by Debra Dunbar
Nyalla bit her lip and shot me a guilty look. “I’m not sure I like the idea of demons having half the human world. I’ve seen what some of them do to humans, how they treat them. It’s just who they are, and humans are fragile with short lifespans. I’m so sorry, Sam. I have to vote ‘no’ as well.”
It was as if she’d punched me in the gut. How was this happening? I’d prepared so carefully. I’d rehearsed my arguments. I’d even put together a deck of PowerPoint slides. With four “no” votes, I’d already lost, but I still turned to the other two, hoping some dissent might move up Raphael’s proposed timeline for consideration.
Ahia wrinkled her nose. “It would be hell on earth. I don’t know many demons, but I don’t want to live in a demon-controlled area. And who would get to decide which area the demons controlled and which the angels controlled?”
“We would,” I told her. “We’re the Ruling Council. The demons have a representative here in me. Nyalla speaks for the humans. You speak for the humans and werewolves and give added balance on the side of Chaos. We decide which group gets which spot, and we don’t have to start out fifty-fifty. Let the demons have a few major cities, or maybe a state or two. Or maybe a few third-world countries. Probably wouldn’t be any worse than what the humans are dealing with in those countries right now. Probably would be an improvement.”
“Nobody is deciding that because the demons aren’t going to get any spot,” Gregory interjected. “We’re in control. The angels. The Angels of Order are the ones who championed human evolution. We’re the ones who gave the gifts of Aaru to the humans. I’m all for a reunification process between Angels of Order and Chaos. I’m all for moving toward peace among the entirety of the angelic host and their descendants. But I don’t feel that should take place here.”
“Then where?” I argued. “This is our only common ground.” I didn’t mention that Aaru, the angelic homeland was out of the question since the angels were currently banished, and the only ones in residence were a few moldy Ancients who’d thought to forcibly conquer the world only to arrive and find it empty. No sense in rubbing salt in that wound.
“Not here,” Gregory insisted. “If things go wrong, we cannot have the humans in the middle of an angelic war. We cannot soil their homeland.”
I snorted. “Right. Because they’re not soiling it themselves. And they’re not helpless little bunnies. They may not have our abilities, but don’t discount what they can do when sufficiently pissed off.”
Now all the archangels were scowling at me. “We gave them the gifts of Aaru,” Gregory sternly intoned. “We’re responsible for shepherding them into positive evolution. Just because they’ve hit a rocky point in their progress doesn’t mean we should turn their world into a battleground. We’re supposed to be helping them, not hurting them.”
Right. Whitewashing history at its finest. “You’re the ones who fucked humans, gave them the gifts far too fast, then spent ten thousand years wondering whether you should kill them all off and start over with dolphins or something,” I argued. “You guys screwed up. It’s our turn to give it a shot—or at least a shot with half the humans. They’re more like demons than angels anyway.”
“How about we all stop fighting over the humans like two dogs over a chew toy and leave them to evolve on their own?” Ahia said.
“How about the angels have control over one third of the planet, the demons have control over one third of the planet, and the humans get a third?” Nyalla asked. “And the humans get to pick where they want to live?”
“Sounds great,” I told her. “Demons get North and South America. Angels get Antarctica. Humans get the rest.”
“That’s not an equal division.” She scowled.
“No, it’s not.” Raphael shook his head. “If this ever did come to pass, and it will be thousands of years before I ever see it happening, the demons will need to start with a small geographic area. Not a third, and especially not a third of the prime agriculture and environmental areas of the planet.”
“At least a third of this world,” I told him. “And we can’t wait three thousand years on this. If we don’t agree on some sort of concession, some asshole is going to come over here with a shit-ton of demons, an army, and take it. Do you really want another war? With the humans smack in the middle of it? Compromise, and compromise fast or that’s what’s going to happen.”
“The majority voted no on establishing a demon-controlled territory here among the humans. Done. Over. The answer is no.” Gabe whacked the table with his little wooden gavel.
