“It wasn’t attacking me.” He shifted, as if impatient. “Can you get down, or do I drop you on your lovely, if occasionally treacherous, ass?”
She blinked, taken aback by what passed, for him, as a compliment. “I don’t—”
“Go. Now.” His muscles had gone rigid as stone. “Now would be good.”
Eyes widening at the warning, she let go of him at the same moment she released her wings, shooting skywards on currents of charged air, and once again barely avoiding a cold, rushing mass of darkness.
Now that she knew what it was – she had only seen a kerub once in her entire existence – she could make out the vaguely canine shape, with its long, snapping muzzle, wraith-like wings, and multitude of red, shining eyes.
She shuddered. Azrael’s creatures were always unsettling, although this one wasn’t nearly as terrifying as others.
Realizing it had missed its target, the creature circled and dived towards Prima, instantly meeting the solid resistance of Ahadiel’s body. Angel and guardian beast impacted with bone-crushing force, then careened, at dizzying speed, downwards to the parked truck. The impact crushed the cab, fractured the windshield safety glass, and exploded all the tyres as the truck sank several inches into the asphalt, leaving jagged cracks all around it.
Wincing at the sound of crunching metal, Prima called, “Thank you for that!” Then, after a moment, she added, “Need any help?”
“No! Stay right where you are!”
Snapping and snarling sounds rose from the shadows by the mangled truck, followed by a flare of white-hot energy.
“Up, up,” Ahadiel shouted. “Go up!”
Confused by the conflicting orders, one coming rapidly after the other, Prima hesitated – until she heard it coming again, with a low, grinding howl. She pumped her wings, willing them to gather speed, and risked a glance behind her.
An expanse of primeval teeth and red eyes filled her view.
With a startled yelp, she reversed, dropping fast, the light of her wings trailing behind her like a shooting star. Fear rolled through her, then fury, and she turned, fingers flexing as she extended her nails. Hers might not be as deadly or come with archangel-enhanced powers, but they’d still rip flesh and draw blood.
As she braced herself for attack, an expanse of black rushed into view: Ahadiel, placing himself again between her and the beast. His broad back and flaring wings blocked out the sky.
“Stay behind me,” he ordered.
Wings at full power and breadth, claws extended, he was as beautiful as he was frightening. The thin, rapier-like lengths of his claws were now pitch black in colour, except for their tips, which glowed with a blue-white heat.
As if considering its options, the kerub stared at Ahadiel with its many eyes, ragged-edged wings flapping as the wind buffeted it from side to side. When Prima moved, its eyes followed her. All of them.
It was after her, and with that alarming thought came another realization, this one leaving her once more shaking with anger. “Can you kill it?” she asked.
“Yes, but I won’t.” The kerub darted to one side, almost too quickly for her to follow, but Ahadiel had already moved to block it.
“Why not?”
“It’s being compelled.” There was a hard edge to his voice. “A simple creature like this has no chance against that kind of magic, and it pisses me off to see it like this.”
“I’d feel more sorry if it weren’t trying to disembowel me.” Despite her flip response, she was careful to keep Ahadiel between her and the increasingly agitated creature. “What’s the plan?”
“Avoid disembowelment.”
“Ha-ha.” She glared at the back of his head. “You do have a plan, right?”
“Yes.”
If he’d planned to expand on that, the kerub didn’t give him the chance. It hurtled forwards, with that grinding shriek, and Ahadiel’s entire body braced for the impact. This time, he was prepared for the charge, and his wings flared with the effort to hold his place. Prima drew back, hands and nails still flexed in defence as Ahadiel wrestled with the creature, trying to contain it within the boundaries of his own power.
He didn’t need her help, but she still hated feeling so helpless, unable to do little more than wait and watch.
She spared a quick glance at the city below, blanketed in white, the grids and winding ribbons of its streets and avenues dotted with glowing lamplights. Magical, in its own way, and far too open. With her and Ahadiel bouncing about the sky like little points of light, the Rhinelander PD would be dealing with calls about UFOs for the rest of the week. Aliens would probably be blamed for the damage to the truck too.
