One of them picked him up effortlessly, impervious to the heat of his flesh. I was frozen, unable to move. Sure, he was dead and on his way to heaven, but I had no strong desire to accompany him. I wanted to live.
But I could feel eyes on me, and I wondered if I could run for it. And I wondered if I really wanted to.
“Bring her.” The words weren’t spoken out loud; they seemed to vibrate inside my head. I was prepared to fight, prepared to run before I let them put their hands on me, before I let it happen all over again . . . but there was nothing but a blinding white light, followed by dark silence, as a blackness deep and dark as death pulled in about me.
“Shit,” I said weakly. And I was gone.
I WAS COLD. AND DAMP. I could hear a strange sound, a rushing noise almost like the ocean, but there was no ocean in the forest, was there? I really didn’t want to move, even though I was lying somewhere hard and wet, the dampness seeping through my clothes and into my bones. In my Swiss cheese of a memory, it felt as if every time I opened my eyes things had gotten worse. This time I was going to stay put with my eyes tightly shut—it was a lot safer that way.
I licked my lips and tasted salt. There were voices in the distance, a low, muffled chant in a language older than time.
Keep your eyes closed, goddamn it. This had all been one hellacious nightmare, and clearly it wasn’t time to wake up. Once I could feel my comfortable bed and my five-hundred-thread-count cotton sheets beneath me, then it would be safe to wake up. Right now consciousness was nothing but more trouble, and I had had enough.
But all my self-discipline had been reserved for my writing, and when it came to anything else, like denying my curiosity, I had the willpower of a rabbit. I decided to open my eyes just a slit to verify that, yes, I really was lying in wet sand at the edge of a rocky beach. And out in the waves the men stood waist-deep in the water, holding the body of my . . . my what? My kidnapper? My savior? It didn’t matter what the hell he was, he was mine.
He wasn’t dead. I knew this as I struggled to my feet, my whole body feeling as if it had been kicked around by monkeys. He wasn’t dead—yet they were letting him sink beneath the surface as they chanted some kind of garbled nonsense. They were letting him drown, burying him in the sea, and I was not going to let that happen, not after working so hard to keep him alive last night.
I’m not sure whether I said something, screamed “No!” as I raced toward them. Out into the icy water, shoving past them as they let his body go, diving for him before he could sink beneath the turbulent waves.
It was only when my hand touched him beneath the water, felt him turn and his hand catch mine, that I conveniently remembered that I had never learned to swim.
The words came out of nowhere, dancing in my head:
Full fathom five thy father lies:
Of his bones are coral made;
Those are pearls that were his eyes:
Nothing of him that doth fade,
But doth suffer a sea-change
Into something rich and strange.
The words were muzzy, dreamlike, but now I was the one sinking. What an idiot I’d been, diving after him. I was going to die after all, and it was no one’s fault but mine. I should have known I’d hear Shakespeare when I died.
I would suffer a sea change, entwined with the demon lover beneath the cold salt sea, and I welcomed it, dazed, when his mouth closed over mine beneath the briny surface, his breath flowing into me, my body plastered against his as I felt life return. A moment later I found myself propelled to the surface, still trapped in the dead man’s arms. The dead man who had pulled his mouth away, and was looking down at me from those strange, silvery-black eyes.
Then we were standing waist-deep in the ocean, the waves breaking against us, and he was holding on to me as he looked to the men who had brought him here, a dazed, questioning expression on his face.
Which was basically how I was feeling. A sort of a sodden WTF, and the only thing familiar to hold on to was this man beside me.
“She called for help,” one of the men said from the shore. “You told us to bring her.”
The man threw back his head and laughed, unexpected and unguarded, and relief washed through me. His teeth were white and even. I’d been imagining the fangs, of course. Vampires weren’t real. I couldn’t believe I even remembered that particular hallucination.
