by Debra Dunbar
And sex. Okay, it was all about demons getting some angel nookie. But Gabe didn’t need to know about that.
“This shouldn’t be happening.” Sleazy glared at me. “Demons not in your household aren’t allowed here under the terms of the treaty, and angels beyond the Grigori are not allowed contact with demons.”
“And Grigori should be killing them, not taking them out for movie and a dinner,” New Guy drawled. He’d always disliked me, but that dislike had become a white-hot flame of hatred after the durf incident. It was okay. I hated him too.
“Projects of this nature need to be presented to the Ruling Council for approval before they are implemented.” Gabriel was addressing this comment to Raphael. It was nice to have the heat off of me for a change.
Rafi bit back a smile. “It was a pilot program, brother. We thought to gather data on effectiveness and present it to the Ruling Council to support the large-scale project proposal. I know how much you love data.”
He was so bad. I think I loved him almost as much as I loved Gregory.
Gabe glared at his brother. “Halt your pilot program now. We’ll hear your project proposal along with any data you’ve collected so far at the fifth Ruling Council meeting from today. Until then, Infernal Mates is closed. Understand?”
Yikes. I’d never heard Gabe be so stern with his younger brother, especially in an official meeting where they were supposed to be equal peers. And where the heck was the vote? I wanted a vote.
I didn’t get a vote, because Gabe was plowing ahead to the next agenda item with uncharacteristic speed. “The third topic is a rather charged one, so we’ll need to allow time for ample discussion.”
The angels shuffled their papers, every one of them staring intently at the documents. I got the feeling this next topic was about me. Perhaps I would have known for sure if I ever read the agenda.
“On the matter of the Iblis…”
Yep. About me. What now? Rafi and I had already lost Infernal Mates, and I doubted the presentation in five meetings would change that ruling. Gregory wouldn’t continue to support my venture with the noise in Aaru about purity and all that crap. Rafi and my business were going to have to wait a few centuries for a more favorable climate to continue. Seems Uriel wasn’t the only one whose personal endeavors were being inconvenienced by the rebellion above.
“A well-signed petition has come to us addressing the seat on the Ruling Council that is held by the Iblis.”
Huh? A petition? What the fuck? “What, you all are a democracy now?” I interrupted. “Everyone votes and out I go? That’s a crock of shit.”
“Let us hold our debate until the Ancient Revered Archangel Gabriel has finished reading the agenda item,” New Guy scolded.
“She has a point,” Gregory added. I noticed no one scolded him for not following the Angelic Rules of Order, or whatever the fuck they were. “We have never entertained petitions in the past. If this choir wants to introduce an agenda item, they need to follow protocol and have their representative on the Council do it for them.”
“It’s not just from one choir,” Sleazy jumped in. “See for yourself. The petition has significant representation from across all of our groups. We cannot ignore an issue that the majority of our angelic host feels strongly about.”
That muscle was back to working in Gregory’s jaw, even though he otherwise seemed composed. “In the interest of time, then, let’s proceed. I just don’t want to set a precedent for this sort of thing.”
Everyone nodded and Gabe continued. “There is concern that her presence is disruptive and not in keeping with positive evolution of the humans, as well as lowering the vibration patterns of the angelic host as a whole.”
I glared at Gabe. “So all the sins of the heavens are laid at my feet? You all fucked up the humans just fine without my, or any other demon’s, help. You guys were bickering over shit long before I picked up that sword. You’re the ones who keep giving me work to do, putting me in charge of Fallen Angels and deadbeat humans.”
“But you must admit that the situation in Aaru and among the humans has become more chaotic and unruly since your presence on the Council,” New Guy noted calmly.
I was an Angel of Chaos. What the fuck did he expect?
“The position for an Iblis on the Council was part of the treaty signed after the war,” Gregory said. “We do away with that position and we will be breaking the treaty. That will have consequences that I can assure you we don’t want to face, especially at this time.”
