by Debra Dunbar
Balls of death. I bit back a laugh at that one.
“Well we can hardly haul shotguns up on a stage,” I told him. “And someone else would have to help you load them. Although come to think of it, the shell casings are plastic, and most shotguns have wood or a poly stock. As long as you didn’t grab the barrel…”
Guns. Of course. The elves would never think to search for human weapons. They’d expect the humans not to resist. They’d completely discount human weaponry. Their hubris would be their downfall.
“I’ve got an idea of my own. Come on.”
I led my little troupe of elves down my driveway and to Wyatt’s house where I found him relaxing on the porch with a beer, typing away on his cell phone.
“Sam! And…elves.” He seemed genuinely glad to see me—well until he caught sight of the rest of my party. “I’m not keeping them in my house. I told you—”
“No not that.” I waved his protests away. “I need to borrow some guns. Pistols. Preferably the ceramic or plastic kind because elves seem to have a problem with our metals here.”
He sighed. “You’d need to load the bullets and the magazines. Is some aluminum okay, or do you need total ceramic? I’ve got two that are designed to go past metal detectors, although an X-ray will show they’re pistols unless you completely break them down into small components when sending them through.”
That’s one of the things I loved about Wyatt. When it came to weaponry, he was so fucking helpful. And he never even asked why I was arming the elves.
“What are they planning on shooting? Groundhogs? Your neighbors? That dragon that’s been snatching McKinsey’s cows?”
Or not. I weighted the risks of telling Wyatt we were planning the assassination of a High Lord with lying to him once more and explaining that the groundhogs had once again gotten out of hand in my pasture.
I’d clearly changed a lot in the last few years because I opted for honesty. I’d lost Wyatt as a boyfriend. I didn’t want to lose him as a friend. And I got the feeling that if the lies kept stacking up, I would.
“The High Lords are poised to take over within the next twenty-four hours. We need to take out their leader—Lliam Thi. And the only ones who can probably get close enough to do it are other elves.”
Wyatt scowled. “After what they did, stealing my sister from her crib and imprisoning her as a slave for eighteen years, I’m all in favor of killing these guys. But guns aren’t going to cut it. If this guy is taking over in DC, he’ll be making his announcement on the steps of the Capitol Building, or the White House press room, or, if he’s really paranoid, at one of the air force bases. Any scanner will see the pistols. And the secret service is trained enough to spot components of a disassembled gun. You’re better off fireballing the guy.”
“These elves don’t have a ton of offensive skills, and I’m sure Lliam Thi will have powerful elves magically guarding him from that sort of attack. It needs to be a human weapon. They’re so arrogant, they won’t think of being taken out by humans or their ‘magic.’”
Wyatt’s lip curled with disgust. “This guy is taking over the wrong country. We have more weapons per capita than anyone else in the world. And we have that whole culture of rebellion and cowboy justice. Every redneck in the mid-Atlantic will be at his doorway within hours, unloading on him. The idea of an elf taking over the U.S. is ridiculous. He’ll be dead before nightfall. Just wait it out.”
“And how many humans will die in that process?” I demanded. “The elves will take hostages, and they have weapons of their own that humans aren’t familiar with. There will be a huge loss of life, then the rednecks will go hunker down to protect their homes and the elves will move forward. Divide and conquer. Individual humans with an arsenal might hold out for months or years, but eventually they’ll fall. We need to take this guy down now. To minimize loss of life. And to strike before he becomes fully aware of what humans and human weaponry can do and compensates.”
Wyatt hesitated. “Okay. Two pistols and I want to see them shoot first.”
Inside, Wyatt’s house looked much the same as it had since he bought it. Actually it looked worse. Plywood was still over the window a demon had broken last year. The floor had gouge marks in it. He still had that ancient refrigerator that was so loud I could hear it from the front porch. But he had put in a gun safe. It was huge, taking up one entire wall of the dining room where more traditional humans would have put a buffet or china cabinet.
Unlocking and swinging the heavy metal door open, I saw one of those arsenals he had accused rednecks everywhere of having.
