No Shadows Fall

by L. J. LaBarthe

  “Ondrass.” Lucifer smiled. “Rise, my children.” He looked at Ba’al. “I trust Asmodeous and Belial are completing the task I set for them.”

  “Yes, my lord,” Ba’al said. “The noise should stop in a few moments.”

  “Good. I hate to have to shout.” Lucifer cocked his head as the singing was abruptly cut off. “Ah, wonderful. Have them report to me later today, Ba’al.”

  “Yes, my lord.” Ba’al bowed and withdrew.

  Adramelek sighed as he looked down toward the castle. The ice shimmered in the waves of heat from the Lake of Eternal Fire, looking like a mirage. Adramelek knew it would be some time before he was able to return to Hell—the job Lucifer wanted him to do was going to take him a while. Convincing Archangels of something was tiresome on a good day; finding them first was going to wear his patience to a nub.

  “I have duties for you,” Lucifer was saying, and Adramelek forced himself to pay attention. “Adramelek is going to be going up to Earth directly. Ondrass, Markus, you will accompany him. Lix Tetrax, Melcherisa, you will provide backup assistance.”

  “As you command, your majesty.”

  Ondrass licked his lips. “May I ask what it is we are to do?”

  “Adramelek will fill you in.” Lucifer looked at him, and Adramelek inclined his head.

  “It’s not that interesting a story, really,” Adramelek said. “I’ll tell you when we’re outside. Fewer ears.”

  “Ah,” Ondrass nodded, getting the point immediately. “I understand.”

  Lucifer nodded and waved a hand in dismissal. “You may go. Adramelek, I trust you know what to do?”

  “Do you really need to ask?” Adramelek said, an eyebrow shooting up.

  Lucifer chuckled. “No, I suppose not. Report when you’re finished.”

  “I will.” Adramelek bowed. “I’ll keep you posted as we go about the task too.”

  “Good. Go now.” Lucifer turned back to gaze at the fire and ice of the two bodies of liquid that ebbed and flowed and crashed against the walls of the castle.

  Adramelek made a discreet gesture and led his companions from Lucifer’s presence. He didn’t stop once they were out of the castle, instead moving quickly toward his own part of Hell. He moved quickly enough that it would be impossible to hold a conversation, but not so fast that it appeared strange. Demons moved swiftly in Hell most of the time anyway, a restless haste that described their condition as either torturer or tortured.

  Once Adramelek had led his companions into his private domain on the Seventh Level of Hell, he issued orders to his sergeant-at-arms to double the guard and use Hellhounds. The demon bowed and went to do as he was bid, and Adramelek went into his dacha.

  In the living room, Adramelek flopped gracelessly into his favorite armchair and let out a slow breath.

  “Sit,” he said, waving a hand vaguely. “Make yourselves at home.”

  “Opulent,” Ondrass remarked, looking around the room.

  “We all like a bit of opulence in our spaces.” Adramelek grinned. “You’ve got a Chinese palace, Lix Tetrax has one of those terribly modern glass and chrome square monstrosities, and Melcherisa has a replica of the Crac de Chevalier castle.”

  “True, I suppose,” Ondrass said as he sat down.

  “I may change mine soon,” Lix Tetrax said as she too sat down. “I’m beginning to get bored with it. A new arrival in Hell is a former master architect. I may commandeer him to design me a palace.”

  “And that is a wonderful bonus of creating our abodes with our power,” Adramelek said. “When we grow bored, we change the outside.”

  “Are we going to discuss architecture all day?” Melcherisa demanded as he sat on a priceless wooden chair that dated to the fifteenth century. “Or are we going to get to the point? Which is to say, what the fuck is going on?”

  Adramelek crossed his legs and steepled his fingers, resting his chin on them. His cat wandered into the room, tail raised high, and ambled toward him, pausing only long enough to sharpen its claws on a Ming dynasty rug that lay beside Adramelek’s priceless Iranian one.

  “Sprite,” Adramelek sighed, “must you do that there?”

  The cat ignored him, yawned, and stretched out on the rug, resting its head on its paws.

  “Don’t go to sleep, you fuzzy ingrate,” Adramelek added. “I have orders from Lucifer for you too.”

  The cat looked at him sharply and sat up. “As you wish,” it hissed.

