The Fallen 01 - Raziel

by Kristina Douglas

  “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.”

  It did. Everything about Raziel made a great deal of difference to me, but admitting that only made things worse. “No reason at all,” I said brightly.

  I looked past her toward the bank of windows overlooking the fog-shrouded Pacific Ocean. At least, I assumed it was the Pacific—for all I knew, we could be on Mars. The windows been left open, and a strong breeze tossed the sheer white curtains into the air, sending a little shiver of some unnamed emotion down my backbone. “Is everything white in this place?” I demanded, feeling cranky. Being dead would do that to a girl.

  For a moment I thought I saw something just beyond the windows—the breathless shimmer of iridescent blue wings, the sun sparkling off them. I narrowed my gaze, but there was nothing out there, just a few seagulls in the distance, wheeling and cawing. No seagulls on Mars, I thought.

  Sarah looked around as if noticing for the first time. “I suppose so. Raziel tends to see things as either black or white—never shades of gray. He’d probably really hate it if you painted anything.” She grinned, suddenly looking mischievous. “Just let me know if you want some help.”

  The idea was irresistible, and I laughed. “Do you want to make his life a living hell?”

  “No, dear. That’s going to be your job.”

  Another odd fluttering. I rose and crossed the living room to peer out into the bright sky, the rolling mist on the ocean. There was nothing in the sky but the seagulls—I must be imagining things.

  Or was I? I was stuck in the sterile aerie of a creature who could fly—why would I assume that mysterious dark wings were a figment of my imagination?

  I turned my back on the windows. If Raziel was out there buzzing the building in an effort to spook me, I wasn’t going to let him. Though the sight of him dive-bombing the place would have been pretty damned funny.

  “Actually, I wanted to talk to you before Sammael gets here. Apart from welcoming you to Sheol,” Sarah said, “I wanted to warn you about Raziel.”

  Oh, great. As if things weren’t bad enough, now I needed to be warned about the only man I slightly, somewhat, minimally trusted. “He’s an ax murderer?” I suggested cheerfully.

  Sarah’s responding smile was a token. “Don’t be fooled by his kindness. Raziel has shut himself off from all human feeling, from caring about anyone besides the Fallen and their wives. I will speak for you at the meeting today, but if you’re relying on Raziel to protect you, you’re wasting your time.”

  I was still trying to reconcile the term kindness with the bad-tempered Raziel I’d been saddled with. Though more likely Raziel would consider he’d been saddled with me.

  “Oh—there’s a meeting?” I said, feeling doomed. “I suppose they’re going to decide whether I live or die, and I’m not going to have any voice in the matter. Of course, I’m dead already, so I guess it doesn’t really matter. I just don’t feel like I’m dead. And I really don’t want to go back to that place.” I shivered. I couldn’t remember much, just heat and noise and the pain of thousands of souls reaching out. . . .

  “I’ll speak for you. I’ll do anything I can to stop them. Right now they’re more worried about the Nephilim and whether Uriel will use your presence as an excuse to move against us. I just don’t want you to count on Raziel. He’s sworn off caring about anyone, and I’m afraid he’s not going to make an exception for you.” She tilted her head sideways, assessing me. “At least, I don’t think so. But I’ll fight for you. And sometimes they listen.”

  And if that didn’t sound like a rock-solid guarantee, I figured it was the best I could expect. If I was going to get out of this mess, I’d have to figure it out on my own.

  Sammael appeared at the door just as Sarah was leaving, and he didn’t look any happier to see me than he had before.

  “Are you ready?” he asked politely.

  I suddenly remembered all those flights of stairs, and groaned. Once a day was enough. “I don’t suppose you have an elevator hidden anywhere around here?”

  “No.” Sammael moved past me to push open a section of the windows that I had blithely assumed was solid wall. The wind was rising, swirling into the apartment, but in Raziel’s sterile environment there was nothing loose that could be blown away. “Come with me—we’ll take the shortcut.”

  I looked from Sammael’s calm face to the wind and ocean just beyond those doors to nowhere. He was an angel, wasn’t he? Albeit Sarah had said he was one of the angels of death. He wasn’t going to toss me out the window, was he?

