“You have to let us go,” Raphael said urgently.
The two figures in the doorway laughed. “Nice try, Archangel, but no.”
Raphael ground his teeth together. “Listen, you idiots, if you do not, the world will be ravaged by every disease that has ever existed. Even those that have been made extinct thanks to medical science. Polio, leprosy, H1N1, cancers of every kind, even the common cold. No medicine will be able to cure these diseases because you fools have cut off my power!”
“Right, sure thing.” The woman laughed. “That’s a fantastic story, but it’s crap. There’s a case of bird flu in China right now, but that’s happened before. It’ll pass.”
“It will not pass!” Raphael ran his hands through his hair. “It will get worse, you fool!”
“Enough of this.” The woman shook her hooded head. “Let’s leave the angels to themselves.” She and her companion in the doorway walked away.
Raphael swore once again. “Dammit!” He turned away to face Agrat, who was looking up at him with tears in her eyes. “Agrat?”
“Oh, Raph,” Agrat said softly, “I’m terrified for the humans I have sheltered and protected in my many halfway houses. And… what will this mean overall? Will this mean that sex crimes will increase? Or that no human will be able to have sex or be able to procreate?”
Raphael dropped down onto the ground beside her. The enormity of a world without healing and without sex or with increases in sex crimes was galling.
“Shit,” he said.
Agrat grabbed his hand and held on tight. “I hope they find us really, really soon.” She gave Raphael a watery little smile, and he nodded, squeezing her hand.
“Me too.”
12
THE scream ricocheted through the Host, raw and agonized, like a wounded animal. It reverberated in the minds of every angel, both on Earth and in Heaven, a scream of unbearable loss and unbelievable loneliness.
Gabriel was moving before he was even aware of it, yelling to Raziel, to Uriel, to Tzadkiel, gesturing to Michael and Haniel and Remiel to make a comfortable spot for when he returned. Without waiting to see if anyone obeyed him, Gabriel moved, teleporting from Tzadkiel’s apartment to the source of that agonized screaming.
Shateiel, wings spread wide, boiled up out of Purgatory like a bullet. His mouth was open, but the scream was entirely psychic, and the expression on his face as Gabriel materialized in front of him was one of abject horror.
Gabriel winced as he grabbed Shateiel’s right arm, relieved to see Uriel on his lieutenant’s left and Tzadkiel behind him. Raziel hovered in front of Shateiel, placed a hand on the angel’s forehead, and used his power to knock him unconscious. As Shateiel’s eyes closed, the angel sagging as a dead weight in the arms of those who held onto him, the screaming in their minds faded to silence.
Gabriel shook his head. “We move. On three. One, two, three.”
The four Archangels moved as one, teleporting Shateiel to Tzadkiel’s apartment.
“In here,” Michael said as they emerged in the world.
Following Michael into a room adjacent to the large living room, Gabriel realized that Israfel was still there. He was sitting on the sofa beside Sophiel, his eyes widening as he took in Shateiel’s limp form.
“Why’s Israfel here?”
“Why wouldn’t he be?” Tzadkiel asked, grunting. “Your lieutenant’s really heavy, Gabe.”
“That would be the armor,” Gabriel huffed as he helped set Shateiel’s unconscious form down on a large bed. “Thanks,” he added, nodding at Michael, Haniel, and Remiel.
“It is no bother.” Michael looked at Shateiel’s prone form sadly. “I assume, then, that Agrat is now missing as well as Raphael?”
“I’m guessing so, aye.” Gabriel ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t know how long he’s going to be able to hold out. I mean, they have the bond.”
Michael’s eyes widened. “That… makes it even more urgent that we find them.” He made a small gesture to Gabriel, indicating that Gabriel should follow him, and, curious, Gabriel did.
Outside the bedroom, Michael took a deep breath. “How long have they been bonded?”
Gabriel thought about it. “Two thousand years, give or take. Does that matter?”
“Yes, I fear that it does. The longer they have been bonded, the worse the pain of separation. We do not have long before one or both of them start to try to kill themselves.”
Gabriel swore, punching the wall. “Fucking hell. Okay, well, we have the tools to fix the shit, thanks to Raz’s contacts, but we don’t know where the shit to be fixed is!”