  “Thank you.” Shaking his head, Adramelek used his power to bring refreshments into the room and close the doors and windows.

  “We were honored today,” Lix Tetrax said, pushing her long blonde hair back. “I never thought I would ever have the blessing of laying eyes on Lucifer Morningstar.”

  There was a murmur of agreement at that. Adramelek used the moment to prepare tea for everyone, including a saucer of weak, sweet, milky tea for his cat.

  “Tuna? Or chicken? Or pigeon liver?” Sprite asked hopefully in its sibilant, hissing voice.

  “Later, greedy,” Adramelek said.

  The cat pinned his ears back and started lapping at the tea in the saucer.

  “I’m sure you all heard the ghastly noise earlier,” Adramelek began, “the sound that passes in some quarters for singing. It was the Grigori, singing hymns to their beloved leader, Semjaza.”

  Melcherisa looked revolted. “Is that what it was? They couldn’t carry a tune in a bucket.”

  “Agreed.” Adramelek grinned. “In any case, it wasn’t a random desire to suddenly sing the praises of the Grigori prince. Semjaza has managed to find his way out of his prison in Aquila. How the Grigori down here know of it is unknown to me. I find that I don’t particularly care. If it’s relevant, Lucifer will let me know and deal with it accordingly.”

  “Semjaza is free?” Ondrass frowned. “That’s not good news.”

  “No, it isn’t.” Adramelek paused to take a sip of his tea. “You and I, Ondrass, and Markus too, are to go topside to Earth and find the Archangels. We are to deliver a message from Lucifer. Melcherisa, Lix Tetrax, you’re our backup.”

  “And what, pray, is this message?” Ondrass quirked an eyebrow.

  “Lucifer would like us to convey to the Archangels that he will lend his power to shielding an area of their choosing so that Gabriel may kill Semjaza without anyone trying to interfere. In exchange, Lucifer wants Semjaza’s soul.”

  Silence met that pronouncement. Adramelek smiled and took another sip of tea.

  Ondrass broke the silence. “Gracious,” was all he said, but his expression of surprise spoke volumes.

  “What does Lord Lucifer want me to do?” Sprite asked suddenly.

  “Ah yes. I am creating a new council. Us, in this room, are it. You all now answer to me and to Lucifer. No one else can command you. Markus, of course, you are still subordinate to Ondrass, but apart from him and myself, no other demon can tell you what to do. Sprite, while we’re gone, I want you to create a council chamber attached to the dacha. I want it secure, and I want it guarded.”

  The cat nodded, licking its whiskers. “Understood.”

  “Excellent.”

  “So, are you saying we’re this new high level council in Hell? Higher than the others?” Lix Tetrax’s eyes were wide.

  “Yes.” Adramelek grinned at her.

  “Gracious,” Ondrass said again. Then he laughed in delight. “How marvelous!”

  “Yes, I thought you’d like that,” Adramelek said, amused.

  “Do we have a name?” Melcherisa asked.

  “Yes. The Council of Glass Knives.”

  “I like it.” Melcherisa’s face split in a broad grin.

  “Not bad,” Lix Tetrax said, nodding thoughtfully. “I should commission one of the master armorers to make a set of glass knives for us.”

  “It does have a certain ring to it, I agree,” Markus said. He grinned at Lix Tetrax. “Carrying one of a unique set of glass knives would certainly be a significant and attracti
ve status symbol.”

  Ondrass nodded. “I have to agree with the others. Do we get plaques for our doors?”

  Adramelek looked amused. “If you really want to, I’m sure one of the smiths down on the Eighth Level could make something up for you.”

  “Splendid.” Ondrass grinned at him. “So when do we go up to Earth?”

  Adramelek looked at his companions. “As soon as we finish here. Do you have anything else to do?”

  “Nothing that I can’t postpone.” Ondrass pursed his lips thoughtfully. “Do we have any idea where the Archangels are?”

  “Somewhere holy.” Adramelek rolled his eyes. “Somewhere that’s hidden from us because of that holiness.”

  “Hm. That doesn’t really narrow our options down,” Ondrass said. “What are the holy places on Earth?”

  “There’s Lindisfarne, Stonehenge, Iona Isle, Vatican City, Ring of Brodgar, Uluru, Mecca, Dome of the Rock, Mount Sinai, Saint Catherine’s Monastery, and many, many others.” Markus shook his head as he rattled off the list of possible places the Archangels might be.

