by Debra Dunbar
I remembered Criam telling me that Doriel had remained awake until three hundred thousand years ago, and then had slumbered until recently—an awakening that timed closely with my getting this sword from the vampires.
But that wasn’t what I needed to discuss right now. I dismissed the sword and leaned forward. “I hear the Ancients are awake—all of them. I also hear that they are establishing their hierarchy, looking for a leader, and preparing to take Aaru.”
She nodded. “This is true. We felt something when you became the Iblis, and many of us awoke, but there was another event, something that shook the foundations of Hel. All the Ancients rose, and in our hearts we knew that it was now possible for us to take back our homeland.”
It was a speech that should have been in a rousing epic novel. “How come no one else noticed this Hel-wide earthquake big enough to awaken the slumbering Ancients? And why is it now possible to take Aaru, where it wasn’t a few years ago?”
It hadn’t been the sword. What had happened recently besides me becoming the Iblis that would have the power to negate Gregory’s carefully worded banishment? My palms sweated at the obvious answer staring me in the face. I’d banished the angels and locked down Aaru, but what if my not-so-carefully-worded banishment had undone Gregory’s? What if by removing the angels, I left a back door open that only the Ancients, the formerly banished Angels of Chaos, could use?
“I was speaking metaphorically when I said the event rocked the foundations of Hel. It felt that way to us Ancients. We sensed a shift in the energy. It was as if a huge rock broke the surface of the still, stagnant waters of a pond.”
A disturbance in the Force. Great.
“This shift…we knew it meant we now had the means to return home. I can’t explain why, or even how, but I know deep in my spirit-self that Aaru is now open to me, where it was not before.”
I wasn’t sure whether to believe her or not. Demons lied, and so did the former Angels of Chaos, but her words rang true.
“So you guys had a meeting of Ancients or something to discuss this? Do you all intend to actually make an attempt to take back Aaru?”
She leaned back in her chair and folded her hands gracefully in her lap. “We met only a few days ago. And yes, there are plans to move on Aaru once we determine a leader.”
I shook my head. “You’ve been awake for a year or two, but you just met a few days ago? Why wait so long if you all realized you had the opportunity to take Aaru earlier?”
“You must understand that many of us have slumbered for hundreds of thousands of years, some have been asleep since shortly after our fall. Awakening after such time is disorienting. There were personal things to attend to as well as the need to determine who remained alive and who had died since we were last active. And we do not yet know why after millions of years we now have the ability to regain our homeland. No one wants to foolishly mount an attack on the angels without fully understanding the circumstances. Is there suddenly an artifact available to us that we need to utilize? Is there a specific Ancient who needs to lead us for our attempt to be successful? We can’t just push forward with only the awareness in our spirit-selves that it is possible.”
They might be Angels of Chaos, but they were still angels, and operating on angel-time. My presence had gotten the Ruling Council off their asses and expediting shit, but it seemed these Ancients were still willing to take years, even centuries, to plan their attack.
It was reassuring, knowing that I had the luxury of time.
“What is the process for picking a leader?” I asked her, hoping that process would be long and convoluted enough to delay their attack even further.
A brief smile flashed across her face. “Many, many meetings where those who wish to be considered extol their virtues and attempt to gain key alliances. I expect a few assassinations to occur that will whittle down the contenders. Right now, six Ancients seem to be the forerunners: Nebibos, Asmodiel, Remiel, Sugunth, Irmasial, and Bechar.” She leaned forward in her seat. “I’ll admit that I thought you might be the one to lead us. You do carry the Sword of the Iblis, after all.”
Thought. Past tense. “And you no longer think I’m the leader you’re looking for?”
“You’re not a leader, you’re a disrupter.” She let that sink in for a moment. “You’re to be respected, to be carefully watched as you indicate what’s to come for all of us. Those who disregard you are fools but those who follow you are also fools.” She smiled. “None of us may survive what you’re bringing about. All we can do is navigate the waters and do our best to endure.”