He scooped me up in his arms, and I rested my face against his wet chest as he carried me out of the surf, not quite sure why. The footing must have been uneven, yet he carried me without a misstep, almost gliding over the rough sand. I’d never been carried in my life—despite my short stature I was built upon generous lines, and no one had ever been romantic enough to scoop me up and carry me to bed.
Of course, that wasn’t what this man was doing. Come to think of it, what the hell was he doing? I looked up at a huge stone building set on the edge of the sea, and I squirmed, trying to get down. He ignored me. That, at least, felt familiar.
He didn’t put me down, and I found I knew him well enough not to expect that he would. He’d kissed me. Sort of. He’d put his cold, wet mouth on mine and breathed life into me, when he was the one who’d been on the verge of death.
“You wanna put me down?” I demanded in a reasonable voice. Not that I expected him to be reasonable, but it was worth a try. He said nothing, and I struggled, but his grip never tightened. It didn’t need to; it was loose but unbreakable. “Who the fuck are you?” I demanded irritably. “What are you?”
He didn’t answer, of course. The other men came up to us, and I had the oddest sense that they were surrounded by some kind of haze or aura. It must be a reaction to the salt water. No matter how hard I tried to focus, things stayed as hazy as my memory.
“We can get rid of her now, Raziel, before it’s too late,” one with a cold, deep voice said. “She has no more need of you, nor you of her.”
The language sounded oddly old-fashioned, and I tried to turn my head to see who was speaking; but Raziel, the man who was holding me, simply pushed my face against his chest. “What about the Grace? Surely that would work.”
There was a moment’s silence, one that didn’t seem to bode well for my future. With my foggy brain, he was the only thing familiar, and I panicked, reaching up and tugging at his open shirt. “Don’t let them take me.” I sounded pathetic, but there was nothing I could do about it. I’d swallowed some salt water before Raziel grabbed me, and my voice was raw.
He glanced down at me, and I knew that look. It was as if he knew everything about me, had read my diaries, peeked into my fantasies. It was unnerving. But then he nodded.
“I will keep her, Azazel,” he said. “At least for now.”
Better than nothing, I thought, not precisely flattered. I was tempted to argue, just for the sake of it and because he’d sounded so damned grudging, but I had no idea where I might go, and I didn’t trust those other men who’d tried to drown my companion.
At least for the moment, as long as he held me, nothing could harm me. I could deal with the rest of it when it happened.
For now, I was safe.
CHAPTER
SIX
HAD I LOST MY MIND? “I WILL keep her.” Ridiculous. I had no use for a human.
It was early evening. I’d spent most of the day in the pool, letting the seawater wash my battered body, healing the pain that still spiked through me.
Azazel was looking at me. “What are we going to do with the woman? Now is not the time to bring someone new into Sheol, particularly someone with no set purpose. Uriel moves closer, and the Nephilim are at our very doorstep. We can’t waste time with inconsequentials.”
“Where is she?” I said, stalling for time, my voice cool as I stretched out on the black leather sofa. The searing agony was gone, but my body ached as if I had run a marathon and then been trampled by a herd of goats.
“Sarah has her. She and the other women will take care of her, calm her fears.”
“She probably knows already. At least part of it. What she remembers, that is,” Azazel said in the icy voice that terrified most of our brethren and managed to roll off my back. We’d been through too much together for him to intimidate me.
“We can always make her forget,” I said. “She has been with me so long the Grace would have to be very strong. She’d be confused for weeks. But it would work. She’s already forgotten what happened when I first took her.”
“But where will she go, old friend? She died yesterday. Her body has already been cremated.”
“Shit,” I said, thoroughly annoyed. “I thought she was Jewish.”
“You know that some of them no longer follow the old ways.”
Typical of humankind. They were always so hypocritical when it came to their faith, choosing what they cared to follow, ignoring anything that was inconvenient. It was little wonder the Supreme Being had washed his hands of them, leaving a heartless bastard like Uriel in his place. “If they are going to be devout enough to bury her immediately, they should at least keep her body intact,” I said, trying not to growl. “We could have worked with that.”
