Ange du Mal

by Stephanie Kane

  “Ugh.” I stuck the tape back in place. “Look, we can share Rosanna. You can hang out with us. Just try not to be an idiot.”

  Mo grinned. “Sounds good. See you later, Shannikins.”

  I unwrapped my present in my dorm room. After the unwrapping, Rosanna danced into the room and blew a party horn in my face. “Happy birthday!”

  “Aah!” I startled.

  Rosanna laughed. “You get scared too easily, Dios mio. Are you ready to go?”

  “Where?” I asked, smoothing my jeans.

  “We have dinner reservations in Richmond. Just for you and Mo. It’ll take like an hour to get there. Divya’s driving.” Rosanna reached onto her shelf and pulled down something delicious-smelling, wrapped in tin foil. She paraded it in front of me. “Guess what?”

  “What?”

  “I baked a cake. Red velvet. If I remember, it’s your favorite. I had to fend off a whole pack of wild frat boys in the kitchen when I was making it.”

  I smiled. “You shouldn’t have.”

  “Pfft. Of course I should have.” She grabbed her purse. “Divya’s parked outside. You ready?”

  “Sure.”

  We drove over an hour to Richmond, crammed into Divya’s car. Spring flushed the land, and we rolled down the windows to drink in the flowery breeze.

  The reservations were at an upscale restaurant near the Byrd theatre, nothing like the dive-y jazz bar Samael had dragged me to. We talked of summer plans and finals anxieties, then caught a zombie flick afterwards. The cake was perfect, the evening even more so. Even Mo was tolerable.

  We toasted each other on Trothman’s rooftop with champagne at midnight, having snuck out the third floor boy’s bathroom window and climbed up the gutter to the shingles.

  I drained the last drops from my glass. “You guys, this was great. Thanks so much.”

  My phone buzzed with a text.

  Rosanna looked at my phone screen. “Is that your gentleman caller?”

  Mo nudged me with his elbow. “You mean the mysterious guy Shannon barely mentions?”

  “He’s not mysterious,” I said. I glanced at the message:

  “A LITTLE CROW TOLD ME IT WAS YOUR BIRTHDAY. MEET ME BY THE LAKE? ”

  “Oh my god,” I said. “He used an emoji.”

  “Samael sent you an emoji?” Divya asked. “That’s out of character.”

  “What kind of name is Samael? Is that the Goth version of Samuel?” Mo said. He narrowed his eyes. “I don’t like this guy. Guys don’t use emojis unless they’re gay.”

  I flipped my phone closed. “Oh my god, that’s homophobic. Please stop.”

  “I’m just saying,” Mo said. “Your boyfriends are like footballs – I trust them as far as I can throw them, and I can’t throw them far. You have horrible taste in men.”

  “I do not!” I said. “Peter was romantic.”

  Mo snorted. “Peter was a pothead. Then there was Thomas, the kid who couldn’t eat PB and Js without the crusts cut off, and Regino, the one that became a male stripper.”

  I crossed my arms over my chest. “They were all nice. Your standards are too high.”

  He tossed his plastic cup off the roof. “For my sister? Of course.”

  “Don’t litter!” I said, punching him in the side. “Guys, do you mind if I go?”

  “The garbage disposal awaits,” Rosanna said.

  “Thanks.” I climbed down the gutter into the boy’s bathroom.

  Samael was by the lakeside in a bed of tulips, smoking. “Shannon?” he said. He patted the ground beside him.

  “Hey.” I sat next to him. “What’s up?”

  “Just looking at the constellations. They’re particularly bright tonight.” He pointed to Orion. “There’s Kesil, the Jewish angel.”

  I leaned against a tree. “I can never remember the constellation names.”

  “Are there too many to memorize?”

  I pillowed my head on my hands. “I guess.”

  Samael smiled. “Night is my favorite time. Everything is clearer, not just the stars.” He reached into the pocket of his robe and pulled out a small, gift-wrapped box. He gave it to me. “Happy birthday.”

  “You didn’t have to,” I said.

  He closed my hands around the gift. “Go on. Open it.”

  I gingerly unwrapped it. Inside was an ornate wooden box with mother-of-pearl inlay. I undid the clasp, lifting the lid to reveal an hourglass. Shimmering sand slipped through down the neck of the glass in ribbons.

  “It’s beautiful,” I said. “What is it?”

  “It’s my hourglass. It lets you peer into human’s lives and observe them. Think of someone, anyone.”

  “Really? Wow. Okay.”

  I thought of my dad.

  He was in his office, drinking craft beer, going over legal documents. The image faded after a few seconds.

  “Wow,” I said. “This could be used for devious purposes.”

  He draped his arm over my shoulders. “I’m a gentleman. I would never.”

  “No you’re not.”

  Samael smirked. “I wouldn’t mind if you spied on me.”

  I looked up at the sky. “Thanks. But don’t you need this to find people who are about to die? Doesn’t it like tell you when their time runs out?”

  He ran his hand my arm. “I instinctively know when it’s time to reap someone. The hourglass is just an accessory – people expect the Grim Reaper to carry one, so I do. I have no use for it.”

