by Debra Dunbar
I stared at her. “Sooooo…I should have hookers and tequila and blackjack at the party? To better help my angelic guests understand the human experience?”
Nyalla looked for a second as if she were going to throw her beer bottle at me. “No. Just a normal party. Cake. Presents. Balloons. Streamers. People singing the happy birthday song. Angels and humans and werewolves and Nephilim all hanging out together, talking about their lives and laughing over funny stories. Sam, you’ve been here over forty years. You know that human life is about more than booze, sex, and gambling.”
I blinked at her.
“Okay, you can have tequila at the party if you really want. But no prostitutes or gambling. If you want to have sex, do it with Gregory after the party is over, in your bedroom. And be romantic about it.”
“Romantic. So swallow after the blow job?” I teased.
She rolled her eyes. “Use your body, or your spirit-self, to show him how you feel about him. And yes, swallow after the blow job.”
“I knew it.” I did a fist-pump and settled back in my lounge chair. Little did Nyalla know, but I bared myself to Gregory every time we were intimate. I bared myself to him every time we were not intimate. I couldn’t help it. No matter how much I tried to pretend, or put on a bold front, he could see right through it. It’s one of the reasons I loved him. He truly saw me for what I was, and loved me because of it.
Okay, maybe Nyalla did know that. She was far too smart and world-wise for a human woman her age, even without her gift.
“What did you get him as a present?” Nyalla asked. “I picked up something in Aruba for him. It’s kind of funny, but I think he’ll like it.”
“I got him…” Crap. I couldn’t tell Nyalla because I don’t think she’d understand. There were things between Gregory and me that were a part of our history together—a history I didn’t want to get into too much detail with my sort-of adoptive daughter. “I got him something really personal that no one but he will understand.”
I know what I wanted to give him. I wasn’t just looking for Samael to figure out how to get back into Aaru. I wanted a family reconciliation. And if I couldn’t have that, I at least wanted Gregory to know that his brother was still alive. If he was, that is.
It was a completely unrealistic idea, but I wanted the pair of them to be brothers again, like they were so long ago. It had only been two-and-a-half-million years since the end of the war. That might be too soon to expect a forgiveness of all wrongs, but I hoped that eventually, maybe in another million years or so, all these old wounds might finally be healed.
Nyalla gave me a warm smile. There was something odd in her eyes, something about the gray and the green flecks that made me realize she was seeing into my heart. It didn’t bother me. Of all the beings in the universe, Nyalla was one of the few that was welcome to whatever my heart could tell her. I’d bought her from the elves as a present to Wyatt, to bring back his long-lost sister that had been stolen from her crib and replaced with a half-elf changeling. When she’d asked to live in my house instead of his, I’d reluctantly agreed. And within days she was a part of me, someone I’d give my life for, someone I loved with every inch of my spirit-self. I was terrified of producing offspring, but Nyalla was every bit my daughter. She was the child of my heart.
And wasn’t that a weird thing for a demon to have?
She smiled, a hint of a dimple at the corner of her lips, her eyes warm. “I love you too, Sam.”
“Should I come back another time?”
I turned at the unfamiliar deep voice and saw a demon walk around the side of my house, escorted by Boomer. My hellhound looked like a regular dog with his tongue hanging out and normal brown eyes, so I knew this guy wasn’t a threat. Still, my visitor was a powerful demon, with energy rolling off him in waves, in spite of his casual, friendly demeanor.
Wait. I knew this guy. It was the warmonger that was infatuated with Amber. I’d never seen him in a human form before, but I recognized his energy.
“Harkel.” I jumped to my feet, putting myself between the demon and Nyalla. Warmongers didn’t tend to bother with individual humans, but it didn’t hurt to be safe. He was an Ancient, so I didn’t think I could do much more than hold him off while Nyalla got away, but Boomer would help. He adored Nyalla and I knew he’d protect her with his life.