Jerks. They were all jerks. And Gregory was so not getting laid tonight. Although after me spilling the beans about the Grigori, I most likely wasn’t getting laid either.
“We’re moving on,” Gabe continued. “Next on the agenda is an update on the human assimilation.”
I snorted. “What, like the Borg? ’Cause that went so well in Star Trek?”
He ignored me. “The humans are very supportive of our assistance here, and have enthusiastically agreed to modify their rule of law to our own and to allow us final say on any new regulations—”
“Because you’re a powerful, glowing, winged being,” I countered. “They’re going to agree to anything you say while you’re standing in front of them, but trust me they are going to not be happy to be subject to angelic rule of law. We need to be the ones supporting their laws, not the other way around.”
“I agree,” Nyalla said. “Angels can’t rule by intimidation. And angels can’t assume that just because humans agree with the rules you put forward, that they can or will follow them. Laws that are developed with human input are more likely to gain buy-in.”
Whoa. Nyalla was really getting into this whole Ruling Council thing. And I liked how she was able to argue with Gabe in a way that had him actually considering her point of view—something he rarely did with me.
Gabriel shot her a tired glance then rubbed a hand through his hair. “Okay. You’re right. I’ll go back to them and start again with something more collaborative, even though in the end, we need to do what we feel is necessary to move human evolution in the correct direction.”
I folded my arms across my chest and sat back in my chair with a sniff. This was so not going to work. Eventually the humans would chafe under the scrutiny of the angels, then the shit was going to hit the fan. Some savvy demon should go behind Gabe’s back and offer a separate deal with these heads-of-state. I’d bet after a few years of their winged dictators, they’d be jumping at a chance to partner with the demons for a coup.
Gabe whacked his little gavel on the table again. “That’s the last item on the agenda today, then. Meeting adjourned to reconvene in two days.”
We were supposed to be having these meetings weekly at this point, more often if something came up—and something always seemed to come up. Everyone got to their feet and teleported off, Gabe transporting Nyalla as he’d taken to doing lately. In less than a minute, the only two in the room were Gregory and me. He said nothing. I said nothing. He’d voted against me before in these meetings. Honestly, he seemed to vote against me more often than with me. I don’t know why this time it bothered me so much, but it did. I was tempted to just go back to my house without a word, but I couldn’t do that. Outside of these stupid meetings, we spent more time apart than together. Even as hurt and angry as I was, I longed for his company.
“You coming back to my house?” I asked, still not looking at him.
“Do you want me to?”
I swallowed the nasty reply that formed in my head and tried to remember how important it was to steal whatever moments we could together. “Yes, I do.”
“Are you going to try to put my head in the oven?”
I’d threatened to many times. There was an edge of humor to his words that would not have been there even a year ago. I had to clamp my lips together to keep from smiling. Yes, I wanted to spend time with him, but I was still angry.
“No, and I promise I won’t tr
y to stab you, or hit you with a blender either.”
I felt the tentative touch of his spirit-self. “Then let’s go.”
Like before I’d gotten my wings and could teleport myself, he gathered me into his arms, crushing me against him and transported us both into my kitchen. The feel of him against me was like a balm on my hurt feelings, but before I could let this go I needed to air it out, so I pulled away from him and yanked a mug from my cupboard.
“I’m not happy with you,” I told the archangel, reinforcing my displeasure by filling a cup with coffee and not making one for him. “We’re supposed to have each other’s back.”
He sighed. “I have risked my own personal agenda and my position among the angels to ‘have your back’ more times than you’ll ever know. I can’t support you in this one, beloved. I can’t. The timing isn’t right.”
I glared at him over the rim of my coffee cup as I sipped it. No. Still not giving him any. No coffee. No sex. He wasn’t getting any of those Utz crab chips I’d bought specifically for him either.
