by Sam Cheever
The use of her married name was a deliberate jibe at my father and he stiffened in response. “I think you know the answer to that question, Your Highness. I have managed to convince her that I’ve turned against the divine goal and become a dark angel. As long as I can keep her convinced of this Dialle the First will be safe.”
“If she is up to no good why don’t you just take your wife down? Have you no spine for justice when it involves your own family, Seraphim?”
Oh, oh, I thought. Them’s fightin’ words!
Myra took a threatening step toward Dialle and he went very still, ready to do battle if necessary. My father placed a restraining hand on his sister’s arm and she relaxed fractionally. However, she didn’t bother to soften the look in her icy blue gaze, which promised trouble for a certain devil prince if he didn’t mind his Ps and Qs.
My father gave Dialle a sad smile. “Unfortunately I resigned myself to the need to manage Danika years ago, Your Highness. But in this she will help me meet a greater purpose, though she does so unwittingly.”
I felt like a spectator at a fast paced game of whippit. My head was swiveling so fast between the combatants I was starting to get tendonitis in my neck. But the worst part was that I could only understand about half of what they were saying.
I threw a look at Myra but she was too focused on Dialle to notice.
Both angels suddenly tensed and their gazes drifted upward, their thoughts obviously turning inward.
My father stood. “We must go.”
Dialle took a step forward but Myra’s cold blue gaze stopped him. “Know this dark royal,” she pointed a long, elegant finger in my direction, “if this child be harmed in any way you will know such devastation in your ranks that it will take you centuries to recover. She is not an actor in this play.”
A blink later, she and my father were gone.
Dialle cursed and turned a rage-filled gaze to me. Emo, who’d remained silent throughout the discourse between the angels and Dialle, stood up and got between us.
Feeling suddenly frustrated by everybody’s assumption that I was some delicate flower which needed to be protected, I stood and gently shoved Emo to the side. “He isn’t going to hurt me, Emo.” The irony of my statement didn’t escape me. A mere forty hours earlier I was running from him in fear of my life.
The halfling psyche was a strange and fickle thing.
Dialle favored me with a long, slow perusal that heated my blood. “My argument is not with Astra, halfling.
Reminding Emo that he was not full royal was perhaps not the smartest thing Dialle could have done at that moment. Emo pulled himself up to his full six-foot-three-inch height, vibrating with power and anger. A truly frightening mix.
“You have a strange way of showing that you mean her no harm, royal.”
“On the contrary, halfling, it is you who threatens her in the name of friendship. Which is why I was forced to save her from you a mere hour ago in that clearing.”
Emo had the good grace to look embarrassed. “I was not in control of my actions.”
“Exactly.” Dialle’s indictment was clear.
Emo shrugged and said something that surprised us all. “You’re right, Dialle. I endangered Astra by allowing the witches to bespell me. It will not happen again.” His handsome countenance was dark with anger, but it was turned inward.
Dialle stared hard at him for a long moment, apparently searching for signs of insincerity. Apparently finding none, he gave a small nod. “At last we find common ground, halfling.”
Emo’s lips tightened but he said nothing.
“Okay, now that we know who pisses the farthest, can we get on with finding out what the Hades is going on?”
Dialle gave me a long, slow, mischievous grin. “I have not heard an acknowledgement that I won that particular contest, lovely Astra.”
I held his gaze for a few beats. “Shall I tell Emo your greatest fear, Dialle?” I shuffled his mental drawers and added, Redeep in my best frog imitation.
He paled noticeably but, to his credit, the grin widened. “You win, Astra. I’ll be a good devil.”
Emo looked from one to the other of us, a spark in his eye that told me he’d be relentless in trying to find out what I’d threatened Dialle with.
“I’m glad that’s settled. Now, Dialle, fill me in on the half of that conversation that I didn’t understand.”
Dialle shrugged and lowered himself to the divan, crossing one leg over the other, ankle to knee, man style, and throwing an arm over the back of the divan in casual indifference. “I cannot be entirely sure, Astra. But, as the humans say, reading between the lines, something is apparently going on in the Big House that He can’t fix himself. He’s sent your father and aunt out to handle it. Somehow your father is using your mother’s antics to his advantage.”
I looked to Emo and he shrugged. “That was my take too, Astra.”
I dropped my butt back into the chair. “So my mother kidnapped your father, no doubt planning to use him for a power grab. That fits with what we already know.” They both looked confused and I realized I’d forgotten to mention Raoul’s revelation to them both. “But now we know that my father is going along with that plan and managing it in an effort to solve some internal problem.”
I considered the facts as I knew them for a moment, coming to the obvious conclusion. “It can only mean one thing. Someone on the inside, an angel most likely, is working with my mother on the power grab. And my father is trying to find out who it is.”
Dialle nodded, “As well as determining what they have to gain by it.”
Emo said, “That’s easy. Power. If they simply take out King Dialle you will take his place. That gains them nothing unless they take you out too and then there will be another behind you.”
“My brother.”
Emo nodded, “Exactly. But if they time it right, once King Dialle is out of the picture and the royals are leaderless, in turmoil, who would be a natural to step in and take over? Who could make an argument that he or she is better suited for the role than a royal devil prince?” he stared meaningfully at Dialle.