“Language.” Michael shook his head. “And no, we do not know where Raphael and Agrat are. I am hesitant to have our kind search on solo missions, in truth.”
“Aye, same.” Gabriel pulled out his cigarettes and lit one, shaking his head. “So… what do we do?”
“We wait for me to return.”
Gabriel and Michael turned to face Uriel.
“Pardon?” Michael raised an eyebrow.
“I’m going to talk to an Archdemon.” Uriel’s expression was grim. “I’m sure you have all kinds of objections to this, but frankly, I’m not interested in hearing them. This is my call and I’m making it. Order me to stand down if you must, Michael, but I’ll just disobey you.”
“He’s stubborn, ain’t he?” Gabriel observed.
Uriel grinned tightly at him.
Michael sighed. “Uriel, you are to be careful.”
“You’re not going to argue? It’s the end of the damn world.” Uriel lit a cigar. “Oh, don’t let Raziel follow me. He won’t disobey a direct order, and he’s needed here. He’ll also need to reserve his energy, because if he’s shouldering Raphael’s responsibilities as well as his own, he’s going to need it.”
“I will order him to remain,” Michael said. “I will tell him that I will tie him down myself.”
Uriel smirked. “Kinky.”
Michael blushed. “Uriel,” he scolded.
“Michael.” Uriel parroted Michael’s tone of voice, his expression mocking. “By the way, you two? Need to stop faffing about like a pair of big girl’s blouses.”
“I beg your pardon?” Michael said, looking affronted.
“What the hell?” Gabriel demanded.
Uriel shook his head. “You two. Get naked, have lots of wild, awesome sex, and stop dancing around the subject of your bonding. You know the pros and cons of it. All that matters now is, is it appropriate for you two to do? Israfel and Raphael aren’t bonded, but that’s their decision and neither of them have a jealous bone in their bodies. You two, though, you two are as jealous as a pair of teenagers with a crush on someone else’s boyfriend. Get over it. Fuck. Bond. Be done with it.”
“Language, Uriel,” Michael gasped, his cheeks flaming.
Gabriel gaped at the younger Archangel, rendered speechless. Finally, he shook his head. “Butt out, Uri. Go chat to Hell’s people.”
“Later, you will totally thank me for this, and I? I will say I told you so.” Uriel exhaled a large cloud of cigar smoke and vanished.
Michael was spluttering.
“Breathe,” Gabriel said, patting Michael’s shoulder.
“I… he… that was uncalled for!” Michael waved an arm.
“Aye, you think I’m blunt.” Gabriel started to laugh. “I ain’t got nothing on him!”
Michael, still crimson, buried his face in his hands.
“Hey.” Gabriel pulled Michael into his arms. “It’ll be okay. Don’t think about his insinuations too much. Let’s get a drink of water, yeah, and then go see what Raziel has to say.”
Michael took a deep breath, leaning into Gabriel. Then he nodded. “As you say, da bao.”
Gabriel led Michael into the kitchen, noting that Samael had gone into the bedroom to help with Shateiel. With a heavy sigh, Gabriel went to Tzadkiel’s fridge and pulled out a bottle of water. Getting glasses from the cupboard, he set them down on the counter
and poured for himself and Michael. When the glasses were full, Gabriel pushed one of them over the counter to his lover.
Michael took it with a nod of thanks and sipped slowly. Gabriel watched him for a long moment, mulling over Uriel’s words.
“I know this ain’t the best time to bring this up,” Gabriel began, “but Uriel might have a point.”
“Pardon?” Michael looked confused.
Gabriel ran a hand through his hair. “We ain’t talked about bonding since… well, since before the war. I know, I know, we ain’t really had time to sit down and do much, but this is us. We’ll never have time. We have to make time.”
“Gabriel,” Michael sighed, “I do not know what to tell you. Yes, I still wish to bond, but I fear it is something better left for a later discussion. At least until we have Raphael and Agrat back safe and sound.”
Gabriel nodded, feeling a little foolish. “Aye. You’re right, absolutely. I’m sorry I brought it up.”
“Gabriel.” Michael set his glass down and moved to Gabriel. He touched Gabriel’s cheek with gentle fingers. “I love you very much, da bao, more than I have words to say, more than I have verse to describe. I wish for nothing more than time with you, to spend together enjoying each other, and yes, for the bonding ritual. Do not think that I am trying to dodge this; I am not. I merely feel that we should wait until this current crisis is past.”