“Shit, Wyatt. Plan on shooting much?”
“Well, I do live next door to Satan,” he commented, stuffing two pistols in his waistband and grabbing a box of bullets. “Given the amount of demons and other creatures that have tried to kill me over the last few years, I’m beginning to think this might be inadequate.”
True. Couldn’t fault that logic.
Wyatt took us all outside where a series of metal targets was set up at varying distances. He quickly showed the elves how to load the bullets into the magazine and slap it into the pistol. Then he showed the grip, the sights and safeties. Lysile took one of the weapons gingerly, letting out a breath as it didn’t burn her skin.
Then she turned and unloaded every round smack in the center of the bullseyes. At every distance. I felt a wave of envy.
“Wow, that’s…good,” Wyatt commented. I got the feeling he was feeling the same envy. Lysile might not be accurate with a bow and arrow, but she fucking rocked with a pistol.
Telly did equally well, and we went back to my house, now armed and with a plan.
There was only one little problem—well, a problem beyond the chances that the other guards would take them out before they even reached the platform, that the humans would confiscate the weapons, that Lliam Thi would manage to take them down before they even got one shot off. No, this problem was that the High Lords were waiting for an angel to give them the go-ahead.
I had no idea who that angel was. And the go-ahead was unlikely to happen given the outcome of the battle in Aaru.
Chapter 30
Their contact has to be someone who had his pulse on the details of the war. Someone who’d been here among the humans before and was comfortable manifesting a human form as well as using human go-betweens and working directly with the elves,” I told Gregory.
My angel and his two brothers were wedged into my kitchen, sipping coffee. Well, Gregory and Rafi were sipping coffee. Gabriel just held his awkwardly in his hands, making no move at all to actually drink the beverage.
“Someone who had enough authority and clout to easily leave Aaru. Sneaking out once or twice would be hard enough, but this angel had to do it repeatedly and I’m guessing over the last six months to a year. Maybe more. I think this was a long time in the planning.”
“Maybe not that long.” Rafi narrowed his eyes. “Your becoming the Iblis was the catalyst of movement, of change. Whoever this is, they’re part of the rebellion. And the rebellion didn’t start until after you got the sword.”
“Not overtly, but the rebellion actually started centuries ago in unrest and dissatisfaction,” Gregory corrected his brother. “The framework for this was laid long before an imp became the Iblis. But I do agree that whoever this angel is, he has stepped up his visits here and his involvement over the last few months.”
“One of the Ruling Council?” I suggested. “New New Guy? Goldilocks? Usurper?”
“I don’t know those angels,” Gabriel said, setting his undrunk coffee on the counter. “But I do agree that one of the Ruling Council is probably involved. Whether or not they used another as a go-between, a member of their choir that served to communicate with the elves I don’t know. This contact could be anyone.”
Damn. But maybe the events in Aaru could help us here. “Let’s say that main guy was killed. Or identified and imprisoned. There’d be a substitute. We just need a credible substitu
te, one who Lliam Thi will believe is part of the rebellion and is speaking truly.”
“Normally I’d say me,” Gabriel said. “But the last few weeks I’ve clearly come out on the side of my brothers. No one would believe I switched sides at the last minute.”
“Which leaves us with the three newest ruling Council members. Which of them is still alive? And who can we strong-arm into helping us?”
“Zophiel.” Rafi snapped his fingers. “I fell beside him. He adapted to human form without any delay and nearly got away before I caught him.”
“Perfect. Can you bully him into giving Lliam Thi the go-ahead?”
Rafi shot me a guilty look. “Normally yes, but I was a bit angry when I caught up with him and I don’t think he’d be all that credible in giving the elves a false message that the rebels have won Aaru.”
What the heck did my second-favorite archangel do?
“Seriously?” Gregory rumbled. “Seriously? That’s a horrible lack of restraint not befitting an Angel of Order, Raphael. Taking an angel’s wings, even one who has been exiled, is a harsh judgment that no one angel should deliver. He should have been tried before the Ruling Council. Then you could have taken his wings.”