Dialle held my partner’s gaze and I saw the moment Emo’s meaning came clear. “A fallen angel.” His voice was soft with horror at the thought.
Emo glanced at me. I nodded. “It makes perfect sense.”
Emo frowned. “Unfortunately it does yes. And unless I misunderstood my celestial court education, whoever it is that your father is looking for, Astra, will be working to discredit him from within. Making his job even more difficult.”
I thought of Enoch and my heart rebelled. “No.” I whispered. My face must have reflected my horrified realization because Emo and Dialle were watching me carefully.
“What is it, Astra?” Emo asked.
I turned a haunted gaze to him. “I know who the fallen angel is. I’ve talked to him already.”
Dialle stood, “You must tell me who it is, Astra.
My head jerked around so I could glare at him. “And do what, Dialle? You don’t have enough power in the entire court to deal with this particular angel.”
Emo wiped his palms on his slacks, his face slightly green. He’d put the pieces together and knew who I was talking about. “Your father will never believe you.”
“I know. Shit!” Scrubbing my hands over my face in frustration, I looked from one to the other of them and frowned. “I don’t know how we’re going to best Enoch. Or whether I’ll even be able to try, given my feelings for him.”
Emo stared at me, the pain in his eyes mirroring my own. He’d grown up with Enoch too and I could only assume that the feeling of betrayal ran as deep in him as it did in me. “You realize you’ll have to take him up on his offer, Astra?”
Despair twisted my stomach in knots. Expelling a frustrated breath, I nodded. I sat silently for a few beats, thinking. I didn’t have many options. And the few options I had kept circling back to the same thing. I couldn’t defeat Enoch by myself. I could
n’t join my father without alerting my mother to his false support of her. That left me with the final and least palatable option.
“I need to work with Enoch if I’m going to help my father. Our best hope is to distract him and let my father do his job.”
Dialle finally spoke up. “I agree.”
Emo and I shared a glance filled with regret. Shaking my head, I said what he was no doubt thinking. “I just pray Seraphim James won’t let friendship blind him to the truth.”
~SC~
Arriving in my office the next morning I found an urgent message from a client asking me to call her. I dropped my coat in the chair beside the door and dropped wearily into my chair. Cradling my head in my hands, I tried to dredge up the energy to return the client’s call. She’d sounded angry. After a few minutes I lifted my head and tapped the woman’s name into my information unit. Her record popped up immediately. Mx. Samantha Beck had come to me because her daughter had been hanging out with a demon she’d met at one of the downtown clubs. Mx. Beck, the mother, had wanted me to vanquish the demon and, after careful questioning, I’d determined that his behavior met the world government’s strict guidelines for execution. I’d told her I’d vanquish the target by the end of the week. Since that deadline was still a few days away I wasn’t sure what she was angry about. I did a mental shrug and decided there was only one way to find out.
“Return last call.” The televisual kicked in with a high pitched bleep. Within a couple of seconds a woman’s angry face swam into view. “Hello, Mx. Beck...”
“Mx. Phelps. I called to tell you that I will not be paying for your services. What you did was unconscionable. My daughter is in such a state of horrified shock I’ve had to make her an appointment with a therapist to help her cope. I never would have guessed you could be so incompetent, your references were very good...”
“Mx. Beck, hold on a minute. Please tell me what you’re talking about. I told you I would vanquish the target in a few days. I haven’t even done the paperwork on him yet.”
The woman’s voice climbed a few octaves. “Is that your idea of a joke, Mx. Phelps? My daughter had to throw away all of the clothes she was wearing because they were covered in demon gore. She thought she loved that thing and she watched him explode into bits and pieces!”
I shook my head, totally confused. “Someone blasted the target demon already?”
The woman’s face darkened in disbelief. “Yes, Mx. Phelps, someone did blast the demon while he was standing about a foot away from my daughter and that someone was you.”
“That’s impossible!”
“Not impossible, Mx. Phelps. A horrible fact. My daughter’s friend had her portable televisual with her and she got it on film.”
I stared at the woman on the screen, totally baffled. There was no point arguing with her since it was obvious she wouldn’t believe anything I said. “Mx. Beck can you send me that tape?”
My request caught her off guard but she finally agreed after telling me that they’d made copies, as if I were going to destroy the evidence.
A moment later I heard the bleep that told me the video file had arrived. I sat forward in my chair and punched the Play button.
The screen burst into light and sound as a pretty young woman emerged from a popular club on the arm of an extremely good-looking young man. The camera had captured the demon’s mask rather than his true form.
The light faded as they walked away from the building’s facade and started down the street arm in arm. A voice hailed them and the pretty young woman turned to smile at someone off camera.
The picture bounced as if the person holding the televisual was jogging toward the couple.
As the camera bearer approached, young Mx. Beck held a hand out in front of her face and then swiped it toward the camera. “Turn that thing off, Brittany. You’ve been driving me crazy with it all night.”
The young female voice behind the camera giggled. “No way, I want to get you two on film. You make such a cute couple.”
