“Havoc, you okay?” Charleston asked.
I looked at him and wanted to say the truth, that no, I wasn’t okay, and I hadn’t been okay since I left the College of Angels twelve years ago. Out loud I said, “It’s been a hell of a day, but I’m okay.”
He narrowed his eyes at me.
“I will be okay,” I said, and meant it this time. I would be okay, because I had to be okay, there wasn’t another option.
“Good, because I need your help to change the form of the hand,” Suriel said.
I looked at her. “You’re the Infernal specialist, not me.”
“But this is not about demons, Zaniel, it is about changing the appearance of immortal flesh, and you are better at that than I am.”
“Ravensong isn’t immortal flesh,” I said.
“No, but I hope that the hand will be.”
“If it’s her hand, then it’s her hand. Human will alone cannot reshape mortal forms,” I said.
“Nor can a woman who has no taint of the Infernal about her soul suddenly have a demonic hand. That is a punishment or a payment between someone using Infernal magic.”
“I thought you said this isn’t possible under any circumstances,” Charleston said.
“I said that under these circumstances it was impossible, but I have seen long-term users of demonic magic with their bodies misshapen. It was never this—I don’t know what word to use—complete, or . . . the hand isn’t deformed, it’s transformed, and that is incredibly rare.”
“I don’t see the difference between what’s happened to my detective and what happened to the college kid in the hospital,” Charleston said.
“We found books and occult paraphernalia at Mark Cookson’s house. He’s been studying dark shit since he was about midteens if the parents are accurate and I think they are,” Lila said.
“The library book that he stole dates from about that time, coinciding with the personality changes and trouble at school,” Goliath said.
“A lot of online Satanists that recruit teenagers ask them to steal to prove that they’re serious,” Charleston said.
“If the library book date is accurate, Mark Cookson had been experimenting with demons and maybe even trying to summon devils for at least five years,” Lila said.
“What name did you say?” Suriel asked.
I repeated it for her.
Her smile faded. “I know that name.”
“How?” Charleston asked.
“He came to the College. He wanted permission to use the library, and you’re correct, Zaniel, he was researching the Infernal powers.”
“You’re an Infernalist, you had other duties, why would you know the name of someone who came to use the library?” I asked.
“It was one of our exorcists who was originally alerted to the list of books and manuscripts he requested. They did see him in person, but he was not possessed by an evil spirit at that time, and that is all an exorcist cares about. They cannot cleanse a human soul that has chosen the wrong path, for that is free will and not to be tampered with by any of us.”
“The list of books he wanted to see must have been important enough for the exorcist to show it to you,” I said.
She nodded, still not smiling. “It wasn’t what Mark Cookson requested; it was the fact that he knew we had certain manuscripts within our library. No human living today could know that we had . . . certain things within our walls for safekeeping.”
“Like what?” Lila said.
“Like the bottle that Lieutenant Charleston showed me on his phone.”
“Charleston said it just appeared outside the room after we were knocked out, hovered in the air while he threw the containment box around it. He says it tried to dodge like it was aware, alive,” Lila said.
“It is not a relic easily faced down by any human magic. That your lieutenant was able to make it hesitate for a moment is very impressive,” Suriel said.
“Are you saying this bottle is one of the relics that were stored at the College?” I asked.
“It looks like the twin of one that we have at the College,” she said.
“Are you in charge of the forbidden objects at the College?” I asked.
She shook her head. “No, and it cannot be the one in our archives, but that there is another like it anywhere is something the masters at the College need to know. It was supposed to be a singular artifact.” She looked worried for a moment, maybe more.
“Which would be worse news, that this bottle is the one from the College, or that there are two of them?” Charleston asked.
“For the world, two would be worse, but for the College both would be terrible . . .” She shook her head, then forced herself to smile, and said, “but in answer to your question, Zaniel, my sash is red, blue, and black with a silver-and-gold badge.”
I was glad she had blue for Ravensong’s sake, and black meant she dealt with the worst of the demonic. “You’re third in line for the head of your specialty, congratulations,” I said, but I knew my face wasn’t neutral. I don’t know why it was a shock that Suriel had done so well in her chosen path; she always did well at anything she set her mind to, but somehow knowing that she was that far up in the hierarchy of the College bothered me. It shouldn’t have, but it did, and I had no idea why.
“You knew this guy was trying to work black magic and you didn’t think to alert the police to the danger?” Charleston said.
Suriel gave him a weak version of her smile, but it left her eyes colder, the steel underneath the baby blues showing through for a second. “If we wished everyone in the human world to know we had certain things, we would advertise it. There are many who would pay well to see into the mystical archives, but some things are better left alone, and far too dangerous for mortal humans to read, or to be in human hands. You’ve all seen the evil that can come of it.”
“How long ago did Mark Cookson come to you?” I asked.
She thought about it. “A year, or a little more.”
“And you remembered his name all this time after reading it once?” Lila said, laying the cynicism and sarcasm on equally thick.
