I nodded grimly. “But if we’re making a Gateway in, why wouldn’t a Gateway out work just as well?”
Pride pinched the bridge of his nose as if searching for an explanation. “This isn’t very accurate, but the concept applies,” he forewarned, clearing his throat. “From inside Purgatory, making a Gateway back out is kind of like trying to run while floating in space. You can see Earth right in front of you, but no matter how fast you pedal your legs, you’re not going anywhere. There’s no friction for you to grip. There’s nothing for you to anchor to, which is why you have to leave the Gateway you used to get into Purgatory open—and then hope you’re strong enough to keep it open or you’re fucked. That’s where the Arch-level power comes into play. I have more endurance than my fellow demons. No offense, Samael,” he said with a dry grin.
Samael rolled his eyes, but nodded at my inquisitive look, backing up Pride’s claims.
His analogy actually did make sense to me. The Gateway into purgatory would act like a lifeline thrown down a well. An archdemon was a stronger rope, figuratively speaking. And archdemon and an archangel together would be even stronger, but that wasn’t an option. I pondered the puzzle, wondering how my Spear might fit into the equation. My mother had certainly seen a chance at success, even though no one else did.
Even with the proper team in place, I had no idea how to even find the White Tiger and Vermillion Bird once we arrived. Lilith hadn’t given me any clues either. Probably because the two Divines were constantly running for their lives—or actively hunting down other souls.
The whole situation sounded fucking insane.
“What else do you know about the inhabitants? These hungry souls?” I asked, letting my frustrated thoughts simmer in the background.
He met my eyes and they were haunted. “Apathy. The only food in Purgatory is your fellow souls. Only problem is that you can’t die, per se. You just grow weaker—forever. Your existence is to be eaten by your own people, slowly regain some of your essence, and then get eaten again. Forever.” He saw the disgusted look in my eyes and nodded very slowly. “They don’t call it never was for nothing,” he said, enunciating the two words individually. “Never was anything worthwhile in life, so why afford any of those squandered luxuries in death? Spend eternity suffering the very creed you embodied on Earth. Be forgotten and seen as nothing by your peers. Just a thoughtless, mindless, eternally hungry parasite sucking off those around you and being sucked off in return—which is nowhere near as fun as it sounds.”
I turned to see Samael staring off at nothing with a disgusted look on his face. “Why would Lilith send them there?” I mused. “To keep them safe by making them part of the menu?”
Pride cleared his throat. “In Lilith’s defense, women have always made poor choices when it comes to food. A certain apple comes to mind…” I shot him a murderous scowl, but he was grinning without shame. “Bazinga.”
Samael grunted. “That was Eve, asshole. Not Lilith,” he muttered, somewhat proudly.
I knew they were only teasing, but Samael’s comment actually got me thinking. What might the world have been like if Adam hadn’t been too insecure to occasionally let his first wife, Lilith, be on top during sex? His requirement to always be on top was, debatably, just as damning as Eve and her apple had been.
Pride nodded. “I agree, Callie.” I flinched, not having realized that I’d spoken my thoughts out loud. My cheeks flushed, wondering exactly which part I’d verbalized. Pride grinned. “What’s not to love about a woman straddling your hips and riding you into the ground, while you lay back and enjoy the view? Tits or tats, I don’t care which direction she faces, because I’m a gentleman. The view is great either way.”
I burst out laughing. “Boobs or tramp stamps?” I hooted. “Is that what you’re saying?”
He grinned and then pinched his thumb and forefinger together in a circle as he made a kissing sound. “It’s glorious either way. And I’m going to ask to bend her over in the next day or two, so what do I care? Share the wealth. Sex is all about variety and trying new things. The fun is in the experimentation.”
“Are you two quite finished talking about my fiancée?” Samael asked, folding his arms.
I flashed my godfather a guilty wince, having forgotten he was present. Pride shot me a discreet wink before turning to face Samael. “Women in general, old friend. No offense intended.”
