to Earth.”
I flinched back. “That’s sentencing them to death!”
“Is it?” he asked quietly. “Our resources are not infinite, as you have pointed out. Our resources are devoted only to the survival of our race. We cannot spare a single life, not a single grain, not a single thought toward anything beyond this immediate goal.”
“Now I’m starting to feel like you’re being monstrous.”
“If being monstrous will ensure our people survive, then I will gladly be a monster.” He gestured back toward the chairs. I returned to my seat. Caleb had barely moved, not even a crack in his stony expression. “And this is why I cannot and will not agree to an alliance with your House nor your Host. All of our resources are dedicated to the survival of our race. We will defend ourselves against the Conclave. We will not interfere with the actions of the Host where they do not directly affect our people or our goals. We will pledge non-aggression for a hundred years if we must. But, we will not work with you. We will not pay tribute. We will not assist you.”
I leaned forward. “Even if it means both our people will die?”
“As I said before, we will survive the human onslaught as long as we continue to disengage and retreat to our holdings here. We are safe here. What your people do is of no consequence to us. We will not sacrifice the future of our people.”
I glanced over at Caleb. “Help me out here.”
“Seraph, it is in our best interests to provide the Host as much support as we can reasonably provide,” he said. Bartholomew tilted his head and frowned. “Even if it’s minimal, the more effort the humans expend on them, the less they have available to expend on our people.”
“That’s not exactly the sort of help I wanted.”
“We have no resources to spare,” Bartholomew repeated. “Dominion, you know this. Money, materials, and manpowe
r go to supplying the needs of Heaven. We can spare nothing for the demons. Can you imagine the reaction among our people if we spared a single moment to assist our ancient enemies?”
“There must be something we can do,” Caleb insisted.
Bartholomew shook his head. “Marquis, I will not say I regret we cannot help you, for I do take some pleasure in seeing your people suffer as ours have. I will, however, wish you good fortune in your efforts to survive.” He turned to his laptop and tapped the keyboard, a dismissal if I had ever seen one.
Caleb stood and nodded. “Understood, Seraph.”
I sighed and stood up with a stretch. “It’ll be a joint funeral for both our races, Barty. I just hope you come to your senses before it’s too late. You know our people can work together. Caleb and I are proof. Isn’t it worth a tiny risk, some sort of minimal investment to see if working together is a net gain for your people?”
He didn’t say anything in response until we opened the door. “Dominion Caleb DeMarco,” he said. “I have additional orders for you.”
“Seraph?”
“As of this moment, I am now placing the 37th Independent Choir under your command. As the unit has never been formally deactivated, all former members are to immediately report to you, though I will of course accept their resignations if they feel they are unable to serve the Choir under the circumstances. I authorize you to fill your roster up to the maximum of seven members, though due to the current emergency, you are limited to only volunteers from the third tier and below as per the dossier I am sending to you now. I am authorizing a minimal line of credit for your unit for resources you may need for any operations you may undertake. Further resources may be available if any surplus is available at the time. Your Independent Choir will report directly to me, and through me, to the Seraphic Council. You will have free reign to fulfill your orders by any means you deem necessary. Is this understood?”
Caleb saluted. I could see his insignia tattoo glow through his uniform sleeve. “Understood, sir. I’ll begin recruitment immediately and keep you appraised. May I know what your new orders for the 37th are?”
The Demon Behind Me Page 11