I wasn’t sure how I felt about any of that, but I was glad the Ancients weren’t intending on slapping the equivalent of a crown on my head and insisting that I lead the charge to Aaru.
“So who are you thinking is going to come out on top?” I asked. “Out of the six Ancients, who are you putting your money on?”
“I’d bet on Asmodiel. He’s ruthless, and is a brilliant strategist. Of course, we still don’t understand how we’re able to break the banishment and enter the gates of Aaru. If it requires some kind of artifact, then the Ancient who holds the artifact will become the leader.”
“It’s not the sword,” I told her, worried that she was changing her mind about my suitability as their leader. I might lack the skills, but I didn’t want her thinking it was the sword that would get them into Aaru.
She nodded. “We know. The sword allows you entrance as the Iblis, but would not break the banishment we are under. It’s something else that has happened to give us this chance—something or someone.”
Hopefully something or someone that it took them centuries to find. “Are you planning on going with the army when they attack Aaru?” There was something resigned and fatalistic about her that made me think she had her doubts about their chance of success. They might be able to get into Aaru, but Doriel didn’t seem to be sure they’d be able to win in a conflict against the angels.
“I’ve not decided yet. I long to go home. I miss Aaru with every fiber of my being. It’s physically painful being separated from the host, removed from our source for so long. There are times when I think if I could just step foot in my homeland, shed my corporeal form and be an angel once more, I could die happy. But the thought of fighting again, going through all the pain and horror of the war all over again…that thought holds me back from committing to this plan. The war took a toll on me and I don’t think I can go through that a second time. I’d rather live with the pain of never seeing Aaru again than once more take up arms against those I used to call my brothers and sisters, those I once loved.”
She looked down at her hands in her lap, then spread her fingers, lifting them upward. “But that’s not all. I fear that it’s been too long, and that there is no going home for us. We’ve changed. I’m sure Aaru has changed as well. Better for me to live with my memories than have them overlaid by a brutal and unpleasant reality.”
That was heartbreaking. Her speech made me even more convinced to orchestrate a reconciliation between the denizens of Hel and the angels. It might be very long before the angels allowed their old enemies to come home—if anyone could go home, that is—but at least I could get the two groups to respect and tolerate each other. And to eventually love each other once more.
“Thank you again for your honesty. Can I count on you to send me notice if things change? If the Ancients decide on a leader, and set a definitive time for their attempt to enter Aaru?”
She smiled, a twinkle of mischief in her eyes. “I may not be the first to know these things. I am a bit of a recluse, after all. Perhaps you’d be better off asking another Ancient, or even a demon to be your eyes and ears in this matter.”
So that was a “no”. I took a breath and asked her what I had been wanting to ask since I walked through her doors. “Doriel, did you know Samael?”
“Yes, of course. Everyone knew Samael. He was the Iblis, the leader of the Angels of Chaos.”
I’m sur
e everyone knew of him, but I got the feeling that Doriel had a more personal relationship with the former Iblis. “Is he still alive?” I asked.
She shrugged. “I know he was alive for some time after the fall. He disappeared. Some say it was ten thousand years after the war. Some say it was a hundred thousand years after the war. Some say a million.”
“How can that happen?” I asked in disbelief. “He was the Iblis, the leader of the army. He was your leader. How could you all just lose track of him like that?”
“We were all disoriented and desperate after the fall,” she said defensively. “One moment we were in the heat of battle, and the next we were stripped of our grace and forced into corporeal form in a strange place full of trolls and dwarves. None of us knew what was going on for quite a while. By the time we regrouped, Samael was gone. He had been gravely injured, and after the fall he walked away from his household and cut off contact with them. There were reports of sightings, but I myself think he died after the fall. I think the loss of Aaru and separation from his brothers was too much for him to bear.”
It’s what everyone seemed to think. “What happened to him in the last battle of the war?” I mused, more to myself than her.