“Iblis.” Harkel bowed. He was kind of cute in this form. All he needed to do was break into some Asian-style martial arts, and I’d be all over him. Yeah. No wonder Amber was boinking him, although as a half-succubus, she boinked pretty much everyone.
“What can I do for you?” Might as well get to the point. I had a beer to finish, and a birthday party to plan.
“It’s what I can do for you that has brought me here.” The demon pulled a lounge chair over, wincing at the screech the metal legs made on the concrete.
I narrowed my eyes, waiting, because demons didn’t do anything for free. There would be a price. I just needed to keep my mouth shut and not commit myself until I knew what that price was.
“I’m very fond of your Amber. I’m fond of her Irix as well, but he’s not in your household, so there is no need to discuss my dealings with him to you.”
Harkel sat down. I did the same, shooting a quick glance behind to me make sure Nyalla was safe. She tilted her head and regarded the warmonger, then with a quiet chuckle, leaned back in her lounge chair. If she’d read anything alarming in the demon’s heart, I would have seen it on her face. Even so, I jerked my head at Boomer, sending him over to stand next to the girl. He’d drool slobber all over her jeans, but he’d also turn into a monstrous hellhound and protect her if needed.
“I want Amber in my household.” Harkel got right to the point.
“That’s up to her. If she asks me, I’ll release her. I have to say that she probably won’t ask, though. There are some advantages to her being in the household of the Iblis that you wouldn’t be able to provide.”
The warmonger scowled. “Such as?”
“Immunity from the angels for both her and Irix.”
I could practically hear him grinding his teeth. “I see. Yes, that is one benefit that I cannot provide, but in Hel, an association with my household would be far more advantageous than an association with yours.”
It was a sad state of affairs that being connected with the Iblis carried so little weight in Hel. “True, but she’s not in Hel and I don’t believe she has any intention of returning there, at least not in the next ten thousand years or so. She likes it here. And Irix likes it wherever she is.”
I got the feeling this was the issue Harkel was struggling with. He wanted both of them, and as he didn’t have immunity, there was considerable risk to his being here on this side of the gates—especially for any length of time.
“You could always bring yourself and your household under mine,” I proposed. “That way you’d have immunity as well and could remain here with the two of them, although you’d need to curtail some of your more unsavory activities.”
His eyes blinked wide, then he laughed. “You cannot be serious! As tempting as immunity is, I doubt the terms of it would allow me any leeway to perform my hobbies unfettered. Outside of visiting with Irix and Amber, that sort of immunity would be useless to me. It certainly wouldn’t be worth the humiliation of subjugating myself to an imp barely out of the nursery.”
“I’m the Iblis,” I reminded him.
“Are you?” He arched an eyebrow. “You are nothing. You are a cockroach with a sword that does not obey you. Only the Lows in Hel follow you. You haven’t managed to command the respect of the Ancients, to bring the demons under your control. In Hel, you are unknown to most, and a laughingstock to others. Here, the only power you wield is due to the protection of your archangel lover. Without his support, you wouldn’t be given either immunity or granted a seat among their ranks. You’re not the Iblis, you’re an imp playing dress-up games.”
I heard Nyalla suck in a breath and saw her sho
ot me a concerned look.
But it was true. Every word was true. I had luck. I sometimes had a powerful sword, if the damned thing felt like helping me out. I was difficult to kill, I devoured, I could store huge amounts of energy. But power? He was right. I was an imp playing dress-up games.
For a second I envisioned myself storming into Hel, taking charge, enforcing my will at the point of a cooperative sentient sword. Did I even want that? Most of the time I just wanted to crawl back under a rock and enjoy my life without these endless meetings, and werewolves, and humans, and demons, and elves. And angels.
