“How do you know that?” Uriel asked.
“They tried on Purgatory,” Jonathon said. “We were all called in to watch. And it was pretty amazing at first. It was like this giant black gate, you could see it. We had a few residents of Purgatory in our custody and when the gate went up, they made an awful noise—one of them fainted and another one started bleeding from the ears. And then the gate came crashing down and TCC’s people realized that it wasn’t stable enough for the long term, at least not yet. So that’s what they’re working on. They’re very frightened you’ll find them before they finish.”
“At least that’s a valid fear,” Uriel muttered.
“Backtrack a bit,” Raziel said. “Jonathon, how did you come to be involved in all this?”
“I wanted to do magic.” Jonathon looked at the floor. “I always used to believe I was a witch—I could read Tarot cards and the I-Ching, but I could never do any spells or anything. Anyway, there was an ad in the local paper one day, looking for people who wanted to learn magic. I answered it.”
“Where are you from originally?” Uriel asked.
“Vegas.”
“I think I’m figuring out how they got their witches,” Raziel said. “They’d advertise, test people, see who was most likely to be able to use this synthetic magic, and then they made a coven. And because these people could suddenly do magic where they had never been able to before, they were now completely loyal to Transom. TCC,” he corrected himself.
“Yeah, that’s exactly what happened.” Jonathon sighed. “A lot of people answered that ad. Most folk didn’t have the desire to do what was required, though, which was give up everything in their life and move to New York City. We had to cut off ties with our family and friends and just go. We could leave them a good-bye message, but nothing more.” He looked away. “I wanted to be a witch so badly that I had no trouble doing it. And that’s why they took me. I was prepared to sacrifice everything and everyone in my life—I did sacrifice everything and everyone. And for what? Fake magic.”
“Is this the case with your whole coven?” Raziel asked.
Jonathon nodded. “None of us could do any real magic before this.”
“So how did they give you this synthetic magic?”
“Drugs. They changed our DNA a little.” Jonathon shook his head. “They had to get some more people in, because several of the original group died. The drugs were pretty terrible. I was sick for a month, but when I recovered, I found I could now do spells and had power.”
“Just as I thought,” Raziel mused to himself.
“Me and one of the girls, a lady named Lynda from Spokane, we were thrilled at first. And then we were told what we had to do, and we didn’t much like that part of it. But it seemed like a small price to pay, right? Only….” Jonathon paused and licked his lips. “Only it wasn’t a small price. It was a terrible price, too high a price.”
“That was when you learned they had your family?” Raziel asked.
“Yeah. And they were experimenting on them. My sister….” Jonathon stopped talking and rubbed his face with both hands. Raziel waited for him to collect himself. “My sister, she was only twelve. What they did to her… it was the worst thing imaginable. They killed her by trying to put a demon’s heart into her.”
“Fuck!” Uriel exclaimed. “Those fuckers!”
“That was when I decided I needed to get out. I thought that maybe I could just leave. But the magic they gave us, it wouldn’t let me. I could only go as far as Silverton or Lake City. And then we were told to go to Salem in Oregon, because there was trouble and we were supposed to kill all the shifters who work for Archangel Michael.” He shook his head. “We had no idea what we were in for. Loa? Voodoo? Archangels coming in a group? Archdemons? We had no chance, and we all knew it, but we still tried.”
“If you can’t leave Colorado, how were we able to get you here to Guam?” Uriel demanded.
“Your power’s stronger. You can override what they did to us. A human witch probably couldn’t, but an angel? Especially an Archangel? Yeah, you can override their safety net. They’re terrified of you guys.”
“Hm.” Raziel leaned back again, tapping his index finger against his chin. “You’re telling us the truth, I can see it. I can read it in your aura and your surface thoughts. I confess that I’m surprised—I had thought that you in this coven were all wholly dedicated to your mission.”
“No way,” Jonathon said. “I just wanted to be able to do magic. I didn’t want the rest of this. This is all too much.”
“Who runs Transom?” Uriel asked suddenly.
