“I was going to suggest charades. But sexual – sexual I can do. Thought it might be difficult without a tongue.”
“I’m going to barf.”
“Charades it is.”
The hours passed slowly. There was no cell phone reception on my dinosaur of a phone, so I couldn’t text my family and tell them I was okay. I worried about the consequences.
“I spy something red,” Samael said.
“Is it my hair again?” I asked, bored.
Samael feigned surprise. “How did you know?”
I sighed. “You’re really bad at this game.”
I yawned, then checked my phone. It was 3 in the morning. “I’m so tired…”
“Then rest,” Samael said. “I have enough strength now to lull you to sleep.”
“But I’ll freeze. Aren’t you supposed to stay awake if you’re lost and cold? Not that I’m really lost. We’re right near the Metro.”
Samael slipped out of his robe, which was a sight I so did not need to see. He tossed the garment at me.
I caught it. “What am I supposed to do with this?”
“Wear it.”
“Won’t you freeze?”
He shook his head. “I’m fine.”
The robe hung on me loosely, but it had an insulating effect. I thumbed the material. It felt like liquid. “What is this made of?” I asked.
“The Abyss.”
“That’s really weird.” I snuggled into the robe. “Can we find a park bench and make like bums so I can sleep?”
Samael chuckled. “Sure.”
I woke to Samael poking me.
“The park’s about to open. I need my robe back, unless you want to see me commando.”
I wiped sleep-grit from my eyes. “Wha?”
“Robe.”
“Oh, right.”
I eased out of it. Samael put it on and shifted back to his human form.
“Aren’t you afraid someone’s going to see you looking like a punk monk?” I asked.
Samael stretched, his snakebite piercings lit by the dawn. “Remember? Mortals can’t see immortals under normal circumstances. That effect extends to my associates, like you.”
Confusion knotted my brain. “Then how could I see the Watchers?”
“Because you’re not fully human. When I gave Eve my heart, she became like the seraphim. That allows you to see immortals.”
We walked to the park entrance and on to the Metro station. My cell phone finally got reception. I dialed my dad and held my breath.
“Kiddo? Where are you? We were about to go to the police!”
I spun a lie. “I drank something bad, dad. I think someone roofied me.”
I could hear his heart stop. “Jesus Christ. Did anything happen? Can you remember anything?”
Guilt cinched my gut. “Yeah, dad, my memory’s hazy, but it’s there. The person who drugged me must have lost me. All I did was wander around and go to sleep in, um, in an alley. I just woke up. I’m fine. I took a cab to the Metro and I’m about to get on. Can you pick me up after I get to the Vienna stop?”
“No, Shannon. Stay where you are. I’m coming to get you. We’re going to a doctor right away for-” he choked back tears, “-for testing. Then we’re going to the police.”
My marrow froze. “No, dad. Really, I’m fine.”
“You’re a biology student. You know how dangerous drugs can be. Don’t move. I’m driving there now. Do you want me to stay on the phone with you?”
“No, like I said, I’m fine. You’re really overreacting.”
“I’m not overreacting. We thought you were gone. If that happened, I couldn’t – I couldn’t live with myself. You’re my little girl.”
“Dad, stop it! You’re making me feel horrible.”
“I’m sorry. Are you sure you don’t want me to stay on the phone?”
“Nope, I’m good. See you soon.” I hung up before he could protest.
I looked at Samael and made a cutting motion across my throat. “My head on a platter. That’s what’s going to happen, all because of those stupid Watchers. Ugh, why couldn’t they just leave me alone? What do they want from me?”
Samael’s face darkened. “There could be many reasons, none of which are pleasant. Are you alright?”
I smoothed my skirt. “My dad’s a wreck, which means my mom is too, and I don’t even know how bad Mo feels after losing me at the concert like that.”
My father picked me up, in tears, and we went to the emergency room for testing. The doctors didn’t find a trace of drugs, even though they made me pee in a cup. My arms were red from blood draws and I grew to hate the smell of waxed linoleum floors. Next was the police station. I couldn’t give a clear description of the suspect, and claimed I didn’t remember what the drink was, so my family filed a mostly useless report. I dealt with a shaken household for the rest of break and a mirthless New Year’s.
Chapter 17
My parents were reluctant to let me return to Hortense and warned me multiple times about drinking. But I’d be damned if something kept me from my Ecology 101 class.
“Ecology is the Earth in motion,” said Dr. Crane, a woman with short black curls and skin the color of coffee. We were half an hour into the first day of class for spring semester. Dr. Crane adjusted her glasses. “I want you all to take a walk in the College Woods. Peel back bark and look for termites. Watch for birds – maybe a hawk, maybe an owl. Bring a journal and write down what you see. Think – what put these organisms there? Why are the trunks of the wetland trees near the lake swollen at their bases? What physiological processes are occurring in plants that lay dormant for the winter? Dig up roots, look for the nodules on legumes. Think about the symbiotic bacteria in them, without which there wouldn’t be agriculture. Everything is balanced, like a top spinning.”
