The Morning Star

by Debra Dunbar

  “I don’t like it when one group has all the power. I’ve never been thrilled with how the angels view humankind. I just want to see a more equal playing field. I want humans to have some means of resistance that doesn’t involve blowing shit up or killing. And it’s gonna be funny. That too.”

  Kirby and Gareth hesitated, then nodded.

  “I’ll meet your Harper,” Kirby told me. “Set it up, and I’ll go to her. If it all works out, I’ll set up a marble relay for ease of communication and transportation.”

  I put my hands over my ears. “Don’t know nothing. I’ll set up the meeting and that’s it.”

  There. I’d done my job. I’d set in motion some chaos. But while I was here…

  “Hey, do you guys know of any magical item that can transmute a high-level demon? An Ancient?” Because an Ancient was pretty much like an angel.

  Gareth shot me a puzzled frown. “Transmute into what?”

  “Dissolve their physical form into sand and destroy their spirit-self. It would need to not only transmute the flesh, but be something that would hold their spirit-being inside of it until their body was dead, so they couldn’t recreate a new one.”

  The pair stared at me for a moment.

  “If we could do that sort of thing, then we wouldn’t have been slaves to the elves our entire lives,” Gareth told me. “No, I don’t know of anything like that. There are magical items to restrain and hold a demon, although they have a lesser degree of success with Ancients. There are magical items that destroy a physical form, although high-level demons are usually able to survive that and instantly create a new one. That’s it.”

  Kirby nodded. “I don’t know of anything that powerful. Is that what your human friend wants to sell? Because I’m only comfortable making defensive items for use against angels.”

  “No, not for her. I just was checking. Gathering information, you know. Trying to see if a theory I had was plausible.”

  And it wasn’t. Whoever killed those enforcers was an Ancient, and not some human with a magical item, unless the magical item was one of those artifacts from Aaru.

  “Then we’re still good.” Kirby shooed me out the door. “Have your human contact me. And get out of here so we can finish up and get to bed before midnight.”

  With a smirk I left, taking flight over the gate and choosing to fly to Doriel’s place outside of Dis rather than teleport or walk. Because I was pretty sure her weird magical forest wouldn’t allow me to make an aerial entrance, I landed just outside the perimeter and made my way blindly down the pitch-black pathways of twisted trees and dense thorny shrubs to the little clearing with what appeared to be a shed that was bigger and far more luxurious on the inside. Her staff promptly ushered me in to a room, got me some snacks, and poured me a generously large goblet of wine.

  The Ancient didn’t keep me waiting for long. I’d barely sipped the elven-made beverage when she entered. This time, her human form was a tiny female with golden skin, a helmet of black hair, and some rather heavy eye makeup. She looked like a diminutive Cleopatra.

  “You needed to see me? Something urgent?” I didn’t bother with formalities or small talk. It was late. I hoped to get home in time to get some sleep before tomorrow’s meeting.

  Doriel’s face settled into the very picture of disapproval at my lack of manners. “Yes. There are a few things I needed to make you aware of, but first I want to ask you about the situation in Aaru.”

  That was not what I was expecting at all. “Aaru? I’ve got no idea what’s going on in Aaru. I can’t get in, remember?”

  She shot me a raised-eyebrow look. “You do realize there are a whole bunch of Ancients wandering around an empty Aaru right now, wondering what is going on? We expected to encounter a bunch of angels ready to defend the homeland, only to find it vacant. Remiel and the others who stayed remained on high alert, figuring they were going to be ambushed at any moment, that all the angels would return to fight and they’d be trapped there, but nothing has happened. For months, it’s been empty and they’re beginning to wonder where the angels are and why they haven’t returned.”

  “They’re not coming back. Remiel and his buds can settle in, because they’re the only ones that are going to be in Aaru for a long, long time.” I suspected the newly formed angels might be able to enter Aaru and live as beings of spirit, but none of us had wanted to risk our offspring to try it, especially when Aaru was being occupied by Ancients who might not hesitate to kill angel young.

