by Debra Dunbar
“Tell me what happened.” Candy’s mouth twisted into a bitter smile. “Remember? You’re the muscle, and I’m the mind? Just like we did with Althean, we’ll fix this as a team.”
Yeah. That had ended with me bound to an angel. It had worked out in the long run, but hadn’t been so pleasant in the short term. I took a deep breath and steeled myself. These werewolves, these Nephilim, were mine, and I wasn’t going to give up on them.
Mine.
Oh holy shit, when had I claimed them? Long ago. Long before Harper ever entered my house. How in the world could I possibly play this and make it work out?
Play it by the rules. Gregory’s words echoed in my mind, but I had no time to contemplate their meaning in my current situation. I needed to secure a new sanctuary for unregistered werewolves and Nephilim. Pronto. Beckoning the others over, I explained the situation, and the difficulty over Harper’s transportation and her safety.
Candy ran a hand through her perfectly coiffed blond bob, spiking bits at odd angles. “So we try and get them to Alaska or Germany, or we find a sorcerer with the power to recreate a sanctuary nearby?”
“Or we come up with another idea.” I never wanted to rule out the possibility of some whacky alternative. Ideas that came out of left field were often the best alternatives.
“Other ideas.” Michelle pursed her lips. “Like the angels get hung up in paperwork over whether the werewolves and Nephilim are under their purview or yours? I mean, who really has jurisdiction in this sort of thing? If Nephilim are so horrible, then why aren’t they the responsibility of Satan?”
It was a fucking brilliant idea. I should have expected the niece of a Haitian priestess to come up with this. Ten–thousand years it had taken for the angels to decide the werewolves were the product of angel sin. If I could drag these debates into a jurisdictional one, string them out for another ten–thousand years, it would give me time to come up with some kind of permanent solution. Of course, there was no saying the angels wouldn’t just laugh in my face and go ahead and wipe out the entire race. Still, it was worth a try.
“I’ll try and get things held up in committee, but it’s a long shot. There’s a good chance they’ll go on killing them even before a decision is made on jurisdiction. But no matter how that goes, we need to find a safe space for Jaq, and especially Harper. Thoughts?”
Candy smoothed her hair. “Michelle and Nyalla can work their supernatural connections. Nils clearly knows angel politics. He can think of a short–term solution until we can secure a sanctuary. And I’ll do hands–on with the werewolves to keep everyone under the radar in the meantime. Deal?”
My mind raced, seeing the fine lines of connection between the werewolves and angels, tracing possibilities into the future. I might not be as skilled as Gregory and the other angels, but this tiny measure of omnipotence served me well.
“I need to see them. I need to meet with Jaq, Harper, and the werewolves. I’ll gate there. I’ll lock down my energy tight and travel as a human. Anything — but I must meet with them.”
Candy’s shrewd brown eyes met mine, and she reached out a manicured hand to clasp my own. “Done.”
***
Gabriel hadn’t risked moving them far. Jaq, Kelly, Harper, and six werewolves were ensconced in a huge hotel designed to look like a tudor–style chalet. The fact that it was perched on a cliff overlooking the Potomac River and a stone’s throw from the Antietam Battlefield added to the surreal atmosphere. I expected to see Civil War soldiers shooting it out with Heidi and blond dudes in lederhosen at any moment.
It had taken me about four hours of transporting myself all sorts of unexpected places to arrive here. For once, my fledgling angel skills worked to my advantage. Any angel trying to follow me was probably lost in Madhya Pradesh or Tiagba.
Candy hadn’t wanted to risk coming to the meeting, but she’d sent word. In spite of my excessive tardiness, the Nephilim, the vampire, and Harper were in the dining area of the inn, surrounded by half–empty plates of schweinebraten and sausages.
“I don’t know German,” Jaq pronounced woodenly. For a second, I wondered if the staff at the inn didn’t speak English then I realized the half–angel was referring to one of the two other sanctuaries.
