Razael

by Alisa Woods

  Another chill ran through her with that memory. But that moment was when she had vowed to live—to endure it all so her child could be born and escape. Even if she never would. Even if she knew it would destroy her in the end.

  Yet this angel wanted to help her baby?

  She stopped squinting and opened both eyes. She even let her hand fall a little from her face so she could see this angel… this different angel. He wasn’t whisking her away from the nursery. He still sat, kneeling down on the carpet, with an earnest expression, waiting patiently for her to respond.

  “The baby?” Her voice cracked. How long had it been since she’d spoken? She couldn’t remember.

  “Yes, the baby.” He seemed relieved that she was speaking, even if it was just a croak. “I have a blessing I’d like to give. I won’t have to touch you—I can do it from here.” He held his hands open, palms up as if to show he was unarmed.

  But she knew better. She knew what he was. “No blessing.” She shook her head no in small motions, and she dropped her hand the rest of the way from her face. Behind him stood a female angeling. Laylah, her memory told her from one snatch of conversation she’d caught between the angeling and Ren. Eden’s heart quickened, and her gaze darted around the room… Ren was by her side.

  “It’s okay,” Ren said, her eyes wide and her hand braced on the back of Eden’s chair. She was kneeling as well. “Micah has given me blessings for the baby before. It’s a good thing, Eden. I promise.”

  Ren was her sister—well, her sister in imprisonment, although she didn’t endure it the way Eden had. The two plus Molly… three sisters… and they’d almost made their escape. A small taste of freedom. Then an angeling brought them back to Hell.

  Molly had escaped again, but she’d left them behind.

  There was a time when she trusted both Molly and Ren with her life—now, everything was a blur. Confused.

  “I have to protect the baby,” she said to Ren. She couldn’t be more clear than that. It was all she lived for.

  “I know, sweetie.” Ren’s face twisted and tears glistened at the corners of her eyes. “That’s why you need a blessing. For the baby.”

  “For the baby,” she repeated, dully, her tongue thick. Whatever this was, whatever this thing this angel wanted from her, she would only do it if it actually helped the baby. Ren wouldn’t steer her wrong on that. She hoped.

  “That’s right,” Ren said then looked to the angel-man kneeling a few feet from her.

  Eden’s gaze followed, but he was still waiting, holding back, looking for a sign from her. Somehow that made the difference—he was allowing her the choice.

  She nodded, once and slowly, to him. “For the baby.”

  Relief washed over his face, transforming it from taut male beauty to something more serene for being relaxed. A natural expression of warmth enlivened it and made her stare.

  Then he closed his eyes and held out his hand.

  She felt it right away, sucking in a breath of shock and clutching both hands to her belly. Life. Energy. Hope. The words floated in her mind, bubbling up from the pulsing sensation deep inside her. It went on and on, her heart fluttering with it, her hands holding her belly snug. Then the most extraordinary thing—the baby leaped in her womb. She gasped again, her breath now ragged with wonder. She hadn’t felt the baby move yet, but now… it danced with this burst of angel energy, this blessing.

  It ended, and the angel opened his eyes.

  His gaze captured hers and held it. Not by magic, but by the flush of heat in her cheeks, the new life in her belly, the uplift that spilled over and embraced her heart. She had no words. He didn’t seem to need any, but the way he looked at her, she could tell—he was peering into her soul. When the others had done so—the angelings scrutinizing her, even Elyon and his piercing stare, it had always felt like being flayed alive, pulled apart, piece by piece. Before, she couldn’t take it and had to look away. But now, with this one… it was different.

  He looked at her like he wanted to put her back together, not pull her apart.

  She just returned his stare.

  “When the baby needs more,” he whispered, “I’ll return.”

  She didn’t reply. Didn’t say a word or give a nod or anything. She was transfixed by him. The frozen part of her—the part that couldn’t move a muscle or smile or frown without shattering her tenuous hold on this life—was awash in the reflected glow of the blessing for the baby. The tiniest bit of her thawed. Just a small edge… not enough to risk… anything.