  “Why?”

  “Why what?” I took a sip of my wine.

  “Why are the angels not coming back? Why did they abandon Aaru?” She shook her head. “The angels I knew would have defended Aaru to the death, not left it unoccupied. And they would have returned to defend it once we returned.”

  I wondered if this was something I should tell her or not. Gregory was worried about the morale of the angels if they discovered the totality and seeming finality of what I’d done, but Ancients weren’t stupid. They were going to figure it out sooner or later. And there might actually be a way I could spin this to my advantage on this side of the gates.

  “There was this big battle, and all the angels accidently got banished.”

  “Accidently?”

  “Well, some of them got banished on purpose. The others, not so much.”

  “Banished, as in forever banished? Or temporarily?”

  Here’s where I didn’t look like such a badass. “I think it’s forever. I’d hoped to find some way to reverse it, but so far I haven’t come up with anything. I get the feeling even if something negates it, much like what happened with you Ancients, it might be in a million years or so.” Yep. Total screw up, that’s me. How could I make this sound like maybe a part of me actually knew what the fuck I was doing here? “In my defense, it was my first banishing. I’m sure with time and practice, I’ll be better at limiting the scope and effect.”

  “You plan on doing this again?” Doriel’s voice was breathless and a bit faint. “Banishing, that is?”

  “Well, I hope not, but never say never. It’s good to have that tool in my arsenal, just in case. Never know when, as the Iblis and the ruler of Hel, I’m going to need to banish someone. Or someones.”

  “I see.” She abruptly sat down in one of her chairs. “So the Angels of Order are banished and cannot enter Aaru. The former Angels of Chaos can now enter Aaru, but have devolved to the point that they can no longer shed their corporeal forms and live as beings of spirit. No one can truly have Aaru. Basically we have all been damned, our punishment for the sins of pride and anger.”

  When she put it that way, it did seem like the biggest fuck up in the history of fuck ups. I’d hoped to find a way to restore Aaru to the angels, but lately I’d wondered if that was really the right thing to do. The Ancients could never fully go home again. Ever. The demons had no interest in Aaru. As it stood now, the only beings that had any chance of returning to heaven were the newly formed, like Lux.

  Why should the Angels of Order be able to return home, when they’d denied the same to the Angels of Chaos for nearly three million years? They had banished half of the heavenly host and stuck by their stubborn punishment past the point of no return. The Ancients would never be the same again. And none of the Angels of Order had lifted a finger to help them. None of them had stood up to the archangels, to the Ruling Council, and told them they were a bunch of fucking dickheads. None.

  Maybe they deserved to be banished. Maybe they deserved to suffer the same fate they’d condemned the Angels of Chaos to nearly three million years ago. At first I’d been desperate to see my beloved and his siblings back in Aaru, but after I’d heard what had really happened at that last battle of the war, I wasn’t so eager. I adored my Gregory, and what he’d done to his brother and all those angels wasn’t anything I needed to forgive him for. But as for their return to Aaru…well, I was willing to let that rest in the hands of fate.

  “So Remiel and his buds are still
wandering around up there?” I asked Doriel. “I figured they would have come back to Hel once they realized there was no glorious battle.” Well, that and the fact that they were stuck constantly recreating a corporeal form that was repeatedly disintegrating. That would get old fast, in my opinion.

  “Remiel has been back a few times, but he is trying to ensure they have a firm hold on Aaru in case the angels return. He’s been making noises about making an attempt on the human world. That’s one of the reasons I wanted to meet with you.”

  I sucked in a breath. Was it Remiel? Had it been Remiel who’d killed those enforcers? He’d been well known in Aaru before the fall. He had served under Samael. It’s possible he was talented enough to fake Samael’s energy signature enough to pin this on the former Iblis.

  And he was sly enough to know how that would play with the emotions of the other archangels. They’d hesitate to act. They’d try to make peace. And that would give him the perfect opportunity to take down the very angels that would stand in his way of power.