“Offense?” Samael repeated, looking confused. “Lilith would have been laughing right along with you. I meant that we have more important things to discuss—like how to get the Divines back out.”
I let out a sigh, focusing back on the topic. “And to keep Wrath unaware of this whole thing. If he wanted them dead a hundred years ago, and saw fit to imprison Lilith for disobeying him, I can only imagine what he’d do if he learned where they are, or that we are attempting a prison break.”
Samael nodded grimly. “He also knows I’m your godfather, and that my Daemons are alive and well. The only reason he hasn’t gone after them is because the other two Divines went missing. I just didn’t know where they were before today,” he said, shaking his head. “So we can’t afford to make Wrath angry.”
I scoffed. “Keeping Wrath calm is going to be a little difficult.”
Pride was studying me, tapping his chin thoughtfully. “Well, we already know what he wants,” he said, miming a finger pistol at me and then pulling the trigger. “You as his wife. That would stay his anger.”
I shook my head angrily. “No way am I marrying a Prince of Hell. I have no power over him as it is. If I marry him, I’ll be his slave.”
Samael nodded. “She’s right. Neither option will get us what we need—which is him preoccupied.”
I held up a finger, rising to my feet at a new thought. “When we met earlier today, I stood up to him. I was careful not to push it too far, but…he really liked it. I could keep stringing him along for a very short while. Emphasis on very short.”
Samael let out a nervous breath. “I don’t like it, but I don’t see any other way. Either you marry him—a loss. You deny him—starting a genocide in Kansas City. Or you can try to buy us enough time to figure out a plan to save the Divines—who you can then turn around and use as armor to destroy him. So, you’ll have your payback.”
I nodded uneasily, gathering my resolve. Then I glanced at Pride. “You can’t keep him busy for me? You’re both arch-class. Couldn’t you punch him around or something?”
He shook his head. “I already told you. We’re the same. Only an archangel can take out an archdemon. Otherwise I would have killed him millennia ago. Or vice versa.”
“And there’s Michael to consider,” Samael said with a frown. “He’s adamant about Callie joining Heaven before she turns to Hell.”
I hung my head in my hands. “I’ll just have to keep stringing him along, too. But we still don’t have any answers on how to get the Divines out of the Neverwas.”
Pride nodded. “Facts,” he said, leaning back into the couch.
I studied him, thoughtfully. “Why is one of the Seven Sins not a complete and utter asshole like Wrath?” I asked, genuinely curious. “I understand why you hate him, and that one demon is different from another,” I said, indicating Samael. “But you’re one of the most feared demons.”
He locked eyes with me. “Are…you flirting with me, Callie Penrose? Because that would be super.”
I scowled. “Nevermind. Case dismissed.”
He chuckled good-naturedly, and I found myself wondering how much of it was an act. Was he playing his own game here? I decided to err on the side of caution and assume that he was. Still, there was something different about him. I had no misconceptions that he could be just as evil as Wrath if he saw the need, but his default setting didn’t seem as cruel as Wrath.
“The only difference between us and angels is that we didn’t like the status quo. We rebelled, and we lost. People forget that we all had different reasons for rebelling—some noble, so
me decidedly not so noble. Similarly, how we handled that loss spans a wide spectrum of responses from bitter to vengeful to apathetic to relieved. I’m much too beautiful to be angry for eternity,” he admitted with a shrug. “This face was made for swooning, and you can’t swoon with a frown,” he said, flashing me a brilliant smile.
He made a fair point. It was a really good smile. And…it made sense psychologically as well. My premise had simply been flawed—that the Seven Sins were different from humans. They were, but they also were not.
In fact, in some ways, they were more similar than different. Michael had been an asshole to me, as had Wrath. Eae had been somewhat skittish, but loyal in the end. And Pride…well, I could have grabbed a few drinks with him if I hadn’t known he was a demon. Wrath had even seemed slightly bipolar, in my limited diagnostic capacity for mental disorders.
Pride was studying me curiously, taking my thoughtful silence as agreement.