“And I don’t have the best memories of Alaska,” Harper added.
I took a deep breath to calm my temper, which seemed more pronounced than usual these days. Clearly I was getting a lot of practice with the sin of anger.
“Okay, so Jaq goes to Alaska, and Harper goes to Germany. As soon as we can figure out how to get her safely there, that is.”
“Or we wait until a new sanctuary is secured here,” Kelly added.
Yeah, that damned vampire had survived, too. And she was just as glued to Jaq’s side as before. I glared at her, wondering if I could send her off to fetch coffee or some other mundane task. Probably not.
“We don’t have time for that. You might as well have a big arrow pointing at you from the sky, and sanctuaries don’t get built in a day. Fuck, we don’t even know if we can find a sorcerer or witch with enough oomph to establish a new one.”
“The angels know people,” Jaq assured me. “They built three of them. They’ve kept us hidden for thousands of years. They’ll come through.”
Probably not, but her faith in the angels was touching. Misguided, but touching.
“Even if they do, there’s no guarantee the new sanctuary will be in West Virginia,” I warned. Gregory hadn’t told me where he had in mind, but putting it smack dab on top of the previous sanctuary didn’t seem wise. “You could wind up in Argentina or Easter Island. Any of you speak Spanish, or whatever the fuck they speak on Easter Island? Huh?”
Yeah. Anger. My new sin of choice.
“I’m not leaving.” Seems anger wasn’t only my sin. Jaq smacked a fist onto the table, denting the surface. “West Virginia is my home. My pack is here; my human friends are here. I have a job, hunting grounds I know and love. I’m not leaving.”
Great. I glanced at the others. Kelly had put a supportive hand on her friend’s shoulder. Harper gnawed her fingernails, her speculative gaze roaming between Jaq’s freckled face and mine.
If this were just a matter of sanctuary, it would be one thing, but this problem was bigger than they knew. Should I tell them the entire werewolf race was facing extinction? That it probably didn’t matter where they stayed, or how secure Gregory and Gabe managed to make it; eventually they’d be found and killed? That there was a good chance they’d watch all of their werewolf friends die as they hid in safety? Maybe Jaq’s decision was right — better to go down fighting than cower under a rock and wait for inevitable discovery.
I watched Harper chewing her fingers in indecision. Her child would be ripped from her arms, her memory wiped. She’d go about her life as if nothing had happened. Sounded like the better deal of the lot, but I knew otherwise. Somewhere deep in her soul would be a wound the angels couldn’t heal. She might not remember why, but a part of her would always be damaged.
There was only one solution, but how I was going to pull it off was beyond me.
“West Virginia it is. Stay put. I’ve got to make a quick trip to Hel then I’ll be back to let you all know what the plan is.”
It was time for me to master a few sins, to be the Iblis and to give Gregory the ‘mighty show of power’ he’d been urging me toward since last year.
–25–
The two sorcerers were rather uncomfortable in my demon residence. Hell, I was uncomfortable in my demon residence. It had been Ahriman’s home up until recently, and I still had some very bad memories connected with the place. The ancient demon had burned my home to the ground, and this house of horrors was better than nothing. It did have one benefit: it screamed ‘Iblis’ with the warded gate of fire and walkway of crushed skulls.
“I thought you just wanted to move these ‘Neffy–liam’ from one place to another? Now you need to ward a sanctuary for them against the angels?�
�� Gareth was seated on a demon–hide couch, paging through one of the five massive spell books he’d brought with him. He rubbed a finger along his nose as he spoke, leaving a streak of charcoal dust on his tanned skin.
Kirby perched on a carved chair that had a mosaic of teeth imbedded in the ladder back. He shook his head, rubbing his own spell book with a reassuring hand. “Um, aren’t there only two of them? The adult and the pregnant human? Bring them to Hel. The angels would never come here.”
