“I take it that you have something you wish me to do other than argue with humans?”
“Aye. Can you put together a list of every living magic user with a shit ton of power?”
Raziel raised his eyebrows—they shot up almost to his hairline. “I can, but why?”
“A wise woman Michael met in Colombia said that to hide one of our kind, one would need a lot of power. She seemed to think that a powerful witch or wizard or shaman or similar might be able to do it.”
“Hm.” Raziel’s eyes narrowed as he said thoughtfully, “She isn’t wrong, but it does make the list rather short.”
“Also, Raph ain’t the first of angelkind to disappear.” Gabriel sighed as he rattled off the names of the five angels that had already vanished.
Raziel was silent for a long time after that. The two Archangels exited the elevator and walked outside into the quiet plaza in front of the UN building. Raziel took the lead and headed toward a large fountain where some children were playing, splashing each other and laughing. He sat down on the edge of the fountain, gesturing for Gabriel to sit beside him.
“This is bad,” Raziel said, his voice low. “Five, you say? Are you sure?”
“Aye, I got Metatron to double-check.”
“And they are all angels with no affiliation to a choir or Brotherhood, although guardians of the Gates of Winds… no, they are not really a choir or Brotherhood, are they, they’re more of a group of soldiers who do a job.”
“Aye, that were my thought.”
“There are many of us who are unaffiliated with a choir or Brotherhood. We should have those angels return to Heaven and remain there until we’ve figured this thing out.”
Gabriel nodded. “I’ll agree with that. Give me a moment, and I’ll make it an order.” He closed his eyes, reaching out through the angelic link, speaking to each and every angel, both on Earth and in Heaven.
As he suspected it might, his order caused some discontented rumbling, but he could feel through the link with the Host that he’d been obeyed. Word had gotten around, he knew. He hadn’t expected that the situation would remain a secret, not really. Angels, like humans, loved to gossip.
Gabriel opened his eyes and nodded. “Right, that’s taken care of. Still and all, how come Raph got nabbed?”
“I don’t know.” Raziel sighed. “I really don’t, Gabriel, and I don’t like it. This whole thing is fucked up. This century is fucked up, so far. First we had an idiot with delusions of grandeur try and create a new world order by opening up portals to Hell without any restraints on them. Then we had the Seventy Years’ War while we shut those fucking portals and killed the demons that came through. Now we’ve got disappearing angels. I’m telling you, Gabe, the next thirty years better be quiet ones. I want to spend a decade drinking and fucking.”
Gabriel chuckled. “I think you’d get bored after a decade.”
“Oh, hell no.” Raziel smirked. “You’ve no idea how inventive Uri is in bed.”
“Gah, I don’t want to fucking know!” Gabriel held up a hand. “Uriel and sexy is like… an oxymoron.”
“You’re an oxymoron, you dick.” Raziel bumped Gabriel’s shoulder with his own and Gabriel ruffled Raziel’s hair. “Seriously, though, Gabe, we could all do with a few years of nothing, just to recharge, you know? We’ve all been on the go pretty nonstop.”
“Aye, I know.” Gabriel sighed. “Even a year would be good.”
“Yeah.” Raziel finished his cigarette and flicked it away into the ether. “You know, we might have to dial an Archdemon.”
“What the hell for?” Gabriel had not intended to make the pun, and he wrinkled his nose at himself even as the words left his mouth.
“Funny.” Raziel rolled his eyes. “And because they have resources we do not. Remember when Ondrass, Adramelek, Lix Tetrax, Melchiresa, and Uphir came to us as a coalition against what Bob Taytton was up to?”
“Aye, it’s not the sort of thing you forget. But why should we dial an Archdemon?”
“Good grief, it’s like talking to a wall.” Raziel took a deep breath. “They are our equal and opposites, yes? So, it stands to reason, does it not, that they would know things about the seedy underbelly of the societies of the world that even the most worldly of us would have no idea about.”
Gabriel frowned. “Like what?”
“I don’t know, Gabriel, I’m not an Archdemon.”
Gabriel shook his head. “No, I don’t think we’ll need to go to them.”
“You mean, you don’t want to go to them.”
