Raziel

by Kristina Douglas

  I moved to the row of windows in the living room, looking out over the sea. It was misty, cool, the rich salt scent thick in the air. Where had Raziel gone?

  And did he really expect me to stay here like a good girl, awaiting my master’s return?

  Fat chance.

  I found some white shoes that looked sort of like a delicate pair of Crocs and slipped them on, then headed out the door. I paused, staring down the endless flights of stairs, and let out a heartfelt groan.

  Going down would be easier than going up, but if I did descend those forty million treacherous flights of stairs, sooner or later I would have to go back up. Why didn’t they have elevators in the afterlife? Maybe most people just flew.

  No, only the men could. “Sexist bastards,” I said with a sniff. Maybe I could hitch a ride with one of the friendlier ones.

  The stairs were endless, deserted as I descended. It wasn’t until I reached the third floor that I began to run into . . . whatever they were. Fallen angels, vampires, blood-eaters, hell-transporters. Comic-book villains.

  None of them looked particularly happy to see me. So it wasn’t just Raziel who resented my presence. I gave each of them my cheeriest smile and a friendly greeting, and for the most part was met with cool indifference. Great. No welcome wagon here.

  No sight of the Stepford wives, either, who by now were seeming pretty damned normal and friendly. Were they stuck in some kind of seraglio while the men went about their so-important business? Would I end up there?

  Of course not. Seraglios were for wives and concubines, not inconvenient females nobody wanted.

  I finally reached the bottom of those endless stairs, ending up in a massive hallway. It was open at one end, leading out to the churning sea, which called to me and I started toward it, something akin to joy rising in my heart, when I was brought up short by the very last person I wanted to see.

  Not Raziel, who had his own dubious charms. But Azazel the Grouch, the leader of this happy band. And he was looking at me as if I carried all ten plagues of Egypt.

  “What are you doing here?” he demanded.

  “Looking for Raziel,” I said, a complete lie. I didn’t want to see him any more than he wanted to come near me, but I could think of no other excuse. The sea was calling to me, and I tried to sidle past him. “I think he might be out by the water—”

  He blocked me. “He’s not. Go back to your rooms and await him.”

  I didn’t like Azazel. “I’m not one of the dutiful wives, and I’m certainly not going to hide away like someone in a harem. I’m going out to the water, and I suggest you don’t try to stop me.”

  The moment the challenge was out of my mouth, I regretted it. I’d forgotten these weren’t New York metrosexuals I was dealing with. Azazel froze, and I wondered idly if these fallen angels were capable of smiting a bitch. If so, I was in deep shit.

  “Allie!” Sarah suddenly came up from behind me, tucking her arm through mine. “So nice to see you this morning. Aren’t you happy to see Allie, my love?”

  Azazel glowered. “No.”

  “Pay no attention to him, my dear,” Sarah said smoothly, leading me away from him. “He’s got a lot on his mind, and he tends to be bad-tempered in the morning. In the afternoon as well,” she added ruefully.

  “Is there ever a time when he isn’t grumpy?” I asked with my usual lack of tact.

  “Not often,” Sarah said. “He has too many responsibilities. Now, let me find someone who will know where Raziel’s gone. He’s probably up in the caves —he spends most of his time there.”

  “I admit, he does have batlike tendencies. The black clothes.”

  “The wings,” Sarah added cheerfully, then saw my expression. “Oh, you haven’t seen his wings yet? They’re quite . . . astonishing. A deep, iridescent blue. You’ll love them.”

  “I doubt it.”

  Sarah smiled. “Let’s find some help. I’m not allowed up there or I’d take you. Besides, with me you’d have to walk and it would take days. Come with me.” She led me, blessedly, toward the open door and the sea.

  I stopped for a moment, blinded by the sunlight, and let the cool salty breeze wash over me like a blessing—like a lover’s caress. I opened my eyes to see Sarah watching me with a faint smile.

  “You fit well here,” she said.

  “I hadn’t realized how much I love the sea.”

  “It’s not just that.” But before I could ask her what she meant, she started walking toward two men who were standing in the bright sunlight, watching our approach.

  “I still can’t get over why they don’t turn into piles of ashes,” I muttered. “I thought vampires couldn’t handle the sun.”

  Sarah laughed. “Vampires are a myth.”

  “And fallen angels who drink blood are part of reality television?”

  “Reality television is a myth too, from what I hear. I would suggest you reserve judgment. Tamlel, Sammael,” she greeted them, and the two of them bowed.

  Raziel was so ridiculously gorgeous he made my knees weak, and Azazel’s stern beauty was impressive. These two were damned pretty as well, and for a moment I wondered if you could be gay in the afterlife.

  One of them was older, with dark brown hair tied back, warmth in his eyes. The younger one was blond and cherubic, and it was probably my imagination that he looked slightly sullen. They greeted Sarah with warmth, but it was clear they were unsure about me.