I wasn’t sure the elves and demons would be any less lethal than the angels once they discovered Nephilim in their midst. And there was one other little problem. “They won’t come to Hel and are refusing to leave the compromised sanctuary. Almost two–hundred–million square miles of land on the damned planet, and they won't budge from West Virginia.”
Another streak of gray joined the first on Gareth’s face. “So it’s not really a matter of hiding them, it’s creating some kind of impenetrable barrier the angels can’t cross.”
That was a good idea, and I knew someone who did that sort of thing, except the scope was probably far beyond Michelle’s aunt. I didn’t think there was enough brick dust locally, and by the time she’d walked around the state three times spouting her incantations, Jaq and Harper’s son would be long dead. Angels took forever to make up their minds about shit, but once they did, they moved fast.
“I know someone who has a spell like that, but there’s no time. I’m not sure she could even do it. The area’s just too large.”
“How big of an area are we talking about?” Kirby asked.
I squirmed. “About twenty–four–thousand miles. Give or take. I’m thinking we can cut out that weird bit up north and no one would notice.”
Kirby’s mouth dropped open. “Twenty–four–thousand miles for two people and a baby? Sheesh, Sam, the human lands in Hel aren’t that big. What do they need all that space for?”
“Well, it seems the angels have discovered that an entire race of shape–shifters are descended from Nephilim, and they are going to wipe them out. Even twenty–four–thousand miles might not be big enough. Hopefully some werewolves will be able to hide elsewhere.”
Gareth snapped his book shut. “Sam, what are you thinking? You can’t trap an entire race of people in a magical bubble for long. The angels are going hammer at it until they get in. And from what I’ve heard about angels, it won’t take them long.”
“You’ve got to bring them to Hel,” Kirby urged. “It’s your domain, the only place they’ll be safe from the angels. Bring them to Hel.”
Or bring Hel to them. Michelle’s idea of demanding responsibility for the Nephilim and werewolves was looking more and more like the best route. Pretty depressing. Either Kirby or Michelle’s suggestions were about as farfetched as sprinkling brick dust around the perimeter of a state, but there wasn’t anything else on the table right now.
“So let’s say I get ten thousand or so werewolves and a handful of Nephilim to agree to come to Hel. How do I transport them? They’re scattered all over the planet. Do I get them all in a central place, have everyone hold hands and activate an elf button?”
“Besides the fact that I doubt an elf button would transport that many, grouping everyone in a single place would just make it easy for the angels to kill them with one blow.” Gareth started paging through another of his books. “There’s got to be a way to open quick, temporary rifts, like the elven traps. The angels can’t see those for some unknown reason.”
I could probably get a few past the gate guardians at a time, but the angel–made gates that were my main mode of transport to and from Hel wouldn’t be an option for mass travel. Unless I managed to get all the gate guardians to go to Disney World for a week or two … hmmm, maybe if I announced the theme park had all–you–can–eat sweet and sour pork.
“There’s Mordical’s Fissure,” Kirby commented, reading through his own book. “But it’s unstable. Half of them would most likely wind up in another dimension.”
Ugh. I remembered Jell–o World from a few years back. I wouldn’t wish that on my worst enemy. Well, maybe Gabriel, because that would be funny, but no one else.
“You need an elf,” Gareth announced, smearing another line across his forehead. He was beginning to look like a commando from a B movie.
“Yeah,” Kirby jumped up in excitement. “They moved large groups of troops during the war, and they’ve transported citizens for celebrations using inter–realm gates. A really powerful elf could do this.”
Yeah, and I had so many powerful elves amongst my friends. “Even if I could bully one to do this, I’d need to have them on the other side of the gates. No threat would be enough to get them to break with millions of years of tradition.”
“And even if it worked, you said most of the werewolves and Neffies wouldn’t leave.” Gareth set aside his books and rested his chin on his hands. “The angels would slaughter the remaining ones. The ones who came to Hel, even if we manage to transport them safely, would struggle in their new life. You’d have to carve out more of the elf lands, or break off some of the demon ones. We’re not able to do adequate climate control on Libertytown. These people would be isolated in a strange world, in a hostile and desolate environment. They may wish they’d stayed and taken their chances.”