She took a deep breath, and twisted her hands together in her lap. “That huge final battle he almost took Michael’s wings. I was there, nearby, and Samael had the upper hand. One stroke and he would have killed his brother and taken his spot as the most powerful angel in all of Aaru. We would have won the war and the world would have been a much different place for us as well as the humans.”
“But Michael turned it around and got the advantage?” I assumed.
“No. Samael’s sword tore through Michael’s wings, and the archangel dropped to his knees. But instead of taking the killing stroke, Samael hesitated. He lowered his sword and stepped back.” Her eyes met mine. “It gave Michael the split second he needed to recover. He raised his sword and slashed as the other lowered his, and sliced through Samael’s unprotected side, nearly cutting him in half. Samael jerked back, and that instinct saved him, otherwise he would have died there in that battle.”
No. No, I just couldn’t believe that of my beloved, even though her words rang true. I’d seen how he struggled with the sins of anger and pride. I’d seen firsthand how he regretted the things he’d done in anger—things he wished he’d never done. But not this. To have been spared, then to take advantage of his brother’s mercy and attempt a killing stroke… I just didn’t want to believe that of the angel I loved.
“Samael lay there before his brother,” she continued, “but instead of finishing him off, Michael pronounced the banishment, and we all fell.”
He’d been angry enough to banish them all, but in spite of his initial impulse, Michael had held off killing his brother. That had to count for something. It was all so tragic. I wasn’t sure if I could bring about a reconciliation after such a betrayal, even if the youngest archangel were still alive. No wonder my beloved had built the gateways to Hel, left a proverbial light on for his brother. The guilt he carried must be a horrible burden still.
“What was he like?” I asked softly. “What was Samael like before the fall?”
Before my eyes, Doriel softened. “He was beautiful. Samael was the most beautiful of all the angels. He shone with a clear, pure light. He had a power to him that rivaled Michael’s, but instead of an oppressive heat, his was sharp and cool. It didn’t demand attention or strangle you with its force, it just was. His energy, his power was such that an angel couldn’t help but notice, couldn’t help but bow before it. Not because of the weight of it, but because of its very lightness.
“He was never mean or cruel, and he always spoke the truth even when he lied. You knew that if there was something difficult to say, he would say it. If other angels were uncomfortable with something, or avoiding it, Samael would bring it into the open. He illuminated all the dark shadows, revealed all that others wished to hide. Angels of Chaos are beings of the darkness, but Samael was our light. He was the bridge between the nighttime and the day. He was our morning star.”
A morning star that had been extinguished in the fall from heaven. A light that would never be seen again. I gave my thanks to Doriel and took my leave, feeling a sense of hopelessness greater than what I’d had when I’d arrived.
Chapter 13
The long walk out of Doriel’s forest gave me time to think about things, including the more positive parts of our conversation. The Ancients weren’t anywhere near ready to move on Aaru. Samael’s probable death meant those Ancients would most likely spend the next century squabbling over who should lead them. And although my opinion of Gregory was tarnished by Doriel’s tale of that last battle, I still only had her point of view. Normally I tried to not dig into those still painful wounds with Gregory, but I needed to know his side of the story before I made up my mind about the truth of what happened during that battle.
In the meantime, I had three of my Lows I needed to retrieve. Cheros better be well on her way to coming through with that one because having all of my Lows crammed into the Patchine house wasn’t good.
I’d taken to teleporting from Hel to a spot down the lane from my home, so I could walk past Wyatt’s house and survey all that was mine on my approach. It gave me a moment to switch over from the imp who was a nobody in Hel to the Ha-Satan returning to her home. It allowed me to make sure Wyatt was okay and that there wasn’t any nasty shit lurking around my house planning an attack. It kept me from popping into my living room at an inopportune moment. Yes, this was my fucking house and I should be able to come and go as I pleased, but lately my house had become a sort of hotel. Nils, Dalmai, and Little Red lived in the stables with the horses. My Lows and guests occupied the new separate dwelling that had cost me a fortune in bribes to get through the county permitting and past the nosy neighbors. Technically only Nyalla and Boomer were living in the house proper, but I’d come home to find Candy, Michelle, half a dozen werewolves, humans with babies, and the random angel hanging out in my house. Popping unannounced into my living room had actually gotten me shot a couple of times, and bashed with a lamp or coffee table a few other times. Best to walk in and announce “I’m home” at the door.