“Demons can be cruel, but so can angels. They are just as broken as us—they just chose the winning side on that fateful day outside of the Garden of Eden. Once you accept the fact that most of religious doctrine is propaganda, everything starts to become much clearer. The angels are not the heroes from your precious Bible. Check the Old Testament because the originals are always better. Angels are heartless killers just as often as demons are. The main difference is that we choose not to deny or defend it. Because we know white robes don’t hide bloodstains, haloes don’t hide hate, and a black feather weighs just as much as a white one,” he said, tapping one of the black feathers on his chest and then pointing at my white outfit.
I stared back at him, unable to blink. That…had been beautifully poetic.
I wasn’t putting on a team jersey or anything, but this was the most honest conversation I’d had with a powerful angel, and I found it ironic that Pride had convinced me of his point with a touch of humility on his own side’s failures. Samael was studying me curiously and gave me an appreciative smile when our eyes met. Then he turned to Pride with a respectful nod.
And I couldn’t blame him. Demon of the Year went to Pride. Of course, I wasn’t going to tell him that. He already had a healthy ego.
I leaned forward, locking eyes with the archdemon. “I’m curious. Why do you hate Wrath so much?”
He considered my question for a few moments. “Wrath and I share the balance of power with the Seven, although he is more popular because anger works better in a mob. Pride is more…individual. The system we had in Heaven was broken, and I was too proud to watch it continue to deteriorate, so I left. Since then, I’ve learned that walking away did not solve the problem—it only gave absolute power to those who had proven they could not handle it wisely. People like Wrath and others. That is why I hate him so much. He took something I was proud of and soiled it. He and others made the system worse,” he growled. Then, he leaned forward, staring deep into my eyes. “So, Callie Penrose, I want to burn it all down.”
Samael was watching our exchange with a concerned look on his face. I leaned back in my seat, studying the archdemon with a thoughtful look. “Why the hell would Wrath send me to talk to you?” I asked, flustered. “It’s no secret that you two are polar opposites.”
Pride laughed. “Everyone knows of our feud. It’s only lasted a few millennia, after all.”
I tapped my lips, frowning. Why would Wrath send me here, then? What game was he playing?
“CALLIE PENROSE!” A voice roared from outside the mansion, making the glass panes rattle. “COME OUTSIDE! NOW!”
I jumped up from the couch, drawing my katana on reflex as I scanned the room for points of ingress and egress. Samael and Pride gave each other shocked looks. Rather than join in on their staring contest, I raced for the front door, wondering why the voice had sounded familiar. I hid my body as I risked a quick look through the glass and—
I froze.
Then I slowly turned to see Pride and Samael standing behind me with grim looks on their faces.
“Um. Your brother, Michael, is here,” I whispered.
Pride folded his arms and shook his head at me. “Well, he didn’t ask for me. I didn’t stay this pretty by being brave. Get your ass out there, toots.”
36
After verifying that the archangel was alone, I opened the door, but kept myself out of the opening to make sure Michael didn’t sent an introductory blast of holy fire my way. Nothing happened, so I stepped out onto the porch, glancing left and right to make sure there wasn’t a hidden welcoming party lying in wait.
But we were entirely alone.
Michael stood with his feet shoulder-width apart, and he held his fiery sword out rather than tucked into his sheath. His eyes flickered with white flame and his chest was heaving with outrage. I drew my katana, and carefully descended the front steps, keeping my eyes focused on him while using my peripheral vision to make sure a gang of nephilim weren’t hiding in the trees or around the side of the mansion.
As I approached, I was very aware of the rings in my pocket, realizing halfway across the yard that the two people they’d responded to were present—Michael and Pride. But Michael didn’t look very open-minded at the moment, so there was nothing I could do about it until I calmed him down.
Samael and Pride remained behind, knowing their involvement would only make the situation worse. Especially since Michael had only called my name. I came to a halt about five feet away from him.