She looked back at Ahadiel, just in time to see, from the corner of her eye, another dark mass shooting downwards towards her. Prima shouted a warning. Ahadiel jerked back, wings arching, barely managing to deflect the second kerub’s attack while still protecting himself from the first creature.
“New plan.” He wheeled, then swooped down, enveloping her in a shining circle of light. “Hold on!”
Knowing what was coming, she clamped her jaw tight, squeezed her eyes shut, and wrapped her arms around his neck so hard she thought she heard something give.
Wind blasted her, assaulting her ears and freezing her skin. Her scream, ripped away and scattered to the forces surrounding her, could barely be heard: “IIIIII haaaaaaate thiiiiis, yoooooouuuu baaaaastaaaaard!”
One second – assailed by torrents of ice and wind, caught in total darkness. The next – four walls, a solid floor and dim, blinking lights. Prima staggered, arms flailing like an upset chicken, when Ahadiel released her.
“You do this on purpose, I know you do. You probably think it’s funny!”
With an ignominious thump, she bumped against the welcome solidity of a wall, then steadied herself, gulping air. She loathed interstice-hopping; not only did it always make her feel like throwing up, it was utterly exhausting.
Ahadiel, of course, stood calm and firm, arms folded across his chest, no wings in sight. His coat was torn, the left side of his chest shredded and suspiciously darkened, and a lucky swipe of a kerub’s claw had left four ragged, red furrows down his right cheek. At the sight of his blood – more than she’d ever seen before – her anger faded.
“You’re hurt,” she said, taking an unsteady step towards him. To her humiliation, her knees buckled, but he caught her before she fell. “You’re hurt,” she repeated, with a sigh, “and yet you’re the one helping me.”
“Don’t worry about it. I heal fast.”
“That’s not the point. What’s going on? Usually we do the chasing, not the running.” While the effects of travelling at full-throttle celestial speed were vicious, they didn’t last long. Feeling stronger already, she hastily pulled away from him. “And aerial fights! I can’t even remember the last time I did that . . . I don’t like being forced out into the open, not one bit.”
“Prima—”
“Once upon a time, humans feared and worshipped us, and a little ruckus up in the sky wasn’t such a big deal. But that was before NASA and NORAD. Before F-14s and RPGs. Before double-barrelled shotguns.” She shuddered. “I hate those things. They hurt.”
“Prima, calm down.”
“I am calm. I’m also angry.” After another glower in his direction, she surveyed their surroundings. Bare concrete floor, industrial-type ceiling lights and numerous large, panel-like cabinets with blinking electrical components lining the walls. “Where are we?”
“In the control building of a power substation. The residual ELM from the power lines will mask my presence.”
How clever. Then again, his sole reason for existing was to hunt and fight, so no doubt his bag of tricks was significantly more expansive than hers.
“They used you to find me.” She turned back to him. “I’d say someone really, really doesn’t want me passing on my information to you.”
“Agreed.” With a sigh, he leaned back against the wall, then wiped
the blood away from his face with a sleeve, grimacing. “Just missed an eye. That would’ve slowed me down. Are you all right?”
“Yes.”
“You should have sensed the danger when I did. Maybe you’ve lived among humans for too long. You’re getting soft.”
“You know me. I’m more a lover than a fighter anyway.” At his frown, she added, “Honestly, I’m fine. Aside from the shock of hopping interstices, anyway. My ears are still ringing.”
“Sorry. I had to get you out of there fast, and that was the easiest option. You’re safe for now, so tell me what’s going on.” As she opened her mouth to remind him what she needed first, he held up his hand. “You have my sworn oath to protect and assist you, Prima. Through me, the will of Heaven is yours to command.”
Wow . . . just like that. Too easy. There had to be a catch. Not with Ahadiel himself, but she didn’t trust Azrael’s intentions any more than she trusted Nirgal’s.