I almost came to Suriel’s defense, but I should have remembered that glimpse of steel; she didn’t need me to ride to her rescue, she never had. “I read his name over a dozen times, because that is how many pieces he wished to read in our library.”
“You make them sign out a request per book?” Goliath asked.
“They do the same at reference libraries,” I said.
“Sorry, I was never much of a bookworm,” he said.
“Me either,” Lila said, “but I’m glad to know that people have to sign their names if they’re trying to borrow something as dangerous as that damn bottle.”
“We would never have let that out of our vaults,” she said.
“What about the books?” Charleston asked.
“He could have read them in the library under supervision, but he would never have been allowed to remove them from our holy wards.”
“And you’re saying the entire list of books was all things he shouldn’t have known were in the library?” I asked.
“Known that they once existed, perhaps, but that they all are still intact and in our library, no. No mortal human would know that.”
“Was it just books that he wanted to see or were there objects on the list?” I asked.
“He knew we had things, Zaniel, things that no mortal human could have known about.”
“You keep saying mortal human like there’s another option,” Lila said.
“There are always other options, but a boy so young had not the decades of life to research and find out half of what he seemed to know,” Suriel said.
“Did anyone from the College follow up with the Cookson kid and try to find out how he knew all this?” Charleston asked.
“We took steps to find out more about him.”
“What kind of steps?” I asked.
“Steps that should have worked, unless he
was being championed by someone or something that was far more powerful than we anticipated.” She looked at me as she said it, as if trying to tell me more than her words meant.
“If you want to tell Havoc something in private, say so and we’ll give you some space,” Lila said.
“Thank you, that would be most appreciated,” Suriel said.
“She was being sarcastic,” I said.
“Was she?”
“I was,” Lila said.
“What did the College do to find Mark Cookson?” Charleston asked.
“We petitioned the angels to aid us in the search,” she said, as if it was an everyday occurrence to ask angels to help you find someone.
“And they couldn’t find Cookson?” I asked.
She shook her head. “They could not.”
“That’s not possible; if the angels are given someone to find they do not miss their prey,” I said.
“Prey, what do you mean, prey?” Lila asked.
I glanced at her and then looked at Suriel. We met each other’s eyes and then she made a small up gesture with her hands, as if it was more my choice what to share.
“If God tells his angels to find you, they will find you; you cannot hide from them,” I said.
Suriel gave me a look as if waiting for me to add more; when I didn’t, she just looked away, but Lila and Charleston had both caught it. I saw them look at me and then at each other, but I was done on the topic of angels and their prey. There were truths that I had learned at too high a cost to ever share unless forced.
“So how did they miss the Cookson kid?” Charleston asked.
“Because something was protecting him,” I said.
“That was our thinking,” Suriel said.
“So, you had a college student running around our city asking about dark tomes of power and you didn’t think to give us a heads-up?” Lila asked.
“He had not broken any of your laws. What were we supposed to tell you, that we didn’t like his reading habits? That we thought he might be under the protection of a major demon, or worse? We cannot approach the human authorities every time we think someone is tainted; if we did, you would be chasing down our fears constantly.”
“There can’t be that many,” Goliath said.
She gave him a look that was more like Reggie, full of scorn, as if he was being naïve beyond words. He frowned at her, as if he wasn’t used to being on the receiving end of that look very often.
“People travel to the College of Angels from all over the world,” I said.
“We do not bother the human police unless we feel the person is a danger to themselves or others. We knew he could not find what he sought anywhere else, and we would not agree to him reading any of the things he listed, so without the knowledge he was harmless. We treated him as such.”
I knew she was leaving out things. I knew that if they suspected there was a human in the city, or the world, who was that well protected by the Infernal forces, they would make it their job to find out the how, why, and who involved. That over a year had passed without any resolution meant that something had gone wrong. I would ask Suriel in private and hope she told me. I knew better than to ask in front of others outside the College. I’d be lucky if she confided in me.
“Well, the demon exploded out of him and killed him, so he’s harmless now,” Lila said.
“Lieutenant Charleston explained the bits of skin at the scene. I am not sure what to make of that and I will consult with others at the College, but at this moment we need to save Detective Ravensong’s hand.”
“There is no we, Suriel,” I said.
“Would you let the doctors amputate her hand, when you could help me save it?”
I looked at Charleston. “Is that true, are they really talking about amputating her hand?”
He nodded. “It’s true.”
“Zaniel,” she said, “your power is a gift from God. It is your gift to him that you use that power to serve others. Would you deny that aid to your own friend and coworker?”
“I haven’t done anything like what you are asking since I walked out the gates of the College,” I said.
“Thirteen years or thirteen minutes is all the same to the angels,” she said.
“I’m not an angel,” I said.
“Nor am I a demon, we just work with them.”
That made me smile. She took my hand in hers, not as the formal greeting, but the way she used to when we were seven. It felt right to have her hand in mine again, as if I’d been missing her far more than I’d allowed myself to realize. I fell back into that old habit of letting her lead, as if I didn’t outweigh her by over a hundred pounds now. I could have tucked her under one arm, but it isn’t always about size. She’d always been the bravest of the three of us, our leader without any vote taking place, or any questions asked. Once that had been enough, and I prayed that it would be again.