“And now you’re going to be even more angry with me,” he continued, “because I’m about to tell you something in complete honesty that you won’t like. I want a united angelic host once more. I want the demons to live in harmony among us, whether that’s here or in Aaru, but right now it would be a disaster if we tried to implement this thing you’re proposing.”
“Because…?” I waited for the part where I got even more pissed off.
“You’re not in charge. You can’t control the Ancients or the other demons, which means you cannot enforce any rule of law we agree upon.”
“I’ve killed demons. I’ve killed Ancients. I’ve even killed angels,” I sputtered. He was right, I was pissed.
“One on one, you have. Or maybe a few at a time with your Low army and a few mercenaries you bribed to temporarily support you. It’s not enough, Cockroach. You need to lead Hel. They need to respect and follow your rules and directives.”
“We’re demons. We don’t follow rules,” I argued.
“Basic rules. Or we’re never going to reconcile. The Angels of Order for the most part are willing to bend, to meet in the middle. Aaru as my witness, I have and I was the most rigid among them, even more so than Gabe. Your demons and Ancients need to follow some basic rules, but you can’t even guarantee that. The minute we open the gates wide and allow them to hold a portion of the human world, all chaos will break loose, and spread like a plague across the world, and you’re not strong enough to reign it in.”
I put the coffee cup down with a thump and looked at the counter, too hurt to meet his eyes.
“Cockroach.” His voice was gentle and I felt the touch of his spirit-self as well as his hand on my arm. “I hope that you will be strong enough eventually. You’re young. You’ve not been the Iblis for long. I know you want change, but wait until you’re ready to support it before diving in like this. Wait to make sure this is a successful endeavor and not one that sets us all back millions of years.”
“But I have the Ruling Council at my back. Enforcing this, supporting it… It wouldn’t just be me. This would be a joint effort.” My voice was husky, and far from confident. He didn’t have faith in me. Gregory had been hounding me since I’d gotten the sword to get control over Hel and the demons, and I’d pushed back because how he’d envisioned my rule as the Iblis wasn’t how I’d envisioned it.
Actually, I had no idea how to envision it. How does an imp rule? Chaos and trickster antics on a large scale wouldn’t move us in the direction we needed to go, but I wasn’t a leader. I wasn’t an organizer. Since the day I’d been formed, I’d felt different from the other demons—disconnected. I’d been focused on survival in a world where the only one you could truly count on was yourself. How was I to take almost a thousand years of life in near-anarchy and come out of that a leader?
“The Ruling Council can’t enforce these rules.” He caressed my arm. “You must see that, Cockroach. We’d be viewed as a group of others, or enemies, oppressing their old foes once more. You want unity? It can’t come from a bunch of archangels backing you up every time the going gets tough. You’ll never gain respect that way. They’ll see you as a puppet, a sellout, a weak imp whose only claim to rule is that she’s ingratiated herself with a powerful enemy.”
Tears stung my eyes and I blinked them back. He was right, but I didn’t have it in me to lead the denizens of Hel. I was an imp, a catalyst for change. In the human business world, once the catalyst had finished ripping down the establishment, a very different person, a leader, came in to rebuild. Two different skillsets but I only had the one.
I’d never be the leader Hel needed. Better to back off, let demons get used to some peaceable contact with the angels, take care of the infractions one at a time, and revisit this later, when we were ready.
When an actual leader rose from Hel and took this fucking sword out of my hands.
I sighed and stepped forward, wrapping my arms around Gregory and resting my forehead on his chest. Yes, I was hurt that he didn’t think me capable, but the truth hurts, and what he’d said was definitely the truth. For now, I was what Hel needed, but I’d never be that being long-term. Never. Hel needed more than an imp.
“I have chips,” I told him. “The crab kind that you like. Do you want some? And can I get you a cup of coffee?”
I felt him hesitate, knew the million things running through his mind—things he needed to do, important things. This was our life now. Stolen moments, and a whole lot of “maybe later, after I get back from this or that.” Hopefully tonight would be one of those stolen moments.
