by Nazri Noor
Royce would have to deal with a PR disaster – what else was new – but it helped that the Lorica expended its significant financial reserves on media coverage convincing the city that the events of the night had just been a promotional stunt. All the normals would remember seeing was a really, really elaborate spring flower festival, followed by a really extravagant if monochromatic fireworks display.
It was when I mentioned chopping Raguel’s head off – by accident, remember? – that Raziel started getting all nervous. He tugged on his collar, stammering slightly. “Raguel’s essence will reform itself in time. I can assure you, though, that he will be neither very happy nor friendly with you the next time you cross paths.”
I rubbed at my wrist, at the backs of my knuckles. “Yeah, well – I haven’t exactly mentioned who the sword belonged to. There’s kind of a reason it was so easy to hack Raguel’s head off.”
Raziel nodded. “Under normal circumstances, someone as martial as Raguel should not have fallen to mundane weaponry. But, er, as you were saying – who does the sword belong to?”
“Don’t freak out.”
Raziel said nothing, his hand shaking as he brought his coffee up to his mouth.
I took a deep breath, shielded my face, then answered. “Lucifer. The Morning Star.”
I was expecting Raziel’s coffee to come spurting out of his mouth and into my face. It ended up going the other way and down the wrong pipes. He gasped, choked, and sputtered, his face turning sheet white. A cup of water, several more paper towels, and one very concerned but very sweet barista later, Raziel had settled down, breathing steadily but shuddering a little each time he exhaled.
“A-and you say that he called you nephew?”
“He did. I honestly don’t know how I got out of that alive.”
Raziel looked up at the ceiling, his eyes imploring and wet. “Unlike Belphegor, you aren’t a threat to him. At least not yet. Still – goodness gracious. I don’t know how you ran into the Morning Star himself and survived.”
“That’s the thing,” I said, leaning across the table. “He even saved me. I don’t know if that means I owe him a debt of gratitude now, but I’m sure I don’t want to find out.”
Raziel shivered and hugged his elbows. “Imagine owing a debt to the Devil himself.”
“Please. Please don’t put it that way.” I twiddled my thumbs as I stared at the dregs of my cooling, congealing mocha. “There was something else. He said something that got me worried. It was about my mother. Lucifer says she’s not dead.”
“You shouldn’t forget, Mason, that we are talking about the Devil here. Not just the Morning Star, not just the Prince of Pride, but the King of Hell. He is the Deceiver. You cannot believe a single word he says. And another thing, I – ”
The sadness must have shown on my face because Raziel stopped short. I hadn’t realized until then how much I’d hoped that Lucifer was telling the truth. Raziel paused for breath, calmed himself, then reached across the table, patting me on the back of the hand.
“Mason, I know that this is important to you. If there’s any truth to what the Morning Star told you, then I will personally help you find her. But don’t keep your hopes up. I just don’t want you to be disappointed.”
I gave him a tight smile, the little seedling of hope in my chest sprouting again. But there was that other thing Lucifer said, too. That thing about serving and ruling.
“It kind of makes me think, Raz. About my father, I mean, Samyaza. He would have wanted me to find Mom if there was any chance whatsoever of her being alive. But I’ve been giving it some thought, and wouldn’t he want me to find my siblings, too? The other nephilim, I mean. Whether he fathered them or not.”
Raziel rubbed his chin, his lips spreading into a wry grin. “Oh, look at you, thinking like the fledgling monarch you are. I think I like where this is headed – well, as ambiguous and potentially heretical as this conversation is going.”
But that was the takeaway from my encounter with Lucifer. It all but sealed for me that it really never was as clear-cut as black or white, good or evil. All I had to go on was whether I was doing the right thing. Stopping Belphegor from taking over the city – no, from dominating the entire world – that had been the right thing to do. And taking responsibility for the nephilim, finally stepping into the role Samyaza left for me – maybe that was also the right thing to do.
“All this princeling stuff we’ve talked about in the past. Maybe it’s time for me to look into it, you know? All this heir business.”
He nodded, still smiling. “I like the way you’re talking, Mason. But there’ll be time for us to discuss that yet. For now, let’s enjoy the afternoon.”
We sat there, watching the wetness of the world outside, the rain pelting the streets and sidewalks of this weird city that attracted so many of the world’s supernaturals. I busied myself by trying to count the raindrops, finding it mesmerizing, yet so overwhelming. How many of us nephilim were in the world? How many children had the Grigori fathered? Shrinking it down to a smaller scale, I couldn’t even imagine how many siblings I had by Samyaza. A hundred? A dozen? Thousands?
