by Debra Dunbar
“What happened when you were in Hel?”
I knew he wasn’t referring to my most recent visit. My banishment had been the darkest point in my life. The injuries I’d suffered were so extensive that I hadn’t been sure I’d ever be able to create a decent form again. I’d lain in the elven woods, waiting to be found and killed, hoping to be found and killed. Death had begun to seem the better alternative to life as a powerless, immobile creature.
And death had definitely seemed like a better alternative than what I had suffered at Ahriman’s hands. I shuddered, determined not to let my mind go there, and made light of the whole thing. Humor — my best armor.
“I took out that bastard Feille, forcibly negotiated freedom and land for the slave humans, and managed to survive near–fatal injuries. You know, usual stuff. A day in the life of an imp.”
Gregory rubbed his spirit–self along my scars, gently touching each one. I could tell he wasn’t distracted by my casual tone. I held still as he examined every bit of me, feeling safe and warm in this intimacy I’d never willingly allowed another.
“I remember your injuries. I saw them when they were fresh. But there’s pain under these scars, and I don’t know its cause.”
I stiffened, pulling my personal energy away with an involuntary reaction. Ahriman. The memories crashed over me before I had a chance to wrestle them back into their little corner of my mind. I wasn’t ready to discuss that part of my banishment. I wasn’t ready to admit to Gregory that I’d been such a fool as to sign the breeding contract with that creature. I wasn’t ready to admit how close I’d come to losing myself in that dungeon.
But everything fell away in Gregory’s embrace. His touch — physical or otherwise, never caused me a moment of panic. Our views of right and wrong might occasionally differ, our methods of achieving goals might frequently differ, but, in the end, I trusted him completely. There was a giddy sense of freedom in that realization.
I leaned into him and struggled to compose myself. We had all of eternity to heal the scars we both carried. “It’s Hel. Shit is always happening there. My sprouting feathery wings isn’t going to change that.”
“Understandable.”
Unfazed by my sidestepping of his question, the angel knelt down to pick up the pieces of the bowl. I felt no disappointment from him, only openness. I knew he’d be ready to listen anytime I was willing to talk. I should be able to tell him — the one being I felt safe with all my secrets.
“I … I did something really stupid.” The words were soft and shaky — just as shaky as my hands. I wanted to cram them into pockets to hide, but I was naked. Naked in more ways than one.
With a sweep of Gregory’s hand, the pottery clicked together seamlessly. “Why does that not surprise me?” His tone was faintly teasing. What I was about to confess was so dark, so serious. Instead of making light of the situation, his words gave me a sense of relief — as if no matter how terrible, problems would be easier when shared with him.
“I signed the breeding contract with Ahriman.”
I felt his rage and stepped backward, even though I knew it wasn’t directed at me. When the angel turned to face me, his black eyes were cold with fear. Anything that scared a six–billion year old angel was bad shit. I took another step back.
“He threatened my household. I meant to tell you, to find a way out of it, but then all the shit went down in Alaska and on Oak Island, and it slipped my mind.”
I winced at the wave of heat surging from Gregory. He was beginning to glow. I backed up a few more steps and tried to get the rest out as quickly as possible, hoping it would be like ripping off a bandaid.
“I didn’t do it. I didn’t go through with the breeding. And he’s dead now, so you don’t need to worry about it.”
Gregory shot out a hand lightning fast and yanked me into his chest. The impact drove the breath from my lungs — breath that I gasped back in as his sprit–self plundered mine, searching and seeking.
“I swear I didn’t give him what he wanted. He forced … he made me … but I didn’t give him what he wanted. I know you’re angry at me, that you warned me, but it all turned out okay.”
The angel paused. I glanced up at him, squinting against his bright, blurred form.
“It did not turn out okay.”
I froze inside, thinking that maybe this was the one unforgivable thing I’d done that would tear us apart. Gregory dove under the scars, to touch something deep down in the heart of me, something hidden.