Holy shit. Bad, bad Rafi. And Gregory basically scolding him because he jumped the gun. I loved these guys.
“I had my reasons,” Raphael countered. “We can still use him perhaps. Maybe get one of his choir to be the go-between. The majority of angels are struggling here, unable to properly manifest a convincing form.”
“Awesome. Now what do we have to threaten these guys with? More wing-chopping? Tar and feathers? Bamboo under the fingernails? Force-feeding them gallons of kimchi and sour milk?”
All three angels were now exchanging knowing looks. I didn’t like that. I didn’t like that one bit.
“Hel.”
I blinked. “As in two-l’s hell? Fire and brimstone and an eternity of physical punishment the likes of which mankind has never seen? Because I can totally get on board with that.”
“Hel. With one l.”
I folded my arms across my chest. “I don’t want him. I don’t want any of them. We discussed this. These rebels are your problem, not mine.”
Again there was that silent exchange. Rafi must have gotten the short straw because he was the one who spoke up.
“Umm, Sam, I hate to be the one to break it to you, but we’ve already started throwing the Rebel angels through the gates into Hel, banishing them there.”
What the fuck? “Hel is not your landfill. Just kill them already. Don’t go making them my problem.”
“No doubt the demons there will take care of that for you,” Gabriel said. “We can’t kill them. It would be an execution. Killing angels in a battle is one thing. Finding them helpless on the ground and killing them is beyond what’s acceptable. Hel is the appropriate place for them.”
Like fuck it was. “You are executing them by tossing them into Hel, where they won’t survive long. You’re making the demons do your dirty work. And you’re making me do your dirty work. Once again. Any surviving ones in Hel will be my problem. Why is it I always get the shitty jobs? Fallen Angels, your bastard Nephilim offspring, fucking elves and demons, humans with crappy credit scores—why me?”
“Because you’re the Adversary,” Gregory replied smoothly. “Your job is to test, to punish, and to deal with those beings who lack appropriate ethical motivation to demonstrate proper behavior. Punishment is the last resort to bring these beings in line, and you are the one to do it.”
Fucking sword. Fucking Iblis title. Being the adversary sucked big giant donkey balls.
“I hate you guys,” I told them. “Every one of you.”
Gregory smiled and reached out to tug a lock of my hair. “I know better. And I know what will improve your mood greatly.”
“Sex?” Because sex really would improve my mood a whole stinking lot.
“Battle. Let’s get this going and take care of these elves. Then you’ll feel better.”
“And when we’re done with that, can we have sex? I could really use some sex.”
Rafi laughed. Gabe snorted in disgust. And Gregory smiled. “Yes, Cockroach. Let’s go deal with the elves, and then we can have sex.”
***
ZOPHIEL TURNED OUT to be Usurper. The angel was obviously in agony from the shredding of his wings. I hadn’t realized Raphael was such a bad-ass. This made me make a mental note not to ever cross him. I had no idea what Usurper had done to deserve such a devastating action from the angel, but I was sure it was more than just taking Uriel’s position and general assholery.
He was reluctant to comply at first, stubbornly sitting on a chair in my kitchen and presenting the brave face of a soldier about to undergo extreme interrogation and torture.
“Go ahead and resist.” I circled him, reaching out a finger to brush in a lingering caress along his cheek. “I want to see you in Hel. Although we prefer our angels with wings intact so we can pluck them one feather at a time. You’ll still provide lots of fun, though. Auctioned off to the highest bidder. I’ll make a fortune. And maybe I’ll let my Lows play with you a bit first. They’d enjoy that sort of thing.”
He shuddered and I wasn’t sure if it was from my threats or my fingers stroking his soft skin.
Raphael smiled. This was his captive and the pair of us were playing good-cop/ bad-cop. Well, maybe bad-cop/bad-cop. “The others will be going to Hel. You and whoever among your household have another option if you cooperate. You can stay here and live among the humans, and perhaps in time, you’ll be allowed to go through that rehabilitation program you voted for and earn a spot in Aaru again.”