“Aye, I know. You’re right, I know.” Gabriel smiled, turning his head to kiss Michael’s palm. “I shouldn’t have mentioned it today.”
Michael smiled. “There will be no worse time to mention it. But we must take care of this situation.”
“Aye.” Gabriel slipped his arms around Michael’s waist and pulled him closer. “I’m worried, Mishka.”
“Understandable.” Michael rested his hands on Gabriel’s shoulders. “The situation is dire. Shateiel’s condition is very serious. The fact that Tabbris has been present and silent for the entire time we have been here is, I fear, the worst thing of all.”
Gabriel blinked and then burst out laughing. It felt good to laugh, and the tension he was feeling eased. He kissed Michael’s forehead. “Aye, Tabbris being quiet’s pretty damn worrisome.”
“It is.” Michael smiled. “However, I cannot fault his loyalty to his friend. He is watching over Israfel better than I would have anticipated.”
“Are you finding yourself feeling a little kinder toward Tabbris?”
“Perhaps. A very little.” Michael sighed and stepped out of Gabriel’s embrace. “We should return to Shateiel.”
“Right.” Gabriel squared his shoulders and went back into the bedroom.
SHATEIEL was still unconscious, lying on his back on the bed. He twitched violently in his sleep. Raziel sat on one side of the bed, Samael on the other. Tzadkiel stood to one side, and Haniel and Remiel stood by the window. Everyone was looking very worried.
“No change?” Gabriel asked as he entered the room.
“None.” Samael looked up at Gabriel, his expression grave. “I am lending my power to sustain him and keep him from wishing himself out of existence.”
Gabriel paled. “Is he going to? Was he going to? Raz?”
Raziel shot him a concerned look. “Yes. I don’t know what to do, Gabe. I’m at my wits’ end. And I’m tired. I’m shouldering Raphael’s responsibilities as well as my own, but my power’s beginning to slip.”
“Dammit.” Gabriel moved to Raziel’s side. “Go lie down. Rest. Something. Uriel will have my liver for dinner with fava beans and Chianti if you hurt yourself. I’ll sit with Shateiel and help Sammy. Tzad”—Gabriel looked at the Archangel—“is there somewhere Raziel can rest?”
“I’m fine, Gabriel,” Raziel said. Then he winced. “Okay, not that fine. Tzad, can you do something for me?”
“Of course.” Tzadkiel moved closer.
“Get one of your assistants to go upstairs to my laboratory. Tell them to tell my assistants to duplicate this.” Raziel held out the bottle. “Tell them that time is of the essence, and I want as much as they can possibly manufacture.”
Tzadkiel nodded. “Right.” He looked over his shoulder at Remiel. “Remi, my other guestroom’s upstairs, on the mezzanine. Can you get Raz up there?”
“Absolutely.” Remiel moved to help Raziel stand. “And I’ll help you, brat. Why didn’t you say you were getting worn out? We can help each other, you know.”
“We were all sort of busy,” Raziel said drily. “Okay, okay, fine. Gabe, Sammy, keep Shateiel from trying to off himself out of grief. Tzad, get my people to make more of that potion. Mike, I think your people better go out in pairs and start taking a survey of the health of the population. Hani, tell Metatron that we could all use some Divine Intervention if God would be amenable.”
They all nodded and muttered in the affirmative, and Remiel helped Raziel out of the bedroom.
Gabriel sat down in the chair that Raziel had only moments ago vacated, and took Shateiel’s hand in his. Shateiel’s palm was cold and clammy, and as Gabriel carefully began to infuse Shateiel’s Grace with his own power, he could feel the edges of his lieutenant’s grief and loss.
“It is a terrible feeling, is it not?” Samael said in his deep, rich voice, his eyes meeting Gabriel’s across the prone form of Shateiel’s body.
“Aye. It feels like my Grace is being peeled with a rusty potato peeler.” Gabriel pulled a face. “I don’t like it.”
“Nor I.” Samael shook his head. “I wept an ocean of tears at the death of your children, Gabriel. I fear that I will be weeping another ocean for the deaths of our kind before too long.”