But then I thought about how much fun it was to outwit them, to throw a big wrench into their stupid rules and endless procedures. I’d battled angels, battled elves, battled all sorts of weird shit. I’d negotiated with a huge powerful dragon. With my sneaky, back-door, imp antics, I’d changed the course of the world. And whether for good or for bad, I’d shaken all the stagnation up and gotten things moving again. Life under a rock seemed boring in comparison. But to take control of Hel? To become the ruler of the demons in more than title? That was a job that called for a commander, a leader, an organizer of beings, not an imp. I knew my shortcomings, but it still stung to have an Ancient, a powerful warmonger, point them out to me.
“Such flattery,” I drawled, taking a sip of my beer. “I wasn’t going to give you Amber before, and I’m definitely not going to give her to you now. I don’t want whatever you have to offer. Now get lost before I call that powerful angel I’m fucking and ask him to pretty-please turn you into a pile of sand.”
“Oh you won’t do that, because you really want to hear what I have to tell you. And if you don’t, that angel of yours definitely will. The Ancients are awake. All of them. They have been awake for a while now, but you’re not in Hel often enough to notice.”
I lifted my eyebrows and shook my head. “So what? What do I care if the Ancients are awake or not?”
“You’re too young to understand, and even with those wings, you’re still a demon. Two-and-a-half-million years in Hel, banished from our homeland and forced to live in corporeal form or die is torture for us. Some have adapted, but even those who have still feel the pain of our exile every moment of our lives.”
Oh, for fuck’s sake. “I’ve been in Aaru. It sucks. Hel is so much better. Here is so much better. You Ancients need to get over yourselves, quit whining about the past and all you lost and live a little.”
“All you have ever known is Hel. Aaru was our home. And a great many of those Ancients who have survived since the war want to take it back. All of them are awake, and they are searching for a leader to put together an army to take back our homeland.”
A leader. My heart beat double-time at the thought that I might finally be able to locate Samael, to reunite him with his siblings, to get him to tell me how to get all the angels back into Aaru. I wondered if he would want his sword back? Hopefully not. As useless as the thing was sometimes, I kinda liked it. And I kinda liked being the Iblis as well.
“Who?” I demanded. “Who is their leader?”
“They don’t have one yet. There are six Ancients who are front-runners, but none of them has yet proven himself qualified to head an invasion into Aaru.”
“Is one of those six Ancients Samael?”
Harkel laughed. “Samael hasn’t been seen for over two million years. He’s dead, or you wouldn’t be carting around that sword and these six wouldn’t be the arguing over who will lead the demons.”
I didn’t want to believe that, but something inside me worried that Harkel was right. If Samael had survived exile this long, slumbering as so many of the most powerful Ancients had done, then he would have awakened with the rest of them and taken his rightful place. But I’d heard nothing of him, these other Ancients were jockeying for position over who would take charge of the forces of Hel, and I still had the damned sword.
There was one bright spot in all of this. “They’ll never get into Aaru. These Ancients are gonna look like idiots in front of tens of thousands of demons when after all their efforts, they’re still in Hel.”
“Oh, they’ll get in.” Harkel smirked. “If they have to force their way in, they’ll do it.”
“Banished. They can’t get in, they’re banished. Do you seriously think the archangels would have ejected the Angels of Chaos without putting some safeguards in place to ensure they didn’t get up, dust themselves off, and head right back into battle?”
“You got in. And you took a demon army with you.”
Huh. He knew that? Although, even with the spread of that story, I still didn’t get any respect.
“Yes, I have entered Aaru. I’m the Iblis, I’m allowed in. And I’m not folding a few hundred powerful Ancients and their demons into my household and heading the charge into Aaru.”
Not that I could get into Aaru anyway. Not anymore. That was one bright spot in all of this. Even if the Ancients tried to pressure me into helping them, I couldn’t.
Harkel shrugged. “I’m just warning you that you should take this seriously. I’ve heard rumors, and if they’re true, then as the Iblis, you should get involved.”
I waited for Harkel to expand upon that, but he clearly wasn’t going to let me in on what this secret was.