“Do you know the Edwards family? They’re billionaires, they made their money in coal and steel. Simon Edwards, he’s the boss of the company, and the board is his family.” Jonathon shuddered. “He’s one scary mofo.”
“I’ve heard of him,” Raziel said. “He has a reputation for ruthlessness.”
“Yeah, it’s well deserved.” Jonathon shook his head. “He oversees all the big experiments, like the ones to close the gates or make guardians to protect Earth. He’s doing this because the war cost him a lot of money. Coal and steel exports went right down, I understand.”
“He’s doing this because he lost a few bucks?” Uriel was incredulous.
“Don’t underestimate the power of money,” Raziel said to him.
“Also, he hates angels,” Jonathon said. “He really hates you. He says that he was always an atheist and then suddenly, angels and demons and monsters are everywhere. Suddenly, he realized that all that he believed was not actually true. A lot of folk found religion during the war and he lost a lot of members of his business. He lost a lot of employees and shareholders and partners—all of it.”
“I think I see. Before the war, his family was rich, and getting richer. During the war, people were changing their lives and there wasn’t much of anything getting done except fighting,” Raziel said. “Inventions stopped. Science stopped. Innovation of all kinds stopped. It was as if there was a giant pause button on the world while we all fought it out. And when the war ended, instead of everything going back to how it was, people had to reinvent their lives and redefine how they fit into a world that hadn’t really advanced technologically since 2012. To a man like Edwards, who’s used to making money hand over fist and having a lot of things going on, that would be the worst kind of existence.”
“I think you’re onto something there,” Uriel said. “Especially if, once people started creating things again, there wasn’t much done in the areas he wanted. Like, who uses fossil fuels anymore? Only a handful of countries and they’ve got their own deposits. They wouldn’t have much use for coal imports. Steel… okay, there’s always a need for that, but there’s a lot of manufacturers around, so he’d have a lot of competition. And that’s why….”
“…he moved into futures,” Raziel finished for him, snapping his fingers at Uriel.
“Yeah. Yeah, I think that’s it. Isn’t it?” Uriel looked at Jonathon.
“I don’t know what he’s investing in now, but the rest of it? Yeah, you’re right.” Jonathon slouched deeply into his seat. “He and his family blame the war and everyone who was involved on all his losses. So he made Transom Corp. and started this new plan, to kick you all out and make Earth the way it was before the war. No angels, no demons, no monsters, no magic. Okay, so we know now that there have always been angels, demons, monsters, and magic, but before the war, you guys were all sort of… secret. Myths and legends. Not in our faces, on the news, in the streets, everywhere.”
“Hm, yes. And a man such as Edwards, used to being the one in control who has a great deal of power, would no doubt resent that there are beings in the universe with more power than he and his family,” Raziel said.
“Yeah, that’s part of it. He gave us a lecture before we came to Colorado, saying that soon he would be the most powerful man on Earth and his business the richest and most profitable, as soon as you were all locked out.”
&nbs
p; “This guy needs to go,” Uriel growled.
“I concur.” Raziel shook his head. “Wow. Well, that’s certainly cleared up a lot of things for us, Jonathon, thank you.”
Jonathon licked his lips. “You’re welcome. So, um, what were you going to do me?”
“I wanted to test something, but now, since you’ve been so helpful and you’ve obviously endured much already, I’m not certain that I wish to,” Raziel said. “I have developed a cure for those who have the synthetic magic.”
Jonathon’s eyes grew round as saucers. “You can reverse what they did to me?”
“I think so, yes.”
“I want it.” Jonathon leaned forward. His expression was one of hopeful eagerness. “I hate this life, Saint Raziel. I just want to be me again. Before all this, I had a fantastic family and great friends, and now all I have is fear.”
Raziel pursed his lips. “If I do this, you won’t be able to return to the United States until we’ve finished with Transom. You won’t be able to contact anyone, either. You’ll have to stay here, under the watchful eyes of some of my colleagues.”
Jonathon nodded. “Whatever you say. Just… please. Fix me?”