“Aaru can deal with whatever Hel throws our way, this is what I feared. He has hurt you, scarred you worse than any battle could have done. Whatever death he faced, it was too quick and too painless compared to what I would have done.”
I was speechless, shocked again at how I knew so little about this angel. Instead of being angry over the near miss to his beloved Aaru, he was furious over my suffering at the hands of the ancient demon.
“I’m fine. Those scars will eventually heal, and I’ll be fine.” How did I tell him that loving him did more to blunt the pain and panic Ahriman had caused than any amount of time? If it weren’t for him, I’d probably still be huddled in the swamps. If it weren’t for the portion of himself I’d stolen when he bound me, and the thought of how I wanted to be more than a lowly imp in his eyes, I’d be a broken breeding slave in Ahriman’s dungeon. I might not be fine, but I was on my way there, thanks to him.
Gregory crushed me against him, tangling his hands in my hair. “Who killed him? Did he assume your contract along with Ahriman’s household? Which demon do you belong to now?”
I pulled back in surprise, getting the distinct impression that my angel was about to brave the fires of Hel to kill any demon who had the poor judgment to claim me.
“I killed him. Dusted that fucker into a little pile of sand the moment I got my wings. His household is mine now, along with his monstrosity of an Addams’ Family house filled with furniture made out of dead shit.”
The relief that poured from him was palpable, as was the pride. “My little Cockroach. I should have known. There’s a reason you earned the title of Iblis.”
‘Earned’ wasn’t exactly the right term. That damned sword, and the job that went along with it, had attached itself to me like gum to the bottom of my shoe. There was no ridding myself of it now. Still, Gregory’s words warmed my heart. I buried my face into his chest and hid my smile against the soft cotton of his polo shirt. He hugged me tight, and then released me. Back to business, I thought as he picked up the popcorn bowl and extended it toward me.
“I came to tell you that there should be no more Hunters as long as the Nephilim’s mother stays hidden. We’ve got more pressing matters in Aaru then harassing a human over an unborn child.”
I took the bowl from him, suddenly not hungry for popcorn. Should I tell him about Bencul and his dead buddies? I’d just bared my soul to him, and I’d vowed to myself that I’d not hide these things from him any longer. Still … four–nine–five reports for killing humans was one thing, taking out a group of angels and sending one into Hel was another. I doubt naked and restrained would be my punishment for that. This was far worse than netting an angel and duct taping him in my basement.
“Is this not a good time?” His rueful smile tugged at my heart.
Date night — I’d been waiting for him to appear for days. No, it wasn’t a good time, but I wasn’t about to squander this chance. Between the pair of us, our schedules might not allow us another opportunity for months.
“It’s a great time. I’ve got some things I need to let you know about, though.”
The smile faded. “Another angel duct taped in your basement? Cockroach, this hostage thing of yours has got to stop. Dalmai was one of my own choir, but I may not be able to shield you from the backlash if this is from one of the others.”
“No.” I squirmed. “It’s not another angel in my basement. It’s something else.”
He shook his head and sighed. “Please tel
l me this news doesn’t involve something that will put you, and thus me, further in trouble.”
This angel knew me so well. “How about I ply you with chocolate and vodka, sex you up, then tell you the bad news?”
“How about you tell me the bad news now, and hopefully the rest of the evening will cause me to forget all about it?”
“Deal.” I took a deep breath. “The angel that knocked up Harper came back with some friends to scare her into compliance. I killed all his buddies, and I threw him through the Columbia gate into Hel. Then—”
“Wait.” Gregory halted my explanation with an outstretched hand. “Were these buddies angels? And if so, how many of them did you kill?
“Yes. Five.”
He kept one hand on my arm and used the other to rub his face. “So, you killed five angels and sent one to his death in Hel?”
