“Not long, I shouldn’t think.” Tzadkiel thanked the waitress who brought them their coffees. When she’d left them alone again, he continued. “The last time he was summoned, he was only gone three-quarters of an hour.”
“That was very odd,” Brieus mused as he stirred sugar into his coffee. “Summoning rituals on the Internet? Shouldn’t we have seen those in our hunt for Taytton, before the War?”
“We might well have seen them and just not realized their importance,” Sophiel said. “We were sort of focused on the VirtCash trail at the time. And same again with the hunt for those angelnappers.”
“I suppose.” Brieus didn’t sound convinced.
“Why don’t we look into it after this Semjaza situation is dealt with?” Tzadkiel suggested. “After all, we’re going to be on Iona for a while, and while it’s a lovely island, I wager we’ll all get a little bored. It’ll be a good project for us while we’re there.”
“That’s true, isn’t it?” Brieus brightened. “All right, let’s do that.”
“There we go.” Tzadkiel smiled and sipped his coffee.
Ten minutes later, the door opened and Raziel walked in. His expression was a mixture of mild astonishment and great amusement. He grinned at the three angels and sat down at the table.
“So who summoned you this time?” Tzadkiel asked.
“Remarkably, it was Penemuel himself.” Raziel suddenly laughed. “I do believe he’s developing a backbone. About time too.”
“Do we know where Semjaza is and what he plans to do?”
“Oh yes.” Raziel smirked. “I’ll brief you all when we get to Iona. Let’s find Ahijah and get to safety as soon as possible.”
“I’ll drink to that,” Sophiel said, draining her coffee. “Oh, by the way? Here.” She dug into her rucksack and pulled out a small aerosol bottle and handed it to Raziel.
“What’s this?” Raziel’s eyebrow shot up.
“Insect repellent.” Sophiel’s expression was bland. “As the bugs seem to love you best out of all four of us, I took the liberty of getting you the strongest one available.”
Tzadkiel burst out laughing. “She’s got you there, Raz.”
“Charming.” Raziel rolled his eyes and then he laughed. “But I won’t object to having the insects avoid me. Thank you, Sophiel.”
“You’re welcome, sir.”
“So, where are we going next?” Raziel asked.
“The trails here are years old,” Tzadkiel said. “Following them up would be, in my opinion, a waste of time. So, Costa Rica, then Panama, then Colombia.”
“All right.” Raziel stood up. “Let’s get to work.”
TWO days later, in the town of Leticia on the banks of the Amazon, Raziel threw up his hands in frustrated annoyance. “He’s not here,” he declared.
Tzadkiel shook his head. “He doesn’t seem to be, no.”
“This is ridiculous. I feel like we’re chasing moonbeams.” Raziel scowled.
“All we can do is keep searching,” Sophiel said. Then she sighed. “I must admit that I am finding this search for the proverbial needle in the proverbial haystack more than a little annoying.”
“So am I.” Brieus looked over the river. “So, where next? Peru, Brazil, or Bolivia?”
“Bolivia.” Raziel’s scowl deepened. “Work our way down to Argentina, then come back up through the countries we bypassed.”
“Okay.” Tzadkiel wiped his face with the sleeve of his T-shirt. “I’m sick of being sweaty,” he added.
“Me too.” Raziel had tied his hair back in a ponytail, but half of it had escaped the leather thong that held it back, and it now framed his face in sweat-damp strands. “I feel like I’m being broiled alive.”
Brieus laughed. “You two are lightweights. The humidity isn’t that bad.”
“I feel that there’s a dunking in the river in your very immediate future,” Raziel retorted.
Brieus laughed harder. “Come on, let’s go to Bolivia.”
There were trails and they followed them dutifully, Raziel swearing more and more inventively each time a trail petered out to a dead end. There was no hint of anything out of the ordinary—no demons, no other angels, nothing. Raziel was beginning to wonder if Ahijah was in South America at all. The suspicion that Ishtahar’s younger son had laid down all these trails here and actually chosen to live somewhere else entirely was growing. Raziel wondered if perhaps they should not have searched through Africa instead.