“That too.” Gabriel shrugged. “What? I can’t have my prejudices now?”
“You’re a very stubborn Archangel.” Raziel rolled his eyes again. “Fine, I will leave that on the back burner for now, but it may come up again.”
“Yeah, whatever. I reckon Tzadkiel can hunt up any information we might need, though,” Gabriel said.
“Mm.” Raziel didn’t push it. “So, this list. How’s your Mongolian?”
“Rusty, to be honest.” Gabriel tilted his head to the side a little. “I think you’d better come with me to talk to these magic users.”
“I think that would be wise. You have a tendency to be violent and blunt. You are disrespectful.” Raziel pulled in a notebook and pen with his power and began to write.
“I am not! Okay, I’m violent and blunt, but I’m not bloody disrespectful, bloody hell!” Gabriel was more than a little affronted.
“You are, Gabe, but we still love you for it. God didn’t make you to be a diplomat, He made you to be a soldier, and you’re awesome at that. Michael’s the diplomat, and he’s awesome at that. Which is probably another reason why you two are good together—you both understand all aspects of war, even if they aren’t your particular fields.”
Gabriel grumbled under his breath and lit a cigarette.
Raziel looked at him in amusement. “Such a grumpy bum, you are.” He returned to writing his list and then handed it to Gabriel. “There.”
“Nine names? Is that all?” Gabriel’s shoulders slumped ever so slightly as he contemplated the enormity of the task and how few souls could be of any help to them. He was disappointed, he knew—he had hoped that Raziel would be able to come up with a list of powerful magic users that would hold the answers to all their problems. It was an irrational hope, Gabriel thought to himself. Not even the Brotherhood of Archangels could solve everything.
“I told you it wouldn’t be many. The kind of power levels you’re talking about are rare in humans and in monsters. Lyudmila will be prickly, I’m warning you now. So you keep your trap shut while we talk to her.”
“Who is she?”
“She is the Were Queen of Eastern Europe. Shapeshifter, she morphs into a mink and a wolf. Not simultaneously, though, that would be strange.”
“She has two shapes?” Gabriel blinked. “Is that even possible?”
“Of course it’s possible. And that’s why she’s the queen. She’s in Armenia. Her consort, Piotr, is Russian, and his animal’s an eagle.”
“Ain’t minks the natural prey of eagles?”
Raziel rolled his eyes. “Yes, but natural rules don’t apply to shifters. You should know that, Gabe.”
“If you say so.” Gabriel shook his head. “Who are the others, then?”
“Frank is a former Cistercian monk, now a Hermit. He lives on the island of St. Kilda, off the north coast of Scotland.”
“Wait, ain’t St. Kilda uninhabited?”
“Honestly, did you take obtuse pills today? Magic, Gabe. That’s what Brother Frank wants people to think. It wouldn’t be much of a hermitage if he were inundated with tourists, now would it?”
This time, Gabriel rolled his eyes. “Fine, fine, okay, so who else?”
“Eleanora is a witch living in France. You’ll like her, she’s got purple hair, loads of piercings, and she’s covered in tattoos. Iolana is in Hawaii, she’s a shamanness and she’s shy, so go easy on her. She’s still young, barely
nineteen.”
“Iolana, don’t that mean ‘to soar like an eagle’?”
“Yes, very good, Gabe.” Raziel nodded like a proud teacher with a particularly stubborn student. “Moving on. Khenbish lives in Mongolia, he’s a shaman and a Buddhist, he’s very, very old and very, very revered by the Mongolians, so be polite.”
“Khenbish?” Gabriel frowned. “Nobody?”
“Yes. The name confuses evil spirits.”
“It confuses me, so I suppose that follows logic.”
Raziel sighed and went on. “Jihu is a shaman in North Korea. He lives in hiding, and he’ll probably be the hardest to find, considering where he lives.”
Gabriel nodded. “Aye, I can understand why.”
“Wilara is a Wajarri Elder living on the traditional tribal lands of the Wajarri People in Western Australia. Again, be respectful. The magic of the Australian Aborigines is powerful and subtle, and they’re a proud people.”
“I’ll be good,” Gabriel promised.