  But I couldn’t let him take the human world. It was bad enough that the angels were going to micromanage the humans and ruin everything that was cool and awesome about the other side of the gates, now there was a good chance the whole thing would turn into a gigantic battlefield. There probably wouldn’t be much left once two powerful armies tore each other apart. Armageddon, indeed.

  “When? Do they have any specific invasion plans?”

  “It’s just talk right now,” Doriel told me. “They need to figure out what sort of threat the Grigori pose to any effort. Then they need to figure out the human world. Most of these Ancients haven’t crossed the gates in over ten thousand years. They have intel, but I’m pretty sure some warmonger’s tale about the workings of nuclear weaponry isn’t going to convey important things like battle strategy. No one knows what human alliances are, if they’re capable of banding together to defend against an attack. Seven billion beings with sticks and stones isn’t something any demon wants to face unprepared. Seven billion of them with what could be lethal weaponry is definitely something no demon wants to face unprepared.”

  Just talk? Did part of their intel gathering involve killing off some angels and Grigori and gauging the reaction? Or was there some other Ancient beside Remiel with this great idea of world domination?

  “So Remiel hasn’t begun? He hasn’t formulated and acted on a plan to individually lure Grigori enforcers to their deaths, or kill tens of thousands of angels?”

  She gave me an odd look. “You’d need to ask Remiel that. I got the impression that they were still in the planning stages, but I could be wrong.”

  I really didn’t like that expression on her face. “So where do you stand in all this?”

  “I’m awake. Aaru is no longer home to me. I’ve always enjoyed humans. Could be fun wresting this world away from the angels. And think about what amazing poetic justice that would be? They took Aaru from us. They forbade us from crossing the gates. And now we do the same to them.”

  “But the entire heavenly host is there,” I warned her. “All those winged fuckers. You’re going to end up holding a burned-out barren world at the end of this war. If the demons and angels don’t destroy it fighting, the humans surely will. They like explosives. They’ve got weapons that are capable of destroying the huge angel-created gateways. I’m pretty sure they’ve stockpiled enough of them to blow most of the solar system to bits.”

  “That is something that would need to be considered before any overt attack took place. Not all of the army would be warmongers. Some Ancients prefer a quick surgical strike, something devastating enough to force the angels out without causing too much damage to the planet. And the humans…perhaps we could locate their weaponry and neutralize it before they do something stupid.”

  Up until recently I’d been a demon, and even now I still identified as one, even though technically I was an Angel of Chaos. But I didn’t want to see the angels in the same position we’d been in for nearly three million years. Flipping the situation wouldn’t help resolve the anger and bitterness between us. I’d made some progress, having all that torn apart by another war wasn’t the solution.

  Was this Remiel testing the waters? Or some rogue fucker who’d decided to take Remiel’s idea and run with it? To find that out, I’d probably need to talk to the Ancient himself, and hope that he would be honest about what they were planning, and currently doing.

  “Are you sure Remiel isn’t a little further along in this plan of his? Because there’s some asshole with a gang running around the human world right now trying to take out angels,” I told her, purposely downplaying the issue. “If it’s not one of Remiel’s guys, then who is it?”

  She shot me a puzzled glance that seemed more than a bit contrived. “How should I know? You’re in charge of Hel, not me. I’ve got no idea what demons have banded together or what their plans are.”

  “This group is headed by an Ancient,” I prodded. “Someone capable of leading a diverse group of demons and gaining their loyalty. Someone with enough power to transmute an angel if they managed to catch one. There aren’t that many Ancients left. I’m assuming you guys all talk. If it’s not Remiel, then who is it?”

  “No, we don’t all ‘talk,’” She replied defensively. “Some of us have been more active over the last two-and-a-half-million years than others. And not all who fell were of the same level. What united us was that we were all Angels of Chaos. Some of those angels were barely known to me.”

  “But you’d know the higher-level Ancients, right?” I asked.

  She shrugged. “Not all. And in two-and-a-half-million years, power levels can change, especially since we’ve been banished to Hel. Some formerly powerful Ancients may have weakened more than others. Some may have become more powerful. I’ve slumbered quite a lot since the fall. I’ve lost track of who is even alive at this point.”