Bolivia was just as humid and warm as Colombia, and the mosquitoes were just as welcoming, butting their heads on Raziel’s skin in greeting, despite the promised extra-strength insect repellent. Raziel was tired, dirty, and sweaty, and wanted a long bath, a cold beer, and a steak sandwich. He also wanted Uriel. Uriel irritated Raziel a lot of the time—a feeling that Raziel knew was entirely mutual—but Uriel was also Raziel’s love, and they’d been together since the early days of Eden. Being apart from Uriel for a lengthy period of time wasn’t something that Raziel was accustomed to, and he didn’t like it. He missed Uriel’s acerbic observations and his dry wit, missed his broad grin and his ability to chain-smoke cigars like a foundry. Most of all, Raziel missed Uriel’s warm, solid presence at his side, his hand in Raziel’s, his gruff, awkward affections that Raziel adored as much as he adored Uriel himself.
“Well now,” Tzadkiel said suddenly, jolting Raziel out of his reverie, “I think I’ve found something.”
“Do tell,” Raziel snapped. “I’m not in the mood for guessing games.”
“I was about to.” Tzadkiel rolled his eyes. “Look, O Moody Archangel.” He pointed at the ground.
Raziel looked at what Tzadkiel was pointing at, but all he could see was dirt and leaves. He opened his mouth to say as much when he caught the faint shimmer of trace of Nephilim.
“Ahijah?”
“I’d say so.” Tzadkiel grinned. “It’s not an old trail, and he’s gone to some lengths to hide it.”
The tiny glimmer of purplish-gray energy among the leaves flickered and pulsed, almost like a heartbeat.
“Do all the Nephilim leave trails like that?” Brieus asked, peering at the energy’s shine.
“Yes.” Raziel nodded absently. “Some are more purple, some are more gray, but that’s the definite color of a Nephilim hiding himself. They don’t really have much in the way of power— they’ve got longevity and the ability to hide from angels and demons—but not much else. They can’t do half of what the weakest angel or demon can, for example.”
“So they’re more human than angel,”
Sophiel mused.
“Right.” Raziel pushed his sweaty hair back from his face with an irritated gesture.
“Remarkable that Ahijah’s managed to hide himself so well and divert us so efficiently, then,” Sophiel continued, peering at the shimmer of grayish-purple energy.
“What are you getting at?” Raziel looked at her sharply.
She shrugged helplessly. “I don’t know, sir. I’m just observing. We’ve got a lot of details and clues, but nothing to add up into a whole. But something’s going on here.”
Raziel regarded her for several long moments. “You might be right,” he said finally. “Actually, I would imagine you probably are right. Let’s collect all these details and sort through them when we get back to Iona.”
Sophiel nodded. “Of course, sir.”
Tzadkiel was looking around, trying to place where they were, peering first at the sky, then at the landscape around them, his power reaching out in the faintest brush of energy, reaching for any landmarks in the vicinity.
“We’re near to Lake Titicaca, boss,” Brieus said helpfully.
“If nothing else, he’s picked a beautiful spot to hide,” Tzadkiel said. “All right, let’s go investigate the lake.”
The four angels started out again, following the trail like bloodhounds. They walked down to the lakeshore, then started the trek around the huge body of water, taking their time. Two sunsets and two
sunrises later, just past the town of Vichi on the southern end of the lake, Raziel stopped, shielding his eyes with one hand as he gazed into the distance.
“I can feel him. He’s close.”
“Where?” Tzadkiel looked around.
“That way.” Raziel pointed toward the southeast curve of the lakeshore and started walking.
Two hours later, Raziel stopped. “He’s there.”
Seated on the shore of the lake was a dark-haired man repairing a fishing net. Several feet away was a small boat, and perhaps a quarter of a mile beyond that, a tiny village of half-a-dozen small houses and a tiny, mud-brick church.
“This isn’t on the map,” Brieus said, turning the document he had pulled out of his rucksack this way and that.
“And you’re surprised?” Raziel quirked an eyebrow. “Every trail has led to nowhere, in the middle of nowhere. Lakes, jungles, abandoned villages, you name it.”
“Are we just going to march up and grab him?” Tzadkiel scratched the back of his neck. “How are we going to do this?”