Ursurper shook with what I assumed was rage. It couldn’t be fear because in spite of our threats, the angel truly didn’t seem to show any fear at all.
“My entire choir. I want immunity for my entire choir. No Hel, and the chance for eventual redemption and return to Aaru.”
That gave me some respect for the guy. He was making a deal with the actual devil in return for the safety of his choir. Respect totally. But Usurper’s statement, and his lack of reaction to Rafi’s comment about Aaru made me realize that this angel, and possibly a good number of the others, really didn’t realize the true situation here. There would be no return to Aaru for him or anyone else.
Raphael cast a glance my way. This was his prisoner. He was calling the shots, but I was, as Gregory called me, the Queen of Hel. I nodded.
“Deal. Choose one of your choir to represent you, and be prepared to make an appearance of your own if Lliam Thi doesn’t believe your messenger.”
Usurper bowed. “I vow it on my angelic soul that I will perform this task with honesty and integrity to the best of my abilities.”
I watched in interest as Raphael mirrored his bow. “I vow on my angelic soul that in return, I will not banish you or your choir to Hel, but will personally shepherd you toward redemption and reinstatement.”
I felt like I should add something to this solemn occasion.
“I vow on all the souls I used to own before I let them all go because I thought I was dying and my beloved would appreciate the gesture that I will not sell you to demons in Hel as a play-toy. And if you and your representative pull this off, then deep-dish pizza for everyone. And beer. Pizza and beer.”
They both looked at me with odd expressions.
“What’s deep-dish pizza?” Usurper asked.
I waved his question away. “Pick someone reliable from your choir, someone who will obey you without question. They are to appear at the White House and tell Lliam Thi that you’ve won the war and the time to act is now.”
Rafi stepped forward. “If the elf asks about the other messenger, your angel should say he died during the conflict. He was sent down here straight from battle with basically no background or other instructions but to deliver his message.”
“And then what?” Zophiel asked.
“Then he needs to leave, claim th
at another angel will contact them in a day or two, but that this world and all the humans are theirs.” Rafi looked over toward me. “Anything else?”
“What if the elf demands that the messenger stay? They’re announcing the takeover to the humans. They might have expected angelic backup.”
Rafi nodded in agreement. “If the elf wants the messenger to stay, then he should. But tell him not to actually act on anything. Once things start to go down, he should leave. Got it?”
Zophiel nodded. “Got it.”
***
OUR MESSENGER WAS actually a she. Breallia. That was the angel chosen to be the messenger and I was pleased with the Usurper’s decision. Brea was one of the few angels who seemed more female in her androgynous form than the rest. But beyond that she was fierce. She stood before me as stoic as any of those Spartans in the movie, her eyes gray and focused with a thousand-mile stare. Her thin lips were stretched tight with the sort of grim resignation I’d expect from a death-row inmate doing their final walk.
“You understand the mission and your orders?” Gregory asked.
Raphael might be heading up things concerning the Usurper, but my angel had taken charge of the rest of this project, declaring that the Grigori were still under his command and as he was in charge of the positive evolution of mankind, this particular endeavor fell under his control as well. I didn’t argue. I could put the fear of Satan into these angels’ hearts, but I saw the need for Gregory to reestablish his authority as the uber-angel, the eldest of the archangels and the one who must be obeyed at all costs.
The angel nodded, then shot a wary glance at me. I didn’t blame her. We were still figuring out who was in charge of what, post-Aaru being locked down. The definition of whether the angels were technically mine or not, was a gray area. Gregory teased me that he had been mine since the moment he’d met me, but I didn’t completely believe that. And I knew that these angels weren’t mine in the way that Nils was. He’d been specifically banished and placed under my authority. These other angels…well I was just the one with the sword and the mojo who had dumped them all out of Aaru like someone throwing the switch on a giant galactic garbage disposal. That made them kind of crippled free agents living among the humans.