Fuck. That left only one option.
“Then I need to claim them, extend my reach to their present realm and insist the angels grant them co–existence with the humans.”
It was so quiet I could have heard crickets chirp — if Ahriman hadn’t killed them all and made a lovely mosaic with their exoskeletons, that is.
“Hello? Feedback? Any thoughts on this?”
“Can I have your stuff when they kill you?” Leave it to Kirby to crack jokes at a time like this. He truly was a human after my own heart.
“I’m serious. I’m the Iblis. I’ve got a big bad sword that’s actually more useful as a shotgun. I’ve killed six or seven angels — I can’t quite remember; I’m starting to lose count. I could pull this off.”
I couldn’t pull this off, but I was hoping among the three of us, we’d come up with a way I could.
“No offense, Sam, but you can’t even manage to hold Hel together. Yeah, you and your crazy household got the elves to back down, but they’re starting to make noise about war again. Unless you run around flashing your wings and blowing stuff up on a regular basis, things in Hel are going to slide back to the way they were before.”
“And beyond your household, none of the demons show you any additional respect. It’s not like you’re really the ruler of Hel.”
“But the angels think I am,” I argued. “They seriously think we’re all organized into a bunch of legions, poised to attack Aaru and reclaim heaven at any moment.”
Hey. That gave me an idea. “How many demons would make up a legion?”
Both magic users looked at me with blank faces. Gareth cleared his throat. “You’re going to gate into Aaru with a–few–hundred demons and demand they allow the werewolves and Nephilim to live, or you’ll attack them?”
“No, that’s a Pearl Harbor move. I’m shooting more for an American Revolution scenario. The angels are busy with their own issues. If I come in and decide to seize what to them has only been a problem, a thorn in their side for the last ten–thousand years, they’ll make a lot of noise and let me have it with a few concessions that will allow them to save face.”
That was greeted with more blank expressions. “I think you’ve been hanging out with angels too long,” Kirby slowly announced.
“Ruling Council meetings; they’re not something I’d recommend.”
“I still think you’re going to wind up getting killed,” Gareth warned. “But you know the angels better than either of us.”
“Maybe less than a legion.” Kirby stood and paced, waving his hands excitedly. “Too many demons and you’ll get their backs up. They’ll think you’re a threat to Aaru and will just take you out.”
“Two dozen. Remember, it needs to be enough demons for them to save face when they say they surrendered this responsibility.”
Kirby shook his head. “A dozen. They can say they’re humoring you because they’re busy and throw it all in committee for another ten–thousand years.”
Forget angels, this mage had been hanging out with elves for too long.
“Okay, but I get to shoot some stuff up. It’s in keeping with my ‘crazy’ persona, and I love how tetchy they all get when I bring out the Iblis weapon.”
“Don’t kill any of them,” Gareth warned. “You’re liable to ruin the whole thing if you go killing some angel’s cousin twice removed.”
I agreed but pouted just a bit to show my disappointment at not being able to dust a few angels.
“Now we need to turn our attention back to transportation,” Gareth added gloomily, sitting down and pulling a spell book back on his lap. “There’s the same problem getting a dozen demons to whatever location you choose. Can’t send them through a gate without setting off all sorts of early–warning alarms. And I know there aren’t enough of Kirby’s Marbles ready for this job.”
“How long do you need them there?” Kirby was staring off into space. Or staring at a gruesome set of bloody paw prints along one wall. I wasn’t sure which.
“My legion of twelve? I don’t know. Couple of hours maybe.”
Kirby wrinkled his thin nose. “Drat. I’ve been working on Kirby’s Marble, trying to adjust it so it can transport more than one. Right now it works, but the passenger only stays for ten or fifteen minutes. Then he rebounds, like a rubber band. And he’s throwing up everything in his digestive system for the next day, too.”