Warring Angel

by Samantha L. Strong

  “I know.” I kept my eyes from straying to Chana’s face.

  “Kaspen was selfish. Everything he did was because he wanted it done, not because you did. Even when you were making love—and I’m sorry, but yes, I experienced those times when I fed you from the Source at the Bastille—he was distant, elsewhere. Leaving you for Fanush was probably the best thing he could have done.”

  “But because of that, he went to Asorat. Look at the destruction they’ve caused. Maybe if I was a good enough soul mate, I could have stopped him.”

  She sighed, shifted Chana in her arms. “No. Don’t think like that. This was never your fault. Everyone makes their own choices.”

  But I was thinking of what I’d been forced to do at the hands of the Council of Seraphim over and over. I didn’t have choices. How was it so different for Kaspen?

  “It’s over for him now.” Her voice drew me back to the present. “And you’re off to stop Asorat permanently. Don’t forget your swastika.” She reached out and drew the symbol on my forehead. Two quick dots must have been the golden drops of blood he’d sported. “Come back to us whole.”

  “I will.” I was certain I would. I wasn’t going to let Asorat win. I had to set aside my grief for another day. “May the Source that made you comfort and aid you.”

  “Peace and love to you.”

  CHAPTER 48

  Hell was as angry as always, with gray clouds and belching steam vents. Fat drops of rain splattered my nose and wings. The new golden bond with the Source weighed on me as I approached the fortress. I might have been the Cornerstone before, but with Kaspen’s energy strands, I really was a Seraph.

  I knew I would find Asorat here instead of Heaven. It wouldn’t be prudent for him to move in yet, not without completing the protection spells he’d fortified his fortress with. Knowing him, this foreboding palace was more his style anyway. Maybe he would never move in. Taking over Heaven was merely a means to an end. He was a being of practicality.

  When arriving back at their stronghold, Kaspen would have faded into the castle wherever he wanted, but I wasn’t familiar with the layout. I’d decided to enter where Zaponsla and I had cut away the bars on the third floor decades before and retrace my steps. His room was on our route, and from there, I would find my way to the War Room I was certain Asorat kept inside the castle.

  I was more aware of everything around me—wisps of energy that wafted on an invisible breeze, a collection of Fearlings pattering in tunnels under the ground, golden life forces deep inside the fortress. I even sensed Osubatz, off in the distance, where I’d trapped him in our room.

  “Our” room no longer, for Kaspen was no more. Grief rose inside me and I nearly choked on it.

  Lock it away, Enael. Lock it away for now.

  The window had never been repaired, and the rooms on this side were still empty. Enough of the fortress existed on Earth for a light coat of dust to cover the floor and door handle.

  Emotions now under control, I strode through the halls wearing an expression I imagined would belong to Asorat’s Vice Commander. I’m busy. Don’t bother me, I thought, hoping the idea translated to my—Kaspen’s—face.

  Should I add more blood to the swastika on my forehead? Should I stand up taller? Should I— No, stop. You’re doing fine. You have places to go. Who would question you but Asorat?

  Though all angels can change their aspects, it’s one of the few unspoken laws of Heaven that we do not take on another angel’s aspect. And with the golden threads of power feeding into my wings, Asorat wouldn’t suspect I was anyone but Kaspen. He’d never suspect I’d killed him.

  The hallways changed from stark and bare to carpeted and minimally decorated. I was close to where I’d seen Kaspen with Fanush. I rounded a corner and there it was: his room.

  I was about to turn around, inspect the possible directions I could possibly go in, when a voice snapped at me from the door. “What are you doing back so soon?”

  Fanush.

  Panicking, I snapped up an aura of surprise, then pleasure, hoping it would simulate the bond sufficiently to keep her suspicions at bay. “Oh, darling, I’m just back for a few moments. I need to find Asorat and speak with him about something.”

  She took a step toward me. “Where’s the clueless bluenose? You didn’t bring her with, did you?”

  My stomach tightened at the insult. At least she doesn’t suspect who I am. I switched the aura to disgust. “She’s in the Archives, looking through books for answers.”