She pulled the mentioned top from her pocket and set it twirling on her desk. It moved in lazy circles, then came to a stop. She caught it before it rolled to the floor.
Dr. Crane smiled. “There are inflows and outflows. Apex predators and detritovores. Everything has a place, a rhythm. When you walk in the woods, try and find yours.”
I did just that. Gog and Magog sailed through the sky after me. I found a wolf spider and followed its scuttling trail, down a ravine to a creek. I looked at the markings on its abdomen and sketched them in my notebook. Water trickled by, laced with algae and sediment.
Next week, Dr. Crane asked me to visit her office after class. Nervous, I entered the airy room in the top floor of the biology building, to the right of the rooftop greenhouse. I sat in a cushy chair opposite her.
“Shannon O’Connor. It’s nice to formally meet you,” Dr. Crane said. A portable kettle whistled behind her. She swiveled in her chair to attend to it. “Would you like tea? I have earl gray and mint.”
I relaxed my grip on the sides of my chair. “Mint would be great, thanks.”
She fixed herself a drink and handed me my cup. “You must be wondering why I’ve asked you here.”
“Um, yeah,” I said.
Dr. Crane blew on her tea to cool it. “I looked over your assignment from last week - your nature walk observations. They’re very detailed, like an ecologist’s notebook. I can’t help but see myself in you.”
I blushed. “I don’t know what to say. Thank you.”
She nodded, smile warm. “I looked at your transcript. You have stellar grades, and I noticed you interned at a nature center the summer before you attended Hortense.”
I nodded. “Yep. I did. It was great. I got to handle snakes and feed turtles.”
“How fun. Hands-on experiences like that are one of the best ways to learn.” Dr. Crane took a sip of her tea. “I feel that your passion and abilities qualify you for my lab. I’m always looking for enthusiastic students.”
My eyes lit up. “Really?”
Dr. Crane set her mug down. “Yes. I noticed your interest in wolf spiders. Your sketch was very detailed. I’m an ornithologis
t by trade, but I dabble in entomology. My lab deals with evolutionary biology. I like to give my students leeway in their research and the opportunity to get a paper under their belts before graduation. Many of my students are published by the time they reach senior year. I could see you having the same success.”
I looked at my feet. My blush deepened. “I don’t know.”
“Don’t doubt yourself. Just because you’re young doesn’t mean you can’t accomplish great things. I’m getting a new graduate student this month: Arietta Lovato. Perhaps you could work with her.”
And that was how I ended up breeding spiders with a werewolf.
Arietta, Samael, and I sat at Damien’s bar. Damien hummed along to Italian opera.
Samael couldn’t stop laughing. “Hah! Let me get this straight. You’re – aha – studying spider’s sex lives? Isn’t that a bit too deviant for you?”
I squeezed my mug of root beer. “I thought it was a good research idea – looking at how mate selection relates to predation.”
“It is,” Arietta said, nursing a beer. Her dreadlocks were woven with silver charms. “And sorry I didn’t tell you I was going to Hortense for grad school. I wanted to surprise you. I’m studying red-cockaded woodpeckers. Dr. Crane’s one of the best ornithologists in North America. It’s amazing that I’m working with her on my Ph.D.”
“That’s my girl,” Damien said, proud. “You always loved chasing birds, even when you were a pup.”
“That’s right, dad.” Arietta smiled. “But I can help you with your study, Shannon. We can order supplies and raise the spiders together. I can help feed them.”
Samael downed his absinthe. “I know. How about I lend you some of my crows? They can eat your spider sex club.” Samael burst out laughing.
I glared at Samael. “It’s not a spider sex club.”
Samael snorted. “Right, I forgot – it’s science.”
Arietta narrowed her eyes. “You could learn something from us. Hell relies too much on magic. There’s no place made for innovation. It’s not valued. The only thing anyone cares about is tradition. There’s no room for new ideas. Nothing changes. We should be more like humanity, more dynamic.”
“I’ll leave that to you,” Samael said. He turned to Damien. “I remember when I was young and radical.”
Anger flushed Arietta’s face. “I’m not radical. I have good ideas, and so does my generation, if you and the other archdemons would just listen to us.”
Samael steepled his fingers under his chin. “What are you suggesting?”
Arietta crossed her arms over her chest. Her tattooed knuckles made a statement under the bar-light. “Elections. You’ve grown corrupt. Maybe you can fool my father, but I see straight through you. You’re selfish, and you’ve let Hell go to waste. We need a new government.”
“Arietta!” Damien said. “Watch your muzzle”
“It’s fine.” Samael’s eyes hardened. “Hell isn’t a democracy, Arietta. We do things this way because it works. My people, you included, are constantly under siege, barely surviving by the skin on our teeth. In Hell, power rules. That’s all.”