Rumors. Now I was feeling mildly paranoid, wondering if there was some workaround for the original banishment, and if that workaround would also get them past whatever I’d done to kick the angels out of Aaru. No. There couldn’t be. If there was some way around the original banishment, then the Ancients wouldn’t have waited over two million years to attempt a return. Harkel was just blowing smoke up my ass, pissed off that I wouldn’t hand Amber over to him.
Besides, none of the Ancients or demons knew about Aaru being locked down, about all the angels being banished from it. If Harkel was going to remain silent about his little secret, then I fully intended to continue remaining silent about mine. Let the Ancients bash their heads against the door. I’d just sit back and laugh at them.
“Oh, and one more thing,” Harkel spread his hands wide. “All this? It’s about to be inundated with demons. We know the angels are preoccupied with their own squabbles, and that the human world has decreased in terms of importance to them. Get ready for thousands of high-level demons crossing the gates in groups and doing whatever they want to do. It’s party-time here in the human world, and we intend on taking advantage of it. So if you have humans or territory you consider your own, make sure to mark it, or you’ll find someone has snatched your riches out from under your nose.”
Little did he know that the world was inundated with angels right now as well. And once they got their feet under them, I’m sure Gregory would be able to marshal their forces to fight the rag-tag demons who decided this was a perfect time for a vacation. No biggie. I shrugged and took a drink of my beer.
Harkel frowned at me, snatching the beer from my hand and tossing it into the azaleas. “You want to be the Iblis? Well, you need to get off of your ass, draw up your plan of attack, and engage. If you won’t lead, someone else will, and I don’t think you or your angel lover will be happy with who that ‘someone’ is. Take control of your sword. Take control of Hel. Take control of the demons. Then deliver an ultimatum to the Ancients: either they kneel before you, or you will crush them. And do it now before it’s too late.”
He spun around and left. Boomer’s eyes glowed, his fur upright in a ridge down his back as he took a protective step that practically put him on top of Nyalla. I watched the warmonger leave.
Take control. Was that a shit-or-get-off-the-pot speech he’d just delivered unto me? Asshole. Like he knew anything. I was an imp. I was young. There was no way I was going to be able to take control of anything at all, let alone rule Hel and force the Ancients to their knees. Maybe in a couple million years if I lived that long, but not now.
“He’s right you know.” Nyalla sat up, pushing Boomer gently to the side to rummage in the cooler.
“Ri
ght about what? Me being a weak, useless imp playacting at the whole Iblis thing?” I held out my hand for another beer.
“He said that to get you angry and make you do something, so you would be proactive, and throw the first blow.” She popped the cap off a bottle and handed it to me. “I don’t know what he’s got against these other Ancients, but he wants you to take them down.”
“He wants me to start a fight, a war. Because he’s a warmonger, and that’s what warmongers do. If I storm into Hel and try to take charge, all that will happen is me ending up dead and the sword going back to hang out with the vampires for a few hundred thousand years or so. I’ve argued this before. Like, over and over and over before. I can’t be what they want me to be. I’m not a leader. I’m not the sort of demon, or angel, who can get tens of thousands of demons and Ancients to obey her and follow her. I’m not the sort to lead the battle charge.”
“Then don’t do it Harkel’s way, or Gregory’s way, or even how you’re envisioning Samael’s way to be. Do it your way. But do it.”
Yeah, yeah. Be the imp. “So trickster all of Hel into following my lead? With what, whoopee cushions and hallucinogens in their coffee?”
She shrugged. “Yeah, if it works. When you play to your strengths, you’re downright terrifying, Sam. You’re unpredictable. You somehow manage to prevail even in ridiculously unbalanced fights. There’s something crazy about you that’s scary, even to demons. I don’t want to see you hurt, and I sure don’t want to see you get killed, but you can’t keep dancing around this decision. Grab that sword of yours, even if it manifests as a pool noodle, and become the Queen of Hel.”