Raziel’s voice was distant as he studied the clouds. “I can tell you this much, Mason. Because of this bracer of yours, I may no longer be able to find you.” He turned to me, his eyes shining with his smile. “But we may yet find your brothers and sisters. And if the Morning Star is indeed telling the truth, perhaps we’ll find your mother, too.”
I smiled back, then finished the last of my coffee. Raziel did the same, savoring his newfound love of caramel. I was lucky to have a friend like him, to have a family that included an alraune, a gorilla, and a freaking goddess. Yet my thoughts kept going back to my own family, even stranger, to the siblings that I’d never even known.
Raziel and I had discussed them on more than one occasion. They were bound to be out there, scared and alone. I wondered if they felt as lost and as terrified as I did on the day my sigils burned themselves into my skin, the day the angels came to kill me. Call it bravado, call it a messianic complex, but I wanted to seek them out, to help them in some small way. If nothing else, they didn’t deserve to be alone.
I set down my empty coffee, the cup clicking against the saucer. “Shall we go?”
Raziel winked down at the bottom of his own cup, checking for any leftover caramel, then blinked up at me. “Where are we going? It’s still raining.”
“We can stand under the awning, enjoy the rain where we’ll be dry. It’s rare enough that it’s nice to just smell it, feel it a little.” I stuck my hands into my pockets to warm them. “Then who knows? Maybe we could explore the city, see the sights. And if we get hungry, hey, there’s other ways to enjoy caramel, too. On ice cream, or cake.”
Raziel beamed at me. “That sounds like a plan. I’d like that very much.”
We went out on the patio of Human Beans, protected from the rain by the awning, the air a thick wall of pleasant, cool humidity. It was a chill afternoon, literally, a nice day for a nap, but just as nice a day for staring out quietly into the rain with a good friend.
And then it stopped, going from a downpour, to a drizzle, to nothing. The last of the rain dripped from the rooftops, from streetlights and signposts, drops of water joining the thin ocean of rain collecting on the asphalt. It was overwhelming, thinking of finding the other nephilim, or even my mother. Not just looking for a needle in a haystack, but a single drop of water in an ocean.
Yet find them I would. I wanted to. I had to.
Raziel held his hand out, feeling at the air. “Ah. I think it’s finally stopped raining.”
I smiled at him, watching as the clouds parted, breathing in the fragrance of a world swept clean by the endless sky. The rain was over.
But my reign was about to begin.
END
See where it all began.
Witness Mason Albrecht’s awakening in Ex Nihilo.
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Also by Nazri Noor
Sins of the Father
Fallen Reign
False Gods
Morning Star
Ex Nihilo
Darkling Mage
Shadow Magic
Dark Harvest
Grave Intentions
Oblivion Heart
Midnight’s Son
Last Rites
Blood Pact
Soul Fire
Endless Knight
Penumbra
Crystal Brawl
About the Author
Hi, I’m Nazri, a Filipino-Malaysian author based in California. I’m trilingual, but I really only write in English. I can also speak just enough Sindarin and Valyrian to impress absolutely no one. My urban fantasy novels focus on heroes who use wits, style, and their wildly unpredictable magic to save the day. Think sass and class, while kicking ass.
My influences come from horror and fantasy: HP Lovecraft, Anne Rice, George R.R. Martin, Chuck Palahniuk, Terry Pratchett, and Neil Gaiman. Growing up I was shaped by the Blood Sword, Fighting Fantasy, Lone Wolf, and Grey Star game book universes. I’m also inspired by video games, specifically the Castlevania, Final Fantasy, and Persona series.
Long story short, I’m a huge nerd, and the thrill of imagining wizards and monsters and worlds into existence is what makes me feel most alive. Writing, to me, is magic. If you enjoyed my work, please do consider leaving a review on Amazon. Even just a sentence can do so much. Reviews help readers like you decide whether they’d like my books, and they help indie authors like me with better visibility and credibility.
And do join us in the Arcane Underground, my own reader group on Facebook. You can talk about the books with other readers or even ask me questions about my stories. I frequently share free and discounted books from myself and other authors, but most importantly, the group is always the first to learn about upcoming releases and see new covers as I reveal them. We also post memes. Lots and lots of memes.
I hope to see you there. Thank you for reading, and thank you for supporting independent authors everywhere.