  “I know. There are a lot of places to check.” Adramelek sighed, feeling a little glum at the enormity of the task ahead of them.

  “Perhaps we should find a medium with some talent,” Markus suggested. “Entreat him or her to seek the Archangels out with their gift.”

  “That would cut down on pointless wandering the planet,” Adramelek said, brightening. “The question is now, though, where’s a good medium?”

  “I’m sure we can find one easily enough.” Ondrass shrugged. “It isn’t as if they have a phone book or website directory, but we can pick out the ones who serve Hell through their rituals and gauge their abilities.”

  “All right, let’s do that.” Adramelek stood up. “Sprite, take care of the place while I’m gone.”

  The cat flicked its tail at him.

  “Shall we go?” Adramelek looked at his companions.

  “Why not?” Ondrass stood up. “Where shall we ’port to?”

  “How about Phoenix, Arizona? It’s a reasonable climate, after all.” Adramelek straightened his jacket.

  “Fine. Meet you there, then.” Ondrass, with Markus in tow, vanished.

  Adramelek turned to Lix Tetrax and Melcherisa. “Keep yourselves hidden from sight. If anything or anyone attacks us, you’re to come to our aid.” Then he grinned and gestured grandly. “After you.” The two Archdemons bowed to him as they rose and disappeared.

  Adramelek took a moment to look around his living room. He bent down to scratch behind Sprite’s ears and the cat purred, rubbing its head against his fingers. “Be alert, old friend,” Adramelek said.

  “I always am, Adry,” said the cat. “Go and do the job. And bring home some really good fish. Something like a barramundi from Australia.”

  Adramalek laughed. “I’ll see what I can do.” Then he too vanished, to meet up with Ondrass and Markus in Phoenix.

  Adramelek found Ondrass and Markus in a burger bar on the outskirts of the city. He stifled a laugh as he joined them, for Ondrass’s expression was one of barely concealed disgust as Markus ate a burger and fries, and slurped from a large cup of soda.

  “That looks tasty,” Adramelek said, sitting at the table.

  “Oh, it is, sir.” Markus grinned. “Curly fries are delicious. Would you care for one?”

  “Thank you, don’t mind if I do.” Adramelek took a fry, laughing as Ondrass shuddered.

  “My meatsuit’s arteries are hardening just looking at that,” Ondrass said. “How can you eat it?”

  “It’s tasty,” Markus said with a grin.

  “I believe I’ll order one of those meals for myself,” Adramelek agreed. He grinned at Ondrass. “Human food is strange and unfathomable sometimes, but a good burger and fries has a lot to recommend it.”

  “Disgusting,” Ondrass said, curling his lip.

  After Adramelek and Markus had eaten their burgers and fries, Adramelek dabbed delicately at his lips with a paper napkin. “So,” he said, picking up his soda, “do we know of a medium who meets our requirements?”

  “While you two were feeding your faces,” Ondrass wrinkled his nose, “I took the liberty of reaching out through the world with my power. There’s a woman in Vancouver, Canada, who does actually have some talent. She is, unfortunately, a little, ah, deluded.”

  “In what way?” Adramelek quirked an eyebrow.

  “She believes herself to be the chosen bride of Satan,” Ondrass said with a perfectly straight face.

  Adramelek choked on his soda. “She what?”

  “Believes herself to be the chosen bride of Satan.” Ondrass grinned. “As I said, a little deluded.”

  “More than a little. Shit. Okay, well, we’ll flatter her, get her to do her thing, and go.”

  “So, lie to her,” Markus said.

  “Yes.” Adramelek finished his soda. “Time is of the essence, I believe. I doubt that Semjaza will be waiting around for spring to start off his campaign, whatever it may be.”

  “Very well. Let us go to Vancouver.” Ondrass stood abruptly. “I devoutly hope you don’t plan to eat nothing but this sort of greasy fare today, Markus.”

  “Of course not, sir.” Markus grinned. “It’s a taste that, once satisfied, I find I can live without for years at a time.”

  “Good.” Ondrass said, and marched out of the burger bar. Adramelek laughed and with Markus, followed him out.

  Together, they rounded a corner and walked down a narrow alley. Ondrass took a quick look around, then placed his hands on Markus and Adramelek’s shoulders, and moved them.