What consequences? The only part of the treaty that the demons chafed under was the section that said we weren’t allowed to be in the human realm. Trespass was punishable by death. Not that we cared. The reward was by far worth the risk. Would breaking the treaty give us free rein here? I wasn’t sure how I felt about that. I’d gotten used to me and my household being the only demons with immunity. A sudden influx of demons among the humans wasn’t really something I wanted to contemplate. That was too much chaos, even for me.
New Guy scowled. “The demons have devolved to the point where they are all cockroaches. They can’t create their own gateways, present company and possibly a few Ancients excluded. They are ridiculously easy to kill. They’re not very intelligent. It’s not like they abide by the treaty anyway. Why should we be the only ones following the letter of the law while they break it with impunity?”
He had a point. Although I wasn’t going to admit it.
Gabriel looked over at Gregory, exchanging some wordless communication that I wasn’t able to interpret.
“The gateways, the seat on the Ruling Council…they were put in place for a very specific reason,” Gabriel intoned slowly. “It’s been almost three million years. That reason…it’s not going to happen. I agree that it’s past time for us—both parties—to consider the lopsided nature of the treaty.”
Oh that fucking traitor. If there had been a pastry handy, I would have been shoving it in Gabriel’s face right now.
“You mean the elves?” Sleazy asked. “I do think we need to keep the gateways open for the elves, but I honestly don’t see any reason for there to be an Angel of Chaos on the Ruling Council. Our angelic brethren are gone. They’ve been gone for over two million years. They’re not allowed back in Aaru, and they’re all demons now. We should cut the ties, and close down all but one gate. That should be easy enough to monitor.”
“The gates weren’t created for the elves,” Rafi told him, his voice strained. “Everyone said that, but they were actually meant as a welcome mat for Samael. So was holding the seat for the Iblis on the Council. Those provisions were written into the treaty in case Samael ever returned.”
His words were met with silence. No one had ever spoken Samael’s name in Council. I’d rarely known Gregory to refer to him. It was a horrible, painful hole in all three brothers’ hearts—four including Uriel. Samael the rebel. The angel who’d led the opposing side in the war. All of Aaru may have written him off, but his brothers hadn’t.
“Is this true?” New Guy asked.
Gregory’s expression had hardened with Raphael’s words, his black eyes like onyx. “There is no need to mince words, brother. I’m well aware that Samael is most likely dead.” He turned to New Guy. “Yes, the gateways, the seat on the Council were all worded into the treaty with the hope of a future reconciliation, but now they serve a different purpose. We need the Angels of Chaos to come back. They give us balance. We lost that after the war, but our course has begun to right now that we have an Iblis. This change is painful, but the end result will be worth the work.”
“We had balance,” New Guy argued hotly. “Had. We were working through blockages and stagnation. This violent upheaval that her presence causes is tearing us apart. You must see that. Send her off to take care of issues in Hel. It’s where she belongs. We’ll be able to bring the rebels around to our side once she’s gone. We’ll have peace once again in Aaru.”
I suddenly couldn’t breathe as I realiz
ed the implications of his words. Aaru was beyond civil unrest at this point, they were in outright war. And I was the flashpoint. Gregory would need to choose between his beloved homeland and me. The other angels could vote how they may, but in this, his was the only vote that would count.
And he needed to talk to me after the meeting. Suddenly I was dreading that talk.
“Maybe she can go on pilgrimage,” Sleazy added. “Just for a few millennia. We can close the gates so none of the demons can come through. It will give us time to regain equilibrium. After that, we can vote on a possible reinstatement of her seat on the Council.”
I’d hated this fucking job when I first got it. I still hated it, but in a good sort of way. I wasn’t about to be kicked out and sent to Hel like a naughty child. No fucking way. Over my dead body. I wasn’t leaving my job, and I wasn’t leaving Gregory. There had to be another way.
“That’s an excellent idea,” New Guy chimed in. “I vote for a five thousand year pilgrimage where she takes care of matters in Hel. We can discuss matters at that time and extend the pilgrimage further if necessary.”