  She laughed an evil giggle. “Good for her. Finally doing something useful.”

  “Yes, finally.” I laughed, too, keeping the strain from my voice and changing the aura to amusement. The swaps were getting easier, but I had to be careful not to use my true feelings—only translate those which Kaspen should be feeling.

  Inside, though, I was seething. I hadn’t expected them to speak kindly of me, but Fanush and I had barely exchanged five words. The vitriol in her tone must have come from Kaspen. What did he tell her? Do I want to know? I frowned.

  “Did she say something to you? More moaning about the terrible things you’re doing?”

  “Oh, yes,” I said. “She can’t stop going on about it, you know? I don’t need this.”

  “No, you don’t. You have important work to do, and she’s just another annoyance to deal with.” She started off down the hallway. “What are you doing? Come on, if you’re going to talk to Asorat. We don’t have all day. He’s in the Throne Room.”

  Throne Room? Better than a boring old War Room, I suppose. I trotted off after her, pretending to be distracted with rearranging my tunic and smoothing my hair when we turned corners and changed directions.

  “What is wrong with you today?” she said. “You can’t act like that in front of him. He won’t stand for it.”

  “Oh, yes, sorry.” I switched the aura to guilt but regretted it immediately. Would Kaspen be apologizing like that?

  “Yes, you’d better be sorry. Come on,” she barked when I slowed again.

  I pushed a strain of annoyance into the aura. She gave me a sharp look but strode ahead anyway.

  The next hallway revealed an ornate set of double doors, with detailed molding and human Nazis standing on each side. This must be the Throne Room. As we approached, they reached to the swastika-adorned handles and pulled open the doors.

  Inside was a huge antechamber, similar to the War Room in the Praetorium but much more opulent. Chandeliers hung from the ceilings, lit by electrical means or supernatural, I was unsure. Perhaps both. A large throne sat on a dais toward the front, the same place in the War Room where the Archangels would make announcements and issue orders. I wanted to roll my eyes.

  Asorat was tracing a finger over a map.

  Fanush let me pass. “Don’t screw this up.”

  I let the aura portray the irritation I was feeling. The interplay between the two lovers was a bit disconcerting—had he really left me for this?—but I couldn’t focus on that now.

  “Asorat.” I hoped my nervousness wouldn’t betray me. But Kaspen, for all his bravado, was always worried around those in power, so even if Asorat saw through to my worry underneath, that, too would ring true. Belatedly, I put some worry into the aura.

  “Well?” He didn’t look up from his maps. Tiny black dots moved on them. I recognized the Normandy beach, which had large X’s marked across them, and the hedgerows in France, where hundreds of dots swarmed.

  How does he refer to me? “Cornerstone?” “That clueless bluenose?” No, keep it simple. “Enael is in the Archives, looking through the Ancient Collection. She believes she can find a way for us to stop the flow of power, but she’s unsure unless she knows who the Aleph is.”

  “And did you tell her?” His piercing bronze gaze met mine.

  “Ah…” Asorat knows who the Aleph is. It’s only the other Seraphim who don’t. Or do they? “Yes, yes, of course.”

  “And?”

  “And… she needs to do mo
re research.”

  “What Kaspen means,” interjected Fanush from several paces away, “is that he thinks the Cornerstone will find the answer soon.” She narrowed her eyes and shook her head slightly before mouthing, “What is wrong with you?”

  Asorat crossed his arms. His presence was powerful, even without the massive amounts of energy coursing through him. He towered over me, even though I’d increased my height to match Kaspen’s.

  He said, “Something’s amiss. Out with it. Don’t make me send you off to a day at the incinerator at Dachau.”

  Fanush’s expression, from the corner of my eye, was hateful. What is it with these two?

  I needed to focus, without raising suspicion, and this conversation was only serving to frustrate the very being I needed to keep relaxed. “I’m concerned about Enael’s sincerity to the task.” I began inspecting the weaves of power that flowed into Asorat’s brilliant wings. “She came, but reluctantly.”