She led me to the door to one of our specially warded interrogation rooms. The entire floor had more wards on it than the rest of the building, but these rooms were self-contained, magically warded, and isolated from the rest of the building. The rooms also had steel-reinforced doors just in case supernatural strength came with supernatural magic.
“Why is Ravensong in here?” I asked.
“The hand was transforming when I found her. It kept changing as I watched, getting more . . . I decided to bring her in here to see if it would slow down what was happening to her,” Charleston said.
“Did it slow it down?” I asked.
“It stopped at her wrist. I’ve been trying to remember if it stopped as soon as we crossed the industrial-strength wards, but honestly I’m not sure if it would have stopped outside the interrogation room just the same.”
“You think that the transformation would have kept going past her hand?”
“I was afraid it would, so I brought her here to try to slow it down.”
“Why aren’t I in one of these?”
“You’re not turning into a demon,” Charleston said.
“We don’t know what happened when the bottle did whatever it did,” I said, pulling free of Suriel’s hand.
“We do not have time for your self-doubt, Zaniel.”
I realized it wasn’t self-doubt, it was fear. I’d reacted to just a picture of Ravensong’s hand; I wasn’t sure I was up to seeing those claws in person again this soon.
I said, “Whoever helped the Archangel Michael get back to his true form is better at this than I am. Send to the school for them.”
“It wasn’t just one person who aided the Archangel, Zaniel, and besides there is no time to send for anyone. The longer your friend looks at the hand, the more her mind accepts that it is real and solid. We must act now.”
“If it’s immortal flesh, then mortal will can change it, there is no time limit on that,” I said.
“It is immortal flesh attached to mortal flesh; the mortal part will solidify things quickly. We must act now or leave it to the human doctors, and they will have only one solution, Zaniel.”
“You know why I stopped doing this kind of angel magic, Suriel.”
“I do, but is your fear and shame worth your friend losing her hand?”
“No, of course not.”
“Then help me save her hand.”
“It’s not that simple.”
“It is that simple, but your fear and self-doubt cripple you; will you allow them to cripple your friend, too?”
Charleston said, “I don’t know what you’re planning to do, but if you can help Ravensong keep her hand, then do it.”
Seeing Suriel had brought up great memories and awful ones. I was still afraid to use some of my magic, but if anything I had ever learned could help Ravensong, I would do it. Suriel was here, and together we could do it. I had to believe that. I did believe that. “Yes, sir. Suriel and I can help Ravensong.”
“Then go do it,” he said.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Ravensong had propped t
he hand on the table because it was too heavy to hang at her side. I’d thought the hand would be sized to her, but it wasn’t. It was sized for the nearly ten-foot-tall demon from the hospital hallway, which made it almost cartoonishly large for her. Even my wrist wouldn’t have been thick enough for it, but hers . . . She wasn’t a small woman, but she was still a woman, with everything done a little more delicately. It was like her wrist had swollen to match the hand, but even then, the dark, scaled skin had to be pinched down to set on the pale wrist.
I expected to be traumatized seeing the claws in person, but the pain and fear on Ravensong’s face that she tried so hard to hide from me overrode my own issues.
“Does it hurt?” I asked.
“Everyone keeps asking me that, and the answer is no.”
“Can you move it?” I asked.
She wiggled the fingers for me. “And before you ask, I can lift it, but it’s just heavier than my hand should be, it’s like having to carry one of those stupid kettlebells from the gym forever on the end of your wrist.”
I had to smile at the description, it was so her. The wrist was half hers, but the rest was not. It just didn’t belong. I could see it, everyone could see it, but . . . I turned to Suriel.
“You see it, where they don’t match,” I said.
“We all see it,” Charleston said.
“Not like Zaniel sees it,” she said.
“May I have your permission to do energy work on you, Athena?” I asked.
For once she didn’t tell me to use her last name at work; she just looked up at me, frowned a little, then studied my face, eyes narrowing. “Zaniel, if you can really help fix this, then you have my permission to do anything you need to do.”
I smiled at her, and I felt the first pulse of peace. Sometimes I didn’t know why I denied myself so many of my gifts, and then other times I knew it was guilt, survivor’s guilt, sinner’s guilt, but I wanted to help Ravensong more than I wanted to beat myself up for past sins.
There are always angels around us; they wait to help, to heal, to share God’s grace with us, but they can’t help us unless we ask them to, give them permission to—so do it with me now, say, “Angels around me, I give you permission to help me and help those around me.” There are more formal words, but simple ones will do. Angels only need to be freed to help us; Guardian Angels hover near everyone, and some people have more than one, but they are trapped watching us screw our lives up, unless we allow them to help us. When Suriel, Jamie, and I were about ten we came up with our own shorthand to help the angels to help us.
A Terrible Fall of Angels Page 19