Banishment is what they were really talking about, not some fucking pilgrimage. All this about temporarily being ousted from my seat and a possible reinstatement was bullshit. It was banishment, and there would be nothing temporary about it. Once I was gone, I’d never be back.
“Fine.” I shrugged, trying not to reveal how panicked I felt at the possibility of losing everything I’d gained over the last few years. “Go ahead and send me to Hel. Have fun guiding the humans and all that shit. Who should I give the list of non-creditworthy ones to? Who is taking on that project? Oh, and Fallen Angels? I’ve only got the one right now, but someone needs to manage him. And those wild gates are going to be difficult to close without demons to help you locate them. I’m sure you’ll manage just fine.”
That gave them pause. New Guy and Sleazy shot me a surprised look. What did they think they was going to happen? That they’d kick me to the curb and go listen to harp music and meditate? There was work to be done—most of it clean-up from a mess of their own creation. They’d soon miss me if they went forward with this insane idea of taking my Council seat away and throwing me back to Hel.
“Oh, and one more thing. Didn’t you promise the elves you’d leave the light on? How are they supposed to return to your loving arms when you’ve closed all the gates, hmmm?”
New Guy glared at me. “One. We said we’d leave one gateway open for them. Besides, the elves aren’t coming. If they haven’t returned by now, they’re not going to. Anyway, you heard Raphael—the gateways were never meant for the elves, they were meant for Samael. He’s not coming either. No Samael. No elves. No need for gateways.”
The elves didn’t need the angel gates to travel—they’d developed that skill a long time ago, but I wasn’t going to let this one go.
“Wrong, you stupid moron. The elves are coming. They’re packing up their shit and coming home as we speak. It’s going to really suck when they find all the gateways are closed. Poor, poor elves. Forsaken by the very beings who’d always promised to be there for them.”
Oops. I wasn’t supposed to tell them. I shot a quick look over at Gregory and saw that he had his eyes closed, as if he’d suddenly developed a migraine. Still, it was fun to see the expression on the faces of everyone else when I mentioned the elven exodus.
“She’s lying,” New Guy choked out. “Lying. After two and a half million years the elves are not returning.”
Gregory rubbed his forehead, remaining silent.
“If they are returning,” Sleazy mused, “after so long, their return brings a host of other problems. There is much planning that needs to happen, but this is positive progress. If the elves can change their minds after so long, then perhaps there is a chance for the return of the former balance of Aaru. The elves can shepherd the humans toward positive evolution, and we can return to the blissful peace of our homeland.”
“You believe her?” New Guy snapped. “We need to close the gateways—all of them. There is no elven exodus. There never will be an elven exodus.”
“Let’s put aside the discussion of whether or not the elves may return and get back to the original topic.” Gabriel’s voice rose in volume. “The treaty and the Iblis seat on the Ruling Council.”
New Guy clamped his mouth into a tight line, then nodded. “Fine. Original topic. There appears to only be one Angel of Chaos. Demons are not angels, and even if they were there would be no difference. There were reasons for the war so long ago, and those reasons still exist. We have fundamental differences between us that can’t be bridged. Having an Iblis on the Council has illustrated how difficult it is for us to work together. We can’t go back in time. It’s best for us to remain apart. And it’s best for us to close the gateways and do away with that seat on the Council.”
“That leaves six of us,” Rafi commented. “Six is not an auspicious number. Seven is ideal. But without the Iblis, we won’t have seven.”
There was a poignant silence following his statement. I didn’t get it. I’d never understand the angels’ fascination with the relative divinity of numbers, but I got the hint that this was about more than just the number seven—that with me on the council there was chaos, but without me…. Something about the way Raphael said the number “six” made me wonder if there was something the angels feared more than chaos.
And they’d been six for nearly three million years, even though they claimed the placeholder for my spot meant seven. Maybe that was what was wrong with the angels. Maybe six signified rot, a death that simply wasn’t a transition?