Before Raziel could say anything, Sophiel raised a hand.
“I’ll go and talk to him. Explain what’s going on.”
“Are you sure?” Tzadkiel asked.
“Yes.” She smiled. “Besides, I’m prettier than you three, and I smell better.”
“Why you... get on with you, brat.” Tzadkiel laughed softly.
She grinned and started down to the lakeside and the man repairing the fishing net. Raziel made a gesture to Tzadkiel and Brieus, and they moved closer so they could hear.
“Hola, Ahijah,” Sophiel said as she sat down on the bank beside him.
Ahijah turned to look at her. His bronze skin was darkened by a healthy tan, and he looked not a day over thirty years old. He smiled at her. “Hola, ángel.”
“You know what I am?” Sophiel asked in English.
“Yes. You’re angelkind.” Ahijah returned his attention to his net. “I thought I had hidden myself very well.”
“You did,” she admitted. “Alas, it is that our need to find you was greater than your need to be hidden.”
Ahijah shot her a sidelong look. “I’m flattered, and you’re very beautiful, but alas, I have dedicated myself to God.”
Sophiel blinked at him for a moment and then laughed. “No, no, that’s not what I meant. Oh dear.” She pulled a rueful face. “No, I meant that something has happened, and it’s imperative that we get you somewhere safe. Your mother is very worried.”
Ahijah’s expression became concerned. “Is she all right?”
“Yes, she’s safe. But she’s still worried.” Sophiel took a deep breath. “There’s no easy way to say this,” she apologized. “Your father is free from Aquila.”
Ahijah froze.
“Ahijah?”
Shaking his head, Ahijah got to his feet. “No. No, he can’t be.” He turned, and then stopped, staring at Raziel, Tzadkiel, and Brieus. “Oh no... Father Above, have mercy.”
“It’s been a long time, Ahijah,” Raziel said gently.
“Lord Raziel.” Ahijah bowed. “And Lord Tzadkiel. Forgive me. I... this is not what I expected at all. Nephilim are used to being hunted, but....” He shook himself. “What must I do?”
“Get whatever you need, and we’ll take you to your mom,” Tzadkiel said.
“Hiwa should be there by now,” Brieus added.
“My brother... I have not seen him in centuries.” Ahijah’s expression was astonished. “Yes, all right. I live just over there, in the village. I am their priest.”
Raziel gawped at Ahijah in amazement. “You what now?”
“I took Holy Orders, my lord,” Ahijah said. “Many, many centuries ago. I came to this land with the Spanish, and I stayed with the native Bolivians. I have not left here since the late nineteenth century.”
Raziel blinked. He opened his mouth, then closed it again.
“And that’s the first time in a goodly while that Raz has been speechless,” Tzadkiel said. “But come, Ahijah, we must go soon. Semjaza will be on the move, and we must get you to safety and to your mother.”
“Of course.” Ahijah shook his head in wonder. “This way, please.” He led the way up a path that was little more than a mule track toward the village.
The villagers came out of their homes and stood silent and still, watching the angels and Ahijah. Ahijah bustled into the small church, past the altar, and into the vestry. A young man was inside, eating an orange, and he rose as Ahijah rushed in.
“Father!”
“Please, brother, sit.” Ahijah raised a hand. “I must go away for a while. It’s my mother,” he added. “She needs me. You’re in charge until I get back, all right?”
The young man nodded. “Is it serious, Father?”
“Not as yet, but I do not wish to be away from her in case it becomes so.” Ahijah moved around the vestry as the angels crowded into it. Raziel quickly realized that this small room was vestry, living room, bedroom, and kitchen all in one. Ahijah took down a rough sack from a wooden peg driven into the wall and gathered up his belongings into it.
“Be with God,” Ahijah said to the young man.
“Go with God, Father,” the young man said in reply.
Ahijah smiled and gestured to the angels to follow him. He walked quickly out of the vestry and toward a rear door. Outside, he took a deep breath. “All right, shall we go?”
“Won’t your parish flock be confused that you just disappeared?” Tzadkiel asked.
“No.” Ahijah smiled faintly. “They’re used to miracles here.”