“Yeah. Add all that to your angel that I assaulted and duct taped in my basement, which, by the way, he is down there again after hogging the spare room, although I didn’t duct tape him this time. Oh, and there were the other four that attacked me right before you appeared to take me to the emergency Ruling Council meeting. They disappeared before I could kill them, but I did wound one by shooting him with my Iblis shotgun.” I gave him a serious look, relieved that he didn’t seem angry. “Do you need a piece of paper to tally all this up?”
“No.” He shook his head. “Go on. I’m assuming there’s more to this confession.”
“Then I discovered that the werewolves are the descendants of Nephilim and have several angel–protected areas where their packs hide and take care of half–angel children.”
That didn’t seem to faze Gregory at all. I glanced down at his hand on my arm and continued.
“I contacted an adult Nephilim and convinced her to come here and speak to Harper about the advantages of going to this sanctuary. Now I just have to figure out how to get Harper there so she’ll be safe. She can have her baby, raise him in in the company of werewolves, and the whole problem will be solved.”
I grew increasingly edgy as the silence stretched on. Finally Gregory removed his hand from my arm and looked about my kitchen. “You were right. I should have started with vodka, chocolate, and sex.”
“Vodka is over there,” I pointed helpfully. He didn’t even bother with a glass, chugging it from the bottle. He put a sizable dent in the volume of the contents then slid the vodka back on the counter.
“That has got to be the worst tasting beverage I’ve sampled to date. Do you seriously enjoy this, or is imbibing it some kind of masochistic demon thing?”
I tried to look offended, but I was too worried about his lack of comment on my confession and his sudden desire to down large quantities of hard liquor. This wasn’t the first time my actions had gotten me on the wrong side of the angels. Killing a few of them aside, this was actually pretty tame. Why wasn’t he pissed, or throwing some two–hundred page report at my feet?
“It’s good stuff. As much as I love vodka, I think you’ll like the chocolate better.” And the sex. Hopefully he’d like the sex best of all. And hopefully it wouldn’t be just angel sex this time. As fun as that was, I really wanted to experience the ultimate of both physical and non–corporeal joining with him.
“Great. Go ahead and assemble your chocolate offerings. I’ll be on the couch. Sitting and brooding over my precarious future in Aaru.”
Shit, that didn’t sound good. Gregory started to walk out of the kitchen, and then backtracked to pick up the bottle of vodka before disappearing into the great room.
I watched him leave before springing into action. Nyalla had gone hog wild on chocolate purchases. She had traditional, grocery–store candy bars, organic fair–trade stuff, and stunning hand–made truffles. She’d never tasted chocolate until arriving from Hel a few months ago. Who better to help pick out the best to tempt an angel who only recently began to dip his toe into the waters of gluttony.
“Ta da!” I sat on the sofa and placed the tray between us, noting the vodka bottle was half empty. “That bad? Maybe we should hold off on the chocolate and discuss how much shit I’m in this time.”
Gregory shook his head. “Morning. I’m going to pretend I was rendered momentarily deaf in the kitchen so we can enjoy our date night. Tomorrow we’ll face our future and discuss options.”
It all sounded pretty grim, but that ‘our future’ still set my heart to skipping like an adolescent. “Then pass that thing over here. Don’t bogart the bottle.” He handed me the bottle, and I took a quick swig. “This is one of my favorites. It’s a potato vodka out of Romania. There’s another one I love that’s from Poland and made with rye.” I looked at the bottle regretfully. “At the rate we’re going, I may need to break that one out.”
“That might be advisable.” He took the vodka from me, drinking deep. “For comparison purposes, you understand. I’m sure the differences in flavor and eye–watering burn are subtle but significant.”
“I’ll get it, but first,” I handed him a small square of chocolate, popping an identical one in my mouth. “This is one of the most popular chocolates in the U.S.”
He ate it and winced. “From my analysis, there is far more sugar and dairy product in here than actual chocolate.”
Angels. There was no pleasing them. “Well, given the amount of sugar and dairy product you put in your coffee, I thought you’d like that.”
“Coffee evens out the sweetness. This doesn’t have enough of the bitter chocolate, and the result is far from balanced.”