  You can only die once, I thought, not knowing whether it was true or not. Taking Sammael’s hand, I stepped out into a nothingness that was blindingly bright.

  CHAPTER

  ELEVEN

  IT SEEMED AS IF A MOMENT HAD passed, or an hour. I found myself standing on a cliff, much higher up than the house had been, and I’d never been crazy about heights. I could see out over the vast ocean, and the sun beginning to sink lower on the horizon. Pacific Ocean, then. The ground was wet beneath my feet, and there was no sign of my missing mentor. I glanced at Sammael. I couldn’t remember holding on to him, soaring through those misty skies. But clearly I hadn’t walked.

  “Where is he?” I asked.

  “In the cave. Just go straight—you’ll find him.”

  We were three-quarters of the way up a mountain that I hadn’t even realized was nearby. Its top was enshrouded in mist, as was the rocky shoreline below, and I could see the great yawning mouth of a cave closer than I would have liked. I waited for the familiar panic to set in. “I’m claustrophobic when it comes to caves,” I finally admitted, glancing nervously at the rough-hewn entrance, worn smooth by centuries of scouring winds. In fact, I didn’t like heights, closed-in places, places that were too open—give me a phobia and I embraced it enthusiastically.

  “Not anymore,” Sammael said in a colorless voice. “You should watch what you say. You’ll be lucky if the Council simply decides to grant you the Grace.”

  “The Grace?” That sounded almost pleasant.

  “Your memory would be wiped clean. I promise you, it wouldn’t hurt, and you’d be perfectly happy. You’d be able to do simple tasks, perhaps even learn to read and write a few simple words.”

  I stared at him in absolute horror. “No,” I said flatly.

  “It won’t be your choice.” He seemed unmoved by my reaction. “Do you want me to take you to Raziel?”

  “I can manage,” I said, not sure that I could, but I really didn’t want to hear any more of Sammael’s awful possibilities. The inhabitants of Sheol seemed to have mixed feelings about me. Azazel, Sammael, and Raziel clearly thought I didn’t belong, and I was happy to agree with them. Tamlel, Sarah, and the Stepford wives were welcoming, but that would probably mean nothing once they held their co
uncil meeting. “But I thank you for the offer. I think I need to figure out how to get what I need on my own, don’t I?”

  He barely registered my question. “I’ll come back if there’s a problem.”

  “How will you know?” I asked suspiciously. Raziel had been able to read my mind—if it turned out the whole place knew what I was thinking, then maybe I wouldn’t mind getting a lobotomy.

  “Sarah will know. Sarah will tell me,” he said simply, as if he expected me to know something so basic.

  Clearly Sarah was a force to be reckoned with. It was a good thing that she seemed to be on my side. “I’ll be fine,” I said firmly, and before I could add to it, Sammael had disappeared into the wind.

  “Well, damn,” I said out loud. I’d been hoping to see wings. If Sammael came equipped with them, I hadn’t had time to notice. Which made travel convenient, but still a little bit puzzling.

  I turned to look at the cave, waiting for the icy fear to set in, but I felt nothing but an entirely reasonable nervousness at the thought of bearding Raziel in his den. Sammael had told the truth—the claustrophobia had vanished. Whoopee, I thought with a suitable lack of enthusiasm, walking forward.

  I still wasn’t crazy about enclosed spaces. The wide corridor into the mountain looked as if it had been a mine shaft, if they had mine shafts in the afterlife. It narrowed a little too swiftly as I made my way down it. Normally I’d be curled up on the ground, covered with a cold sweat. The fact that I could keep moving, deeper and deeper into the mountain, was more proof of how different things were. A proof I could easily have done without.

  I wasn’t quite sure what I expected. The corridor took a couple of sharp turns, shutting out the daylight at the entrance, but I managed to keep going without stopping to hyperventilate. Where the hell was Raziel? I had the sudden fear that Sammael had pulled a Hansel and Gretel on me, luring me to this mountain to abandon me, thereby getting rid of a messy problem. Sarah wouldn’t let him get away with that, would she?

  I’d almost given up trying to find him when I turned one last corner and saw him sitting on a wooden chair in the middle of a huge stone cavern, his eyes closed.