  Time to come right out and ask her. Doriel was one of the more stable Ancients in Hel. There was a good chance whoever was killing the enforcers was an Ancient with a peculiar talent, but if it was the former Iblis, I needed to know.

  “Have you heard anything in the last few months of Samael being alive, awake, and active? Because there are rumors…”

  She choked on her wine. “Samael? Rumors?”

  I waited for her to catch her breath. “Just curious, because I caught a remnant of an energy signature on the other side of the gates that, from what I’ve been told, is very similar to Samael’s.”

  “And you know his energy signature to recognize it?”

  Time to tread carefully. “You and others have described it to me, and this was very distinctive and matched that description. I had someone with me at the time who was familiar with Samael’s energy signature, and they said it was similar. It was faint, but with something so unique, I could only wonder if Samael was alive, awake, and newly active.”

  Doriel considered that a moment, then shook her head. “I guess it’s possible. I’d always assumed after all this time that he was dead. I’d always assumed that if Samael lived, I would have known about it, that I would have sensed his presence somehow.”

  “Maybe you and the others didn’t sense him because he slumbered since the fall?” I suggested. “So many of the Ancients did. You did.”

  “I remained awake for quite a while,” she pointed out. “And even though I slumbered off and on, I still remained somewhat aware.”

  “He was badly injured, though. Let’s say he slumbered immediately, or within a thousand years of the fall, and only recently woke up.”

  She shook her head. “I can’t see that. He was the Iblis, the leader of the Angels of Chaos. He was an archangel, one of the most powerful angels of Aaru—some say the most powerful. Even injured, I can’t see him remaining dormant for millions of years.”

  “But injured as he was?” I pressed. “The sword abandoned him, he’d lost the war, his brother nearly killed him. I can totally see how that would bring
on either a pouty-fit or at the very least a gigantic depression.”

  Doriel glared at me. “Samael did not pout. Well, not often, anyway. And depression isn’t in keeping with his character, either. He’d rise up to fight again. He’d be angry and want revenge. He wouldn’t abandon us for nearly three million years, leaving us to rot in Hel while he slumbered. No, he’s dead. And that’s why the sword is with you. It didn’t abandon him, he died and it no longer had an Iblis until you came along. This energy signature you felt is a fake. It’s not Samael.”

  I eyed her skeptically. Doriel knew Samael more than anyone besides his siblings. Actually, she probably knew him in ways his siblings didn’t. This was a fake. Some Ancient had a gang and was messing with the archangels by leaving little taunting hints that their brother may have returned. As relieved as I was that this wasn’t Samael, it didn’t negate the fact that someone was killing off Grigori enforcers. And that it fell in my lap to find that someone. Remiel or not.

  I had Lows on the ground gathering information, tracking things from the angel-wing-bounty end. If this was an Ancient, then someone knew him and knew what was going on. And I was in a better position to talk to the Ancients than my Lows were.

  So I sipped my wine, made small talk with Doriel, and left as soon as I was politely able to do so. There were only so many Ancients I knew well enough to gain an unannounced audience with. It might be a long shot that the freak knew anything about what was going on, but it was worth a try, so I left Doriel’s house and headed toward Dis.

  And toward the residence owned by Tasma.

  Chapter 8

  I sat in a chair, surrounded by Lows who were wearing colorful terry cloth rompers and sucking on lollypops as they eyed me. It was creepy, but everything about Tasma and his household was creepy. And as innocent as these little demons looked, I knew they’d be on me like a vicious pack of badgers if I so much as looked at “Mister Tasma” the wrong way.

  “I was approached by a demon who asked me to partner with him on this angel-wing bounty project,” the Ancient told me in between sips from a glass of milk. “Another Ancient was funding the project, and apparently upon verification of the death, the demon who did the killing was able to keep the wings as a trophy. I was tempted. I’m fond of the drawings my little ones do as decorations, but a set of angel wings would complement them nicely.”