  “As Asorat said before,” interrupted Fanush again, “she is but another means to an end. Very few of the humans truly want to serve us, but they all do when we make their other choices less palatable.”

  “That is quite enough.” Asorat’s arms dropped to his sides. “I can hold my own arguments. If you insist on interrupting this conversation, you’ll be headed off to Dachau again. Don’t you have something else to do? I assigned you a quadrant in Germany, did I not?”

  Fanush bowed her head, but not before flashing one last glare in my direction. “My sincere apologies. Everything is under control. We are bringing in souls at a rate of twelve per hour, as you wished.”

  Twelve per hour? I kept my horror from the aura.

  “Then I’ve clearly set the bar too low. I’m increasing it to fifteen per hour, retroactive a day. You’re behind now. Get going. Move!”

  Fanush’s eyes widened before she disappeared.

  “I’ll tell you again that these,” he waved his hand, “exchanges between you two are tiresome. I don’t know how much longer I’ll have patience to indulge it. I would have had her gone long ago if the Cornerstone had agreed to join us.”

  “Yes, Commander,” I murmured. Should I snap a salute?

  Expressionless, he tucked his hands beneath his wings. “She’s gone now, so tell me: what is the real reason you’ve come?”

  CHAPTER 49

  Asorat crossed his arms, waiting.

  Now or never. “I know we’ve spoken about this before,” which I’d gathered from Fanush’s annoyed interruptions, “but I’m concerned about Enael’s sincerity. I believe she’s in the Archives looking for a way to overthrow us, perhaps steal the energy back from you.” The easiest way to distract my foe was with the slightly distorted truth—I’d already discovered a way to steal the energy back from him. I merely needed to pull loose the threads of power, as I’d done with Kaspen, and meld them into my own.

  Simple.

  Right.

  With Fanush gone, I dropped the aura so I could concentrate on sorting out the cords flowing to Asorat. They were tangled, flowing over and through one another, and I’d have to individually grab hold of all eight pairs—sixteen in total—one at a time, to fasten them onto myself. That would be a challenge, especially once I did the first, since Asorat would heartily object.

  “We went over this.” His scowl returned as he bent back over his map. “I also tire of having the same conversations again and again. If you’re not careful, I’ll take a page from Rehniah and keep all the power for myself.”

  At her name, I lost the strand I was tracing out of the corner of my eye. I started over at the beginning, finding where it trailed off toward the ceiling and following it around the others until it joined Asorat’s wing.

  “My apologies,” I stammered, “but the problem is that I’m hopeless at research. You know my strength is in manipulating humans.”

  “I thought we agreed you wouldn’t use such negative terms.” His tone turned sharp but he continued inspecting the map. “And I thought we also agreed that you would be in the Archives watching over her. What’s the problem? Has something gone wrong? Are you dithering because you don’t want me to know she’s run off again?” He flicked his gaze up to me.

  “Ah, no, that’s not it at all.” I was starting to grasp the weaves. The best way to snatch away the power would be to grab a cord about a foot beyond his wing, run my fingers down into his back, and then twist to remove the plug at his back. If I did a few at a time, I’d risk losing hold of multiple strands, as I’d almost done with Kaspen’s. I had no idea what would happen if a thread of power went flying off toward the Nexus, but I didn’t want to risk him grabbing it back.

  “Have her powers grown?” He leaned against the table. “Has she been able to overcome your order not to harm or command you?”

  My eyes widened. I had no recollection of him ordering me, and I raced through my memories. “N-no,” I stammered. “She didn’t order me here.” When did it happen? Was I asleep? Did he order me to forget?

  And then I sucked in a breath. I had overcome his order. I’d managed to kill him.

  Asorat stood up straighter.

  I couldn’t wait any longer. I had to grab away as much of the power as quickly as I could and hope it could sustain me in whatever fight was to come.

  Before either of us could make a move, Fanush arrived with a group of swastika-marked demons. “I knew it!” she exclaimed. “The bond is missing. That’s not Kaspen, that’s Enael!”