“Fucking hell,” Uriel muttered. Raziel shot him a quick look and saw that his lover wore an expression of annoyed compassion. He could understand why—Uriel was annoyed by what he had learned in the last fifteen minutes, and felt sorry for the young man who had filled in the gaps of their knowledge. Raziel could understand Uriel’s attitude.
“Okay,” Raziel said. He dug into the pocket of his jeans and pulled out a small vial, the sample vial he’d brought with him. “Drink this.” He held it out.
Jonathon took it. “Will it taste gross?”
“Probably.” Raziel grinned. “Do you know any medicine that tastes nice?”
“Good point.” Jonathon pulled the stopper from the vial, then lifted it to his lips and drank the contents down in one swallow. He pulled a face of sheer horror as the liquid slid down his throat and he coughed as he licked his lips. “Dear God, that’s the worst thing I’ve ever tasted!”
“Maybe I should work on that,” Raziel said.
“If you want the others to drink it voluntarily, yeah, that’d be a good idea,” Jonathon said. “The ones who don’t think the way I do—” he paused and clutched at his stomach.
“Lie down,” Raziel instructed. “This won’t be comfortable, but lying down will be better.”
Jonathon nodded. His face had gone very pale and he slipped down onto the floor, lying on his back. Raziel moved to him, picking up a cushion as he went, and sat down beside him, lifting Jonathon’s head gently and placing the cushion underneath. “Tell me if you need anything.”
“Water, maybe?”
“I’ll get it,” Uriel said.
“This could take a while,” Raziel said. “And I apologize.”
“Thanks,” Jonathon said. “For being kind.”
Raziel sighed. “I wish that kindness wasn’t something you feel you need to thank me for, young man. Hush now, and let the potion do its work.”
Jonathon nodded and fell silent.
TZADKIEL STARED at Raziel and Uriel, astounded by what he’d been told. Four of his Ophanim stood behind him, and even though he wasn’t looking at them, Tzadkiel could feel their amazement through the celestial link that all angelkind shared.
“So where is this young man now?” Tzadkiel asked.
“In the office.” Raziel jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “I need you to judge his soul and his remorse, Tzad.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know that. But he has to stay here for a while—he knows that, right?”
“Oh yes, we explained that.”
“And he’s okay with this?”
“I think,” Uriel began, “that his life since taking up with Transom has been so fucking shit that he’d happily live in a dumpster to be free of them.”
“Holy cow.” Tzadkiel ran a hand over his head. “You know, when you called me, I thought you’d tested your potion and found it worked. I had no idea that you’d gotten the mother lode of information and a defector as well.”
“Yeah, we were pretty surprised too,” Raziel said. He looked over Tzadkiel’s shoulder at the Ophanim. “Are you four going to be okay with guarding him?”
“If Lord Tzadkiel decrees his soul to be clean, yes,” one of them said. “If not, then you may have to ask Lord Ondrass for some of his people to be guardians.”
“Might not hurt to do that anyway,” Uriel mused.
“Indeed. Can you call him, Uri?”
Tzadkiel watched as Uriel nodded and moved a short distance away. He shook his head and let out a slow breath. “You know that Gabe feels he has to commit mass murder to fix this?”
Raziel’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline. “Why?”
“Because we’re assuming most of Transom’s people are evil. But this guy, this Jonathon, if he’s really genuine about having repented, well, that changes things. I think Gabe will be damn relieved. He wears that genocidal maniac title with more discomfort as he grows older.”
“I think that it’ll come down to judgment rather than unleashing the fury of the Rage of God, aka, Gabriel,” Raziel drawled. “I think he’s leaping to conclusions.”
“He does that. He and Michael both. They’ve lived the longest, you know. They’re going to see a bleaker outlook than the rest of us.”
“Maybe.” Raziel paused as Uriel returned. “What did Ondrass say?”
“He swore a little bit then said he’d have a dozen of his elite warriors join us here. They won’t come inside the perimeter unless the Ophanim call them in, but they’ll keep it secure.” Uriel shrugged. “It sounds good to me.”
“Me too,” Tzadkiel said. “All right, show me this boy.”