“We can restructure the choirs,” Sleazy choked out the words. “We’ve done it before. If we restructure we can still have seven choirs, seven seats on the Council, but remain apart from the demons.”
I didn’t exactly have a problem with the “apart” side of that comment. Demons liked Hel. I couldn’t imagine they’d want to live a sensationless, incorporeal existence where a bunch of fluff heads were constantly berating them to meditate and ponder shit in an effort to raise their vibration pattern. But living apart didn’t mean we had to try to kill each other every time we met, and it didn’t mean meetings had to be forbidden. And it didn’t mean I shouldn’t have a seat on the Council—that demons should be unrepresented in the affairs of heaven. This here, this place with humans and hotels and bacon, let this be our middle ground, our demilitarized zone. Well, not the Marriott conference room specifically, but the whole planet.
Speaking of bacon, my tub was empty. Good thing the humans had seen fit to restock the buffet while we were arguing. I rose from my seat to go grab the other container.
“Present a restructure plan for the next meeting,” Gregory said. “We cannot be six, and the discussion of removing the Iblis from the Ruling Council is moot until this issue is addressed.”
I sat back down, bacon forgotten. Was this just a stalling tactic, or did Gregory really think my being ousted was inevitable. I wasn’t sure how I felt about this. As much as I’d hated being on the Council, it was my job. It was part of a life I’d built.
And if my seat was in jeopardy, then I had agenda items that couldn’t wait.
“Which brings me to the topic of the elves,” I announced, jumping ahead. The angels frowned, shuffling through their papers, trying to locate the item that wasn’t on their agenda. “Yes, elves.”
I figured that I might as well go with it and call them what they were instead of my demons-masquerading-as-elves story. There was a good chance they’d shove a demon-invasion off on the already burdened Grigori. The angels needed to know the elves were coming, and that they weren’t the wonderful models of purity and peace that they thought. The Ruling Council could debate the validity of my seat later. I had pressing business to address right now, before thousands of elves crossed the gates and started taking over.
“The elves. They’re coming and their intentions are not as pure as you think they
are. For thousands of years they’ve been luring humans with their clever traps to fall through gateways of their design into Hel. Once there, the humans are enslaved and serve either through menial labor or magical. I’ve stopped that practice and freed the slaves, but now the elves want to come here and do the same. They want to rule this realm, to enslave the humans, not ensure their positive evolution. We need to find a way to keep them out.”
The silence that followed my speech was amazing. I swear I could hear my hair growing.
“This is not on the agenda,” New Guy snapped, standing up and pushing his chair back from the table. “If we’re going off the agenda, then I’m leaving.”
He vanished. I stared in astonishment at his empty seat. How could he do that? What were the repercussions of walking out in the middle of a Ruling Council meeting? If only I’d known this was an option, then I would have been pulling my own disappearing act long ago.
“Me too.” Sleazy stood. “We’ve covered the major items. I’m not about to sit here and listen to nonsense about an elven invasion.”
In a flash of light he was gone too, leaving me with a half-eaten tray of bacon, Gregory, and his two brothers.
“About the elves,” I continued.
“Let’s assume that the elves really have changed their minds and are returning,” Gabriel interrupted. Did he not even care that two of the members had bailed? Wasn’t he going to go on some frothing-at-the-mouth recitation of the rules?
Evidently not. Gabe folded his arms across his chest and continued. “And let’s ignore the inflammatory accusation regarding their slavery practices. What makes you suspect their motives in returning are impure? They probably became tired of living beside a bunch of rapidly devolving demons and wanted to return. They originally had offered to assist in human evolution. It’s no surprise that they’d want to return to the project after their absence.”
“Why would they want to help the humans?” I countered. “I would have questioned their motives when they first offered. Who gives a shit about a bunch of primates using rocks as tools? I mean, seriously. I can’t see looking at a group of monkeys and deciding that I wanted to dedicate the next billion years of my life hauling them up from the primordial ooze. They obviously saw something in the humans back then that could be used to their advantage, otherwise, why bother?”