“Lux is with Dar and Asta. Gabe and Nyalla are gone. The Lows are all in the guest house. It’s just you and me here tonight. Stay. Stay with me.”
His arms went around me, crushing me to him.
“I know,” I whispered, barely able to breathe. “I know. You don’t have time. Maybe this weekend?”
“I shouldn’t stay.” His voice rumbled in his chest. “But there are some things more important than reports and meetings.”
I smiled against the soft cotton of his polo shirt. “Like coffee and chips?”
I felt him kiss the top of my head, felt his spirit-self against mine, merging along the edges. “No, like you.”
Chapter 2
“Do angel infants know how to swim?” Nyalla squinted as she stared toward the pool.
I took a swig of beer and shrugged. “Fuck if I know.” Asta had dropped Lux off early this morning after having spoiled the little angel for the last two days at her and Dar’s swank condo in Chicago.
Gregory hadn’t spent the night, but at least we’d had the evening to ourselves. Around midnight, he’d been unable to put off his work any longer and left. Soon after I’d heard Nyalla return from wherever she and Gabe had been, creeping up the stairs as quietly as she could. I didn’t want to know what the two did when they weren’t at my house. Honestly, I didn’t want to know what they did when they were at my house.
“Lux is trying to get into the pool.” There was considerable worry in Nyalla’s tone.
Nyalla was far more concerned about Lux’s safety than I was. He was an angel. If he was stupid enough to fall into the pool, then he’d either swim or drown. Demons believed very strongly in the unaided survival of the fittest, which is probably why our infant and childhood mortality rates were so high even with dwarven caregivers to keep us from eating or incinerating each other. I didn’t have a dwarven nanny for Lux, although I’d done the equivalent of putting up ads all over Hel for one. It seems the only dwarf willing to cross the gates and live here among the humans was the one I’d snagged for Dar and Asta. And Dar was refusing to share him. Fucker.
“Gregory isn’t going to be happy if Lux kills off another corporeal form,” Nyalla warned.
I snorted. “The kid’s already died four times this week.” Technically he’d died twice today, so it was more like six times this week. I wondered if angels had n
ine lives, like cats did. Lux certainly seemed to. Demons and angels, outside of the more powerful ones, struggled to live inside a deceased corporeal form, and the shock of that death often kept them from creating a new physical body in enough time to avoid the disintegration of their spirit-self. In other words, they died for reals. Shoot a demon in the head, and it was about thirty-seventy that he’d shrug it off. Blow one up with a pipe bomb, and unless he was an Ancient, he was pretty much a goner. Actually the pipe bomb thing took out some angels as well. Don’t ask me how I know that. It was a secret. And if it got out, I’d have a shit-ton of reports to fill out.
There was a distinctive splash sound from the pool.
“Snip! Make sure Lux doesn’t drown!” I shouted, just in case the angel was running out of lives. He seemed to be pretty hardy compared to demon young, and Gregory had commented several times about how skilled and intelligent Lux was. Of course, all parents think that about their kids, even if they are sort-of adopted.
“I can’t swim!” Snip shouted back.
I pried open one eye and saw the Low standing at the edge of the pool, looking down at the water. With a sigh of exasperation, I sat up and checked to see if my kid was dead or not.
He wasn’t. Lux was buck naked, swimming around like the baby on the cover of that Nirvana album. As he surfaced, he blew out a spout of water that a whale would envy, hitting Snip right in the face and knocking him on his ass. I chuckled to see the Low soaking wet and sputtering on the ground, then lay back down in my lounge chair. If anyone had told me that stuffy old Angels of Order could be this naughty when they were infants, I would never have believed them. Dar’s little girl wasn’t anything like Lux, although she always seemed thrilled when the other baby angel came to visit. I tried to play on that as much as possible to get Asta and Dar to watch my kid. It worked about ninety percent of the time. Asta liked Lux. Although I think part of her liking Lux was to pressure Dar into having another angel of their own.