“Where is she going to go?” Azazel persisted. “You have no use for a human female. Unless you’ve changed your mind?”
I knew that was coming. “I haven’t. I won’t bond again, and I have no current need for sex. And if I were stupid enough to change my mind, it wouldn’t be with someone like her.”
“What’s wrong with her?”
I closed my eyes for a moment. I could see her, smart, questioning, undeniably luscious. “She’s just wrong,” I said stubbornly.
Azazel was watching me too closely, and I shifted so he couldn’t see my face. “Then why did you save her?” he said in what for him was a reasonable voice. “Why did you tell us to bring her?”
“How should I know? A moment of insanity. It’s not as if I remember anything that was going on—I was almost dead. Are you sure I did? I could barely speak.”
“Yes. I heard you.”
Damn. Azazel never lied. Even if I couldn’t say the words out loud, Azazel would hear me and follow my wishes. If I’d told them to keep her, I must have had some reason, but damned if I could think of what it was. “Just one more thing to deal with, then. And I have no idea what the hell is going on, only that Uriel has been lying to us.”
“And that surprises you? His power is infinite. As long as free will exists, Uriel is in charge, to heal or hurt anyone as he sees fit. Just because he told us the good ones are moving on is no guarantee that we aren’t taking them straight to hell. Children, babies, young lovers, grandmothers . . . It was foolish of us not to realize he would do this. Uriel is a cruel and mighty judge.”
“Uriel is a pain in my ass.”
“You’d best watch out,” Azazel warned. “You never know when he might be listening.”
I rose, stretching my iridescent blue wings against the twilight sky, glittering against the purple and pink hues that saturated our misty world. “You’re a pain in the ass, Uriel,” I said again, raising my voice so there could be no confusion as to who was tossing out the insults. “You’re a spiteful, vindictive, lying pain in the ass, and if the Supreme Being knew what you were doing, how you were interpreting the laws, you would be in deep shit.” I loved cursing. That was one thing I actually liked about humans—their language. The rich expressiveness of the words, sacred and profane, that everyone outside of Sheol seemed to use. The way the forbidden words danced on my tongue. Not to mention the fury I knew I was causing Uriel.
Azazel was unamused. “Why are you asking for trouble? We already have enough as it is. What are you going to do with her?”
He was right. Our lives were precarious enough, balanced between Uriel’s powerful hatred and the unspeakable dangers of the Nephilim, and now I had brought our entire family closer to devastation because of one stupid, quixotic gesture. I sank back down on the old leather sofa, momentarily distracted by the feel of it beneath me. Its coolness soothed my damaged body.
“Asking me over and over won’t get you an answer any sooner—it will just annoy me,” I grumbled. “I expect I’ll find someplace to send her. Somewhere far away, and Uriel will have more important reasons to come after us.”
“And you’re sure you have no interest in mating with her?” Azazel said carefully.
“I don’t even want to fuck her.” I watched Azazel wince. Not that he had any problem with the word—he just knew I was courting trouble. Uriel hated words as much as he hated so many other things of the human world, including sex and blood, and I did my level best to annoy him whenever I could. After all, our sentence was eternity, and the one remaining archangel couldn’t kill.
“She will have to stay here for now,” Azazel said finally. “Sarah will know what to do with her. She’s the wisest of us all.”
“Of course she is. She’s the Source.” I didn’t bother keeping the sarcasm out of my voice. There were times when Azazel treated us all like idiots.
“I will remind you that I am your leader. I can take everything away from you, every gift, every power,” Azazel said, his voice like ice.
I ignored his empty threat. We’d been raised up together, lived together, fallen together, been cursed together. There was no way he was going to cow me. “Leaving you short one soldier if the Nephilim decide to engage, or if Uriel sends the Host down on us as he always threatens. But feel free to try it. You could banish me as well. . . .”