Mx. Beck turned to the demon on her arm and grinned, giving him a sweet kiss on the lips. “I’m sorry I bought her that thing now.”
The demon laughed good-naturedly and turned to the camera. For the merest beat in time something evil glinted in the creature’s eyes and he licked his well-shaped lips. I saw it and I suspect the girl behind the camera saw it too because the picture bobbled for a moment before refocusing onto a smiling Mx. Beck.
“Brittany really...”
There was a shout and the camera swiveled as if the girl behind it had been surprised. Then the camera refocused on the demon, who was taking a step backward with his hands up as if to ward off whatever he saw beyond the camera’s range.
Suddenly a power stream came out of the darkness and the demon shrieked in horror and pain. He exploded like a melon under laser fire, spewing gore over everything within ten feet of the attack.
The camera lurched, bouncing a few times before settling against the littered sidewalk. The screen showed a torn sheet of paper and a discarded piece of cloth on the ground, both coated in green goo. The sound of running mixed with Mx. Beck’s constant shrieking to create a chaotic background to the strange frame.
Amid the pounding of retreating footsteps, a steady footfall approached the camera rather than running away from it. Then soft, black leather boots came into view and something covered the camera lens. The screen bobbed around as it was picked up off the ground.
It wavered and spun and then settled on a very familiar face with a wide grin.
My face. My grin.
The face that looked like mine was joined by a couple of fingers as the person who looked like me wiggled a two fingered greeting at the camera.
Then the image stopped as the camera was presumably shut down.
“Holy bent gargoyle toes!”
I watched the video several more times before I was able to get my mind around what I’d seen.
What the hell?
It wasn’t enough that my life was already hell? That the creatures who I thought were good beyond all doubt were most probably bad beyond my wildest imaginings and the creatures who I thought were bad were probably my best hope for saving the world? That my parents were both up to their eyebrows in trouble and calamity and my best friends were all compromised?
Now somebody was impersonating me and killing my targets?
Could my life get any more complicated? The culmination of the last several days sucked me down into an emotional muck that I was pretty sure I wouldn’t be able to escape.
It felt like the time I’d been tracking an Orgick across the Mars waste and I’d inadvertently stepped into a slog hole and couldn’t pull my leg back out. The slog had sucked and melded and generally locked onto my leg until the only way I could get loose was to shimmy my beautiful leather boot off and leave it in the slog hole. That had just sucked.
Pardon the pun.
I rested my head on the back of my chair. “What the hell else could go wrong?”
As if on cue Myra popped into my office. She didn’t look much happier than Mx. Beck, da momma.
“Astra, would you care to explain why you blasted a demon into pieces right in front of a young human female last night?”
“Hello! You know where I was last night.”
Myra opened her mouth to argue and then realized it would have been nearly impossible for me to have done what everybody seemed to think I’d done to that demon. “What are you telling me? The young woman’s guardian identified you.”
“That wasn’t me.” I turned to the televisual. “Play Beck video.”
Myra watched without expression as I played the video several more times. Then I looked at her and said. “Did you see it?”
She nodded. “It’s a pretty good attempt though. I wouldn’t have noticed if I hadn’t watched it several times and really focused.”
What we’d both seen in the video was that the imposter’s mask had slipped for just the merest blip
in time. It wouldn’t have been noticeable unless you could really study it. But it had been there.
Myra dropped her shapely butt on the corner of my desk and crossed, long, shapely legs under her shimmery robes. “We certainly don’t need this type of thing right now, Astra.”
Her tone of voice was mild for her and I chose not to take the slightly accusatory tone personally. I nodded and peered up at her.
“I’ve been thinking about that, angel and I think that’s exactly the point.”
She frowned. “What’s the point?”
“Don’t you see? Somebody’s afraid I’ll muck up the works on the power grab. If I’m busy defending myself and trying to save my business I’m less likely to get in the way.”
“Makes a certain twisted kind of sense.”
I extended a finger and tapped myself on the forehead, “From a twisted kind of mind.” Then I realized what I’d said and frowned. “Wait, scratch that.”
Myra laughed. The sound was shocking because I so rarely heard it. “No, I think you got it right the first time.”
I stuck my tongue out at her.
“So who do you think is responsible?”
I stood and walked over to the large window behind my desk. The street below was full of people and vehicles. The air was thick with air transportation. A cold wind drove debris into the huddled forms of the walkers and rammed it into the nooks and crannies of vehicles. The sky was leaden gray, promising rain.
Standing there in front of that window a clarifying memory dropped into place.
“I’m pretty sure it was the Devil’s Glenn coven.”
“Why?”
“This wasn’t done by a demon. Demons can only utilize their own masks, they can’t mimic someone else. The Royals would have nothing to gain by keeping me off balance. So it was probably a witch. How does a witch mimic another person’s appearance?”
Myra shrugged. “Black magic.”
I nodded, “Using a biological piece of the person you’re imitating right?”
She nodded.
“Mx. Coltran filched a strand of my hair when she was here. She pretended her bracelet had snagged it but now I know she was harvesting it for the imitation spell.”