  “This is Allegra,” Sarah said. “But you already know that. Allie, this is Tamlel, generally considered to be in charge of scribes. And the young one is Sammael.”

  He was looking at me with a sulky expression, and I’d always had little patience for sullen teenagers. Though this particular teenager was probably thousands of years old. “And what are you in charge of?”

  There was a moment of silence, and then Sarah spoke. “In fact, he’s one of the angels of death. But since the Fallen have eternal life, he hasn’t had much to do since he fell. Our only connection with humans is to take them to their final home.”

  “One of the angels of death?” I echoed. “Like Raziel?”

  “Raziel isn’t a death angel.”

  “You could have fooled me,” I grumbled, thinking back to that bus. “What’s he doing now—killing someone new?”

  Tamlel looked distressed. “We don’t kill. We are charged with transporting—”

  “Never mind.” I took pity on him.

  “Raziel is the angel of knowledge and mysteries,” Sarah said patiently. “He keeps the secrets of the ages.”

  “Typical male,” I muttered.

  Sarah laughed, and even Tamlel smothered a grin. Sammael, however, kept a stony expression. “Will one of you take Allie up to Raziel? He shouldn’t have left her alone on her first day with us.”

  “How long is she going to stay?” Sammael demanded in a tone just this side of rudeness. I guess if you were an angel of death, you could get away with it.

  “We don’t know yet. There are more important things to worry about right now. Her presence among us will be dealt with when the time is right.”

  That didn’t sound particularly promising. I wasn’t in the mood to be dealt with, and no one apart from Sarah seemed exactly delighted to see me, though at least Tamlel was trying, bless him.

  “I’m afraid I’ve promised to help Michael in the weapons room,” Tamlel said. “However, Sammael would be more than happy to serve.” Sammael didn’t look happy to do anything, but maybe that was because he looked like a teenager.

  But clearly no one said no to Sarah. “Thank you, Sammael. I’ll take Allie back upstairs—she’ll need warmer clothes if she’s to go into the caves, and I wish to talk to her. You may join us in an hour.”

  Sammael bowed in acquiescence, and we started back toward the house.

  “I’m worried about him,” she said in a low voice.

  “Raziel? Or Sammael?”

  She laughed. “Raziel. Sammael has always been like that. The
Fallen are eternal—they tend not to change.”

  “Great,” I said. Last night Raziel had treated me like an unwelcome interloper, when it was hardly my fault I was here. I didn’t fancy spending eternity feeling out of place. But apparently it wasn’t the women who were eternal, only the damned men.

  I glanced at Sarah as we climbed. She looked human, normal, friendly. There were no marks whatsoever on her wrist, the wrist that had been dripping blood into Raziel’s mouth.

  Funny. Popular culture always seemed to suggest that vampires—excuse me, blood-eaters—were sexual, that the drinking of blood was an erotic act.

  In retrospect, last night’s scene had seemed more like a mama bird feeding her baby. Though I doubted Raziel would enjoy being seen as a fuzzy hatchling.

  “Are you certain going up to the caves is a good idea?” I said uneasily. “I don’t think Raziel will be particularly happy to see me.”

  “Raziel gets his way far too much of the time,” she said in her tranquil voice. “Jarameel is usually the one who has visions, but he’s been gone for a long time, and my own are far too muddy and unclear. But I know you’re here for a reason, and that reason has to do with Raziel.”

  There wasn’t much I could say in response to that. “Okay.” I let the word sit for a moment. “So what’s he doing up in the caves?”

  “He’s doing what everyone is doing. He’s looking for the First,” she said.

  “The first what?”

  “The First of the Fallen.” We rounded another landing, and I was surprised to realize we were almost at the top. It was far less torturous with Sarah by my side.

  “You’re looking for Lucifer? Why? What happened to him?”

  She looked startled. “I forgot you were a biblical scholar.”

  All right, I could be embarrassed. “Hardly. I write—I wrote Old Testament mysteries. I have a certain amount of basic knowledge, but for the rest I just Googled what I needed to know.”

  “ ‘Googled’?”

  I realized with sudden horror that I hadn’t seen a computer anywhere in this place. Maybe this was hell. “Looked it up,” I clarified.

  “Ah, no wonder Uriel hated you,” she said. “He takes history very seriously. He takes everything very seriously.”

  “I don’t understand about Uriel. What’s he got to say about things?”

  “Everything. When God gave mankind free will, he left Uriel in charge. And Uriel is . . .” For a moment words failed her, and the look in her eyes was bleak. “. . . quite unforgiving. His answer to everything that even hints of evil is to destroy it. And he sees evil in everything.”

  We had stopped for the moment, and I considered the consequences of such an attitude. “That doesn’t sound too good for the future of mankind.”

  “It’s not good for the future of life in any form.” She pushed open the door in front of us. “That’s why we search for Lucifer.”

  The stark white apartment was just as clean and soulless as it had been when I left it. I sank down on one of the pure white sofas. “So where is Lucifer?”