  He nodded, then rose and turned toward the door.

  Eden curled up again, knees falling to the side, her arms folding around her belly. She stared at the nothing spot in the center of the carpet, but her urgent need to disappear into her misty world was lessened. Her body hummed.

  He had given her some of his power.

  Her heart still pounded with it, her face still flushed, her breathing still ragged.

  She heard him speak. “Bring her everything she needs.” His deep voice rumbled through the words.

  “Yes, my lord.” That was Laylah’s higher-pitched voice. “But I can’t make her take it, Razael.”

  Razael. He has a name.

  He said something more, but it was outside the nursery, the soft swish of the door closing and covering their words like a blanket.

  Her mind drifted on the hum buzzing her body. The baby within her squirmed a little, flush with this new energy. It sparked something else inside her—something deep and hollow. Something she’d not noticed before in the urgent, necessary need to hold everything together.

  She blinked, and the nursery came back into focus. Ren was watching her closely, bouncing little Eva as she fussed. Baby Ralphie slept in his crib next to where Ren stood.

  An ache, deep in Eden’s belly spoke even more insistently, so foreign she’d almost forgotten what it was. But an instant later, she knew. For the first time since she’d been dragged back to this shadowy, hellish realm…

  Eden was hungry.

  Chapter Three

  “So, she’s eating now?” Razael asked, keeping his voice level, not betraying the urgency he felt like a pressure-main about to blow inside him.

  “Yes, thanks to you.” But Laylah’s flick of concern before she schooled her expression betrayed her. Or rather, betrayed him.

  This was his third time asking since he’d visited Eden the day before. “Good.” He quickly changed the subject. “And the latest casualty list?”

  “Four.” Her grim look was appropriate to the toll. “Two to ambushes by the Winter Court, despite our best efforts to stay clear of those. One was outmatched by Elyon’s troops, and the other is simply missing.”

  They were striding toward the front of his palace, passing several groupings of angelings in the hallways. The pungent aftermath of the latest orgy still hung in the air. He’d limited the duration of the sex-making—angeling stamina could last the entire night—but the appointed time had just lapsed, and some were still basking in the glow.

  “Missing?” Razael had summoned his angelings to the balcony for a briefing, so when the stragglers from the orgy caught sight of him, they were quick to open an interdimensional door and travel to get there first. Two twisted away before he even reached them.

  Laylah frowned. “There’s a rumor that Elyon took him.”

  “What?” Razael stopped cold. They’d reached the ante-room just off the balcony, but this demanded his attention before he addressed the gathered, and weary, troops. “Elyon made an appearance on the streets of Seattle?” Given the light angelings patrolled that area—and that Seraphim Markos frequented the humans and their dimensional travel machine as well—this was alarming in the highest order. Once Light and Dark angels brawled directly—not just their angeling surrogates—the Warrior Angels could appear at any moment.

  “Not confirmed,” Laylah said tightly. “Just a rumor. But Serifan is missing, and we’ve no account how.”

  “My orders
were to patrol in pairs,” Razael grumbled, but his thoughts had already jumped to Eden, Ren, and the babies. If Elyon were escalating things on the streets… if the Warrior Angels came… how would Razael protect them?

  “Serifan’s partner was taken by Elyon’s angelings,” Laylah said. “Serifan escaped, but it’s possible he went after her.”

  “That would be foolish.”

  “It’s also possible he just went out alone and got caught.” She frowned. “We’re short on troops, my lord.”

  Razael briefly closed his eyes. Wishing for the bliss of his cloud state—or simply to visit Eden and bask in her Virtues—was the height of irresponsibility. Yet he still felt the tug. When he opened his eyes, Laylah’s face was tormented with concern.

  “My lord, is everything—”

  “It’s fine, Laylah.” He sighed. “All of this is simply delay. We cannot win a war of attrition with Elyon. We have to make contact once again with his son, Micah. We have his True Love and his child. He must know they will not be safe if his father erodes our forces too far.”