  I leapt forward, snatching at two strands of power, one with each hand. I traced them down to Asorat’s wings and pulled the plug. As I attached them onto my back, a bolt of power surged within me, crackling through my body. I felt powerful—so very, very powerful.

  Don’t get distracted!

  I leapt across the room, flapping toward the chandelier. Two down, fourteen to go. I braced myself between the ceiling and the chandelier, waiting as the demons flapped after me.

  “What did you do with Kaspen?” shouted Fanush.

  I ducked from behind the light, called up knives, and threw them at the demons, one after another after another. Three of them fell to the floor, black blood gushing, and I scurried back around to hide myself. When a fourth came around the chandelier, I created my trident and stabbed him. He screamed and disappeared, wrenching it from my hand and taking it wherever he went.

  A boom shook the room—Asorat was flexing his power. Tendrils of gold burst over the walls, sending two cracks snaking toward the ceiling.

  “I killed Kaspen,” I said, hoping that the taunt would infuriate my opponents enough that they’d make a mistake. “And it’s no less than you wanted, anyway. You hated him.”

  Fanush flew at the chandelier, and I ducked under her to dive toward Asorat. He still stood behind the map, fury etched on his chiseled features. I took a chance, grabbed onto four strands this time, and traced them to him. His meaty fist slammed into my side, but I anticipated it, rolling and pulling free three strands. The last twanged free of my grasp, still firmly attached to his back.

  As I leapt across the room to hide behind a desk, I melded them into mine. Eleven left.

  “Enough of this, Cornerstone,” said Asorat. “You have no desire to align with the Aleph. Join us, and we’ll ensure she’s defeated for all time.”

  As he spoke, I darted free again and managed to capture another two on my way by. Nine. I hid behind an overturned table.

  “You know you’re just feeding her power. You can feel it, can’t you? You have half the Seraphim’s power pulsing through you, but it’s draining away. Do you really want to be responsible for giving her the most potent energy on Heaven and Earth?”

  “Now you’re just being ridiculous.” He was correct; I could feel the power draining away. But it made little difference whether she was draining it from him or me. “I really don’t care what you have to say.” I was still wearing Kaspen’s aspect. It felt like the last connection I had to him, but he was dead, gone, and I could do nothing to
bring him back. I let it drop. “You never tempted me, not even once, and I’m sure that grates.”

  I’d lost track of Fanush. As I popped up to rush at Asorat again, she jumped and knocked me backward.

  “I’m going to kill you!” she screamed.

  “You can’t.” I blocked her punch. “I’m just a clueless ‘bluenose.’ You never loved me, and you’re certainly no Seraph.”

  “I’ll figure out a way!”

  She was furious, but my strength had increased with all the power I’d gathered. I pushed, and she flew backward and crashed into the wall.

  Asorat turned transparent and disappeared.

  Oh no, you don’t.

  I reached for his life spark, and was nearly overwhelmed by the energy. He had half the power of the Council of Seraphim running through him—and I had the other half—so it was easy to find where he’d gone. Germany.

  I searched out the other lives in the vicinity. Nephilim, whose life sparks pulsed blue. A couple Archangels—was one the Aleph?—hovered in the sky above a battlefield. Reapers, swooping down to pick up human souls before the demons claimed them. And countless Guardians, their white wings shivering as they darted behind their human Wards.

  With focused effort to break through the demonic energy blocking our ability to fade, I burst onto Earth next to the Archangels.

  Rehniah and Umiet hovered next to one another. The power feeding both of them was silver. I squinted against the setting sun and tried to make out the extra energy I could feel draining to the Aleph but saw nothing. That either meant that both Asorat and Voctic were lying—unlikely—or Rehniah had completely disguised the power.

  “Enael!” she exclaimed. As she turned toward me, I caught a glimpse of something I’d never seen before: a symbol on each cheek, identical swirling masses of knots and loops that were so close to the color of her skin they were imperceptible except for the way the light hit them.

  “Good day.” The design was beautiful and haunting, a truly fitting representation of the Aleph. I kept my emotions tightly reined. After all, Rehniah knew my true name and would detect if anything was amiss. “Did you see a rogue demon come this way?”