But the surveillance of my estate was the primary reason. If it leaked out that the angels were barred from Aaru and it was my fault, I’d have a list of hit-angels on my back a mile long. Add to that demons I’d pissed off, werewolves I’d pissed off, humans I’d pissed off, and unicorns I’d pissed off, and it was definitely prudent to make a careful perusal of my surroundings before making myself a big target in a lit-up house with shouts of laughter and the crash of something breaking.
Something breaking. Huh. Nyalla’s parties usually weren’t the kind where people were shrieking loud expletives and encouragements while breaking stuff. Nyalla’s parties usually consisted of a bunch of women watching a heart-wrenching romantic drama while wearing yoga pants and sedately drinking white wine from long-stemmed glasses. Occasionally there were toddlers and babies crawling across the floor. Occasionally some of those babies were in the form of wolf puppies or lion cubs, or something weird like gryphons.
I opened the front door. There had been nothing lurking outside, because tonight all the monsters were inside. Two werewolves, a vampire, and a Nephilim were chasing a half wolf/half lion Nephilim toddler around my dining room table while his mother laughed. Nyalla and Ahia were in the middle of what looked like an epic trashy paperback swap, with towers of precariously stacked books on coffee tables and the floor in front of the sofa where the girls sat. Boomer was by the back door chewing on who knows-what. There was a Low doing a jig on my kitchen counter, a Low hanging from the light fixture, a Low crawling through the pass-through between my kitchen and great room. There were Lows playing fetch with Big Red outside by the pool, tiki torches blazing. Lows slid down the banister, rolled across my floor, and were throwing pepperonis against my walls.
They all turned t
o look at me. A chorus of voices called out greetings, then resumed their activities. I made my way through the crowd to where Ahia and Nyalla sat on the sofa, books covering their laps.
“Not that I don’t mind a good party, but why aren’t they doing this in the guest house?” I asked.
“They’re out of beer in the guest house,” Ahia said. “Ooo, you have to read this one, Nyalla. She’s a biker chick, and he’s an accountant with a really kinky side.”
“And there are too many Lows for the guest house. They’re setting up cots in the basement and in the spare bedrooms.” Nyalla grabbed the book and shoved two different ones at the angel. “Guy runs a BDSM club outside Atlanta and she’s a corporate CEO and a sexual submissive, or small town runaway bride falls for a Navy SEAL with a secret.”
Ahia wrinkled her nose. “Can I have both?”
“As long as I can have the sexy vampire hunter one.”
“Deal”
“Hey.” I waved to get their attention. “What do you mean there are too many? The guest house can sleep twenty—forty if we stack them like cordwood. Is my whole household here?”
Nyalla blinked up at me. “How many are in your household?”
Fuck if I knew. “Fifty? Seventy?”
“I think there’s close to three hundred in the guest house and the field,” Ahia commented. “And I’m guessing another thirty or so in here right now.”
“Head’s up!” Someone shouted. I ducked and saw a bottle of ketchup fly past my head to smash against the fireplace.
“Sorry, Mistress!”
I recognized that voice. “Snip! Get your ass over here. Everyone else, get out. All demons, out. The werewolves, and humans, and Nephilim, and vampire can stay. You can stay too, Ahia.”
There were moans and groans and complaints. One of the werewolves came over with a roll of paper towels and a garbage bag and started to clean up the broken ketchup bottle. I herded whining Lows, most of whom I didn’t even recognize, out the back door and past a pouting Little Red toward the guest house, which did in fact look to be overflowing with guests.