  “Do we know if he even lives? Asa said Micah’s wounds were substantial.”

  “I trust Asa with his blade. Micah lives as long as Elyon does not suspect him.” Razael shook his head. “Even if Micah could orchestrate a trap for his father, I cannot confine Elyon alone.”

  Laylah’s eyes went wide. “Confine, my lord?”

  “To the Dominion of Darkness.”

  Her expression fell blank with surprise.

  “It is the only way I think he can be contained.”

  “But the Warrior Angels—”

  “Are not the only ones with the power of banishment,” he said. “They merely possess the power to join together and send an archangel to the Dominion. It should be possible for us to do the same for a Seraphim like Elyon. But I will need at least three other Seraphim to make it happen. And it is not without risk. Of course, the Light angels cannot help—that will bring the Warriors upon us."

  Laylah nodded. “Even with shadow angels, if you join together to bind Elyon…”

  “Then his allies might return the favor.” Razael had been thinking this through—when his thoughts weren’t desperately distracted by the song of Eden echoing in his mind. “I can make contact with the other dark angels, but other than Zuriel, who helped Asa infiltrate Elyon’s ranks, I’m unclear where their sympathies lie. Micah can help identify those dark angels who might be swayed if they knew Elyon could be removed as a threat. Surely some of them only cooperate because they fear they have no choice. And if Elyon is venturing onto the streets of Seattle, perhaps that can work for us.”

  Laylah was nodding now. “We could use the woman carrying his child as bait—”

  “No.” It was sudden and angelsong loud, and Laylah cringed under it. He quickly pulled back. “We may be shadow, Laylah, but we will not sacrifice humans in this war.” Particularly not that human, but he kept that confined to his own thoughts.

  “No, of course not.” But she was examining him.

  “Do not search my soul, angeling,” he chided, trying to erase her concern about his outburst. “You will not find what you expect there.”

  She dropped her gaze, looking abashed. “Sorry, my lord, I just…” She was searching the floor for words now.

  “Speak your mind.” Angelings have the sight—a gift from their angel side, the ability to see the state of one’s soul—but that power was weaker than any angel’s gift of perception. He could see the troubled nature of her mind like rumbling storm clouds over the shining light of her Virtues. He could sense the heartbreak she still held for Asa. Even her frustrated sexual needs were a roiling beacon before him, as she’d forsaken the orgies hoping to win Asa’s affection. Even in his absence, she avoided them, preferring the righteous joy of battle.

  For her part, Laylah could see only the broad strokes of his broken soul.

  She hesitated, then peered up at him. “I see how you look at her, my lord.”

  “Is she not beautiful to look upon?” He meant her soul, although her face was angeling-beautiful as well.

  Laylah grimaced and dropped her gaze again.

  Razael sighed. He had confided in her about his Fall—that was a burden he should not have placed upon her. It was surely what was weighing on her mind—that he’d been affected by Eden and her glorious presence. That he was once again mourning the woman he’d loved and lost in his Fall. And those things were Truth. There was no sense in denying it.

  “I find her beauty breathtaking,” Razael said softly.

  Laylah’s head whipped up, eyes wide. “Because of her Virtues?”

  “I can see her in a way you cannot, Laylah. Surely you know this.”

  She nodded.

  “That part of you which is drawn to humans,” he explained gently. “It is your angel side. But you’re only half angel.”

  “Less, actually,” Laylah said. “My father was an angeling, not a pure angel.”

  He smiled. “That matters less than you think. But you must understand—the allure you feel is a fraction of the pull a human has for a full Seraphim. I’ve warned the entire Regiment away from the women, but I am the one they sing to most strongly.” And Eden more so than the other—Ren—simply because she shone all the brighter.

  “Do you have Love of her, my lord?” Laylah was breathless with this idea. “Perhaps if you—”

  “No.” He didn’t even want to hear the words spoken aloud.