Here we go with that whole ‘balanced and centered’ thing again. I could take an angel out of Aaru, but I clearly couldn’t erase billions of years of indoctrination.
“If you think that’s too sweet, wait until you try this one.” I handed him a mini candy bar and watched as he squashed it between his fingers.
“What’s the stuff in the middle?”
“Nougat. And now you’ve got it all over your hands. You’ll have to lick your fingers. Or I can lick your fingers. Or you can smear it all over your body and I can lick it off your skin.” The idea was immensely appealing.
“Slow it down, Cockroach. We have a whole tray of chocolates and a bottle–and–a–half of vodka to enjoy first.”
Which reminded me that I needed to get more alcohol. “Eat that thing before it melts all over you and tempts me further. I’ll go get the Belvedere and be right back.”
I raced down to the cellar, past Dalmai who was standing and watching me with an incredulous stare as I rooted through my liquor stash.
“You are the most evil being I have ever encountered.”
There was a lot of hate in the angel’s voice, and I turned to face him in surprise. “What are you talking about?”
“Michael. The Ancient Revered One. The Leader of the Host. The Angel of Righteousness. How dare you be so greedy and selfish?”
It took me a second to realize he meant Gregory. The rest still confused me. I’d accept greedy, but selfish? “What do you mean? I’m sharing my best vodka with the guy — and trust me, he’s drinking far more of it than I am.”
“You’re tearing him from us, changing him. Aaru needs him. If he were to fall … he’s the loadstone. If he were to fall, we’d all fall.”
That seemed a bit overly dramatic. Besides, these angels could do with a bit of earthly delights. “So you’re berating a demon, the Iblis, for tempting an angel to sin?”
He glared. “Ridiculous, I know, but you have shown an odd propensity to care for others. If you’re truly capable of empathy, even an unevolved, limited amount of empathy, then you should realize how much your actions hurt others — an entire race of others. Go find another angel to tempt.”
I found the bottle I was looking for and stood, holding it in one hand. “What if it’s the angel that is tempting me?”
Dalmai looked rather shocked at the prospect.
“I love him, and he loves me. It would be a shame if such a lauded emotion caused the f
all of Aaru, but if that’s the case, then perhaps the angels were soaring too high for their own good.”
“How dare you,” he sputtered.
I wasn’t about to let him finish.
“I dare because I’m a demon. I dare because maybe in my short nine–hundred thirty–eight years I’ve learned some things you haven’t.” I walked toward the stairs. “The best direction to go isn’t always up. You angels go on and on about being centered. Centered — not so far in the nosebleed section that you’ve lost your grasp of what it means to live along the path. Lower your vibration, reduce your altitude, and maybe you’ll find those specks of black on the ground can teach you something about your own life.”
I should have been angry as I climbed the stairs, but all I felt was pity — for Dalmai and the other angels in Aaru who’d never once stepped far enough away from their meditations to see what miracles life held. I thought of Nils and his desperate breeding petition to a demon who was so not worth it. I thought of Bencul, so eager for offspring that he viewed a human as if she were a broodmare. I thought of Jaq’s father, watching over her as she grew and matured.
And I thought of Gregory. My own angel who’d thrown aside billions of years of responsibility to love me. We, neither Hel nor Aaru, couldn’t wait another two–and–a–half–million years for a bunch of stubborn angels to come to their senses. The greatest things in the universe often required a big bang. And as the Iblis, it was my job to light the fuse.
I waved the bottle at him as I reached the top of the stairs, swinging the door shut behind me. The one on the coffee table was looking suspiciously near empty, and every chocolate had a bite taken out of it.
“What’s this one?” Gregory pointed a finger at a truffle then wiggled it over to a dark square.
“Which? The round one is milk chocolate surrounding a truffle, which is the tuber of a type of fungus. The flat one is an organic dark chocolate with sea salt.” I popped the other half of the truffle in my mouth. I might not be selfish, but there was a limit to my generosity.