Raziel turned and opened the door to the office and Tzadkiel squared his shoulders. He took a deep breath and crossed the threshold, entering the room, and then he stopped.
Jonathon—Tzadkiel assumed that the young man clutching a cushion to him was indeed the one that Raziel and Uriel had told him about—looked to be barely twenty-five years old. He had shaggy dark hair and dark eyes. His cheeks were pale and his nose dusted with freckles. He was thin as a reed and he was as tense as a bowstring. He looked at Tzadkiel with an expression of trepidation on his face.
“You’re Jonathon?” Tzadkiel asked.
“Yeah. Hi.”
“Hi. I’m Tzadkiel, Archangel of Judgment, among other things. I’m going to scan your soul and make sure your repentance and everything you told Uriel and Raziel is true and genuine. You okay with that?”
Jonathon nodded. “Will it hurt?”
“Only if you fight me,” Tzadkiel said. He moved to a chair opposite Jonathon and sat down. “I understand that you had Raziel’s potion to erase the effects of the synthetic magical powers that Transom gave you. How do you feel?”
“Lighter,” Jonathon said. “Like a block of concrete has been lifted off my back. I tried to do something before, just something small, you know? I tried to levitate that chair. But it didn’t work. I couldn’t feel the magic. It’s gone and I’m glad.”
“Be that as it may, I still have to do this,” Tzadkiel said. “Please try and relax.”
Jonathon nodded and licked his lips and Tzadkiel leaned forward, his gaze locking onto Jonathon’s. His power reached out, hungry and fierce, and Tzadkiel let it go, let the threads of energy shoot into Jonathon’s eyes, wriggle down through his synapses and cells, into his bloodstream and down into his soul. Other tendrils of power shot around Jonathon’s skull, through his mind and both his subconscious and consciousness, and every thought, dream, wish, nugget of knowledge, and experience was laid bare. Tzadkiel peeled back the layers that held Jonathon’s sanity together and examined them carefully before folding them back, reconstructing the glue that held the young man’s very being together.
It didn’t take long, although he had no doubt that to Jonathon, it would have felt
as if it had taken eons. Tzadkiel pulled his power back into himself, satisfied with what he’d seen. He sat back and regarded Jonathon, who was as pale as a bed sheet, a spot of blood beneath his nose. “How do you feel?”
“Like someone poked around inside my head and my soul with a pointy stick,” Jonathon said. His voice was shaky.
“Yeah, it’s not pleasant, I know. I’m sorry about that. But”—Tzadkiel turned to look at Uriel, Raziel and the silent Ophanim—“he’s clean. His soul is full of contrition and guilt, his mind is full of the need to make amends. He’s terrified that the rest of his former coven will find him—they were aware of his desertion of them the moment you ’ported him out of Colorado, but our power still beats theirs, so they have no idea where he is.”
“Will I be safe?” Jonathon asked.
“Yes.” Tzadkiel nodded. “Here, you’ll be fine. You do what my Ophanim tell you to, and we’ll come get you when everything is all over.”
“Then… if it’s not too much trouble, is there somewhere I could get some sleep? And maybe some food?” Jonathon bit his lower lip as he finished speaking.
“There’s a kitchenette down the hall,” Raziel said. “There’s plenty of food in the fridge and cupboards, and coffee, too. And there’s a guest room across from it, though it’s just a pair of cot beds, for my human staff when they need to get some rest while we’re working on something.”
“It sounds perfect.” Jonathon got to his feet, and stumbled. One of the Ophanim moved to him and took his arm. “Thank you,” he said to the angel.
“I will help you walk there,” the angel said. “I doubt you’ll make it without help. You have been through quite a lot today.”
Raziel smiled wryly. “Yeah, we did sort of put you through the wringer a bit.”
Jonathon shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. If it helps you stop them, then I’m glad.”
“Get some rest,” Tzadkiel advised him. “My people will stay with you. Don’t go outside, though. Not until you hear that you can from us. There’ll be demons out there, for one thing, and for another, we don’t know if you can be tracked by other means than magic. So let’s be on the safe side.”
A Candle in the Sun Page 9