Raziel and Sophiel exchanged a long look that spoke volumes. Raziel turned back to Ahijah and nodded. “Then we’ll move.”
The four angels placed their hands on Ahijah’s shoulders and moved them straight to the island of Iona.
THE change of climate was like a slap in the face when they emerged in the rear garden of the cottage the Archangels had rented on Iona. Raziel shivered, pulling a coat to him with his power and tugging it on as fast as he could. The others, he noted, did the same.
“I forgot how cold it would be here,” Tzadkiel admitted, his teeth chattering.
“So did I,” Raziel admitted. “Go inside,” he urged Ahijah, noting the man’s lips were starting to turn blue.
Ahijah did, the angels following him quickly. The interior of the cottage was warm and comfortable, and Raziel let out a huff of relief. “That is so much better.”
Ahijah looked at Raziel. “Lord Raziel,” he began in a deferential tone, “where is Mama?”
“She’ll be in the living room. Down the hall, the front room,” Raziel pointed in the direction of the front door.
“Thank you.” Ahijah inclined his head politely and started down the corridor.
Raziel sighed. “We need to talk with the others,” he said without preamble. “In private.”
“There’s a bar here, isn’t there?” Tzadkiel said. “Why don’t we all go there? Give Ishtahar and her boys some privacy and us a space to be warm while we talk.”
“Good idea. Go get the others, would you? I’ll meet you there.” Raziel blipped out before waiting for an answer.
The bar was a small Scottish pub, and the barman smiled as he called a cheery greeting to Raziel. Raziel was relieved to see that the pub had a dining room as well as the barroom.
“Good afternoon,” he began, “I was wondering if I and my Brotherhood could commandeer your dining room for the rest of the day? We need to talk in private, you see, and—”
He was cut off by the barman. “Of course you can, my lord. My humble establishment is yours for as long as you need it.”
Raziel gave the man a relieved smile.
“Thanks. We’ll be needing beer... lots of beer, probably some wine for two of us and water for one of us. Michael doesn’t drink,” he explained.
“All right, that’s fine.” The barman made a note on a small pad of paper. “Anything else?”
“No, I think the
others can order food and more drink if they want it. They’ve got legs; they know how to walk to the bar.”
The barman laughed. “No worries, my lord.”
“Raziel. Just Raziel’s fine.”
“Raziel, then. I’m John, owner and bartender. My wife, Molly, she’s the head cook and bottle washer here.”
“I’m very pleased to meet you, John.” Raziel held out his hand, and John took it, shaking it with a firm grip.
“I’ll see to the dining room, and tell Molly that you’ll all probably want something to eat. How many of you will there be?”
Raziel smiled broadly. “You’re very kind, John. I really appreciate this. There’ll be ten Archangels and four of the regular kind of angels. Two were originally Ophanim; they’re second-in- command to Tzadkiel. One was a Seraphim; he’s second-in-command to Gabriel. And Agrat is one of a kind.”
“So fourteen of Heaven’s finest.” John clapped Raziel’s shoulder companionably. “Not a problem at all, Raziel.”
“Thank you. I’ll just go set things up, if that’s all right. The others should be along any moment.”
“Of course. Go right ahead. I’ll show them through myself when they arrive.”
“Cheers, John.” Raziel headed into the dining room and, with his power, began pulling in various things he’d need for this meeting. Then he sealed the room so any shouting—for he had no doubt there would be a lot of that, considering the personalities of his Brotherhood— wouldn’t be heard beyond the dining room walls.
Chapter Eight
GABRIEL filed into the dining room of the pub close behind Michael. He was curious, turning his head this way and that as he took in Raziel’s setup. There was a laptop, several folders, and a projection screen. Gabriel guessed the screen was so Raziel could show them photographs without having to pass them around and listen to squabbling.
Taking a seat beside his lover, Gabriel leaned in and murmured, “This is all very cloak-and-dagger, don’t you reckon?”
Michael smiled. “It is a little. I am sure Raziel has good reason for it.”
“Raziel has damn good reason for it.” Raziel was grim. “Close and lock the door, would you please, Remi?”
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