“Yeah, you better be, or you might find yourself cursed by a variety of cultures.” Raziel suddenly laughed. “You’d be a stork with a pink Mohawk who could only communicate in Korean or Mongolian throat singing.”
“Ha bloody ha.” Gabriel tapped the sheet of paper. “Who’s the next one?”
“Sorella. She’s in the Congo.”
Gabriel stared at Raziel. “Ain’t that sorta dangerous for a woman? Let alone a woman with gifts like hers?”
“It is… not ideal.” Raziel looked sad. “I like her a lot. I keep offering to help her and move her and her family out of the Congo to somewhere safer, like France or Germany or England, but she won’t go. She’s tough, though,” he added, “and I have nothing but the greatest respect for her. For all nine of them, actually.”
“I already respect ’em and I ain’t met ’em yet.” As Raziel’s expression became disbelieving, Gabriel shrugged. “What? I know how hard it is for people to live at all in some of these places, let alone for people with gifts, or the monsters to live and not be hunted and killed.”
“I suppose you would at that.” Raziel’s expression cleared. “I forget sometimes that a lot of what you do is in war-torn areas, and you see these tragedies up close and personal.”
“Aye. It’s very bloody hard sometimes.” Gabriel shook his head. “Okay, the last one, then?”
“Last, and certainly not least, is another shapeshifter who’s also a necromancer.” Raziel grinned. “He tends to freak people out, so he lives in the desert. He’s got a little oasis set up and uses his power to keep the curious away, like Brother Frank. Only, he also has it set up so that honest petitioners—and me—can find him easily enough.”
“Cryptic introduction,” Gabriel noted. “So who is he and where’s his oasis hermitage?”
“His name’s Saadi, and he was born in Qatar at the turn of the century. Once he hit puberty, his talents manifested, and he found that not only could he turn into a sand cat, he could also do magic. The older he got, the more powerful he became. His little slice of paradise—and it really is paradise, wait until you see it—is in the desert not far from Dubai.”
Gabriel leaned back on one hand, digesting the information. “Quite a mixture of cultures and abilities,” he mused. “The majority of ’em seem to live alone. I take it that’s ’cause most people don’t like what they don’t understand?”
“Generally, yes.” Raziel nodded. “Prejudice will never die, no matter how much we would wish otherwise.”
“Aye, true. Sucks, though.”
“Quite.” Raziel smiled. “So, who do you want to visit first?”
“Well, seeing as we’re in the neighborhood, so to speak, why don’t we go see Eleanora?”
“A good choice.” Raziel stood up. “I will move us. They all know me, and they’re reasonably comfortable with me, but you’re unknown, and in some cases, they’ll be frightened of you. Your reputation as a badass genocidal killer precedes you.”
Gabriel sighed as he stood as well. “I’m having that taken off the list of things I’ve done.”
“You can’t.” Raziel grinned maliciously. “It’s too well recorded. Gabriel, the Archangel who slaughtered the Nephilim; Gabriel, the Archangel who killed all the firstborn in Egypt when Moses was coming into his own. You’re stuck with it.”
“Fan-fucking-tastic. I’m not really that bloodthirsty, you know.”
“Your legend is bigger than you are.” Raziel stretched. “As it is for all ten of us in the Brotherhood.”
“I guess. I still don’t like it.”
“I’m sure your disapproval of legend hurts its feelings.”
“Do you mind?” Gabriel scowled.
“No, not really.” Raziel laughed. “I’ll move us.” Without further ado, he touched Gabriel’s hand and moved them to the home of Eleanora.
ELEANORA’S cottage was in the rolling countryside of Provence. It was picturesque, Gabriel thought as he followed Raziel toward the whitewashed door that stood slightly ajar. The air was full of the scent of lavender, and as they drew nearer to the cottage, he could smell the scent of cooking. His mouth began to water. If nothing else, Eleanora was obviously a good cook.
She opened the door before Raziel knocked, and regarded them without any surprise. “I was wondering when you would show up, Raziel.”
“Hello, Eleanora.” Raziel moved to kiss her on each cheek, the traditional French greeting, which she reciprocated without any hesitation. “How are you?”
“Good. Who’s this?”