“What is the meaning of this, Michael?” I asked guardedly. “How about we put our swords away—”
“I had to see it for myself,” he snarled, venomously. “When I heard you met with Wrath, I refused to believe it. Then I heard about the handful of demons you slaughtered, and I convinced myself that you had been attacked by Wrath, not that you voluntarily met with him.”
I narrowed my eyes at his tone. “There were eighteen demons, not a handful,” I growled. “And I didn’t have tea and scones with Wrath. He found me and trapped me.”
Michael gritted his teeth. “And did he find you, too?” he asked, visibly shaking as he pointed his blade at the mansion. “You can’t claim victimhood for your second Sin of the day.”
I swatted his sword away with mine, not appreciating how close it happened to be to my neck. His eyes widened in momentary surprise. “They were having a two-for-one special,” I snarled. “And what business is it of yours, anyway? I didn’t see any of your associates showing up to save me, so I rolled up my sleeves.”
His eyes flared brighter. “And is that what you’re doing here? Rolling up your sleeves? Because to me, it looks like you are consorting with him.”
“I’m killing him with kindness,” I said sarcastically. “Let’s pretend I was consorting with him. So what? Let’s make it even better. Pretend we were actually in the middle of a romantic engagement.” I stepped forward, right up into his face. “It is exactly zero business of yours, because you only show up after the action happens.”
He glared at me, clenching his jaw, and squeezing the hilt of his sword as his face purpled.
I calmly stepped back, sheathing my sword. “Now, buzz off. I didn’t get my happy ending yet.”
And I turned my back on him, internally cursing my inappropriate comment for multiple reasons. Something about Michael’s holier-than-thou attitude always got under my skin faster than any demon’s arrogance. My intended point was accurate—that Michael only seemed to show up too late or when a tangible asset was up for grabs. But that last jab…it was probably going to cost me.
A wall of white fire erupted before me, cutting me off from the mansion. I halted, closed my eyes, and then took a deep breath. Focus, Callie, I told myself. His righteous wrath is toxic and contagious.
“You absolutely sure you want to end your story like this, Mikey?” I asked in a calm, detached tone.
“You cannot defeat an archangel, so there is only one story in danger of ending,” he growled.
I laughed softly, drawing my katana, and approaching the
white fire. “Not only are you picking a fight with a girl, but one who is admittedly weaker than you,” I said, calmly and clearly, as I extended my Silver katana into the wall of flame. My katana was not made of steel but my bond with Sanguina—the Eternal Metal, as I’d heard it called. Although not strong enough to kill an archangel, it was strong enough to make a good showing. “What a brave and noble archangel!”
Pride’s words emboldened me as I watched my sword somehow catch flame.
I turned back to Michael, my face utterly blank and expressionless. Then I began to advance, and with each step, my angel armor crackled into place—first, my gauntlets, and then my boots, and then an ornate breastplate, seemingly made of glass.
Michael suddenly looked less certain about his decision, eyeing the fire on my blade in disbelief.
“All you know how to do is swoop down when you see birdseed on the ground, pigeon. You hear children laugh and convince yourself that it is their adoration for your magnificence when it is so much simpler—children will laugh with joy at the most simplistic of nature’s wonders. Even a pigeon,” I said, my voice cold and brittle as paper-thin crystal.
His mouth worked wordlessly, staring at me in stunned outrage.
“And you are blind to the fact that those of us on the front lines see you for the vermin you really are—rodents with wings.” He stepped back with a hurt look on his face. I shook my head in disappointment. “As a little girl, I grew up dreaming about seeing an angel one day. I thought you would be magical, pure, inspiring beacons of light in a cruel, dark world.” I lifted my sword and my wings exploded out the back of my armor, stretching out to their full magnificence. “Just goes to show…you should never meet your heroes. It’s time to dance, rodent. Dance with the child of broken dreams, archangel,” I spat. “Or be the role model she once thought you were and lower. Your. Fucking. Sword.”
Anghellic: Feathers and Fire Book 8 Page 21