  The morning star twinkled, standing belfry to the moon. “What happens after we die?”

  Samael’s eyes were hooded. “I don’t know. Some souls come back, like yours, and some don’t. Eventually, they all go away.”

  My skin prickled at his reply. “Don’t people go to Heaven? What about the Claimed?”

  Samael squeezed my arm. “No, Heaven is for angels. And the Claimed stay in Hell until their side of their soul-bargain is fulfilled. Even the damned leave. They repent, and I send them on their way. What happens after death is life’s greatest mystery, something even I’m not privy to.”

  I wondered if he was lying. “But don’t reincarnated souls remember where they came from? Can’t you ask them?”

  He laced his fingers through mine. “Reincarnation is rare, and when it happens, the souls are blank slates, with no memories of who they were, or where they came from. It’s theorized that they stay in places like Limbo – waystations for souls – but no one’s really sure.”

  I leaned my head on his arm. “I thought you’d know.”

  He ran his thumb over my knuckles. “I wish.”

  The moon swelled like a ship’s sail. I watched it inch across the sky. Samael’s arm warmed my cheek.

  “It feels weird being nineteen – like I’m stuck in the middle,” I said. “I’m sort of a teenager, and I’m kind of an adult. I have all these responsibilities now: my experiment, my studies, this whole ascendant thing. I never thought college would be like this.”

  Samael shifted so his chin rested atop my head. “Did you think it would be endless keggers and boys?”

  I laughed. “I don’t know. Sort of. I just thought it would be different. More like TV – you know, sororities, lots of drinking, professor-student relationship scandals. College is actually kind of tame.”

  He wrapped his arms around my waist. “God forbid it be normal.”

  My back fit against his chest like a key in a lock. “It’s good that it’s low-key. I have enough on my plate, with you and all this supernatural crap.”

  “Mmm.” He pressed his face into my hair and inhaled deeply.

  I squirmed. “You’re smelling me again.”

  “So what?” He planted a kiss on the crown of my head. “Your soul smells good. Like-”

  “Don’t say it.” I broke free of his embrace. “I didn’t come here to be smelt up.”

  He pulled me back to him, onto his lap. “How about felt up?”

  “Oh my god. You’re an idiot.”
/>   Without warning, he pinned me to the grass. My face brushed flowers.

  His breath was hot on my forehead. “I’m afraid that you don’t have a choice. I still haven’t given you your birthday kisses.”

  I curled my hands around his wrists. “Those aren’t a thing.”

  “I’m making them a thing.” His lips skimmed mine.

  Heat flared in my gut. My mouth danced against his.

  “Sam,” I breathed.

  “Shh,” he said, caressing my temple.

  His cell phone rang.

  “Damn it,” Samael said, sliding off me. He answered his phone: “What, Michael? I’m busy.” His eyes shot open. “Beelzebub’s balls. They what?”

  “What is it?” I said, sitting up.

  “We’ll be right there.” Samael closed his phone. “Raziel has the Lapis Elixir. He’s trying to open the seal with your blood. Unfortunately, it might work.”

  I crushed a tulip in anger. “The Lapis Elixir? There’s another freaking stone? Why does no one tell me these things?”

  Samael’s face was grim. “I thought it was gone. The Lapis Elixir is the Philosopher’s Stone – it was the twin of the Lapis Exillis and belonged to Michael. He lost it in the War. It’s been missing for eons. But Michael’s scouts picked up unusual amount of ether in London, something that would match a tampered-with seal. After the Holy Grail was destroyed, the next seal to be activated would be the Lapis Elixir. It has to be it.”

  “And only I can destroy the Lapis Elixir, like the Holy Grail?”

  Samael nodded. “I’m sorry this happened on your birthday.”

  I stood and wiped dirt from my jeans. “It’s fine. I’ve never been to London. How are we getting there?”

  He smiled without humor. “You’re an ascendant, aren’t you? You can open gateways, not just to other realms.”

  My jaw dropped. “You mean, all this time, I could have traveled the world? Why didn’t you tell me?”

  Samael draped his arm over my shoulder. “You’d get lost if you tried to navigate yourself. You need me to guide you.”

  “Bullcrap. I could have been a jetsetter. I could have gone to Bali. I could have gone to Spain.” I shook my head. “Wow, okay. London it is.” I summoned my petersword, focused on Big Ben, and opened a portal to Britain’s capital. We entered the void between reality and Samael guided me forward, scanning the black.

  “Exit here. The ether’s strongest in this area,” he said.

  “Okay.”

  We emerged in an ivy-choked graveyard. War cries rang through the air.

  Samael stiffened. “Highgate Cemetery. There’s always been supernatural activity here. No wonder this is where the Philosopher’s Stone fell.”

  A bloody Gabriel emerged from the shadows, flanked by angelic mercenaries. “Sam, Shannon. The Watchers are in the Terrace Catacombs. They’re holding us back, but we’ve almost broken through their ranks. Michael can clear the way for you. You need to act fast – the seal is breaking.”