  She sighed. “He’s in some kind of stasis, and has been for millennia, since God first passed judgment on him. He’s conscious, awake, but no one can get to him. Only my husband and Raziel have been able to hear him, and the mountain caves are the only place quiet enough for Raziel to listen. As for what we want with him—the Fallen want him to lead them as they overthrow Uriel.”

  I blinked. Just my luck—I died, and instead of a peaceful afterlife, I got stuck in the middle of an angelic coup d’état. I pulled my legs up under me, hugging my knees, and cast a glance at a plate of blueberry muffins that was sitting on the coffee table. Before I could reach for them, Sarah went on, “Ask Raziel about it. He’ll probably think I told you too much already. You know how men can be.”

  I was ready to make a smart-ass comment—so far Raziel had shown little inclination to tell me anything—but I stopped myself. “You called him a man. Is he?”

  “A man? Oh, most definitely. When the angels fall, they take human shape along with their curses.”

  “Humans aren’t immortal. Humans aren’t cursed. They can’t fly and they don’t . . .” I hesitated. Once spoken, it would be too real. “They don’t drink blood.”

  Sarah’s quick laugh took the onus off it. “Don’t be picky. Call them what you will—they are many things, as you already know.” She moved over to the window. “They’re cursed, and the curse goes deep. If you understand that, it will make things easier on you.”

  I stared longingly at the blueberry muffins. If I had one, I’d be hard-pressed not to eat three, and that would use up half my calorie count for the day.

  “Why don’t you have a muffin?” she asked, mystified. “You’ve been staring at them since we arrived.”

  “I don’t dare. The food’s too damned good here—I’ll end up looking like a blimp.”

  Sarah laughed. “That’s one advantage to living here. You won’t need to worry about diet. The women may not be immortal, but we still manage to live a lot longer than most humans do. It’s almost impossible to kill us. In a little while your cholesterol, blood pressure, blood sugar, and anything else will be textbook perfect.”

  “Except that I’m not mortal, I’m dead. Aren’t I?”

  Sarah’s forehead wrinkled. “I don’t know if anyone’s quite sure what you are. You’re something of an original, and we have yet to discover your purpose.

  Even so, I think we all suffer a sea change when we come here. Those who come as wives and bonded mates become almost invulnerable. I don’t think there’s been a flu or a cold here in generations. We live very long lives—I was born at the beginning of the last century, I have the body of an extremely healthy sixty-something, and I expect to live at least another fifty years. It’s similar for the rest of us. The good news is we can give up glasses, contact lenses, allergy meds, and diets.”

  “How come you know about some things and not others, like contact lenses and Ben & Jerry’s, but you don’t know what Google is?” I asked, confused.

  “It depends on what the newest wife brings to us. I don’t believe Carrie has mentioned Google but she was very fond of ice cream.”

  “So am I.”

  “Well, you’ll be pleased to know that you won’t have to worry about gaining weight. You’ll stay exactly the same as you are now.”

  “What?” I was horrified. “I’m still fifteen pounds overweight. Are you telling me I’m going to be like this throughout eternity?”

  Sarah laughed and patted my hand. “Don’t worry—it’s a healthy fifteen pounds. And Raziel might like it.”

  I stared at her. “What does that have to do with anything? He didn’t even stay around long enough to say good morning. Besides, I don’t like him very much either.”

  Sarah tilted her head, surveying me with eyes that saw far too much. Or read too much into an entirely innocent situation. “He didn’t say good morning?”

  she echoed. “Did he sleep with you last night?” The idea seemed to astonish her, which wasn’t particularly flattering.

  “Of course not!” I said, trying to sound horrified rather than . . . God, I was feeling almost wistful. What was wrong with me?

  “But he spent the night in the same apartment?”

  I hesitated, then decided to dump. If anyone was going to help me figure things out, it would be Sarah. “In the same bed, I think. But he didn’t touch me. I fell asleep in here, woke up this morning in bed, alone”—I saw her mouth open to ask a question, and said firmly—“and untouched. It looked as if someone else had slept there too, and he’s the logical choice since these are his rooms, but if he did he kept to his side of the bed. He didn’t even bite me.”

  Sarah blinked for a moment, then laughed, her voice light and curiously beguiling. “He’d shag you before he’d bite you, Allie. That’s the highest form of intimacy there is. It’s the last thing he’d want with you.”

  Of course it was. Thank God, I
told myself virtuously. “I’m thrilled to hear it. So he’s only intimate with you?”

  There was the faintest trace of color on her creamy skin. “You mean because he took my blood? Didn’t the two of you talk at all? I can’t believe you simply let him brood around and not answer any questions.”

  “We talked. We just didn’t get around to the whole . . . blood thing.”

  “Oh,” Sarah said after a moment. “Well, I don’t suppose it matters—it may not affect you one way or another. Unless it makes a great difference to you, there’s really no reason for us to talk about it.”