Gabriel tensed at Samael’s words. A frisson of fear trickled down his spine, and he shared a long look with Michael.
“We will do all we can to prevent that,” Michael said. His voice was like a balm to Gabriel’s ears, a blessing to Gabriel’s ragged nerves. “I must go and see my people in Venatores. I will not be gone for long, however. Will you be all right?” He looked at Gabriel as he asked the question.
Gabriel nodded. “Aye, I’ll be all right.” And telepathically, shielding his thought so Michael alone would hear, he added, “Don’t take too long, solnyshko.”
“I will be swift. I promise.” Michael bowed and vanished.
Samael sighed. “And now we wait.”
“I hate waiting.” Gabriel shook his head and looked at Samael wearily. “I hope Uriel’s having some success.”
“So do I,” Samael agreed.
ADRAMELEK stood on top of the roof of a decaying apartment block in the abandoned city of Pripyat, Ukraine. The chill wind whipped at his coat, but he ignored it, his hands in the pockets of his jeans.
The once thriving city of Pripyat, built to sustain families of people who worked at the Chernobyl Nuclear Station, had been a dead zone since 1986. Nearly one hundred years had passed since the explosion in the plant and the evacuation of the city, and in that time, the trees had slowly reclaimed the city. Most of the streets were now cracked pieces of tarmac between trees, bushes, and long yellow-green grass. Animals were the citizens of Pripyat now: wolves, rabbits, foxes, and the tan-colored horses called the Przewalski.
The mournful sound of a wolf’s howl filled the air, and Adramelek lit a cigarette, looking toward the concrete structure of the nuclear plant in the distance. The sarcophagus that scientists had constructed to contain the still-leaking core had never been intended to cope long-term; Adramelek himself had reinforced it and sealed it, making sure that the radiation would never again spill out.
“Dismal place, Adramelek,” a familiar voice drawled.
Adramelek turned. “I like it.”
Ondrass pulled a face and picked his way across the gravel and weed-strewn roof to join Adramelek. A few paces behind him was Markus, ever present, always faithful. Adramelek had a few suspicions about Markus’s feelings for Ondrass, but he kept them to himself.
“Of course, you would.” Ondrass looked around the ruins, taking in the houses, t
he municipal buildings, the rusting funfair with the chairs of the old Ferris wheel creaking loudly as the wind blew. “You spent a lot of time here, didn’t you?”
“Da, comrade,” Adramelek said with a hint of a smile.
“I find it odd that you would assist humans in preserving anything, and yet, here you are, daydreaming about the past and pondering the structure you made to prevent more radiation seeping out of that concrete and steel monstrosity over there.” Ondrass nodded in the direction of the power plant.
“We all get a little funny in our old age.” Adramelek shrugged. “It’s no different to your preoccupation with Hong Kong.”
“Hong Kong suits me. I enjoy the vice and corruption that can be found there. Such a small island, and yet, limitless possibilities.” Ondrass smirked.
“Which explains why you look like the original Hong Kong gangster.” Adramelek shook his head and turned back to look over Pripyat. “Uriel’s coming.”
“I heard.” Ondrass grew serious. “Is the situation as bad as my sources report?”
“If they reported that someone is tranquilizing angels and kidnapping them for purposes nefarious, then yes.” Adramelek scowled. He unfurled his wings, inky black and red, stretched them, and then furled them back. The ends of his wings trailed down the side of the building, the feathers rustling in the breeze and looking like a waterfall of blood and tar.
“Do you know what these ‘purposes nefarious’ are?” Ondrass asked.
“Greed.” Adramelek shrugged again. “On the humans’ part, anyway. Greed, because selling an angel is apparently very profitable. On the side of the demons involved, I would imagine the reasons are more base than that. Revenge.”
Ondrass quirked an eyebrow. “And who of our kind, pray tell, would be involved in such a fiasco? It would be to their eternal regret—and a painful eternity it would be—if a demon were caught involved in this.”
“The Morningstar is displeased,” Adramelek said. “When I left him in Hell, in his palace in the Castle of Black Ice, his orders were very clear. I know who’s involved, and I’m to give the information to Uriel when he arrives. I also know where the current kidnappees are being kept.”
No Surrender, No Retreat Page 18