“That’s certainly not something I hear every day.”
He regarded her for a moment, wiping again at the blood dripping down his face. The cuts, she noticed, were already healing. “I’ve been ordered to this place for however long it takes to find Raguel, and to do whatever’s necessary to make that happen. I choose to help you, because I believe it will help me find my brother.”
Prima stared at him. Celestials like Ahadiel did not possess free will; having the ability to “choose” was not a power granted to them. Not usually, anyway. Azrael was either being unusually generous or, more likely, was up to something. There were reasons he was considered the most cunning of the archangels.
Ahadiel slid down the wall and sat, legs raised and forearms draped across his knees. His hands, loosely clasped, were badly scratched and torn.
“Sit.” He motioned at the floor beside him. “And talk.”
With a shrug, Prima did as he ordered, since now wasn’t the time to argue over his more annoying personality quirks. She pulled off her hat, then removed the parka and spread it on the ground. He might not care that the floor needed a good mopping, but she did.
“As I already mentioned, it started with Helel’s escape.”
Discussing the punishment of disobedient angels was distasteful, partly because it hit a little too close to home. He couldn’t help what he was, but sometimes she fantasized about finding a way to free him from his existence, which was rooted in so much violence, pain and fear. He wouldn’t see himself in that light, of course, and so she kept such thoughts to herself.
The furrows along his face were now only reddish scratches, although dark smears remained where he’d wiped the blood away. “Her offences weren’t as serious as those of the others, but severe enough that she shouldn’t have been able to escape.”
“Nirgal suspects Raguel might have been lured into a trap, and then used in some kind of ritual to reverse her punishment.” She paused. “Is that even possible?”
Ahadiel didn’t answer right away. He looked down at his hands, flexing his fingers, then rubbed them clean on his coat. “Maybe, but few have the ability to perform a ritual like that.”
“Would he . . . would Raguel survive it?”
“I think so; he’s strong.” He let out a long breath. “But I don’t know for sure.”
Nothing she could say would ease his fears that his brother had already been destroyed, so there was no point in even trying.
“Do you know who might have helped her?” Ahadiel asked.
“Not Lucifer or Lilith, if that’s what you’re thinking. They have their own interests in this place, but don’t really care what goes on here. Or not as long as the power balance isn’t threatened to the point where it catches the attention of an archangel. We’d all prefer to avoid that. I imagine you would as well.”
No one – and especially lower-tier celestials like the Grigori, Galearii, ordinary Djinn, or guardian spirits of any stripe – wanted to butt heads with an archangel. Lucifer and Lilith, once archangels themselves, knew all too well the importance of maintaining the balance, as they’d come out on the losing end the last time they tried to tip the scales in their favour.
“So who does Nirgal think it was?”
Oh, he was going to hate this part. A lot. “Harut and Maroth.”
Ahadiel shot to his feet, anger darkening his face. The space behind him began to shimmer, and Prima scooted sideways to a safer distance, hoping he’d be careful. One impulsive twitch in the wrong direction, and he’d blow out every circuit breaker, line feeder, or transformer in the substation, plunging the city – including St Mary’s Hospital and the area clinics – into a blackout.
Ahadiel had been hunting Harut and Maroth for a very long time, and to have them suddenly pop up now, involved in Raguel’s disappearance, would infuriate him. Even more galling was how these clever malcontents had avoided their well-deserved punishment by making themselves useful to the more powerful and influential members of the demon clans. Lucifer and Lilith, and their respective entourages, had also provided shelter and protection, simply because it amused them to do so, as far as she could tell.
When he moved away from the control panels, Prima breathed out with relief.
“What would they want with Helel?”
“That’s the big question, isn’t it?” Prima remained seated, watching as Ahadiel moved restlessly up and down in the small space between the equipment, his coat reflecting the blinking red and green lights. “But maybe the better question to ask is – why bother with her to begin with? I think we have the answer to that one: Helel is the fount of all knowledge on angel breeding. She’s a one-stop fertility clinic and geneticist. Whether you wanted a baby angel, or the half-breed, monstrous surprise behind Door Number Two, she’s the one you’d go see.”