Azazel made a noise very much like a growl. “You know I would never do that.”
“I’m touched.”
“The Nephilim are too dangerous. They outnumber us, and they’re all mad.”
I laughed. No sentiment for Azazel. I was just another soldier. “Why the hell can’t they be like the others? Unable to harm us. Uriel’s heavenly forces cannot attack us. The Nephilim were once like them—”
“They were before they fell,” Azazel interrupted me. “When will you learn to stop fighting against the forces that cannot be beaten? There are times when you are your own worst enemy. You have no one to blame but yourself for this current mess. Get rid of the girl, and we’ll concentrate on what matters.”
I laughed bitterly. “I blame Uriel. He led me to believe I was taking her to heaven. How many people have I tossed into the mouth of hell for him, thinking they were returning to paradise? Paradise!” I was filled with disgust, both for Uriel and for my own unwitting complicity.
“So this is about the woman?” Azazel said.
I shrugged off the ridiculous idea. “Of course not. I don’t like being manipulated.”
“Then don’t think about it. There is nothing we can do except not let him trick us again. And you still haven’t answered my question. What are you going to do with her? We have no place to put her—Sheol is not made for visitors.”
“She can go in my rooms until we decide. I sleep outside half the time anyway.”
Azazel looked at me for a long moment. “Are you certain she isn’t your mate?”
“How many times do I have to tell you? I will not take a mate ever again.” I kept my voice neutral, but Azazel knew me too well.
“You can stop as soon as I believe you. In the meantime, how are you feeling?”
That question was too stupid to answer, so I just looked at him.
“It has been months since you’ve fed,” he continued. “I’ll tell Sarah.”
That was the last thing I wanted. “No! I’m in no mood for all that fuss. Do not say a word—
“I don’t need to,” Azazel said. “You know Sarah can feel your need even before you do.” He came closer. “You’re weak, and you know it. You’d be worthless if we were attacked. I’m willing to respect your ridiculous wishes as long as th
ey don’t hurt the community. Having you this weak puts us all in jeopardy.”
I knew I wasn’t going to be able to talk him out of it. And he was right—after the last twenty-four hours, I was barely able to lift my head, much less fly. “Not the full ceremony,” I grumbled.
“I will tell her to make it very short. Then you need to sleep. Though if the woman is in your rooms—”
“I can find a place,” I said sharply.
Azazel looked at me with the wise eyes of an old friend. “Are you certain Uriel wasn’t right? What do you know of her and the crimes she may have committed? Perhaps you risked everything and saved her for no reason. It would make things much simpler if I finished the job you started.”
“Keep your hands off her!” I said, suddenly furious. I took a deep breath. “She saved me. We keep her here until we decide what to do with her.”
Azazel stared at me for a long, annoying moment, then nodded. “As you have spoken,” he said formally. “Come with me to Sarah before you collapse.”
I didn’t want to move, any more than I wanted to admit that Azazel was right. I wanted to close my eyes and disappear. If I’d had the energy, I would have risen and soared away from everything. But right then I could barely summon up enough energy to walk. I needed to feed, and until I did I was useless.
Once I fed and recovered, I would know what to do with the unwanted woman, would find a place to leave her. Until then I had no choice but to obey Azazel, no matter how much it galled me.
WHEN I AWOKE THE ROOM was dark, and I lay perfectly still, clinging to the vain, eternal hope that this had all been a nightmare. I already knew I was shit out of luck, and I opened my eyes reluctantly, knowing this bizarro world was going to continue.
The women had been very kind. The man, Raziel, had carried me into this huge old house and then unceremoniously dumped me, disappearing before I realized what was going on. The women had gathered around me, making the kinds of soothing noises that always made me nervous, and they herded me up to some rooms where they fed me, bathed me, and cosseted me, deftly deflecting any of my questions, all under the capable direction of the woman named Sarah.
The Fallen 01 - Raziel Page 4