  My skin prickled. “You mean Raziel’s using my blood?”

  Gabriel’s lips were a thin line. “I’m afraid so,” she said.

  Samael summoned his scythe. “Ready, Shannon?”

  I nodded.

  He handed me his scythe and slipped under my skin. Black smoke trailed into my lungs. I choked, hunched over from the pain as he stretched inside me.

  I opened my eyes to a world of indescribable color. My wings flared out – Samael pulled the muscles taut, and I flew off the ground, following Gabriel through thickly-leaved trees. We came to an alley of vaults where lower-ranked Watchers battled back angels. Michael was at the forefront, shouting commands. He cut Watchers to charred bits with his sword.

  I swung Samael’s scythe in fluid arcs and made my way to the angelic general. I landed beside him.

  “Shannon,” Michael said, wiping blood from his cheek. He looked to his archers, stationed above the mausoleums. “Fire the adamant!”

  The veiled archers let loose their weapons. Molten silver arrows flew through the air, striking the Watchers through the heart. They fell to the ground, paralyzed, clearing a path to an open mausoleum. The other Watchers cried out, advancing.

  “Go,” Michael said. “Raziel’s inside. I’ll stand guard.”

  Damn it, Samael thought.

  “Okay,” I said, half-flying, half-running forward. I plunged into the darkness of the tomb. Michael closed the stone doors behind me.

  Water dripped from the ceiling. A spiral staircase sunk into the floor before me. Chthonic chants came from below.

  “If there are rats, I’m going to scream,” I said.

  Focus. Samael’s anxiety twisted my gut.

  My mind flashed back to hollow-eyed Azazel, to Raziel’s scalpel, to my excavated chest. I shuddered. “I can’t do this.”

  Relax. I’ll take over.

  “Okay.”

  I took a deep breath. My limbs loosened, and my skin rippled into gooseflesh. Samael moved me forward.

  I descended the staircase and entered the tomb. It was an ossuary, hung with bones. Raziel, Azazel, Semyaza, and Sariel stood round a raised coffin. Perched atop it was an amber jewel. Raziel let my blood drip onto it from a brass censer. The censer spiced the air with frankincense and the iron tang of hemoglobin.

  Raziel paused from chanting and pinned me with his gaze. “You came, dear?” He smiled. “I was beginning to worry you’d forgotten us. But blood calls to blood, and your curiosity always preceded you.”

  My grip on the scythe tightened. Samael’s voice exited my throat, rubbing my windpipe raw: “Drop the censer. Your idiocy ends here.”

  Raziel raised his dark brows. “Samael, is that you? How distasteful. Possessing an innocent. Then again, I wouldn’t put it past you.”

  Samael’s fury broiled in my gut. He spoke: “You touched her, you filth-licking bastard. How dare you. She’s mine.”

  Azazel laughed. “Yours? She’s Heaven’s bicycle. Everyone rode Eve – Lilith, Adam, you. Why not give us a turn?”

  Samael roared, firing a bolt from his scythe via my arms. It hit Azazel square in the chest. Azazel slammed into the ossuary wall.

  “Whore,” Azazel said, unable to rise. His flesh sizzled.

  “You don’t know your place, bitch,” Sariel said. He fired a round at my stomach. I dove to the side, deflecting the stream of bullets with the scythe. They ricocheted off the walls.

  Sariel and Semyaza cornered me behind the coffin, their guns raised. Raziel watched, his smile like rain on glass. Semyaza managed to hit me in the leg.

  Damn it!

  I took to the air, unable to stand. I dove towards the Watchers, my blade a crimson slash, and caught Semyaza off-guard. With Semyaza incapacitated, I diced Sariel to bits. Just like I had Jeqon, I pierced Sariel’s heart and twisted to the left. He turned to dust.

  “No!” Semyaza said. He grabbed me by the neck and throttled me.

  “Screw you,” I choked. I hooked the scythe through the back of Semyaza’s head like a fishing lure.

  Semyaza’s face crumpled. Blood streamed down his nose, out his eye sockets. “My face,” he said, scythe piercing his soft palate. He let me go.

  I fell to the ground, gasping for air. Samael made me reach into my wound and pry the bullet loose. The bloody hole warmed as he directed healing energy to it. My skin sealed shut. I stood.

  Azazel crawled away from me, on fire. Semyaza clawed at his face.

  Why aren’t they healing? I thought.

  They’re weakened from their time in Dudael.

  So the Watchers are out. But what about Raziel?

  Let me handle this.

  Raziel put down the censer. “Nice work. I applaud you.” He pulled a silver thread from his pocket and pulled it taut. “If I know you, Sam, you haven’t looked at her soul closely, and you haven’t properly assessed how close she is to death. Of course, the date isn’t set in stone, but you wouldn’t want to know the probabilities. It would worry you, w
ouldn’t it? That your time with her could be cut short. Not having properly examined her, you wouldn’t know her soul’s condition – or if a part of it was missing.” Raziel smiled.

  Samael tightened my grip on his scythe. “You pox-ridden bastard,” he said.

  What is it? I thought.