“Eleanora, this is Gabriel.”
Her eyes went round as saucers. “The Archangel?”
“I’m afraid so.” Raziel grinned. “Not very impressive, is he?”
“Must you?” Gabriel sighed.
“Yes, I think I really must.” Raziel’s grin broadened. “I’m having way too much fun with this. Wait until I tell Uri.”
“Shut up,” Gabriel growled.
“Yes, O Mighty Saint Gabriel.” Raziel bowed mockingly.
Eleanora had been watching them with narrowed eyes, but now she laughed. “I’ve missed you. Come inside. Gabriel, you are welcome too.” She turned and went back into the cottage, and Raziel and Gabriel followed suit.
“Sit,” Eleanora said, gesturing at a rectangular dining table. She moved about the cottage and Gabriel looked around, taking in his surroundings.
It was a small, one-room cottage. The dining table was next to the sink, stove, oven, and small refrigerator; opposite were a bed, two armchairs, and a coffee table. A small LCD television sat on an upturned terracotta flowerpot, a laptop computer on the rug in front of it. There was a narrow doorway with a curtain hanging from the doorframe, which Gabriel surmised led to the bathroom and laundry. There were two large windows, one above the sink and one by the bed.
Eleanora hummed as she moved around the kitchen area and spooned up generous servings of stew. Gabriel’s mouth watered again as she set the bowls down on the table and went to the fridge, where she got a bottle of wine, butter, and a loaf of bread. She set these down on the table, grabbed glasses and cutlery, and sat down with the two Archangels.
“Eat, eat,” she said, gesturing to the food. “Raziel always convinces me to cook when he comes to see me. This time, I decided that I would cook before he asked it of me. It is beef bourguignon,” she added.
Gabriel nodded his thanks and started eating, his eyes going wide. “This is amazing,” he said. “This might just be the best meal I’ve ever eaten.”
“Merci.” Eleanora looked pleased. “Witches are the best chefs.” She pushed back her purple hair with one hand and leaned back in her chair, holding a glass of wine. “So, what is it that I can do for you?”
“You knew we were coming?” Raziel asked in between mouthfuls.
“Mais oui, I am not an idiot,” she said. “You know the power of the name, Raziel. As soon as you wrote my name down, I knew what you were talking about and who you connected me to. I am flatter
ed to be in such powerful company.”
“Then why ask what you can do for us if you already know?”
“Perhaps because I like to hear you ask me for a favor. It is not often an Archangel comes to me wanting something, let alone two of the Brotherhood of Archangels. So, tell me what it is that you want from me.”
“Fine.” Raziel ate another spoonful of stew, reached for his glass, and sat back. After he had swallowed a mouthful of wine, he said, “Do you know anyone with the abilities and power to hide the location of an Archangel from all of Heaven?”
“Non.” Eleanora shook her head. “Je suis désolé. It can be done, however, I have no doubt of that, but I personally do not know anyone who can. Or who would. Not even the most anti-Heaven shifters would try, because they know you would descend on them like… what is the way Uriel said it? Ah, oui. ‘Like a ton of very angry, very violent, smitey bricks’.”
Gabriel grinned. “Aye. True, that.”
“Oui. So, no, I am afraid I cannot help you.” She shook her head. “It is terrible this has happened. It has affected my herbal remedies also. Things that worked to help ease joint ache or fever or indigestion, they no longer do.”
Raziel looked stricken. “I didn’t think of that. I was concentrating only on medical science, not magic or herbal medicines. I’ll do what I can, Eleanora, I promise.”
Eleanora reached over to touch Raziel’s hand. Gabriel noticed that even the back of her hand and her fingers were covered in elaborate tattoos. “Razzy, mon cher, it is not your fault. We do not blame you, none of us do. And I am sure the scientists were skeptical, but they deal with logic and reason, not with magic. It will be okay.”
“And if it’s not?”
“Then… we will adjust.” She sat back and shrugged. “You will find a way, mon ami. You are quick and clever and you are powerful. Even now, your mind is probably working toward different solutions should Raphael not be found.”
“I hope he can be,” Raziel said. “But yeah, you’re right about that.”
No Surrender, No Retreat Page 12