  They emerged in the middle of a cluttered one-room apartment in Vancouver. Adramelek found himself standing on old pizza boxes and ripped magazines. Sitting on a ragged blue sofa was a woman with lank brown hair and wearing a faded, oversized T-shirt and gray sweat pants. Her feet were bare and none too clean. She was staring at the three of them with an expression of almost religious ecstasy on her face, and her apartment smelled of stale incense.

  “Behold!” Ondrass began, preparing to launch into a speech about being an Archdemon and how this woman was blessed above all others to receive them in her home. She cut him off, however, before he could begin his spiel.

  “I know who you are, Lord Ondrass. And you too, Lord Adramelek. I don’t know you, though.” She looked at Markus. “What can I do for your august selves?”

  “You can tell us where the Brotherhood of Archangels is currently located,” Adramelek said without preamble. He did not want to linger in this apartment with its detritus and dirt.

  She blinked owlishly at him and then nodded. “All right.”

  As they watched, she closed her eyes and began to chant, Latin phrases falling effortlessly from her lips. Adramelek looked around him after several moments, and saw that the ceiling of the apartment was covered with sigils and symbols of power. Grudgingly, he admitted that putting the necessary markings on the ceiling was a rather clever way to do it. Rather than rip up carpet, the ceiling was easier to paint, and most people wouldn’t bother to look up to see the medium’s artwork.

  “They are on the island that is the Holy Isle,” the medium intoned, her voice now sonorous with her gift. “The Isle that is north and known to mankind as Iona.”

  Adramelek and Ondrass exchanged a long look, and Adramelek turned to the medium. “Thank you,” he said. “We’ll be off.”

  The medium blinked several times, and her expression became calm. “I’m glad to help. Anything for my lord Lucifer.”

  “Ah. Yes. Right.” Adramelek shook his head. “Well. Good-bye.” He didn’t bother to wait for Ondrass and Markus, instead moving straight to Scotland and emerging in the world in the village of Fionnport, on the Isle of Mull.

  It was cold, the wind whipping over the moors and bending the few scraggly trees. Adramelek shivered and drew his coat around him.

  “Miserable climate,” Ondrass said from behind him, and Adramelek turned.
/>   “Yes, not at all to my liking.” Adramelek nodded back toward the sea.

  “Iona’s just over the water.”

  “And we can’t go there.” Ondrass huffed a sigh. “We should have gotten the medium to divine the cell phone number for Raziel.”

  “Does Raziel have a cell phone?” Adramelek asked in surprise.

  “I’d be more surprised if he didn’t. Oh well, I suppose we should do this the long way and find ourselves a public telephone with a phone directory and telephone the hotels and motels on Iona.”

  “What a slow way to do business,” Adramelek grumbled. “I can’t think of a better way, though.”

  Ondrass nodded, pulling a thick woolen scarf to him with his power and winding it around his neck. “I suppose the post office would be the place to start.”

  “The post office it is, then,” Adramelek agreed.

  Chapter Ten

  AS THEY crested the rise of the hills nearest the village, Raziel paused. He looked down at the cluster of cottages and other buildings, the glow of their lights shining in the windows. He calculated it was not long after ten in the evening, so most of the residents of Iona were still awake.

  “What’s up?” Uriel quirked an eyebrow at him.

  Raziel rolled his shoulders to ease the tension in them. “Nothing, really. I’m just thinking. So much has happened in the last eighty odd years. Like you said, it’s been an extremely busy century thus far. And it’s been the first century in quite a good long while that our entire Brotherhood has been in each other’s company.

  “We go eons without coming together, only seeing those whom we work with or are bonded to,” Raziel went on, as he lit a cigarette, “that it should feel strange or awkward to be together so much now. We are, for want of a better term, practically in each other’s pockets. We know who’s fucking who, who’s working with who, we tease each other and yell at each other. So far, there hasn’t been any great conflict among us.”

  “Yeah, and now you’ve gone and jinxed it.” Uriel took the cigarette from Raziel’s fingers and placed it between his lips, taking a long drag. “I don’t know why you get so philosophical after sex.”

  “Clearly you are my inspiration,” Raziel deadpanned, taking back his cigarette. “Your hidden depths—which are, I might add, really hidden—are visible to me only and influence me unduly.”