  She fell silent, chastened.

  “There is no Redemption for me, Laylah.” His voice was harsher than he intended, so he tried to soften it. “For my angelings, perhaps, but not for a Seraphim in shadow. This does not mean I am not tempted by her—in Truth, she haunts my thoughts constantly. It is difficult to endure being across the palace from her, and even more difficult when I’m in her presence. But that means nothing for this war… except that she will not be part of it. Am I understood?”

  Laylah’s expression was filled with concern, but she simply said, “Yes, of course.”

  “Then enough of my Sins and Temptations. We need a plan for—” But a pulse from the balcony just outside the ante-room cut him off.

  Through the open door, a dark angel appeared, floating.

  Instinct had him surging through the doorway, out onto the balcony, ready to do battle to defend his Regiment before it fully registered who the angel was.

  Zuriel.

  He stopped himself just before blasting her with the full force of his angel power. “What in the name of magic—”

  But then several more pops of air brought a host of angelings on her heels.

  “Do not harm them!” Zuriel blasted out in angelsong.

  But she need not worry—her angelings were barely fit to fly. They stumbled and tumbled through the air, landing on Razael’s balcony. His gathered angelings took flight, drawing their blades but holding back. Zuriel’s Regiment was bleeding and broken—more appeared, but then the surge stopped, and only two dozen stood, knelt, or lay on the black crystal floor.

  “What happened?” Razael demanded, but he feared he knew the answer before she spoke.

  “Elyon.” Zuriel landed lightly in front of him and approached. She wore a black toga of crystal and smoke, and the inky tendrils of her hair floated behind her. “He struck without warning, slaying half my Regiment before I could strike back.” She bared her teeth and hissed her anger. “This is on your head, Razael. All the shadow realm is on fire with word that you stole Elyon’s prized breeder.”

  Razael’s Wrath surged and enveloped him like a stifling blanket. “You know what he does to them.” He had warned her to be vigilant—Asa knew this could blow back on her.

  “I know you’ve brought war to my doorstep.” The fury was cold on her face.

  “We must ally against him.”

  “Give my angelings refuge, and I’ll consider whether we can be allies or not.” She held her head high, daring him with her eyes. They were evenly matche
d in power, but she was in his Regiment with the tattered remains of hers. It was a false boast—Pride flushed strong in her, and he half admired it—but in Truth, she was asking for safe harbor.

  “Your angelings will be treated as my own.” He tipped his head to her then gave a nod to Laylah. She hurried to order the others to get the injured angelings to chambers where they might rest and recover and receive a life kiss if necessary for their wounds. But his flock was already tending to the injured, having sheathed their blades when it was obvious the threat had passed. “Zuriel, if it would please you, we can discuss this in my chambers.”

  She arched an eyebrow, but when he twisted away and reappeared in his own chambers, she was only a half-beat behind him. The rooms were spare—just a place for him to relax into vapor form without being observed—but she eyed it just the same.

  “I’ve been thinking of how we can trap him,” Razael said. Zuriel would be his first ally in this, but they would need at least two others. Perhaps she would know which of the dark angels were wavering in their support of Elyon.

  “Have you?” She finished her survey of his meager chamber and turned to face him. The piercing stare she gave him was a long and thorough soul-read—which he supposed was fair. He took her measure in return. She was Lust-Fallen, just like him, but the Fall had not broken her in the same way. Or perhaps the edges were just worn off—like Elyon, the Sin had baked into her for millennia.

  The corner of her mouth lifted. “You are still so very young, Razael.” She stepped closer, her shadow mist dress shifting vapor around her.

  “I’m as old as you are, Zuriel.” They were both formed at the beginning, before the War in Heaven. But he knew what she meant.

  She smirked then stepped even closer. They were only a hand’s width apart, both in their oversized human forms. “I mean you’re young in shadow.” Her smirk grew. “With all those shining Virtues, I think you’ve not been quite taking advantage of the amenities here.”