That was another subject that cut a little too close to the bone, and she couldn’t help the bitterness in her voice. The mortals had gotten a lot wrong about angels, such as their sexuality and the near complete lack of female angels in their holy writings. It was this sort of ignorance and disrespect that added fuel to the fire of Lilith’s contempt for humankind. And who could blame her? She’d been an archangel, and then some nomadic goatherds with issues turned her into a shrew and a whore.
The need for celestial sexuality wasn’t all that difficult to understand. Angels were immortal, but not eternal, and their numbers were hardly legion. An angel could be destroyed, especially those among the lower ranks, and when that happened, an archangel ordered that a new one be created. If there were fewer female angels, it wasn’t because they were less efficient or awe-inspiring than the males, but because new angels were so rarely needed.
Her own angelic mother was absolutely terrifying. Granted, falling from grace hadn’t done much to improve her disposition, but even before that she’d excelled in the art of instilling the fear of God into mankind.
“I don’t understand,” Ahadiel said at length. He continued to pace, and Prima wished he would sit down. All that restless energy was distracting.
“This is why you put up with me, isn’t it? I provide the brains, you provide the brawn.”
That stopped him in his tracks, and his angry frustration melted away, replaced with an expression of mild amusement. “That would be one of the reasons, yes.”
She almost asked what his other reasons might be then thought better of it. His sudden change of behaviour towards her, coupled with what he’d told her about the nature of his mission in this place, left her feeling more uneasy than ever.
Unattainable. He was supposed to be unattainable, untouchable, unassailable. Safe.
“Prima? Are you going to answer or not? Why did they target Helel?”
His question cut across her thoughts, and she looked up, meeting his expectant, patient gaze. Never mind the unease. If she were right about the reason for these sudden changes in him, fear would be more appropriate. Fear for him, and anger – and sadness too, because she realized he had no idea what was happening.
“Sure. I’
ll answer you.” It came out sharper than she’d intended. “They’re going to breed a nephilim.”
Ahadiel stared at her. “Nephilim.”
“Yes. You know, those inconvenient little monsters resulting from the unholy sexual congress of a human and an angel.”
“I know what they are.” His smile was sceptical, and he shook his head. “The nephilim were destroyed a long time ago.”
Some 25,000 years ago, which was well before her time. She’d heard the stories, though, and they still gave her the shivers.
“Except that you, your brothers, and Azrael’s scary little pet missed a few stragglers,” she said. “The nephilim gene still exists, and with people moving around the world more freely than ever, it’s not as rare as it used to be. Every now and then, two carriers produce a very special baby. If that special baby grows up and mates with another one like it—”
“The statistical odds of that happening are very small, even now.”
“It happened just 2,000 years ago.” Again, before her time, but the repercussions of that event, and a narrowly averted apocalypse, were still fresh in the memories of everyone, humans included.
“A fluke. That particular genetic mutation almost always produces female offspring, which also tend to be highly mentally unstable.”
“Almost always, yes.” As she spoke, Ahadiel again sat on the floor beside her. He tended to frown a lot – she had that effect on him, she supposed – but this time his ferocious expression had nothing to do with her. After a moment, she added, “You know what’s out there. Why haven’t you intervened?”
“I’ve not been ordered to do so.” He raised a brow. “Why haven’t you?”
“Because I don’t want a blood-thirsty Angel of Punishment hunting down my ass,” she retorted. “Mustn’t upset the balance, right? That’s crazy – and stupid. You should kill them. All of them. Nip the problem in the bud.”
“I can’t do that,” he said, his tone equally terse.
The silence continued, excruciatingly tense, before Ahadiel broke it. “So why are Harut and Maroth interested in any of this? Or are they creating chaos again just because they can?”
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