“That’s a weak excuse,” I said. “Anyways, if you’re so powerful, why did you faint when Sariel shot you with that adamant bullet thing?”
“Adamant?” Damien said. “When the hell did that happen?”
Samael’s lips drew thin. “It’s not important.”
Damien’s temple throbbed. “Only Metatron can make those – a few a year, at most – out of the Word of God. And Raziel the Secretkeeper guards them with utmost care. How did the Watchers get them?”
Samael grew irritated. “I don’t know. Will you and your daughter let me drink my absinthe in peace?”
Damien gave a low growl. “No.” He swiped Samael’s absinthe from his hands. “Someone’s supplying the bullets. Who?”
Samael snatched back his drink. “I don’t know! You think I’m not devoting every resource to figuring out who the supplier is? The Watchers are elusive – how do you think they escaped Dudael? They’ve had centuries to plot their revenge. Who knows what allies they made during their imprisonment? Which angels visited them while they were in shackles? Azazel’s persuasive, Semyaza even more so. They could have won dozens of angels to their side. Maybe even an archangel. But which one, and why? These are the questions that rob me of sleep.” Samael hung his head. “I’m doing everything I can. They almost took Shannon.” He balled his hands into fists. “To think of what they did to her. I can’t live with myself, knowing what happened.”
I put a hand on Samael’s shoulder. “Hey. I’m okay.”
He covered my hand with his. “But I’m not. I was supposed to protect you, and I couldn’t.” Samael looked at Damien’s daughter. “I’m glad you’re on campus with Shannon. It’s an added level of safety.”
Arietta nodded. “That’s kind of the reason I applied to Hortense. I’ll keep an eye out for danger.”
Samael turned to Damien. “Shannon needs a new petersword.”
Equipped with a new weapon, I went back to Samael’s, and we trained. Midway through our session, Samael’s phone rang.
“Hello?” Samael said. I tried to listen to the other line, but only heard indistinct chatter.
Samael cursed, then closed his phone.
“What’s wrong?” I said.
“Loki just called. He’s in a standoff with Michael. Heaven’s moved on to the next phase of their plan. They’re locking the portals from Earth to the otherworlds. They’re trying to break the Bifrost bridge that leads to Asgard. Heimdall’s hurt. He needs backup.”
My eyes widened. “You know Loki? Isn’t he an evil crossdresser?”
“Of course I know Loki. And he’s not evil, just lukewarm. Come on, we have to go.” Samael summoned a portal, supposedly to Viking heaven.
I didn’t move. “Wait, what’s Bifrost? Why is Michael breaking it? Who’s Heimdall?”
Samael bit his lip in irritation. “It’s a rainbow that connects Earth to Asgard. Heimdall is Bifrost’s guardian. If he’s down, that means they’re close to severing Asgard’s connection to Earth.” He pulled me into the black void.
We emerged in chaos. Blood on mossy fields, innards strewn across flowers. Berserkers in bearskin fought against veiled angels. Valkyries flew above, like something from a Wagner opera. A city of silver and wood rose in the distance, and before me was a great gulf into darkness, spanned by a glimmering bridge.
I summoned my petersword. A swarthy man with gold teeth clutched his guts. He struggled to rise at the foot of Bifrost. Michael stood above him, his flaming sword held high.
“Surrender,” Michael said.
Heimdall spat blood at Michael’s feet. “I’d rather Yggdrasil burn than wave the white flag for you.”
Michael’s smile was thin. “It will burn if you do nothing.”
Thunder clashed above Michael’s head, and over his shoulder a chariot descended, pulled by giant goats. The vehicle carried a burly man with a hammer. The attacker drove his weapon into Michael’s shoulder.
Lightning exploded from the impact. Michael flew off Bifrost and plummeted into the darkness. The angels swarmed, and the chariot raced after him.
“Thor,” Samael said. “But where are Odin and Loki?”
“Here,” came a gravelly voice. I turned to see a hoary man with an eye-patch beat down angels with his staff. He charged forward on an eight-legged steed. Behind him was an elfish-looking figure. He shot plumes of fire from his fingertips, incinerating Heaven’s army.
“Just in time, Sam,” said the fire-setter.
“What the hell happened, Loki?” Samael said, guarding me from an attacking angel.
Loki shrugged. “I went for a walk. Everything was fine. I came back, everything was on fire. Usually that’s my doing, but I couldn’t remember incinerating anything, so I assumed the worst.”
The hoary man pummeled a cherubim. His horse reared.
“Are you Gandalf?” I said.<
br />
The rider gave a rough laugh. “Better than Gandalf. Is she the ascendant?”
Samael chopped an angel in two. Chunks of its brains flew onto my pants. “Of course, Odin. Why else would I bring her?”
I wiped the gore from my jeans and felt bile rise in my throat. “Um, what do I do?”
Samael’s face was grim. “We need to force Michael and the angels back through the heaven’s gate.” He pointed to a white hole in the sky. “I need you to close it.”
Ange du Mal Page 18
